She was getting real damn tired of this.
Flinging her bag onto the passenger side, Lydia all but collapsed into the driver's seat and strapped herself in. Pushing aside the fantasies of wacking a certain amber-eyed male till he developed a bit of sense, she busied herself in reversing her car out of the driveway and racing towards Beacon Hills Reserve.
She knew that Stiles's protective streak ran a mile long- oh boy did she know- and that with their running-with-the-wolves lifestyle he was placated only when she was in his line of vision or safely within the four walls of her house. She understood that instinct though, she really did; if their positions were reversed, she would do the same, no doubt about that. What annoyed her was his incessant need to leave her behind when something even mildly threatening- with the danger value of a possible paper cut even- showed up only to go charging into it headfirst.
To be honest, a part of Lydia's mind reprimanded her that she would be exactly the same in his shoes but she chose to ignore that part of her mind. It was stupid anyway.
At least Kira had the sense to inform her about their little death trap- of sorry, call for cease fire with the Benefactor.
"Well we hope the Benefactor shows up," Kira confided in her, her voice soft through the phone. Lydia could almost imagine girl on her bed with her long legs crossed in a butterfly pose like always, twisting her charcoal hair between her fingers. "We conveyed a message to meet but I have a bad feeling only the assassins are going to show.." she trailed off but her unspoken words still rang loud and clear in Lydia's ears. And it will turn into a massacre.
Lydia had tried her level best to shove back her rising hysteria and keep her tone light. "Thank you for that thought miss sunshine. If you remember, we are kind of kickass at fighting back. So where are we meeting?"
Kira took her time in replying. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news," she started slowly. "But we are under strict orders to not let you come."
"Excuse me?"
"Alpha's orders," Kira informed her dryly. "I mean your banshee skills are top notch Lyds. But I think even Scott knows that shots will be fired, optimism aside."
Lydia could not help rolling her eyes, even though the other girl could not possibly see her and she herself saw reason in the statement. Better to be safe and away than in the brunt of the battle and the ability to do nothing but scream like a perfect goddamned idiot. So all she did was ask, "So its only a meet for supernatural creatures minus banshees, right?" she stressed, her insides coiling slightly.
Luckily Kira understood. "Yup, all supernatural from our side. Can't say about theirs."
Lydia felt herself physically relax. "Alright then. I'll listen to our Mr. Alpha this time."
And she had stuck to it. Until she decided to swing by Stiles's place while the meet was happening only to be faced by the quizzical Sheriff and the words, "Stiles went with Scott ages ago. Said its for some supernatural thing."
That's when she started seeing red. She was going to strangle every last one of them.
And it was with that motivation, that she found herself striding into Beacon Hill's Reserve like a woman on a mission. She just did not anticipate the scream to come so soon.
There are two types of screams that she has experienced so far. When her nerves are shot up to the sky, she can feel certain vibes before a sensation builds in her stomach and it's like taking off the lid on a carbonated drink that been bottled up too long and shaken too vigorously- but at least you expect it, at least you had some indication of what is to come. Then there are those which attack her like an unexpected blow to the head and force themselves out of her mouth before she has enough time to gather her wits.
This was the latter and those were the ones that scared her the most. Especially after Allison.
All she could think was, Please don't let it be Stiles. Please don't let it be Scott. Please don't let it be Kira. Please don't let it be Stiles.
And in that moment, as her shoes slapped the dirt, she prayed, oh God did she pray, to every deity known and unknown, to the one she believed in and those she didn't, she just hoped and prayed and pleaded that this would not end like she dreaded it would.
That this would not end in another funeral.
By the time she finally reached the clearing- there was a lot of ground to cover. In their want to keep this meeting private and undisturbed, the idiots had happily placed it furthest away from the source of actual help. This is why they needed her around to call the shots- she was slightly out of breath and cursing herself for her decision to wear kitten heel boots to a situation which obviously had to lead to saving someone's ass.
She could see Liam, warding off a redhead who was swinging a machete with an unnerving smirk on her face.
She could see Kira, swinging her katana with deadly speed, in the middle of those circling around her.
There was Derek, half hidden in the shadows the trees provided, in all his werewolf glory, emitting growls, his crystal blue eyes cold.
And then there was Scott, right at the edge, with a look of the most concentrated fury she had ever seen on the boy who mostly resembled puppy. She reflexively took a step back as his face morphed into something not human, not werewolf even but something much darker than that. But then she blinked and it was gone, just regular Alpha Scott just with a lot more boiling rage and she immediately dubbed the strange sight on high strung nerves.
