This is the second prompt I received from Stydia Fanfiction. It was a lot of fun to write (because I live for the pain and anything to do with their tether that is NEVER discussed on the show like their goddamn kiss!). I really hope that all of you enjoy reading it as much as I had fun writing this!

(A/N: I decided to let Stiles be the only person Lydia will let touch her. Because of the emotional tether between them, and everything Stiles has gone through, that they're able to connect instantly with one another. Hopefully you guys like it! I'm so up in the air with this but, nevertheless, ENJOY!)

His lungs felt like they were on fire. The air pressing heavily into his lungs but unable to find a decent means of escape. The world around him had picked up speed and slowed down all at once as his hands pounded on the gates. The cool metal bit and swelled into his flesh as his breathing erratic and tunnel vision zoomed in and out of focus.

He could vaguely feel someone gripping his shoulders. Words being spoken but he heard nothing over the sound of rushing blood and unstable thoughts that he couldn't grasp and make coherent.

"Stiles. Son?"

His dad was trying to pull him away but it felt like his feet were rooted down into place. He needed to get inside. He needed…

His body jerked as the creaking metal of the door began to open. The movement so painstakingly slow that he squeezed his slim frame through the gate not caring to wait. His feet making quick work of the cement steps.

The sound of people shouting his name was a distant thought of its own. The pack clamored to keep up with his pace but he was moving too fast. Too fast for even Scott to squeeze by the Sheriff and Malia as he barely reached the closing door of the lobby Stiles had just entered.

The lobby they'd all been in less than two months ago was eerily empty. The lights flickering from the storm outside would have sent Stiles already frayed nerves over the edge. Counting his fingers to make sure he wasn't sleeping, but god did he wish this was all really a dream. A bad fucking dream.

That Lydia hadn't been here for months. That he hadn't just abandoned her and let The Dread Doctors make him forget about her.

How could he forget about her?

His hands ran absently through his hair as he looked around the room taking quick note that no orderly was behind the reception desk. Stiles wasted no time in making his way around the side. His hands scanning just as rapidly as his eyes for the patient log book; anything that would tell him where she was.

"Stiles!"

Was it Scott? Or was it his dad?

All their voices were blending into one creating a loud beast that was instantly muffled as it reached his ears. He couldn't hear anything past his racing thoughts as he continued to locate where they'd placed her.

They called his name again. They called it right when his eyes landed on a patient's name, L. Martin.

The whites of his eyes shown bright as his shaky hands crumbled the paper and shoved it down into the pockets of his jeans. The racing of his thoughts grew wilder as he licked his cracked lips; throat becoming dry. The bastards had stuck her down in Valack's old cell. Leaving her down there with all the creatures that had scared her enough she'd had to hold his hand for a second.

"Stiles, what is it?"

He pushed Scott's hand involuntarily free from his shoulders. His feet moving him forward before he even knew where he was going. His mind knew and his body followed the vaguely familiar path towards the basement stairs. The fast walking he'd started quickly turning into a brisk jog as the floor vibrated underneath him. Signaling that the others were indeed following close behind him.

It seemed the closer he came to the bottom of the basement stairs the louder his heart became. If it had been beating wildly before now it felt like it was going to be ripped from his chest at this point.

"Lydia!"

Her name tore loss from his lips as he rounded the last step and sprinted towards the first locked gate.

Gate.

Damn it. How could he forget the keys?!

But when his body collided with the dense metal it slammed open against his weight landing violently against the wall. If the circumstances were different, Stiles would have wondered, maybe thought about why the door hadn't been locked. But he wasn't thinking properly.

He was thinking of a strawberry blonde girl and how she rolled his eyes at his awful jokes. The last time they'd been together. How she stood by his side when he'd finally opened up to her about what had happened that night with Donovan. The light graze of her hand lightly taking his as her voice had flooded his world with the words: "You're still, Stiles. You didn't mean to do it. You aren't a murderer. Do you hear me? I don't love you any less."

