Summary: To celebrate Lydia and Cora's engagement the pack takes a camping trip to a remote island, but soon they discover they aren't the only supernatural creatures there.

Pairings: Lydia/Cora, Stiles/Derek, Scott/Allison/Isaac, off screen Melissa/Sheriff

Warnings: Slash, pregnancy (not mpreg), canon typical violence. Nothing worse than you'd see on the show, really.

Fire and Water

All night I have slept with you
next to the sea, on the island.
Wild and sweet you were between pleasure and sleep,
between fire and water.

–Pablo Neruda, Night on the Island

Chapter 1

"Rise and shine, sweetheart."

There was far too much glee in the voice of the person flinging back her covers. Cora snatched them back up, resolutely refusing to open her eyes. Lydia's tossing and turning had kept her up all night. Something that was her fault, according to Lydia, for forcing her to spend the night at her stereotype of a creepy uncle's house.

It wasn't entirely fair. After the fallout with Derek, she'd had no place else to turn. Lydia was living in a dorm room and she wasn't so desperate to beg for a bed at her friends' parents. They were away at universities while she was slumming it at community college. On the disadvantages of going missing for six years and being believed dead—it was hard to dredge up an academic record when one wasn't legally alive.

She supposed they could stay at Lydia's, but her parents thought Cora was 'just a phase' Lydia was going through. It wasn't that she was a girl; it was that she wasn't the right kind of girl. After hearing about the pregnancy, they thought Lydia was crazy for staying.

Cora sometimes felt the same.

They had tried to make the long distance thing work, but their relationship was volatile from the start. An angry fight had led to a brief breakup, during which Cora had a one night stand. Lydia had forgiven it once she heard, largely in part, Cora suspected, because she had one herself. They were back together within a week. A week after that Cora was puking up her breakfast and nauseous at the smell of food.

It was Deaton who told her. She refused to believe it at first, but three over the counter tests proved him right. Lydia had taken the news relatively well, after the initial panic she started shopping online for designer baby clothes. Derek's reaction was the polar opposite; he scolded her about being irresponsible, questioned how she would raise a child with virtually no money or job. It was the shock, Cora knew. After she had stormed out, Stiles said Derek worried about her, and Derek's default way of showing that was by being an ass. Both were too stubborn to reach out to each other first, so Cora had went to Peter looking for a place to spend the night. Somehow a night turned into a week, then a month and she had started calling the guest room 'my room'.

Peter, bizarrely enough, had been happy at the news. He was so different than the man she remembered growing up. He'd always been devious, and prone to disagree with her mother, but he put his family above all else. Cora could remember him sneaking her candy her mother said she couldn't have, letting her stay up late and watch scary movies, having ice cream for supper, sneaking her a smoke and laughing when she coughed till tears stung her eyes. Sometimes she thought she remembered Uncle Peter too well, thought too much of the man he was then rather than now.

With all the Hales gone except her and Derek, it wasn't so odd he was excited about another coming into the world. He'd already wrecked things with Derek, and Cora always chose Derek, if it came down to picking sides. A baby was a second chance, a new start, the opportunity to make things right. He'd be the closest thing to a grandfather the baby had, though he had flinched at the idea of being called grandpa.

No one really hated Peter anymore, but no one liked him or trusted him either. But he was the only one who knew about werewolf pregnancies, knew what herbs to use to cure the sickness, to make her fall asleep. Werewolf pregnancies were rougher than human pregnancies; the symptoms started earlier and lasted longer.

"If you want to sleep all day I'm perfectly fine with not going camping." said Lydia. "We can go to a hotel. Or a spa. Or a hotel with a spa."

Cora cracked open an eye. Of course, Lydia was already perfect, hair done, make-up on, ready to take on the world. "I like camping."

"I like air conditioner." Lydia replied breezily. She bent to buckle the strap of the absurdly expensive green heels she was wearing. "I hope you don't think we're camping on our honeymoon. We'll be somewhere with a beach and margaritas."

Cora sat up and arched an eyebrow. "Heels? You do know we'll be outside, princess."

"I'll look good on the ride there."

