Lydia was familiar with pain. Physical and emotional alike, she knew the feeling like the back of her hand.
But she'd never felt pain in her soul. Her very core was throbbing when she stumbled back into someone's arms. They had the gentleness of a female's arms, and when the woman's hand came around to peel the knife from her grip and toss it to the ground, she knew it was Melissa.
Lydia's head lolled back into the woman's collarbone, as she no longer had control of her body. Melissa was laying her on the ground, holding her to her chest and looking over her, trying to tell her something. Her ears were muffled like she was underwater; the pounding of blood to her head was the only sound she could hear.
Whether it was death or unconsciousness, it could take her now. She would gratefully fall into a place where she no longer had to think of all she'd done and all that she would have to do. The fear she'd felt before was extinguished as the weight on her shoulders was mercifully lifted.
She still had her vision, but it was blurred and fading fast. She could see Stiles in his familiar red sweater, running over to her and crowding her face. He laid his hand on her forehead and she closed her eyes with it. Comfort. It was all she needed.
And then, all at once, the world around her disappeared and Lydia couldn't tell if she hoped it'd come back again.
Lydia felt disoriented when she woke up staring at a pale ceiling. She remembered voices, though she didn't know who they had belonged to. She remembered the gentle vibrations of a moving car beneath her body and her head in someone's lap. But she was perplexed, and she wanted to know where she was and what had happened-
The Darach was dead. It came back to her in overwhelming chunks of information forced into her vulnerable mind. Lydia had been hurt somehow, and as far as she knew, her friends were still alive.
They had to be alive, right?
"There we are!" said a male voice, sounding irritatingly chipper. His face appeared above her and he shined a light in her eyes. She forced her head away, but the man didn't seem to mind. "See? Everything's in order. We'll do a couple more tests just to make sure nothing's wrong, but I'm sure this young lady just needs some rest."
"Great news, doc," said a voice that Lydia recognized immediately. Her eyes widened as she whipped her head to the side to look at him. He seemed relaxed, leaning against the wall in the corner of the room with his arms crossed. He winked at her and she cringed and turned her gaze back at the ceiling, managing to grind her teeth even in her groggy state.
Peter. Who the hell let Peter bring her to a hospital?
"I'll be right back, alright? You two just sit tight," said the doctor, and he made his way out of the room with a smile on his face.
Lydia noticed now that she was still in her own clothing, lying on an examination table instead of a hospital bed. Her head felt as if it was filled with sand, but otherwise, she didn't feel hurt at all, and she guessed that the doctors figured she just passed out from exhaustion and decided to give her a juice box. Maybe she hadn't even passed out in the first place. Maybe, she had blocked out a chunk of time because her brain couldn't handle the aftermath of what she had done, feeling the life fade from another living thing.
She noticed Peter still in the room, staring at his feet like he was bored.
"Why are you here?" Lydia asked, her voice a mere croak. She sat up to feel a little more dignified, even if her head was pounding like the worst of hangovers.
"I was just checking up," Peter said nonchalantly, scuffing the floor with his foot.
"Mm, right," Lydia said harshly, leaning her back against the wall and wincing when her head brushed against it.
She felt slightly offended that someone had sent Peter to watch over her, when everyone knew the toxic history between them. Was there anyone who still saw the bastard as a threat besides her?
She had to ask, even if it left a bad taste in her mouth to look to Peter for answers. "Where is everyone?"
"If you're asking about your little boyfriend - he's got a pretty bad head injury. The doctors are looking after him," Peter said, still not looking in her direction. Lydia's heart jolted, remembering the way Stiles' head was bleeding when she last saw him. She also vaguely wondered if it was just Peter's connection with her that allowed him to see her feelings for Stiles, or if it was just so blatantly obvious that no one was going to pretend anymore.
Peter continued with a deep breath. "As for everyone else, well, they had some things to take care of."
"The Darach?" Lydia asked, panicked. Her concern overpowered her reluctance to talk to Peter.
The werewolf made a hesitant noise. "Yes and no. It's dead- definitely dead. The body's a different story."
"What happened to it?" Lydia asked impatiently.
"Nothing. That's the point," Peter said, and he finally moved from the corner and walked toward her with his arms crossed. "You'd expect it to disintegrate or disappear, but it's only rotting back at the motel. Scott, Derek and Isaac are trying to hide it."
"What about Allison? Deaton and Melissa?" Lydia asked, her heart beating a little faster at the thought of any of them being dead or hurt.
