A/N: Hey all! Sorry this took so long, I had trouble finding an ending and eventually I just said "Screw it" and finished it. So it ends abruptly. Sorry.

Any discrepancies between this an the actual episode (the chalkboard scene) are changes I made on purpose to make it make more sense (I refuse to believe a smart kid like Stiles wouldn't know that Kalium was 'K' or Radium was 'Ra'. Just no).

Part Two

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf. If I did, Lydia Martin would get twice as much screen time as she currently does.

We finish dinner and get Stiles caught up in History and English before he gets antsy and insists on going upstairs to do research on William Barrow. I agree to help even though I seriously doubt we're going to find the information we need on the Internet.

In the doorway to Stiles's room, I do a double-take. "I see you've done some redecorating." By which I mean the entire wall opposite his door is covered with newspaper clippings and pictures all connected with red yarn. Most of the picture are of dead bodies; I recognize the guy I found at the pool a few months ago and wrinkle my nose. "What a lovely sight to wake up to in the morning."

"It's an investigation board." Stiles defends, dropping into his desk chair. "Have you never seen CSI?"

"No, I see enough dead bodies in my daily life, thanks." I retort, lying down on the foot of his bed so I'm propped up on my elbows. I watch as he does a quick google search of Barrow and prints out pictures of him and Eichen House, the mental hospital he'd been institutionalized at. "You're not printing out a picture of the school?"

Stiles snorts, digging through his desk to pull out four spools of different colored string. "Are you kidding? With all the shit that's gone down there? It's up there five times over already." He tosses the spools next to me on the bed before turning to the wall and tacking up the pictures. I'm curious as to why he's brought out the yellow, green and blue spools since it looks like he's only used red so far. It doesn't look like he's planning on using them today either, because he cuts off a few pieces of the red string before tossing the spool back with the others.

"What do the different colored strings mean?" I ask as Stiles connects the picture of Barrow with one of the school.

"Just different stages of the investigation." Stiles explains. "So green's solves, yellow's to-be-determined, blue's just…" He pauses, looking at the blue like he doesn't remember what it's supposed to be. "…pretty."

That's all well and good, but he's missing the most important one. "What does red mean?"

"Uh, unsolved."

I take in the massive amount of red string on the wall and the quickly diminishing spool. "You only have red on the board."

Stiles turns to me with his hands on his hips like I am the ultimate crusher of spirits. "Yes, I'm aware. Thank you."

He turns his attention back to the investigation board and I tug on the trail of string coming from the red spool, twirling it around my finger. "Did you get detention for pulling the alarm?" I ask, remembering how Coach had pulled him away from Scott and I after we cemented our dinner plan.

"Yup, every day this week." Stiles sounds resigned and I wince, closing my eyes as I wrap the string around my finger more tightly than I meant to. "It's okay though," he adds nonchalantly. "We were onto something, I know it."

There's no way he can actually believe that. Not with all the evidence pointing to the contrary. I stare at the string that's now cutting off my circulations. The red is a stark contrast against my bloodless skin. Red for unsolved. Fitting, I think. "Even though we couldn't find any proof of Barrow being there?"

I try to ask the question casually, like it hasn't been upsetting me. Something in my voice must give me away, because Stiles suddenly looks back at me with concern. I avert my eyes.

"Hey. Lydia." Stiles moves to the bed and kneels down next to it so his face is level with mine. "You have been right every time something like this has happened. Okay? So don't start doubting yourself now."

I'd like to just smile and accept that, as if I actually believe my hunches being correct a few times mean that I'm infallible, as if I'm actually the confident mask I wear who knows she's never wrong. But I'm not. I'm wrong all the time and I'm completely out of my depth when it comes to the supernatural. And Stiles…Stiles is sweet and loyal and more patient with me than I probably deserve, but he's the only one of us who seems to have a natural understanding of this stuff and he has to know that I messed up today. "No scent," I remind him. "No bomb. I got you in trouble…" I add quietly, tugging the string tighter around my finger.

"Okay." I blink and suddenly he's pushing my hand away from my finger, his own long ones gently untangling the snarls I've created. "Look, Barrow was there," he says as if that is a fact of the universe. The sky is blue, Mr. Argent is a DILF, and Barrow was at the school today. "Alright? You knew it, you felt it." He's looking down as he continues unraveling the string from my finger and I'm suddenly struck by how long his eyelashes are. Guys should not have eyelashes like that. Or eyes like that, really. It's not like I've never noticed them before, but this is the first time I realize they're actually beautiful. Stunning, even.

