-Veronica Roth
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Derek is trying his hardest to concentrate on the words coming out of Scott's mouth, they are certainly important but his mind clouds and vision blurs. He can vaguely hear a murmuring, a tell tale sign that Scott is still talking.
It isn't long ago that they had found out that multiple members of the Beacon Hills clan and himself are being targeted by a group of supernatural assassins. As crazy as that surprise was there was very little ground to it, there was no certainty to their fates. He hadn't been too worried, the pack had held against far greater evils and they would continue to do so.
But now.
…certainty.
When Scott and Lydia had showed up at his loft, glum faced and eyes downcast he wasn't sure what to expect. Another victim? Had Kate done something? But this… This he was not expecting. It is almost impossible to believe, he would love to be able to say that they are wrong and that he will be okay. But from his limited knowledge of Lydia abilities, and firsthand experience of her gifts, he knows deep down she is not mistaken.
If the look on her face is anything to go by she wishes she is wrong too. It is almost comical, like some sort of cruel joke, that after all the time spent trying to be prove herself right, to unlock her powers. It all leads to this…
The cipher key, his name, it all speaks for itself.
The universe has a sick sense of humor.
"…There has to be something. We don't know anything for sure. We won't give up, I promise." He catches the tail end of Scott's speech.
He'd like to be as optimistic as Scott but at the moment his whole world is blank. He feels wrung out and tired, and he is sure his face has paled somewhat during the span of their talk.
Scott is looking at him with such belief, and it is not even slightly surprising, Derek can't help but smile inwardly and how much he has grown. Pride shots straight through his spine and warms his heart; brothers, it has been a long while since the word was first spoken but he can feel it now. How true those words are and how deep they run.
He nods gently towards him, letting Scott know he was listening. A brief smile appears on the alpha's face before he tugs on his jacket, "I am going over to Stiles', see if we can come up with any new leads. You going to be okay?"
After a moment of silence,
"Yes." It is a quiet and stiff reply but all Derek can manage at the time.
It seems to satisfy him as he makes his way towards the loft's door, passing Derek and roughly patting his shoulder as he exits.
When the door slides shut all the air in his lungs disappear during a long exhale. His shoulders drop and eyelids fall closed on instinct. He almost forgets someone else is in the room until he hears her gently whisper,
"I 'm sorry." She sounds so defeated, and it makes his heart ache knowing she feels guilty about something she has no fault in. Her eyes are red and exhaustion wears along her face, she is wringing her fingers together tightly and the strange urge to grasp her hands and comfort her settles in his gut.
He doesn't act on it, but it lays there, the odd thought bouncing around in his head.
"Don't. If anything, you might have given us an advantage. We know something before it is supposed to happen, that has got to help for something." He tries to sound reassuring but his own pessimistic thoughts nag him. She doesn't seem entirely convinced, her eyes probe his, looking for any signs of fear.
He is not sure what she finds in his face precisely but her gaze softens and she takes a couple steps forward. She walks quickly with purpose filled strides until she reaches him, they stand inches from each other, her neck craned slightly upward so she can look him in the eyes. Derek can feel her warm poufs of breathe against his neck, his eyebrows tilt down into a frown, silently questioning her.
All of a sudden she seems to reach a conclusion in her head, as her slim arms reach around him and pull him into a tight hug. For such a slight form she holds him with a quiet strength, her torso pressed completely against his leaving not an inch of space between them. Her face falls to his neck, nuzzling into his tee-shirt and he can tell she has no plans of extracting herself any time soon, so his arms wrap around her body covering her shoulders and holding her tighter to him.
For her comfort or his, he isn't quite sure.
Maybe both.
He feels his head drop unconsciously to the top of her head, his nose finding her strawberry blonde locks and burying his face into them. They stand there for a long time, two people, practically strangers. But they find an unusual comfort from each other. A sense of companionship, at the fact that they are not in this alone, and that…
…Relief.
That is enough for now.
Lydia pulls back and releases her arms from around him with a small smile, she doesn't say anything. Neither of them do. She just turns on her heal and walks towards his couch, throwing herself on it unceremoniously.
He opens his mouth to say something, but he stops at the raise of her hand.
"I don't know what is going to happen. Maybe I am right and maybe I am wrong. But I know one thing, I have felt the loss of my friends before…" She stops and takes a breath, composing herself, "More times than I would have liked, I have felt as they have died and it is the most horrific thing. I don't want to feel it ever again, I can't guaranty anything. But I hope that if I am here, with you. Close by, maybe I will feel it before; maybe just maybe we can stop this. I need to stop this."
Her head falls back against his couch, "So until then… Well, i guess you are stuck with me."
And then she is fast asleep.
(and she will deny it in the morning, but she snores lightly)
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A/N: Just a quick little something, because I was bored and if either Derek or Lydia die, I will rally.