Til' The Tears Run Dry

~ LYDIA ~

Lydia tugged her leather skirt up an inch as she knelt on the grass, the area surrounding Allison's gravestone is quiet, the only sound coming from the rustle of leaves blowing on the trees, and the faint sound of birds crowing. The ground is wet underneath Lydia, soaking her exposed knees, sitting gently back on her ankles as tilting her head up to the slab of stone reading;

Allison Argent, Age 17, Daughter and Friend. On se souviendra toujours.

Toujours dans nos coeurs. Shivers ran through her body that had nothing to do with the slight wind having picked up as the afternoon fell to night. She thinks of all the memories they have shared, the good and the bad. She thinks about how she is feeling, how she could use her best friend to comfort her. But that is the problem, she's no longer here to comfort her, or tease her, roll her eyes at her when she says something outrages. She will never get to see her again, never get to talk or study together. At first there's this numbness, a complete and total lack of feeling, she presumes must be shock. Everyone grieves differently, the guidance counselor had told her, and everyone processes the death of a loved one uniquely. Lydia just wasn't sure what she felt, or if she was even processing at all. It hadn't felt like she was, but now a week later that hollowness is gone and in its place the complete opposite, too much feeling, it's almost a burning sensation and sometimes it feels like it will never go away.

Everyone missed her, how could one not? She was such a huge piece of their lives, whether being a friend, a daughter, or the love of someone's life, she was in a sliver of everyone's heart.

After the funeral Mr. Argent left to France taking Isaac with him, she didn't get much details on why only that they had something they wanted to do there, she didn't blame them for wanting to leave Beacon Hills, any sane person would. The amount of death and tragedy in the small town was enough to drive anyone away. Maybe that was their problem; they were crazy to stay and keep fighting only to have bigger and infinitely more dangerous problems arise.

Scott found comfort in the arms of his mother, and though he and Kira still talk regularly she was giving him some needed space. Stiles had a hard time getting over the guilt, though he knew he couldn't really be blamed for what happened, there was still a small lingering feeling in the pit of his stomach that kept him up at night. Lydia felt it too, both of them logically knew there was nothing they could have done to stop it, sometimes actions are out of their hands, because if there had been away to prevent her death they would have.

There is nothing they could have done.

This is what she tells herself as she stares at her friends name carved eloquently into the stone. This isn't the first time she's been here, often finding herself mindlessly travelling towards the cemetery, sometimes she cries and other times sits down to talk and pretend Allison can still hear her.

Three days after the funeral she was expected back in school to sit for hours learning about meaningless nothings and pretend like a huge part of her world hadn't just crashed to the ground. At this point it was all a haze, she carried on her days as normal, she woke up and dressed, ate when needed, nodded wordlessly at people who stopped her in the hallways to offer her condolences. They days came and went and she felt withdrawn from the things around her, nothing seemed to be all that important anymore, nothing really mattered. People around her continued on with their life and the world didn't stop turning or anything that dramatic, but she felt it, the gaping hole in her life, in her heart where Allison was supposed to be. The loss of her friend was with her constantly, like a gray cloud looming over her, she often got lost in thought drifting into old memories further reminding her of what she would never have again.

Scott and Stiles both checked on her often, Kira and Malia both tried hard to help too. They were nice and friendly; they respected her boundaries and didn't push, allowing her whatever she needed to properly grieve her friend. But no matter how hard Lydia tried to move forward she felt like something was holding her back. You always hear about the stages of grief, shock and denial, pain and guilt, anger and bargaining, depression or loneliness, acceptance and hope. She isn't sure how it's supposed to work, or if it works like that for anyone at all, but it seems to like all these emotions are a daily occurrence. But without the hope or reconstruction of the life once had, because there is no light at the end of the tunnel, at least not one that Lydia can see. A trembling hand reached to trace the letters of the word friend, biting her lip trying to keep the sob that threatened to rake her body; she inhaled a shallow breath and then struggled for another. But that was the thing, Allison wasn't just a friend, she was family. Like the sister you always wanted, but better. The tears began falling freely now, having given up on fighting them, she allowed all the feelings to overwhelm her, like a dam breaking and the water finally flowing wildly.

~ DEREK ~

Heavy black boots sound against the pavement as he passes the graveyard; the sun is about to set and the night chill filling the air can be felt as darkness descends over the town. There is a stillness in the air and he embraces the moment when the outside world mirrors his inner self.

When he sees a flare of long red curls blow in the wind he has to look twice, almost missing her behind the many tombstones that stand between Lydia and him. Her small stature and the fact that she is kneeling on the ground making it easy to miss her if not for the bright flow of hair in the deeming twilight. Lydia has her hands resting on her legs; her posture slumped and defeated. Such a stark contrast to her usual elegant and empowering pose, from a distance he can see the slight tremble running through her tiny frame. She looks so small and fragile, like a child lost in a cruel and unforgiving world.