It's a good thing he's not looking at me, because I'm straight-up staring at his eyes in an obvious way. "And look," Stiles continues, finally finishing with the string and tossing it to the side, "if you wanted to, I'd–" Now he's ooking at me and my chest tightens but I don't break his gaze. "I'd go back to that school right now and search all night just to prove it."

The thing is, he really means it. Because he's Stiles and he can come up with a million and one lies in a heartbeat, but when it matters most he's incapable of being anything less than completely sincere. I smile tentatively, the feeling in my chest expanding. I recognize it from the day in the locker room, when I kissed him to calm him down from his panic attack. As I'd pulled away from him my heart was beating a million times a minute and there was this stupid voice screaming again! Do that again! that I'd had to push down. And he'd looked at me…like how he's looking at me now. Wonder. Awe. Faith. Something else, something deeper that scares me.

Something I'm not ready for.

I break eye contact and look down, biting the inside of my lip. Yes, maybe I'd felt something when I kissed him. Maybe my panicked scream when I pushed Stiles and Scott out of the way from that fire back at the Glen Capri had been about ten percent for Scott and ninety for Stiles. Maybe I'd even wanted to kiss him just two weeks ago when he saved me from that coyote trap, I'd leapt to safety into his arms, and our eyes had met, faces mere inches apart. Maybe Allison was right and there was something happening. That didn't mean that pursuing it would be a good idea. I'd just end up breaking his heart.

Stiles looks down too, thankfully not disappointed as far as I can tell. He probably has no idea I was thinking about kissing him just now. I watch him go very still, pulling off the cap of his sharpie and sniffing it, his eyes going wide and looking at the marker like it just grew wings and started flying.

"Get up," He orders, holding out a hand to stave off and questions. "Get up, we're going to the school."

Stiles refuses to tell me why we're going to the school, claiming he doesn't want to jinx whatever epiphany smelling his sharpie gave him. This irritates the hell out of me honestly, and by the time we break into the school I'm about ready to throttle him for keeping me in suspense.

"The chemistry classroom?" I ask skeptically as he leads me into Mr. Harris's old room. "I thought you hated this class."

He spares me a withering look. "We're not here for a trip down memory lane. We're here because I think this is where Barrow was hiding."

I'm not sure where Stiles came up with that theory, but he seems too intent on finding proof to explain it to me yet. "So what are we looking for?" He reaches for the door to the chemistry closet and I assume I'm about to see a demonstration of his lock-picking skills again when the door just opens. "Uh, that was supposed to be locked." The school has a very strict policy about keeping all chemicals locked in the closet after some young delinquents broke into the glass cabinet they used to be stored in and attempted to create a self-igniting Molotov cocktail.

"Yeah, I know." Stiles replies, bending down to inspect the shelves. "Notice anything else?"

I huff, not really appreciating his use of the Socratic method here. "It smells like chemicals," I say sarcastically, then realize what I just said. It does smell like chemicals. Really strongly of chemicals. My eyes widen when I see that some of the vials and beakers are missing their stoppers. "They wouldn't have been able to catch a scent," I deduce.

"Yup." Stiles crouches down low, shining the flashlight from his phone to reveal droplets of something dark. Blood. "He was here. Performing very minor surgery on himself." He looks up at me. "You were right."

I was right. It makes me feel sick to my stomach. "Then why don't I feel good about this."

"Probably because he was here to kill somebody." Stiles answers unhelpfully.

"But who?"

That's the only question that matters. We leave the chemistry closet and I look around the room.

"Let's spread out, look for clues," Stiles is saying as he starts riffling through papers, but he's looking in the wrong place.

He should be look at the chalkboard.

At the numbers.

I walk toward them slowly. 19, 53, 88. Potassium, Iodine, Radium. Not a formula. Not anything that would ever be grouped together. I move closer, trying to peer at the numbers. The handwriting is familiar. It shouldn't be, I've never met the new Chemistry teacher, much less seen his handwriting. Whose handwriting is that? Something tells me the answer is important.

"Lydia, what are those?" Stiles's question breaks my train of thought.

"Atomic numbers," I murmur, picking up the chalk from the ledge.

Stiles falls into step next to me. "What is it, some kind of formula?"