Stiles hadn't realized he'd been crying until the wind of his stride struck his face; leaving a cooling effect instantly.

How could I let them make me forget you?!

Stiles pressed on not even caring about the words thrown at him by family and friends behind him. No one was stopping him from getting to her. He wasn't going to leave her down her for another moment or leave her again. Ever. Period.

As he made his way down the off-white and chilled hallway, the sound of his sneakers bouncing off the cement walls, Stiles realized he was coming increasingly closer to a man who was leaving Lydia's cell. He slowed his sprinting to a quick minimum of none as his eyes danced around the face of the man before him. Recognition startled him back to the day they'd visited Valak. The orderly who had taken their belongings at the desk. The one who had stared openly at Lydia.

Taking another moment to briefly exam him it didn't take Stiles long to notice the pink pattern of blood on his fingertips. A needle dangling loosely in the same hand.

A sweet rage suddenly lit up his veins like fire and he flicked his eyes towards Lydia's cell and the blank stare the orderly gave in return.

"What did you do to her?!"

That white hot rage pierced his words like venom and echoed through the walls. The creatures in the cell instantly becoming aware as their voices raised with his own. Before he could stop himself (not that he would have) Stiles was on him. His body so numb with hatred that he couldn't feel his fist connecting repeatedly with the orderly's face.

Suddenly hands were grabbing at him startling him again from his tunnel vision. When the voices jumped in it all felt too loud and frantic.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?"

"Stiles, what is going on?!"

"Son, I need you to talk to me!"

He didn't care to answer as he shook himself free of whoever had a hold of him. His eyes locked on the cell less than fifteen feet in front of him. He dropped down quickly to unloop the keys from the now bloodied orderly and took off with renewed purpose to the end of the hall.

His lungs and thighs were burning with the effort to keep up with the speed of desperation he'd forced on his body. Stiles wasn't paying attention to his bodies needs or its pain as his shoulder slammed forcefully into the metal door. He tried to quiet the shaking of his hands as he looked down at the key ring and begun to try every key until he could find the right one.

"Lydia! Lydia can you hear me? I'm here! Lydia I'm right here!"

Stiles frantic words were doused with so much raw emotion that they trailed off, heard only by the supernatural beings around him. His voice cracked at the end as he choked back a sob of frustration.

Every time a key didn't work, he slammed his shoulder against it, his agitation not allowing him to care that he was bruising the appendage. Stiles needed to get in there. He needed to see her and…

When the door unlocked he burst into the room and found himself simultaneously falling to his knees. A sob clawing its way up his throat and bursting through his lips as he looked in the corner of the empty room.

Lydia appeared to be catatonic; the vivid green of her eyes he'd loved so much looking lifelessly up at the dimmed bulb in the room. Her mouth hung partially open and it allowed him to notice her cheeks were gaunt; her skin drawn tight and ashen in color.

This wasn't his Lydia. This frail creature that inhabited the room couldn't be the Lydia Martin who could write a whole new book on Physics. Who had sat beside him in his jeep and argued playfully with him about his favorite baseball team as he'd given her a ride to school. The Lydia Martin who had reminded him it was okay to be broken when you had the right people to help fix you.

Stiles could feel the mass of the group behind him as they all took in the scene before them. Lydia hadn't even made a move to show any recognition that anyone had entered her cell. Stiles was still on his knees when a body moved swiftly past him; Parrish.

Instantly he wanted to yell at him, to scream at him to get back and away from her. But Stiles felt his voice fall short as his eyes stayed locked on her.

"Hey, hey Lydia," Parrish's delicate approach filled the room with a peaceful calm that Stiles childishly hated. "It's Parrish. We're here to get you out. Lydia? Lydia can you hear me?"

That's when it happened.

Parrish reached out his hand to gently take on of hers that had been resting carelessly in her lap. The moment his skin made contact with hers Lydia's head jerked violently in his direction and she screamed.