He contemplates turning around and walking away, after all Lydia and he have never been close, and the few brief encounters with each other have been far from friendly. There had been a lingering hostility, not that he could blame either one of them. But a lot was different now, he had developed a sense of respect for her strong and defiant personality, a casual bond had formed between them. He remembers the feeling of being lost and alone, remembers what it was like to lose his family, to lose someone you love dearly, and it is because of that that he makes the decision to continue towards her slumped figure.

When he reaches her Derek doesn't say anything. Merely sits down beside her at a safe distance and waits to see if there are any objections to his company, now that he sits next to her he can clearly see what he had guessed from afar, tear tracks marking her cheeks, a small puddle formed on her skirt where the tears must have fallen, her eyeliner slightly smudged around her red rimmed eyes. It is heart wrenching to see such a strong individual in pain, the slight tremor to her hands, and the stutter in her breathing as tears continue falling. Every nerve in Derek's body telling him to pull her towards him and hold her tightly, hoping that if he held her tight enough he just might be able to stick the pieces back together. But he's unsure if she would welcome that from him. He couldn't stand feeling so helpless; there was really nothing to do, just hope that with time some wounds might heal. Or at least scab over, enough that the constant pain is dulled to a throb.

No words had been exchanged since he'd sat down but she didn't seem to mind his presence, her breathing was starting to slow down and even out and she eventually regained control of her body. She sat back fully on the ground, no hope for the skirt now the thought randomly passed through her mind, Allison would've laughed she always did over her preoccupation with her clothes. She stretched her legs out in front of her, bending them at the knees, mindful of the short skirt she was wearing. Her first acknowledgment that Derek was there, beside her. He watched as a gust of wind passed blowing some of her strawberry blonde hair over her face, several strands sticking to her cheeks where her tears had wet her face.

They'd lost so many, Boyd, Erica, and even Aiden. Their loss was always there to him, demanding to be felt and remembered. Being that grief was not an uncommon feeling to him you would think he would know what to say, but he didn't.

The quiet air was broken when Lydia's voice rang through, small and brittle but a small amount of determination seeping through. "It is going to get better, easier." she pauses slightly before continuing, "It has to, right?" her voice cracking at the end of the sentence.

He wants to say that it will, that one day she'll wake up and won't feel the aching loneliness, but that's not always the truth. It's certainly wasn't his truth.

"The loss of a loved one can be like the loss of a part of oneself; an arm or a leg. At first, the pain is so physical that it is hard to ignore. The trauma is so intense that the mind finds it hard to cope with the loss. All we can do is hope, hope that with time the pain eases, the body recovers and the brain figures out new ways to go on." When he continued his voice is low and cautious. "I feel the loss of my family regularly, but you can't stop your life because of it, it is okay to mourn and miss them, but I know they would not want it to cripple me."

Nodding slightly as if to show she is listening, wiping a hand over her face, her hazel eyes open and regain some of their usual power. They both sit there staring at each other with a quiet intensity, it is comforting and unusual for him but he doesn't dwell on the fact for long because she is soon rising off the ground he along with her noting her grace as she does so is almost wolf like, he smirks to himself. She tugs her skirt down and fixes a few wild strays of hair. She looks momentarily lost like she is unsure of how to proceed. Seemingly settling on one thing she steps forward and wraps her arms around him, pulling his body into hers, the embrace is hesitant and gentle.

He recovers from the momentary shock wrapping his arms around her protectively, locking one arm around the back of her shoulder blades and the other settling on her lower back. Her head rests gently on his broad chest and he can smell the faint scent of strawberries radiating off her hair and mixing with the smell of the earth and trees surrounding them. She feels dainty in his large arms, almost as if squeezing to tight would break her; illogically he tightens his grip more, as if trying to protect her from all the horrible dangers this world had to offer. His nose resting softly on the top of her head, closing his eyes and inhaling another whiff of strawberry, before letting his arms slowly drop and stepping away from her. Her head rising from where his chest had been slowly coming back to herself, she looks up at him, "Thank you, Derek." She says simply.

He nods absently, his mind still slightly on edge after that hug, it was nice, he hadn't had one in a long time and it had stirred questionable emotions inside him. She turned and started walking towards her car that was parked on the other side of the cemetery; she was several meters away when he called out, "Lydia!" She turns around with confusion in her stare and one of her perfectly shaped eyebrows arched in silent question.

"Grief is a powerful, universal feeling, but it is survivable. I promise."

The unspoken promise of his support clear to them both.

Hey! This is my first fic for the paring Dydia (Derek & Lydia, Teen Wolf). Hope you enjoyed it and if you liked it let me know in the comments, also any critique is welcome since i am new to writing! If you have any prompts leave me a message and i'll work on it :o)

-M