But where the hell was Stiles?
She scanned the battlefield, making sure she stayed hidden lest she attract unwanted attention. Scott and the others probably knew she was around, given the fact that she screamed but the assassins were mostly human and their inability to hear her scream unless focusing on it might be her saving grace.
Wait a second...
Why was Scott constantly looking over his shoulder, only to have an increasingly stormy look on his face every time he faced the front...?
And why the hell wasn't Stiles here, somewhere? He would rather have his limbs dislocated than run away.
What if...
Lydia felt the air leave her lungs and during that moment of clarity was fear she had never experienced before, despair she would not wish on even her worst enemy and the feeling of toppling into the void.
So she did what she always did when trying to pull herself together; she stopped gaping like a goddamned idiot and ran.
Not through the thick of the battle- even in her hyperventilating state, she was still Lydia Martin and GPA's of 4 were born of extreme intelligence- but around it, through the thick foliage of trees. Almost tripping on a stray branch for the fucking third time, she kicked off her boots because God knows she was so much better off without them and she had no time to deal with things like shoes right now.
Not when Stiles might be injured. Not when Stiles might be dying.
No don't think like that you id-
The thought was cut short and something between a gasp and a sob escaped her Stiles Stilinski might be remarkably pale despite living in the sunny state of California but at that moment, he was white as a sheet. And Stiles Stilinski is known for his Energizer Bunny on weed self and she had never seen him so still.
Then she saw the blood, how slim fingers of it crept out beneath his folded, freckled hands, how starkly the scarlet contrasted with the pale white. And all she could think off was how wrong it was.
She fell to her knees beside him, small stones poking into her skin, utterly shocked into silence, only jolted into the present by Scott's harsh command, "Lydia, get a grip and do something!"
She flinched as if slapped hard and for a second blinked at Scott's back and his sharp claws slashing at someone she could not see. Then she shook her head, like how one would rid himself of water in his ears, and muttered to herself, "Get a fucking grip on yourself Martin."
Slowly and gently, she moved Stiles's hands from his side, sucking in a sharp breath as he moaned softly in pain. She pushed up his shirt and almost cried out loud at the sight of the wound, covered in so much blood that she couldn't even see where it began and where it ended. Shrugging off her pale pink shrug, she mopped up the mess as best as she could, whispering a "I'm sorry," every time he shivered or groaned.
It was a single bullet hole, a clean shot into his right side but Lydia for the life of her could not tell if it had hit any vital organs or such. Her first aid knowledge may be non-existent but what she did know was to always put pressure on the wound. So she bunched up the flimsy fabric and kept it pressed to his side, unsure how much blood he could afford to lose.
"Hey," a hoarse drawl whispered in her ear and she looked up to see that his eyelids had retreated and his amber irises were still their luminous selves. "Why are you crying?"
She wiped at the tears she didn't realize had escaped with the back of her hand. "Because you're a fucking idiot who's going to be the death of me someday. Or the reason I end up in jail."
He let out a throaty chuckle and Lydia's spirits soared because yeah it wasn't his usual infectious laughter but at least it was something and it never failed to bring a smile to her face, be it a watery one. "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it Lyds."
"Yes we will, and you young man are not going to get away with this stunt easily." She shot him the glare she was famous for. "Can you stand?"
He blanched visibly. "Not by myself," he confessed, wincing as he tried to sit up.
"Lean on me then," she commanded, fiery determination in her eyes and everyone knew not to say no to that look.
All that was left to do then was take one step forward a time together, treading quietly and following the path that Stiles directed them towards because of course the boy would know the shortcuts considering he practically lived there. She drove him to the nearest hospital, almost exploding in tears when he blacked out and for a horrifying moment she thought he had actually died but no scream came and she shoved her rising hysteria and focused on flooring the accelerator and replying to Melissa McCall's shocked exclamation with, "I'll explain later, please."
Scott found her curled up in a chair in the waiting room with blood on her clothes and the most radiant smile on her face. Because the Mrs. McCall had just told her that he was going to be okay and that was all that mattered.
You are surrounding all my surroundings,
Sounding down the mountain range of my left-side brain,
You are surrounding all my surroundings,
Twisting the kaleidoscope behind both of my eyes.
And i'll be holding on to you.
AN:/ Lily Herondale, master of sucky endings, returns with yet again more Stydia!
BECAUSE EVEN DURING HIATUS, THE LOVE FOR STYDIA REMAINS ETERNALLY
Thank you for reading and I hope you liked it! Drop a little review and tell me what you think :)
Until next time,
~Lily3