"I'm going to talk to Jackson," Lydia states confidently.
"What?" Stiles exclaims, his whole body moving towards her. "No! No. He knows you helped us in the woods. He's probably still pissed about that. Plus, there's that whole thing with he's a murdering lizard."
"He's my friend, Stiles. And he turned in you two idiots, not me. I don't have a restraining order."
His shoulders deflate as his voice lowers, "I know. I just—I can't see you get hurt."
Allison steps beside her, answering confidently, "I'll go with her."
Scott moves forward, his concern mirroring Stiles. "What? No. How is that better?"
"I can take care of myself. We can look out for each other."
While Scott and Allison continue to argue over her ability to fight a kanima, Stiles and Lydia stand side by side. Their arms brush as their eyes dart from their friends to each other.
Ducking his head, Stiles whispers softly, "Promise, you won't get hurt."
Turning slightly towards him, Lydia responds in the same quiet voice, "He won't hurt me."
He faces her, his hands framing her sides before falling to his pockets. "You want to believe that. He's not himself right now. You can't predict what he's gonna to do."
"No one knows what he's going through better than me. We both got bit, neither of us turned."
He steps towards her, his voice now insistent, "You are not killing people, Lydia. There's a big difference."
"Everything ok?" Allison asks.
They nod simultaneously as Stiles steps back.
Lydia nearly runs into Jackson in the hall. He nods at her, barely making eye contact, before turning towards the locker room.
She runs after him, yelling his name.
She steps into the locker room, only to find it empty. Her stomach drops as her hands grip her purse.
This is not the plan.
Earlier, after much debate, their foursome finally agreed on a scenario. Lydia and Allison would try to talk with Jackson in the cafeteria, a public place that Scott and Stiles could easily watch.
Now, she stands alone in the boys' locker room, without any of her friends' knowledge. She can practically hear Stiles yelling at her over her disregard for her own safety.
But, she sees an opportunity, and, despite their objections, she's not scared of Jackson. They may have a shaky relationship, but he would never hurt her.
Hearing the shower, she steps towards the back of the locker room, calling, "The least you can do is acknowledge my presence, Jackson!"
He suddenly appears before her, naked and dripping wet. She jumps and gasps. She turns away, pressing her lips together tightly.
"Do you want to put some clothes on?" she bites.
He shrugs, staring at her predatorily. "Nothing you haven't seen."
She sighs, refusing to look at him. "Fine. I'm leaving."
"I thought you wanted to talk."
She steps back, nearly running into a locker in an attempt to keep her eyes on the ceiling. "I changed my mind."
He continues to follow her towards the door, taking slow, measured steps. "You know, your new friends almost killed you."
At that, she stops, turning towards him. "Because they thought I was you! They thought I was killing people!" She steps towards him, her voice lowering and hissing, "You are killing people, Jackson!"
His eyes narrow and all her justified anger dissipates to a stone cold, clammy anxiety. She whispers his name as a warning as she steps back towards the door.
He advances, pushing her against the wall, his hand around her throat. "Do you really think that Scott and Stiles care about you? Are you really that stupid?"
She pulls on his arm and scales appear on his skin as his eyes glint.
She screams, the noise echoing down the hall.
He immediately lets her go, his hands covering his ears as he falls back.
She gasps and watches as her old friend reappears, his eyes widening as if he sees her for the first time.
"Lydia?" He steps back, covering himself till he finds a pair of gym shorts. "What the hell are doing here?"
Scott runs in the door with Stiles fresh on his heels.
She turns, practically falling into Stiles arms, her throat burning for fresh oxygen. She lets him lead her into the hall, the crash of metal and bone filling the room behind them.
Lydia stomps into the library. After Scott and Jackson's epic throwdown in the locker room, the teacher sent everyone witnessing the fight to detention.
Stiles places a hand on her shoulder and she jumps. "It's alright, calm down."
"I will not calm down," she hisses, even as she sits beside him. "I do not belong in detention. I do not get detention."
Stiles rolls his eyes as he lifts his hands. "Well, here we are."
She turns her head to glare at him.
Allison interjects softly from the other side of the table, "Maybe not the best time, guys? We got bigger issues."
Scott pulses beside Allison, his eyes intent and narrowed on Jackson. "I'm gonna kill him."
"He didn't know what he was doing," Lydia reminds softly.
Stiles' head jerks towards her. "You're really gonna keep defending him? Even after what he just did?"
"That wasn't him!" Stiles groans, his hands covering his face as she continues, her voice insistent, "'He seeks a master.' Someone is controlling him. You can't kill him for that." She pulls out her tablet, flipping to the latest passage she translated. "It says kanimas are created from unresolved past issues."
"If you're saying Jackson needs years of counseling, I could've already told you that," Stiles retorts.
Her jaw locks in annoyance as she pulls up a newspaper article and pushes her tablet to the center of the table.
"Jackson's birth parents died in a car accident," she explains, "Jackson hates talking about it, but I did some digging. His mom was still pregnant with him. The hospital had to perform an emergency C-section."
Stiles sighs and agrees, "That could explain why he didn't kill the pregnant woman."
Lydia nods, watching apprehensively as her friends pass around her tablet.
"So, you think if we find out more about the accident, we can help Jackson?" Allison offers.
Scott shrugs, leaning back in his chair, his gaze on his friend. "We'd probably need the police report."
Lydia nods, watching as Stiles continues to read the article, oblivious to the stares around him.
Setting the tablet down, he finally lifts his head. He rolls his eyes at their expectant expressions.
"You guys would be hopeless without me."
Lydia grins, threading her arm through his and pressing her lips to his cheek. "Thank you!"
He nods, attempting to look unimpressed even as a small smile overtakes his lips.
Allison drops Lydia off at her house and she breathes a sigh of relief. Sparring with Jackson and convincing Stiles to continue to help depleted her energy.
Still, she can't help her small, satisfied smile. Despite the tragic circumstances, she finds herself truly enjoying working with her friends. For the first time in a long time, she doesn't hide her intelligence. They don't treat her like a freak, for either her smarts or her nightmares, they accept her as one of their own.
She lets out her dog in her backyard, watching as Prada runs through their back gate. Despite her persistent calls, Prada refuses to return.
She walks carefully through her yard, her heart rate raising with each step.
She spies her dog slipping through the neighbor's door and chases after it.
Stepping inside the huge, empty house, her eyes widen as a boy from school approaches her. He kisses her. As she steps back, his face turns to embers.
She whimpers, her scream dying before it even reaches her lips.
She falls to the floor, tears streaming down her face as Peter Hale, charred and burned, sits beside her.
"At least you're not actually crazy. At least not completely. You're a strong girl. I think you'll pull through with a minimal amount of post-traumatic stress. At least a few years of horrifying nightmares."