"Not really." I reply. "Nineteen's Potassium. The first two make Potassium Iodide." I write out 'K' next to the first number, thinking it might make more sense seeing it that way.

"Why is Potassium 'K' anyway?" Stiles muses.

"It's from Kalium," I explain. "The scientific neo-Latin name." I scribble out the I and then pause. Oh no.

Stiles stills as he recognizes the word forming too. "Tell me eighty-eight is not–"

"Radium," I whisper, writing out the two letters. "R-A."

"Kira."

Scott isn't answering his phone for the second time that day. This time I suspect there's a more sinister reason than him not paying attention. Stiles keeps getting more frantic with each successive attempt to reach Scott until I finally yank his phone away and order him to focus on driving. Fortunately I happen to know where Kira's house is because I actually saw them moving in on my way to school one morning.

We pull onto the street and I squint at an object in the distance. "I think that's Scott's bike."

"Okay, good, maybe he's still eating dinner or something." Stiles says desperately even though it's pushing ten o'clock and the chances of that are slim. "Oh shit, there's – there's someone-" He slams on the breaks, shifts the gear to neutral and pulls on the parking break before throwing himself out of the Jeep. I scramble to get out as well and see that there's a crumpled figure on the ground next to the bike. A body.

I run after Stiles down the road, panic increasing as I recognize Scott's jacket. Stiles leans down and exhales a huge sigh of relief. "I think he's just unconscious."

"Knocked unconscious," I note, seeing the dread blood trickling from his head, which thankfully seems to be healing.

"Scott!" Stiles shakes his shoulders. "Scott? Scott!" I'm about to suggest a better approach – one that involves calling Deaton or Scott's Mom – when Scott's eyes flutter open and he jerks up.

"Barrow!" He gasps out, confirming our suspicions. "He took Kira!"

"We know, he was after her the whole time." Stiles tells him, like Scott's confirmation wasn't a hug deal.

"What?"

"He was hiding in the chemistry closet," Stiles recaps. "The smell disguised his scent. There was a coded message on the chalkboard spelling out Kira's name."

Scott looks confused. "Why? Who wrote it?"

Yes Lydia, who wrote it? A whisper nagged at me.

"We don't know," Stiles said impatiently. "But that doesn't matter right now. We've got to find them. Do you think Allison and Isaac found any information?"

"Let's ask."

Scott's calling Isaac but I can't bring myself to pay attention. I was right, somehow, against all evidence. And yet it was still useless. I was too late. We were going to show up too late and find a dead body again.

"All right, thanks." Scott hangs up the phone looking disappointed. "We have to think of something, he's going to kill her."

"I knew he was there." I burst out. "How did I know that?" I need to get a harness on this, to understand my abilities. Otherwise Kira is going to die.

"Because you heard the flies, right?" Stiles reminds me, which is totally unhelpful because the flies stopped buzzing hours ago.

"What do you hear now?" Scott asks hopefully.

He's looking for answers, for a solution I can't give. "Nothing," I say bitterly. "I feel like I can do this, but I don't know what to do." I move forward, wishing I could just rip out my hair in frustration. I want to hit something, kick something, scream my anger out at the top of my lungs. "It's like it's on the tip of my tongue but I don't know how to trigger it." I admit, moving even farther past them. "I - I swear to God, it literally makes me want to scream."

"Alright, then scream." Stiles says like it's obvious. "Lydia, scream."

I scream.

It rips free from my throat, long, high and painful as always, like I'm tearing out a piece of my own soul. The sound fades away and nothing happens. There's no sound. Not even my breath or racing heart.

Then, the buzzing.

Only this time, it's coming from above.

I look up slowly. There it is. The source.

A street light.

"It's not flies." I whip around so fast that Stiles and Scott physically jump back. "It's electricity."

I'm smiling as the puzzle clicks into place. This hasn't done anything or saved anyone, Kira could already be dead as far as we know, but at least I figure this out. The buzzing was electricity.

"Wait, Barrow was an electrical engineer." Stiles says slowly. "He worked at a power sub-station."

"What sub-station?" Scott demands.