If they were a sappy sort of couple, Cora might have told her she'd look good anywhere. As it were, Lydia knew as much and Cora was in no mood to dish out compliments to the girl who spent all night stealing the covers. She did look good in that particular sundress, the yellow complimenting her hair and the green making her eyes pop. The heels did wonders for her legs. Cora wondered how hard she'd have to work to get that dress off. Maybe if she asked nicely enough, Lydia would even keep the heels.

"Not a chance." Lydia said, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

"What?"

"This," Lydia gestured down her body, "took an hour to accomplish. You aren't going to ruin it." She glanced sideways. "Besides, he can probably hear us."

Cora flopped back down unto the mattress. The Peter issue was complicated and messy and she had learned to pick her battles with Lydia. This particular battle was one she couldn't win, and wasn't even sure she wanted to. "Yes dear."

Lydia shot her a dirty look. Cora figured she'd be seeing a lot more of them once they were married. She had been the one to propose, technically, but Lydia had ordered her to, saying she was the one getting asked and wearing the ring. The ring belonged to Cora's mother, a family heirloom not lost in the fire. Derek had given it to her. It had been the first step in mending things between them.

"Stiles should be picking us up soon. Try to hurry."

Cora swung her legs over the bed and felt her stomach heave. "Move." Lydia scurried away from the bathroom door and Cora barely made it before the contents of her stomach came out her mouth. Lydia winced, either sympathy or disgust, or some combination of the two. She came to hold her hair back—her nails were freshly manicured, Cora noticed, she'd missed it the night before. Cora waved her off. Her senses were so heightened she could smell the polish like Lydia was holding an open bottle of the stuff under her nose. "Peter-" It was the only word she could get out before her stomach rebelled again.

Lydia sighed and rolled her eyes. "Yes, fine. I'll get Peter to make some tea."

The kitchen was spacious and immaculate, decorated in shades of white, black, grey and silver. It had a very masculine feel to it, elegant and minimal at the same time. Peter was already at the counter when she came in, wordlessly sliding two mugs across the sleek black surface. One was coffee, just the way she liked it, and the other a green tea that stank like toilet water. Lydia had once asked what was in it and Peter had told her she didn't want to know. Careful consideration had her decide she really didn't.

Lydia ignored the coffee. Her and Peter's relationship was frosty at best. She could be civil, but there would never be any warmth between them, not after what he'd done to her. "You might have poisoned it."

"I never poisoned anyone."

"No, you just had me do it for you."

There's a flash of something in his eyes that she'd hesitantly label guilt, if she believed he was capable of feeling it. "How's Cora?"

"Hormonal and pukey." Lydia said. "Did you make that tea for trip like I asked?"

"It's in the fridge."

Lydia brushed past him and tried not to cringe when her arm touched his. She slammed the refrigerator door closed harder than was necessary. Fingers closed around her wrist and she flinched. The touch was gone nearly as quickly as it came. "I want to help Cora. You have to believe that."

The thing was, Lydia did believe it. Peter Hale carried for precisely three people in the entire world, himself, Derek and Cora. She gave him a cold smile. "Good. You can carry our bags."

Words couldn't express how much she wanted to be away from here. Taking a trip to celebrate their engagement had been her idea; they deserved it after all they'd been through. Besides, they just finished their first year of college, the days of summer vacations and spring breaks were rapidly growing shorter. Soon they'd be out in the real world with big girl jobs and mortgages. And a baby to support. That was only seven months away.

Still, there was part of her that dreaded the idea of going out to Black Rock Island. It was small and secluded, away from the world. Not a safe place to be if an emergency popped up. There was a niggling feeling inside that it was a bad idea, but she couldn't explain why. It had more to do than just with her hating camping. The last time she felt this way, there had been suicidal werewolves and an explosion.

"Lydia? Lydia, are you alright?"

Slowly, she realized Peter had been talking to her. His hand was back on her arm and he looked concerned. It was a rare look on him. "Fine. I'm fine."

She slid away from him and grabbed the mug of tea. "Cora's waiting for me. You know how she gets when she's kept waiting."

Lydia breezed away from him, but she couldn't shake the feeling of his eyes on her back, of the churning in her stomach that told her something was wrong.