Stiles was slammed into the ground, groaning as pain radiated from his back.

"I think that's enough for today."

Derek held out his hand, and Stiles took it as he stood back up. "

"You know," he said, grabbing his water. "One of these days I'm going to beat you."

"I highly doubt that," Derek told him. "But it's a good goal."

It had been almost a month since the accident, and Stiles was still getting fighting lessons. He still needed to know how to fight, didn't he?

"Has Lydia said anything about starting up again?" Derek asked as they made their way back into the living room.

"No," Stiles told him. "But to be fair, she hasn't really talked much at all."

"It's going to be rough for a while," Derek said, stopping to look at him. "She's grieving, and so are you. Just because you're doing it differently, doesn't meant that either of you are doing it wrong."

He nodded. "I know. But she hasn't been talking to anyone, and it's starting to worry me. I mean, I know it's completely different what she went through, but she really needs to talk about it with somebody. I don't care if it's not me, I just want her to talk about it."

"You're not really talking about it that much, either," Derek pointed out.

"I've talked to my dad some," Stiles assured him. "But Natalie said that Lydia refuses to talk to her, and she's not talking to anyone else I ask, either. She's not eating, she doesn't look like she's sleeping. It's scaring me."

"She has to get through it in her own time," Derek said.

Stiles took a long drink before responding. "I'm just worried."

"That's okay."

They made their way back into the living room, Stiles pausing at the stack of boxes that had appeared since they started training.

Braeden was sitting on the couch, reading some kind of file, but she looked up and made eye contact with Derek. There was a meaningful look between them, and Stiles instantly grew suspicious.

"What's with the boxes?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at them.

"It's nothing," Derek said dismissively. "Don't worry about it."

"What?" Stiles said. "Are you embarrassed to tell me? Is it for some kind of BDSM dungeon or some shit? Not that I'm judging, just curious."

"It's not that," Derek told him. "It's the wrong address."

Derek went into the kitchen, and Stiles made his way over to the boxes, reading the label. "It says Derek Hale."

He looked on the side of one of the boxes, his heart dropping as he saw a picture of a crib. The exact handmade, ornate crib that Lydia had fallen in love with.

"I, uh, that was supposed to be my gift to you guys," Derek explained, making his way over. "I had ordered them before…"

Stiles' throat tightened as tears filled his eyes. It was ridiculous how much the gesture touched him. "That's amazing, Derek. Thank you. I –"

"Don't mention it," Derek insisted. "Please. I'm going to send them back. Just…please don't tell Lydia. I didn't want anyone to know."

"No, uh," Stiles ran a hand over his face. "I won't. I should…I should get going."

Derek nodded. "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow."

Stiles said his goodbye to Braeden, who gave him a sympathetic glance as he left.

He made it all the way down the stairs before the tears started falling. Clambering into the Jeep, he tried to control the sobs, but it was no use.

He missed her. He missed her so fucking much. How could he miss someone so much that he never even got to meet?

Yes, when he first found out that Lydia was pregnant, he was terrified. He hadn't been ready to be a father, and he was scared that he wouldn't be a good one. But now? Now he would do anything to be a dad. Anything to have a reason to take those boxes in Derek's loft and spend hours trying to put everything together because he was too stubborn to read the directions, only admitting defeat when Lydia would call his dad in to help him. Anything to be able to hold his little girl in his arms.

He didn't know how long he cried, but when he was finally able to stop, the sun had set. He took a few deep breaths to calm down, wiping his eyes. Putting the car in drive, he pulled out of the parking lot.

''''''''''

Lydia stared at her Biology textbook, trying to find the motivation to pick it up and read it. Usually she would be enthralled in the content, but she just wasn't feeling it. She hadn't been feeling it for a few weeks.

With a sigh, she pushed it away and laid down on her bed, closing her eyes to calm the pounding behind her eyelids. She had spent too long on the computer, translating the bestiary. Over winter break, she had decided to permanently translate it so she wasn't the only one who could read it. Scott had insisted that it wasn't necessary at the time, but she had decided to do it anyway.