Stiles makes a noise of exasperation and pulls out his phone, speed-dialing someone. "Hold on. Yeah, hey Dad? Can you tell me what sub-station Barrow used to work at? Uh, just trying to piece some things together. Okay, great. Oh, and you might want to send a few squad cars there because Barrow kidnapped Kira and we're going to stop him from killing her." He says this last bit really fast and winces as the loud, unmistakably angry voice of the Sheriff comes blaring through the little speakers. "What do you mean you're-" Stiles hangs up and looks at us sheepishly. "The one on Pontiac and Garden. We should probably–"

Scott throws on his helmet, swings a leg over his bike and zooms off down the street.

"-come up with some sort of plan."

LM

We catch up with Scott near the power station, having broken practically every traffic law in the state to get there. Stiles stops so abruptly outside the station that I nearly slam into the dash. I'm still working on my seatbelt as Stiles grabs an aluminum bat from the backseat and jumps out of the car.

"Wait here, alright, just wait for the cops to come." He tells me.

I paused in my unbuckling and frown. "Me? Wait, why?" I ask in confusion, completely prepared to throttle him if he says anything remotely sexist.

"Well I only got one bat," he explains, which admittedly isn't sexist – just stupid. I do end up staying in the car because if things go south in there, Scott will be better off only having to worry about keeping two humans safe rather than three.

I drum my fingers against the open window frame and I wonder why, exactly, Barrow took Kira. She's not a werewolf: Scott and Isaac would have sniffed her out immediately that day she talked to us at lunch. So what is she? Just an innocent girl? Or maybe some other kind of creature with glowing eyes. Maybe – maybe we'd jumped the gun in our assumption that Barrow was after werewolves. I send Allison a quick text about looking for references to glowing eyes, making sure to include the archaic Latin terms in my message.

The other thing that's bothering me is the writing on the board. I initially thought Barrow was going after kids with glowing eyes because he'd snapped mentally from shock of discovering the supernatural world (something that hits a little too close to home for me). But unless he wrote that message himself – which I highly doubt – that means he's working with someone. Someone who'd probably helped him escape, unlocked the chemistry closet and left a coded message. Someone smart and dangerous and probably far more mentally capable than Barrow himself.

Which is just what we need, of course. A new threat. Just when I thought things were getting better.

As if on cue, there's a hum and all the lights go out.

It takes me a moment to process this. The buzzing of electricity in the air, which has been near-constant since we pulled up, is gone. It's quiet. Except – except.

Someone is screaming.

It sounds like a girl, though the voice is unfamiliar. It's long and drawn-out and horribly high-pitched, like no human scream I've ever heard.

"Stiles! Scott!" I scream back, jumping out of the car and flying toward the power station, not caring that I'm unarmed. Something bad has just happened, something terrible, awful, horrible and death is right around the corner, Lydia, you need to know the whole story, this has all happened before, she's going to die, he's going to die they're all going to die –

"Lydia?" My breath catches in my throat as I see Stiles and Scott come out of the station, Kira in tow. Scott looks a little worse for wear and is limping a bit, but they're all essentially unharmed.

"Oh thank god." I stop in my tracks. I want to keep going and rush straight into the pair of them, just to ensure that they're there and real and alive. Kira's there, though, and I think that level of affection might alarm Scott anyway so I just look between them, checking for any horrible, life-threatening injuries. "What happened? Are you guys okay? Where's Barrow?"

Kira opens her mouth to speak, then shuts it, her eyes wide and confused.

"He's dead." Scott answers grimly. "He tried to electrocute Kira and it backfired. That's what made the power go out.

I gape at him. "Backfired? How-"

"It's not important right now," Scott interrupts, sending me an I'll tell you later look. "Right now we need to get our stories straight before the cops get here," he says, literally just as the cops arrive. He winces. "Shit."

"Oh, it gets better." Stiles nods toward the man running from the nearest SUV. I squint and think I vaguely recognize him from somewhere.

"Scott?" The man yells, looking angry and concerned. "What happened? Is everyone alright?"

Scott lets out a frustrated groan and pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut for a second. "We're fine." He calls back, with more resentment in his tone than I've heard from him in a long time. It's then that I notice the man is dressed in a normal suit rather than the Sheriff's department uniform. He's not a civilian though. I can see the badge hanging form around his neck and –

Oh.

I know where I've seen him before. At school, after Stiles and I figured out Ms. Blake was keeping the guardians at the Nematon, he'd intercepted us in the hallway to ask Stiles some questions, probably about his missing dad. Stiles had been surprisingly antagonistic and now I realize why: this is Agent McCall, Scott's dad who left his family several years ago and only recently showed up again to stick his nose in Scott's life. I know very little about him, and the few details I am privy to don't exactly paint him to be father of the year.