Simultaneously everyone's hands shot up to protect their ears. Stiles went to do the same but his arms fell short midway until the dropped back down to his sides. He could feel the blood begin to pull inside his ears as he scooted towards her, but he didn't care. His hand gently reached out and took her frail wrist into his hand as he moved himself forward and brought her swiftly to him.

He crashed her into his chest, his ears hating him for it as the nearness of the sound only made it worse. Stiles didn't care. The only thing that mattered was that he was clutching her close to him; their hearts thundering against each other's until it almost seemed like they gained the same rhythm. One hand snaked up to the nap of her neck. The cool touch of her damp hair sent a shiver down his spine.

"Lydia, it's me. It's Stiles. Can you hear me, Lydia? I need you to come back to me," he murmured against her ear as he rocked her.

No one else in the room moved to help them or made a move to interrupt them. Parrish had stepped back until he was with the others as they all watched on in shock.

Stiles didn't notice that she'd stopped screaming or that she was even holding him back. No longer clawing or trying to push him away. The only sound that anyone could hear in the room now was the choked sobs that left him as he continued to rock with her. His grip on her tightening as he sobbed, "I'm so sorry, Lyds. I'm so fucking sorry."

They hadn't been able to pry either of them apart after that. Stiles held her close and delicately, as if she was a China doll about to break. Lydia latched on so tight to Stiles jacket, with the far away blank stare still written on her face, that when Melissa and tried to move her just a bit to check her vitals, Lydia had let out a whimper that caused Stiles to pull her in closer.

He'd sat in the back of his dads cop car with her. The two of them pressed tightly into a corner. Lydia's face was buried into his chest as Stiles rested his chin on top her head. Hating that she smelled like Eichen House shower soap and not the flower scented bath soap he'd grown so fond of. He hated it so much, but didn't really give a damn because she was here, and wrapped tightly in his arms.

They'd decided that she would stay at his house with his dad. At first there had been a lot of arguing (and scoffing from Malia's side) that maybe she should stay with Melissa and Scott. It didn't matter honestly where they took her because Stiles made it clear wherever she went, he went too.

When they reached the Stilinski household, they'd gently led Lydia to the bathroom and stood outside, wrapped up in conversation. Suddenly, she started screaming. Stiles took off running, throwing open the door and holding it open as Melissa rushed in first. Lydia was thrashing in the tub, soapy bath water soaking the bathroom floor, pure terror contorting her face into something Stiles didn't recognize. Something Stiles hated.

Melissa tried and tried to soothe her but Lydia persisted. That's when Stiles moved towards the bath tub and got inside.

By the shocked look on Melissa's face Stiles could tell she wasn't expecting it and neither had he. But he didn't need to think twice about it or care that he was still fully clothed as he submerged his body back to rest on the edge of the tub and pulled her into a tight embrace against his chest.

Stiles kept his hands respectable as he brought her against him but also covered her up for modesty purposes. It never even crossed his mind that he was lying in a bath with a very naked Lydia. He moved his free left hand out of the water as he made calming noises against her ear and ran his fingers soothingly against her scalp.

Her next words sunk heavily in his chest. The cracks in her soft voice ripped him apart with every word.

"Stiles died. They showed me. Stiles died and I couldn't save him. Any of them. I screamed for him."

Stiles felt his eyes close tightly. Melissa gasped. His heart felt congested with pain, anger, and above all, guilt.

I did this.

He tried to keep his voice as though he was sure of the words leaving his mouth. Instead, they betrayed him as it faltered on him; quivering in the place where his courage used to be.

"Lyds…Lydia. I'm right here. It was just a trick. Okay? It wasn't real."

"I loved him," she cried. "It was too late. He didn't know."

The tears fell freely down his face, his lips going pencil thin, as he tried to suppress a scream of his own.

"He knew."

His voice so low he wasn't even sure she heard it.

When Lydia was calm enough to move from the bathtub Melissa moved forward to take her. Kira came in taking Lydia's free arm as the two women helped her out and towards the spare bedroom his dad had prepared for her.