Anything to keep her mind off of what she was missing.

There was a knock on the door, and Lydia quickly sat back up and opened her textbook. "Come in."

Her mother poked her head in, the smell of food wafting in with her. It turned Lydia's stomach.

"Are you hungry?" Natalie asked, hope on her features that Lydia knew she would have to crush. "I got udon. It's your favorite."

"Thanks, Mom," she said, mustering a small smile. "But I'm really not hungry right now."

"When was the last time you ate?" her mom asked, entering the room completely.

"I ate a snack when you were running errands," Lydia lied easily. Truthfully, she had gone down to the kitchen only because she knew she needed to eat something before her blood sugar dropped too low. She had grabbed a package of cheese-filled crackers, but as she was grabbing it, she saw the giant jar of peanut butter that hadn't been touched since the accident. She had lost any desire to eat and her crackers were currently in her desk drawer.

Natalie nodded, her expression torn.

"What do you want to say, Mom?" she asked. Lydia knew that she was worried, but she had been walking on eggshells for weeks, not wanting to set Lydia off.

Last time Natalie had really talked to her, she had suggested going to a therapist. Lydia had refused, but when her mom kept pushing Lydia went off on her, yelling and screaming, saying that she didn't want help because she didn't. She just wanted her daughter back. She wanted to know why it had to happen that way. She wanted to know why Kate hadn't struck yet. There were more important things than the fact that it would help if she talked to someone.

But Natalie had barely talked to her since then, and all it did was make her feel guilty.

"Mom," she said. "What do you want to say? I'm open to it."

"I'm worried about you, sweetheart," her mom admitted. "I really am. You're not sleeping, you're barely eating – don't say that you are, because I know that you're not – you're closing yourself off. You need to talk to somebody. It doesn't have to be me, and it doesn't have to be a professional, but you need to talk to someone."

Lydia looked down at her hands, trying not to snap at her mother. "I'm fine. It's not like I've spent the whole winter break doing nothing. I'm productive, I'm doing things. What more do you expect of me? To be happy? To be completely okay?"

"Of course not," Natalie told her.

"Than just let me grieve," she said. "Just because I'm grieving differently than you doesn't mean I'm doing it wrong."

"Okay," her mom said. "But you still need to eat, or you're gonna waste away, and I…I wouldn't be able to handle that."

Lydia sighed, forcing herself to get out of her bed. "Fine. I'll do what I can. But I can't promise a lot."

"I'm not asking you, too, honey," Natalie said, a warm smile on her face. "Just your best."

Lydia made her way to the kitchen, redoing her ponytail as she walked. She should probably take a shower, it had been a few days. With school starting again tomorrow, she needed to make herself look somewhat presentable.

She grabbed the udon, sitting down and forcing herself to take a few bites as her mother watched, eating her own take-out.

"This is good," Lydia said after a moment. Really good. She couldn't remember the last time she had real food. Most of the time, it was rummaging through the snacks, eating crackers, pop-tarts, and popcorn. She knew that's why she could already fit into her old clothes. It wasn't very healthy, but she had completely lost her appetite in the last month.

"I'm glad," Natalie told her. "Just eat as much as you can handle, okay?"

Lydia just nodded, taking another bite of her food.

It didn't take long for her to have enough, and she closed the container with a snap. "I'm gonna go take a shower. School's tomorrow."

"You don't have to go if you don't want to," her mom told her. "I'm sure I can get you excused."

"No," Lydia said. "I already missed my mid-term, I don't wanna miss more."

"Okay," her mother nodded.

Making her way upstairs, Lydia couldn't help her hand going to her stomach. Pulling it away quickly, she balled it into a fist. She had to stop doing that. There was nothing there anymore.

Logically, she knew that it would get easier. This wasn't the first time she had lost someone. She knew how grief worked. But this felt worse than any other loss that she had felt before. It made sense, considering as much as she had lost, she had never lost a child. Now that she had, she didn't know how anyone did it.

Mr. Argent had been raised to deal with his emotions differently, and from what she remembered about Victoria, she had probably been raised similarly. Lydia hadn't had that luxury. As much as she tried, she felt everything. She had learned to deal with the loss of a family member, the loss of a friend. But this was uncharted territory, and she didn't know how to handle it.