Agent McCall steps in front of our little group. "Where' Barrow?"

"Inside." Scott answers shortly. "He electrocuted himself trying to electrocute Kira."

"Is he-"

"Dead. Yeah."

Agent McCall lets out a sigh and signals to the deputies behind him. "Go in there and locate Barrow's body. Don't touch anything unless it's absolutely necessary." They nod and more forward, though I catch one of them roll his eyes behind McCall's back. Apparently Agent McCall is about as welcome in the Sheriff station as he is in his home. "You know, this is the second crime scene I've found you at in the last few weeks," he addresses Scott. "Not to mention that little stunt your friend pulled with the smoke bomb when we attempted to question you guys at her apartment."

"Ambushed." Scott corrects. "When you ambushed us at her apartment. Which was a great way to see you for the first time after three years by the way, thanks Dad."

"What's going on?" The Sheriff mercifully appears before Scott and his Dad can get into a shouting match. "Why are you questioning these kids out here, it's practically freezing out here and they're not exactly dressed for the weather," he says, eying my skirt and Stiles's t-shirt. "We should take them back to the station and talk to them there." He shoots us all significant looks behind Agent McCall's back and I realize he's attempting to give us time to come up with some clever lies.

Agent McCall scowls. "Fine. We'll drive you to the station."

"The station's literally on the way to my house." Stiles interjects. "Can't I just drive there myself?"

"Fine. But the rest of you-"

"I don't want to leave my bike here for someone to steal." Adds Scott.

"Fine!" Growls Agent McCall. "Lydia and Kira, you'll ride with me." Kira glances at me nervously and I just give Agent McCall my best intimidation stare, wondering how the hell he knows my name.

"I don't see why they can't ride in the Jeep, there's more than enough room-"

"Because I wasn't born yesterday, Stiles. Now come on." He looks scornfully at the Sheriff. "Can I trust you not to bungle this investigation up, Stilinski?"

I decide then and there that I'm on board the "We hate Scott's Dad" train. The Sheriff saved my life a month ago and is among the very small group of adults I actually hold in high regard (which also includes Melissa McCall, Chris Argent and Deaton on select days). I do my best to concentrate all the loathing I feel at the moment into a single glare. Scott makes a noise of outrage in the back of his throat, Kira's eyes widen in disbelief and Stiles's entire body jerks like he's restraining himself from punching Agent McCall in the face.

The Sheriff just gives a wry smile. "Actually, I think Ramirez can handle things here." He indicates the deputy next to him who has been awkwardly watching this whole interchange. "I think I ought to be there for the questioning. After all, eyewitnesses are such an important part of an investigation." He directs a small smile at me and I smile back, understanding this is his way of apologizing to me for not listening earlier. "Besides, they're all minors and if they choose not to speak without a parent or guardian present they don't have to. If I'm there we can get some answers out of Stiles at the very least."

Agent McCall rolls his eyes. "And Scott."

"Actually no." Scott disputes immediately. "You're not my legal guardian. You have no legal authority over me and I choose to remain silent unless the Sheriff is there."

Burn. A million times burn. Stiles hides a laugh behind a cough and a brief, flattered smile breaks out on the Sheriff's face before he masks it.

Surrounded and behind enemy lines, McCall throws up his hands. "Fine! Fine!" He spits out the word likes it's quickly becoming his least favorite in the entire human language, before stalking back to SUV.

Kira glances at me again and I give her an encouraging smile as we follow. Scott nods at the Sheriff when he passes and Stiles attempts to just pat his Dad on the shoulder, only to be pulled into a short but tight hug. I see Agent McCall look back at the pair before glancing quickly at Scott who has his back turned. For the tinniest of moments I feel sorry for him.

As I slide into the car I pull out my phone and send a quick text.

Hey Dad. Dinner next week Friday at Carlyle's?

He responds less than a minute later.

Sounds great! Love you.

I glance up at the back of Agent McCall's head. No, I don't feel sorry for him at all.

At the Sheriff's station, Agent McCall's attempt to question all of us quickly denigrates into a game of seeing who can confuse and piss him off the most.

"So when did you get there?" He asks, staring down the four of us.

"At the same time." Stiles replies placidly.

Agent McCall's brow wrinkles in confusion. "At the same time as who?"