Stiles hadn't realized he was still in the tub, arms outstretched on its porcelain sides, until Malia walked in and sat down on the toilet. Stiles should have offered her a greeting of some sort but none came. He continued to stare towards the front of the tub, his fingers beginning to drum against the side as his mind replayed the words Lydia had continued to repeat.

"They made her think we all died."

His voice cut through the silence and actually caused the coyote to jump slightly. Malia had her hands between her legs, somehow looking small and childlike, as she looked at her boyfriend sitting in a tub where a naked girl had just been.

"I don't want her staying here."

It wasn't a demand, Stiles thought, but more like a statement. It was enough of one that it jarred him out of his thoughts and he finally looked over in her direction.

"Malia-"

"Please, Stiles." She begged. "I can't-I can't take the way you look at her. Or the way your heart speeds up or the way you smell when you're around her-I just can't."

Stiles continued to stare silently at her until her frustration began to crack through the image of calm Mala had been trying for.

"Well say something!"

Now she was demanding.

"She stays, Malia."

"What the hell for? You aren't a doctor or a nurse like Mrs. McCall! You can't do anything for her, Stiles!"

Whether she had meant it to be or not the last words stung him as if she had actually hit him. The jolt of the hate behind it startling him as his lips parted open. He didn't know where to begin so he decided to make it simple.

"I can bring her back. I'm her tether. She's mine. I know I can bring her back."

Malia stood up from her seat. The tears that slid down her eyes were angrily brushed aside by her palm as she tried to face him but continued to look everywhere but at him.

"Just get it over with.'

Curiosity creased his brow as he looked up at her. It was such an awkward angle and even more awkward position to be in. Stiles grabbed a hold of the sides of the tub and helped push himself up. When he was standing he stepped out of the tub and was met immediately with the cold air of the house.

"Get what over with?"

At his question Malia turned her eyes up to lock with his. Her shoulders squared and a hardness he hadn't seen in her since he first met her at Eichen House eight months back settled across her face.

"You know what, Stiles."

He did know. They both knew it.

"Lydia; she needs me. All my attention is going to be focused on her and it isn't fair to you. I wish I could say it would be different but I know myself. I can't just leave her."

"But you can just leave me?"

Her bottom lip quivered as she looked away from him and up at the ceiling. Fighting back the tears that Stiles knew he had created.

My fault.

He moved to take a step towards her; comfort her. Through everything a part of him really did love Malia. He cared about her and her wellbeing and when she took a step back away from him, it hurt. Stiles didn't want to be the cause of her pain but there was no way around it was there?

"Malia it-it isn't like that."

"Just save the excuses, Stiles. Okay? I always had a feeling a day would come when you would have to choose. I had just been hoping when it did, you would choose me."

She gave him a sad smile and Stiles couldn't take it anymore. He moved towards her and wrapped his arms around her, bringing her head down to his shoulder. Malia openly sobbed as she clutched onto his soaking body and Stiles felt like there was no way to hate himself more than he already did.

But there was and he did.

It was close to three in the morning. Everyone had gone home and Stiles dad had gone to bed. Lydia ended up staying in his room and Stiles took it upon himself to watch over her. His computer chair was not the most comfortable thing, which was good. It kept him from dozing off.

Or so Stiles had thought.

Even though the chair was uncomfortable Stiles found himself catching his head as it leaned back in sleep. He'd caught himself doing this four times. The fifth time was when he noticed Lydia turned to face him her eyes open and staring at him.

He straightened in the chair; his body alert and muscles screaming with fatigue.

"Hey Lyds," he spoke gently.

He leaned forward in his chair, his elbows resting on his knees, as his legs begin to dance nervously. Lydia didn't respond to him right away. Just continued to stare at him. Stiles felt a shiver run up his spine as he tried to make sense of what was going on. Was he even really awake?

Stiles turned his attention down to his fingers ready to start counting.

