A/N:This is inspired by random thoughts of Lydia being in Stiles' dream in 3x12, and the fact that she's there has meaning and a point to it - that she's in his heart.

Unbeta'd as always, happy reading!
xoxo

The first thing he becomes aware of is the feel of the scratchy cotton sheets on his skin. It's slightly irritating, and foreign. He always hated cheaply made sheets, he remembers crawling into them after his mom had passed, his dad had unknowingly bought the wrong kind.

His legs feel stiff and rigid, like they are made of wood. His body aches, the joints in his elbows, knees, and ankles are almost unbearable. He can feel the coolness of the air around him outside of the sheet, except that there's warmth coming from his left side.

He wants to open his eyes but his eyelids feel immensely heavy, so he listens instead.

He can hear someone breathing, and he suddenly becomes aware of the feel of breath on his neck. The breaths come softly and steadily, almost rhythmically. They're warm and send a chill down his spine. The only other sounds in the room are a very light beeping noise, and what sounds like rumbling - no, snoring? - coming from the other side of the room.

Where would I hear a beeping? He thinks to himself. He focuses on the time lapse between each beep, and the pitch. It's oddly familiar and gives him an eerie feeling.

The more he thinks about the beeping, he's filled with images of his mom and Scott's mom. He sees his mom before she died, happy and always smiling. His best friend's mom looking stressed and worn out, but a weak smile always donning her face.

I know where I am. He thinks. The only thing those two faces have in common other than him and Scott is Beacon Hills Memorial - the local hospital.

His eyes shoot open and what he sees confirms it. He's laying in a hospital bed, the white sheets are crisp and blend in with the rest of the room. He scent of antiseptic hangs in the air, that overly clean smell that always accompanies these rooms. He looks over to the right and sees his dad, deft of his Sheriff uniform, looking tired and slumped in a chair. There are bags under his eyes as he sleeps, his mouth hanging open as he snores lightly, an image of his dad that is all too familiar.

He suddenly becomes more aware of the warmth that is radiating beside him, and it clicks in his mind that someone is in the hospital bed with him, curled up against his side. It's a girl.

He can tell by the structure of the body, she's petite and small. She's wearing a dark colored skirt, a little short and he wonders why someone would crawl into a hospital bed with him while wearing a skirt.

Lydia.

He turns over and he feels her stir, but she doesn't wake. Her strawberry blonde hair is pulled out of her face in a high bun on the top of her head, wisps of hair have fallen out and are framing her cheeks. From what he can see, she's wearing hardly any makeup, which is completely out of the ordinary. She has the same bags under her eyes as his father does, and he starts to wonder how long they've been here.

Or rather, how long he's been here.

He watches Lydia's chest rise and fall, and he absentmindedly brings his hand up to the pale skin of her arm. God she is so beautiful He thinks. He caresses it slightly and she shifts, but still doesn't wake. The image of her laying there looking so peaceful brings up a thought so vivid, it almost seems like a memory.

"Lydia." He whispers.

The room is brightly lit, the morning sunshine peers through the curtains and streams across the bed. The crisp blue sheets are wrapped around her small frame, her red tresses a mess on her pillow. He's been awake for hours, but couldn't bring himself to leave the bed. The sounds of her peaceful sleep were too enticing. There's something about Lydia when she's asleep - no make up, no attitude. It's Lydia in her purest form. He knows he needs to get up and start the day, but doesn't want to start it without her.

He moves his right arm from where it's draped over her waist, and softly swipes a strand of hair from her face. He caresses her cheek, gently trying to rouse her. "Lyds, its time to get up." He tries again, hating to take her out of her reverie, but not willing to leave her side.

"Mmm, stop." She murmurs, and tries to turn over, out of his reach. Instead he pulls her closer and she nestles into him, placing a sleepy kiss to his lips.

"I love you." He whispers out loud.

Lydia's eyes flash open and the look across her face goes from shock, to relief, to confusion.

"Hi." He says timidly.

"Hi." She returns, looking up at him sheepishly with a small smile. He can tell she's having a hard time keeping her excitement to herself, but she stays quiet.

"How long have I been out?" He asks her softly.

Lydia bites her lip, turning the plump flesh a little darker and he feels himself swallow. She doesn't move from her place curled up against him, but responds with "3 weeks."

"Oh." He replies, shifting his gaze from her. Instead of focusing on Lydia's lips, he tries to think back. He can't remember what happened, the last thing he remembers is being in the jeep with Scott, driving home from school.

"Stiles..?" He looks back down at Lydia, her green eyes are full of questions, but the first one she asks takes him by surprise. "Did you just kiss me?"

"Uh.. well.." How the hell did a thought make me act that out? He thinks to himself, his mind reeling. "M-maybe?" He stammers.

Lydia looks down and bites her lip again, just hard enough that the bottom lip fills out a bit. He finds himself thinking about the fullness of her lips and how they feel against his, and how he wants to kiss her again and again.

But she quickly looks up at him and his resolve melts away again.

She appears to wave off whatever he may have done to wake her up. She moves onto her next question while staring at his chest; "What's the last thing you remember?"

"Uh, I think I was driving Scott home from school. Does that sound right?" He asks her.

"Almost." She says quietly.

He painfully moves his right arm up to her face and cups her cheek, forcing her to look up at him again. "Lyds, what happened?"

Her eyes start to glaze a bit as she answers him. "You were driving Scott and I home, and we were hit by a truck - the driver had a heart attack. He hit us head on - "

Stiles' eyes go wide as panic rises in his chest. "What about Scott?" He cuts in.

"Scott is alright." Lydia's hand grips his arm as if to steady him, even though they are both laying down.

He lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Okay, good. And You?"

"I'm fine." He hears her trying to mask the fact that she's lying. She was never very good at it, at least not when it comes to him.