"They're fine. Melissa's here and Allison's visiting her dad to let him know what's going on. She'll be here soon," Peter explained, like he had rehearsed the lines.
Lydia was shocked at how willfully Peter gave up all this information, considering the mind games he played with her so many times before. Suddenly, he had become some kind of messenger for the group, and it made her want to laugh.
"And they left you here with me?" Lydia asked, not making any effort to keep the sour expression from her face.
Peter shrugged. "They don't know I'm here."
Lydia would have liked to ask why he chose to visit her, and she would have if she hadn't heard the familiar voice ringing through the hallways.
"I realize that, and I swear I'll let you do whatever you want if you just let me-"
And then his sneakers were squeaking across the floor as he came to a jerky stop in the doorway of her hospital room.
"You're awake," Stiles said quietly, like it was the most mesmerizing thing.
"You're awa- SHE'S AWAKE!" he screamed down the hospital hall, and Lydia closed her eyes and shook her head at his idiocy.
He made his way into the room hurriedly while a nurse clawed at the air behind him mumbling things half-heartedly to get him back to his own room. There was a gash on his forehead with two white bands holding it together. It looked rather gruesome and urgent, but the nurse gave up when Stiles was obviously not going to leave Lydia's side.
"Are you okay? How do you feel? Do you want me to get a nurse?" he asked, doing a strange kind of hover around her like he really wanted to be useful.
Lydia grumbled, trying to hide her smile. "I'm sure every nurse in the building heard you loud and clear."
"Why are you sitting up? You should lie down, Lydia-"
His gaze landed on Peter suddenly and he narrowed his eyes. "What the hell are you doing here?"
Peter raised his hands defensively. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately - probably because everyone knew he was a dick.
"I was just visiting," he placated, and then he pointed to the door and Stiles and Lydia watched as he left.
Lydia felt much more willing to let her walls down with Peter gone. He made her feel raw and irritatingly vulnerable, and it didn't mix well at all with Stiles' comforting presence.
"What's wrong with me?" she asked, quiet and cautious.
Stiles turned around to look at her again, looking over his shoulder once more as if to make sure Peter stayed gone. He moved toward her finally and laid his hand gently on hers, holding it in her lap. He shook his head, looking down at their hands. "I don't know. Nobody knows, actually."
"Well what's that supposed to mean?" Lydia asked, annoyed. She knew Stiles was probably just as much in the dark as she was, but she wanted answers.
Stiles looked back up at her, his expression slowly growing humorous as his eyes flicked back and forth on her face. He shrugged. "Supernatural damage."
His expression soothed her. She knew that if she really was in any immediate danger of dying, Stiles wouldn't look so relaxed. She scoffed and looked down with a small smile on her face. Her eyes then flickered up to the gash on his hairline that was still shining with fresh blood.
"Are you okay?" she asked, nodding toward it.
Stiles' eyes flicked upwards, like he'd be able to see the wound on his forehead and confirm what she was looking at. "That? It's nothing. Minor concussion."
Lydia raised her eyebrows. "Minor?"
"Just- it's fine, I promise," he said.
They were silent for a little while, and there was a look on Stiles' face that Lydia couldn't recognize.
"What? Stiles, what is it?" she asked urgently.
"I just...I mean, Lydia. You killed that thing. You were so..." he trailed off, shaking his head once again like he couldn't comprehend what he was saying.
Lydia licked her lips. "What? Scary? Look, Stiles, I don't know what that was-"
"No!" Stiles interrupted, looking up at her face now. "No, that's not what I meant. I was going to say you were brave. You were-"
Lydia shook her head. "I was angry. I wanted to kill it, and I acted on that."
"So?" Stiles asked and he gave a short laugh. "If anyone deserved to kill it, it was you."
"Is that what we do now?" Lydia asked, her voice reduced to a whisper. "Choose who's most fitting to kill someone?"
"This wasn't a someone, Lydia. Alright? This was a something," Stiles said softly. "A something that would have killed you and thousands of other people if you hadn't killed it."
Lydia closed her eyes and tried to swallow the ball in her throat. "Doesn't make it any better."
She knew Stiles was only trying to help, but she remembered how insane she had felt when she'd stabbed the Darach in the back. How bloodthirsty and angry she was.
She felt dirty and dehumanized, and she didn't have the right to hold the hand of a boy who was nothing but human. She pulled her hand out from under his and turned away from the look of hurt that she knew was on his face.