"You aren't dreaming."

He hadn't been ready for her to respond; he jumped. For a moment Stiles could have sworn she had chuckled lightly but it must have been his imagination. Because when he looked back at her there was no mirth in her eyes. No change from the position she had of clutched fists tangled in his bedspread hovering protectively close to her mouth.

"Good to know," he quipped.

"Why are you sitting in the chair?"

Stiles could feel the pressing need to fidget coming in fast as he let his legs begin to bounce. Twitching hands touching each individual digit as he kept his eyes locked on hers.

"I didn't want to assume it'd be okay for me to share a bed with you. Plus, I wanted to keep watch. Make sure you didn't go anywhere."

"How could you be on watch if you were sleeping?"

The question and tone sounded so much like his Lydia that Stiles couldn't fight the slight lifting of the corners of his mouth as a relieved smile touched his lips.

"It was the one time-"

"That was the third time," Lydia retorted.

The statement was so matter-of-fact that Stiles felt a sudden jolt run through him.

"Lydia. How long have you been awake?'

Even underneath the blanket Stiles noticed the small shrug.

"A while." Lydia let the silence engulf them again as Stiles mind started to race with the new information.

"Stiles."

"Yeah?"

He said it too loud; too excited.

"Come lay with me?"

It seemed like such a small request. Such a silly thing to get excited over. But here he is; overwhelmed with the fact that Lydia wanted him to lay beside her.

"Sure."

Stiles had never been more thankful that his voice hadn't betrayed the wave of emotions crashing through his chest and possibly sending him in an overhaul of word vomit. He moved up from the chair and watched as Lydia scooted back until her back touched the wall.

He took a few seconds to slide the shoes off of his feet before he climbed into bed next to her. Their eyes were level with one another; hands clasped in front of them as Stiles and Lydia continued to just stare at each other. The silence engulfing them once more.

"All those months," she whispered. "All those months I believed everyone had died. That you'd died. For months I lost hope that anyone would ever find me. To be honest, if all of you were gone, I didn't want to be found."

Every word cut him. His eyes searching her face as fresh tears ran down the side of her nose to make an intricate escape to the pillow. Stiles reached out and took a small cold hand in his and brought it close to his chest.

"You don't have to ever think like that again, Lyds."

"I'm so scared when I wake up this will all be a dream. You'll be gone again and I wouldn't have been here with you. That they'll be here."

The tears are flowing faster now as Stiles moved closer to her. Not giving it a second thought as his left hand moves to mold to the curve of her cheek. Stiles ran his thumb across the soft skin to remove the last few stray tears that came loose.

"I know exactly how you feel. That terror and uncertainty. If you want, Lyds, I can show you a trick I do. When I feel like I'm dreaming and can't wake up."

"You count your fingers."

"How'd you know that?"

"I paid attention. I listened. I remembered."

A small smile spread as his thumb stroked her cheek. Astonished as she closed her eyes and leaned in to the touch.

"I feel so broken, Stiles. I just-," Lydia sobbed.

Her chest heaving as she went to bury her face into the pillow but Stiles moved her to the crevice of his neck. His hands stroking her back in soothing circles as he waited in silence for her to get it all out. When she finished she moved her head back to her pillow keeping the newly claimed distance between them.

"A wise person once told me, just because you're broken doesn't mean you aren't worthy of being fixed."

Stiles felt his breathe hitch as the first genuine smile turned the corner of her cracked lips. The pain of whatever traumatic events they'd caused her still shone vividly in her eyes, but Stiles noticed, there was also that small light of courage. The determination that made Lydia who she was.

As he wrapped his arms around her placing a timid kiss on her temple, Stiles thought to himself that maybe, just maybe, in time everything could be okay. And maybe, just maybe, they could heal their wounds together.

I would seriously love to know what you guys thought of this! I'm proud of this one the most! Reviews/Comment/and concerns are always welcome! Again, thank you so much for reading!

Much Love! J