Lydia drops her hand and shifts, trying to sit up. "We should probably wake up your dad.." She tries, obviously trying to change the subject. He reaches for her and grasps her tightly. "Not just yet." He whispers.

It's painful to hold onto her, but he doesn't let go just the same. The embrace feels so natural, like he's held her a million times over.

"Stiles." Lydia's running up to him, her eyes glassy with tears. The sky is dark and there's an apparent chill in the air. He becomes aware that he's been running towards her too, and when they get close enough, their arms wrap around the other.

"Oh thank god." He whispers.

She's crying lightly into his shirt, and when he breaks the hug, she stretches up on her tip toes to kiss him. It's soft at first but then it turns desperate. She's demanding with her lips, and he returns the same fervor.

His fingers get tangled in her hair and her hands roam all over him. Soon it's dueling tongues and heavy breaths and whispers of "I'm so glad you're okay" and " I love you", and everything else seems to just melt away.

"Stiles?" Lydia's whisper breaks his thought away from him, and the eerie feeling returns, the thoughts are too vivid. He realizes he's been clutching to her so tightly he's shaking.

He jolts and releases her from his grip, and she looks up at him with questioning eyes. "I'm okay," He says, not sure if he's trying to convince her or himself. "I promise."

She purses her lips and nods before sitting up. She swings her legs off the side of the hospital cot and makes her way around it to wake up the Sheriff.

"Linden?" Lydia whispers as she softly pushes on his dad's shoulders, trying to wake him.

"You gotta have coffee." Lydia whips back around to look at him again. She has this look on her face of utter confusion, and he can't help but smirk at her. "If he's been out for a while, you won't wake him without coffee."

"Good thing we have some." A voice says from the doorway. Stiles shifts his eyes to his best friend, standing in the doorway. He's leaning on the door frame, a raven haired girl beside him.

Allison smiles as she walks over to Lydia and hands her the coffee. Scott makes a beeline for Stiles, hugging him tightly. "I'm glad your okay man." Scott says softly, and Stiles smiles wide.

There's a commotion as Scott releases him, and his dad scrambles up from the chair, gathering his son up in a swooping hug. "Thank god." Is all he says, but the grip is so tight Stiles' knows what he means.

"I love you too dad." He chokes out, smiling.

When he wakes up later the room is empty. It's dark now, there's no light shining in from the blinds covering the windows. The only sound in the room is the beeping from the monitors.

He finds himself wondering what these thoughts are doing in his head. Sure, he's thought about Lydia and what it would be like to be with her, but never on this degree, or in this much detail.

After a few minutes of silence, he hears the door squeak open. He doesn't see who it is, but he hears the clack of heels and knows there's only one person it could be.

He hears her walk across the room and sit down quietly in the chair that is closest to him. She hadn't spoken to him since she woke his dad earlier, having left the room to let them catch up.

"I have to tell you something." He whispers, just loud enough so that he knows she's heard him.

"'Kay." Comes her reply, just as quiet.

She rises from the chair and he feels the bed dip down to accommodate her weight on the edge of the bed. He curls his legs away from her to give her more room before speaking."I think I dreamed about you when I was out."

She's silent for a few moments, and he forces himself to continue. "They weren't really dreams though, well at least it didn't feel like a dream.." He rambles, trailing off.

He imagines her biting her lip, and releasing it before she responds. "Well, that is normal for comatose patients. Sometimes they experience alternate realities instead of being able to dream normally."

Stiles just nods, thinking she's hit it right on the nose. He pauses before speaking again, unsure if he should tell her. "That makes sense, because I'm pretty sure it wasn't reality."

It comes out more snarky than he meant it, and he braces for the retort he's sure he'll get.

But it doesn't come.

Instead, she asks: "What were your dreams about Stiles?"

"You." He says blatantly. "Me. Us. Together."

He hears her breath catch and he sits up. He can just barely see her in the little light the monitors give off in the dark room. He lifts his upper body off the bed to sit up, it's maddening trying to gauge her reaction from his position.

Lydia's face is blank - completely void of expression other than her lips mashed together so fiercely that they're practically invisible. To the untrained eye, one would have no idea what to make of it. But Stiles understands - she's got her thinking face on.

When she finally speaks again, her voice is clinical. "We're they about anything in particular?"

"Not really, just like.." He pauses for a moment, feeling embarrassed and awkward. "Like, we were obviously in a relationship and the dreams were just things that come along with that."

She cocks her eyebrow in the darkness and he knows exactly how that must have sounded. "Not, like that. Crap." He tries to correct himself.

Lydia laughs softly, almost under her breath. "It's okay Stiles, I know what you mean."

"Lyds, there's something else you should know." He decides it will be better if she just knows.

"Yeah?" She asks, her voice tentative.

"They felt real. Like more real than the dreams I had when he was controlling me." He runs his hands through his hair and sighs. He knows she'll understand that he means the nogitsune, but he hates bringing that up. "It feels like it was something I'd actually experienced, like-"

"Like a memory?" She finishes for him.

"Yeah, exactly like a memory."

Lydia's hand flutters over the hand he has resting on his lap. It's cold in comparison to his, but he knows the gesture is meant to comfort. "We'll figure it out."

Lydia goes to move off the bed, but Stiles grasps her wrist as she pulls away. She turns her head back to him with a look of confusion and concern on her face. "Don't leave me alone. Please." He whispers, his voice barely audible.

She nods slowly, a weak smile on her lips as she stands up from the cot. He hears her pull the chair closest to the bed right up to the side, so they are parallel. He sighs as he lays his head back down on the pillow, letting his eyes close. Lydia laces her fingers with his, as if to confirm that she isn't going anywhere.

It's his last thought as sleep claims him.