There was a moment of silence before Stiles spoke up again, quietly. "I'm going to stay here until you're better, okay?"
"Stiles-"
"Lydia, would you just-" Stiles made a flailing hand movement that basically told Lydia to shut up. She turned to him with wide-eyes, but he just stared right back at her unyieldingly.
She was so confused, and she didn't know why. She didn't have to be. This boy cared about her, she cared about him, and she couldn't think of any other times when she'd felt safer than the times he'd been around her. So why did she continuously analyze the little things that made their relationship unique? Why was she so hesitant to delve into a serious romance with this boy when she knew she'd be at her happiest if she was with him? If she belonged to someone in a way that didn't objectify her like Jackson did, or cause her to build up a facade to protect herself?
The shallow part her suspected that maybe she was stuck on the fact that this was still Stiles Stilinski. The same boy who never crossed her radar before the supernatural invaded her life. The same boy she would have been embarrassed to even cross in the hallway.
But that was then. She knew that wasn't the reason why. Stiles was a completely different boy to her now, who held a special place in her heart that she couldn't betray with shallow feelings of the past.
Maybe - and the thought was so absurd, it almost made her light-headed - she was only hesitant to be with Stiles, not because she was embarrassed of him or superior to him, but because she felt she didn't deserve him.
Stiles squeezed her hand just a little harder, pulling her from her thoughts. She looked to him, and his eyes were unfocused. She pushed her torso forward to help her hold him up while he sunk down a little, gripping the table she sat on.
"I'm fine, I'm fine," he mumbled, resisting her grip around his torso. It was the kind of awkwardly angled hug that a young girl would give her father.
"You're not fine, Stiles," Lydia said, pulling back a little but not totally letting go.
Someone arrived in her doorway suddenly, breathing hard.
"Oh, thank God," Melissa said, collapsing against the doorframe with a relieved smile on her face.
"What is it?" Stiles asked, moving away from her grip and leaning against the table like nothing happened at all. Lydia gave him a furtive look before looking over to Melissa.
"Nothing," Melissa said happily, and she moved her gaze to Lydia. "I was just hoping you'd be awake. How are you feeling?"
Lydia gave her a small smile. "I'm fine."
"Good, that's good," she said, nodding her head wildly before her eyes snapped to Stiles and her voice went hard. "You should be getting your head checked."
Stiles gave a very dramatic eye roll, somehow using his entire body to do so. "Okay, seriously, I'm-"
"You're not fine," Melissa interrupted, just as Lydia said "he's not fine."
Stiles looked incredulous as he looked back and forth between the two women.
"Fine," Stiles said, exasperated. "Do your tests. But I'm coming right back here after, and no one is letting Peter back in here."
"You don't have to worry about any of that. Lydia's being released," Melissa said.
"What?" Lydia asked. "Already?"
"Why? Do you think you need to stay longer?" Melissa asked.
"No, I mean...I guess I just thought that thing might have killed me, and now I'm being released with nothing more than a headache," Lydia said, holding back a shudder at the memory of floating in the air while the Darach moved in on her.
Melissa looked sympathetic, but she shrugged. "I don't know, honey. They think you may have just passed out from lack of sleep."
Stiles gave a small, slightly hysterical laugh. "Yeah, that's it."
Lydia wanted to laugh as well. Everyone was so oblivious to what she and her group of friends go through every day, and they come up with the simplest excuses for the strange things happening right under their noses.
Melissa smiled at Stiles' remark, and then looked to Lydia with such kindness, Lydia could have cried right there."Do you want to stay with us for tonight, Lydia?"
I'd like to stay with you forever, if that's okay, Lydia wanted to say. But instead, she settled for a simple "that would be great, thank you."
Author's Note: I'm not sure about you guys, but I really, really miss Teen Wolf. Already. Has it even been a week yet? I'm going crazy. In other news, I just wanted to let you all know that some of your reviews actually make tears spring into my eyes. You can never know how much your kind words mean to me, but I try to let you all know in the best way I possibly can. Thank you so much, from the bottom of my heart. I actually thought about ending the story this chapter, but then I figured: we're on hiatus now, and there's so many more stydia scenes that I could add into this story. So I decided to keep going. I'm sure none of you are too disappointed about this. ;)
So, how would you guys feel about another lighthearted chapter, perhaps involving funny, feelsy and maybe a little angsty moments between members of the whole pack (human and werewolf alike)? Maybe some more drunk scenes? Let me know if this sounds like something you would enjoy.