This fucking name hits her, her lungs are compressed and seems to refuse to work when she looks at a single line in a long list. She wants to scream and this has nothing to do with her damn power. At least, not completely.

Jordan Parrish.

Two words and unremarkable number – five – and Lydia has no idea why looking at this string hurts more than looking at the strings with her name or the names of her friends. And especially she doesn`t know when this - whatever this is – became something important. Perhaps, it`s just hard to believe that he`s in a deadpool, because he always seemed so… Normal.

Jordan opens the office door – she didn`t even knew his name until she saw this fucking list – and asks her about something. He seems concerned, and he doesn`t even know he`s going to die. Lydia knows, she feels it with her nature, and the whisper in her head turns to a mournful cry next to him. She wants to protect him, to do something, but she has no idea what. May be that`s because he looks like a puppy, or may be, because he looks at her like he can see into the darkest corners of her soul. She just can`t do anything, because she`s a watcher, a listener, so all that she can – is listen to him. Lydia looks at Jordan with fright, and no, she doesn`t need a ride home. She needs him to be safe.

She`s heading to the way out of a precinct with her head`s up, and her heart is going to rip out of her chest. Malia notices that – of course she does – and trying to calm her down with a hand on her shoulder. Lydia knows – that`s not gonna help, but the voices – the ones that whispers her the future – can. She listens closer and suddenly realizes – everything is goin` to be fine. Nobody is going to die.

Except, maybe, Parrish.