"At the same time as me." Scott supplies.

"By coincidence?"

Stiles leans back on the coach. "What do you mean coincidence?" He asks shrewdly like he's the one conducting the investigation.

"That's what I'm asking you," Agent McCall isn't having it. "The two of you arrived at the same time. Was that coincidence?"

Scott fixes a concerned expression on his face. "Are you asking me?"

"I think he's asking me." Stiles sidebars to Scott.

The opportunity is too golden. "I think he's asking both of you." I say with a remarkably straight face.

"Okay, let me answer the questions." Agent McCall cuts in sounding frustrated. Stiles and Scott look delighted. I believe I've just won the game. "Let me ask the questions," He corrects. "Just so I have this absolutely clear. Barrow was hiding in the chemistry closet at the school. Someone left him a coded message on the blackboard telling him to kill Kira. Ten Barrow took Kira to a power sub-station and tied her up with the intent of electrocuting her…which blacked out the entire town," he finishes flatly.

The four of us look at each and nod like everything Agent McCall has said made perfect sense and we don't understand why he's struggling to accept the story. "Sounds about right." Stiles confirms.

"How did you know he'd take her to a power station?" Agent McCall finally asks the one question I've been dreading and I struggle to keep my face a blank, bored mask.

"Well, 'cause he was an electrical engineer." Stiles obfuscates. "So where else would he take her?" His voice kind of trails off at the end.

Agent McCall smirks incredulously. "That's one hell of a deduction there, Stiles." He sneers.

"Yeah, what can I say?" Stiles shoots back instantly. "I take after my pops, he's in law enforcement." He winks at the Sheriff who has been sitting behind Agent McCall trying to hide his snickers throughout this whole interrogation. He's not quite successful this time and has to turn his snort into a cough when Agent McCall turns around to look at him.

"Stiles, just, uh, just answer the man."

Stiles sighs. "We made a good guess."

Agent McCall looks unconvinced but turns his attention to Scott and Kira. "What were the two of you doing?"

"Eating pizza" Scott says at the same time Kira replies, "Eating sushi." They look at each other, panicked. "Eating sushi," Scott amends just as Kira adds, "Eating pizza." Then they both take a deep breath and say together: "Eating sushi and pizza."

Agent McCall shakes his head and turns around to address the Sheriff. "You believe this?"

The Sheriff waves a hand. "To be honest, I haven't believed a word Stiles has said since he learned how to speak." Stiles looks mildly offended at this, but I'm sure even he knows this is true. "But I think these kids found themselves in the right place at the right time and that girl sitting there is very lucky for it."

"Kira is that how you remember it?" Agent McCall suddenly asks, probably sensing that she's the only one of us who's never lied to the authorities before and is therefore the weakest link.

We all sort of lean forward and look at Kira significantly. If she was planning on disputing our story, she folds under peer-pressure and says, "Yes." Then she adds hesitantly, "Could I get my phone back now?"

"Sorry but no." Agent McCall refuses because he is old and doesn't understand how vital a phone is to a teenager's livelihood. I just thank God my phone wasn't impounded for evidence. He runs a hand through his hair and looks at us like he knows we're a bunch of little liars and he wants to throw us all into a jail cell for the night to teach us respect for authority. "You're all free to go," he tells us, dragging each word out like they physically pain him.

The smile I give him is sweet enough to eat the varnish off his desk.

Stiles drives me home and fills me in on the real story of what happened at the power station. Apparently Barrow had actually managed to electrocute Kira, except not only was there a massive kickback that killed Barrow instantly, but she'd actually managed to suck all of the power into her body "like Storm from X-Men." I probably should be more shocked about this than I am. All I can feel is relief, though – relief and a giddy sense of pride.

I slip past my mom's closed bedroom door and shrug off my heels inside my room, landing face-down on my bed. I'm completely, totally exhausted after the day I've just had, but I can't sleep. I've got electricity of my own buzzing under my skin, and though I might not be a superhero from some geeky comic book…I'm something. And today, something didn't mean wandering through the woods naked, or screaming my head off like a lunatic, or stumbling onto a dead body beside a pool.

Today, something meant saving someone's life.

Today, something meant being a hero.

A/N: So yeah, kind of a crappy ending. I wanted it to lead into the next day when Lydia tells Aiden she doesn't want to be with the bad guys, but that was too much effort so I just ended it and implied where her line of thinking was.

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