''''''''''

Malia sat in History, ignoring the stare that she felt. She knew exactly who was staring at her, and she didn't want to talk to him.

The bell rang, and she was one of the first ones up, making her way out of the door quickly. He followed her, easily catching up with her.

"Hey, are we still on as study buddies?" Isaac asked.

"I don't know," she shrugged. "I guess."

"Is there a reason you're ignoring me?" he asked, gently grabbing her arm to stop her. "You haven't talked to me all winter break, and now you're all but ignoring me. What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Malia told him. "I've just…I've been dealing with everything. But if you still wanna study, we can."

His eyes narrowed slightly, and she knew that he heard her heartbeat. "Look, if you don't want to, that's fine. But don't lie to me."

"I'm not," she insisted. She really had been dealing with a lot, but that's not the reason that she was avoiding him. "Let's just go to lunch."

'''''''''

Lydia felt Stiles' hand rest on her knee, squeezing gently.

"You okay?" he asked softly. She barely heard him over the din of the cafeteria.

"Fine," she told him. "Why?"

"You kinda spaced there," he told her, his brow furrowed in concern. "What's up?"

"Nothing," she told him. "I'm just…I'm on edge. Why would Kate wait this long?"

He shrugged, taking a deep breath. "I don't know. But it's making me nervous, too."

"I noticed," she said, looking down at his bouncing knee.

Scott sat down at the table, giving both of them a small smile. "Hey."

"Hey," Stiles said.

Lydia felt Scott's eyes on her as she turned back to her food. She ignored it, trying to make herself force down the cafeteria lunch and failing. It was unappetizing on a normal day.

"Hey, Lydia?" Scott asked, almost hesitant.

"Yeah?" she asked, looking back up.

"Do you want to get together and study tonight?" he asked. "I mean, we don't have to, it's only the first day, but Mrs. Finch is already talking about a test –"

"Yeah," she nodded. "Sounds great. What time?"

"I get off from the clinic at seven," he told her. "So, seven-thirty?"

"Sounds good to me," she said, forcing a small smile. It really didn't. She didn't want to do anything with anybody, but Scott needed her. Besides, if she wanted to get better, than she would have to do normal things.

"Great."

"What's great?" Malia asked, sitting down on the other side of Lydia, Isaac sitting by Scott.

"Studying," Scott answered, taking a bite of his food.

She made a face at him. "You and I have different definitions of 'great.'"

"It's not so bad when you have someone to study with," Isaac offered, a smirk on his face.

Malia just shrugged. "I guess."

Lydia didn't miss Isaac's face fall slightly before he focused on his food. She looked at Malia with a raised eyebrow, but the girl simply shrugged again. Something was definitely going on there, and it wasn't good.

"I should probably get going," Lydia said, pushing away her tray.

"Where are you going?" Malia asked, her brow furrowed.

"I have that appointment with the surgeon," she explained. "To check how the incision's healed and such."

"You sure you don't want me to go with you?" Stiles asked her.

"I don't want you to miss class," she told him. "I'll be okay."

"Okay," Stiles nodded as she got up. "I love you."

"Love you, too," she said, giving him a short kiss on the cheek.

'''''''''

Stiles slammed his locker shut, ready for the day to be over. He hadn't heard from Lydia about how the appointment went, but at this point he wasn't really expecting to. She barely contacted him anymore – atleast, not about the important things – and he didn't know how to feel about it.

She was hurting, he knew that. He understood that – he was hurting too. But the difference was that she wasn't willing to talk about it and process her grief. He hated talking about it, too, but he knew that he needed to. After having random panic attacks for a week after the accident, he realized how important it was that he talk to someone. Even then, he still had to fight them. Apparently, that's just how he dealt with grief. But every time he would try to talk to Lydia about it, she would shut down, change the subject, anything to keep from talking about it.

Now he felt her starting to pull away from him, and he didn't know what to do.

"Stilinski!"

He jumped as Coach made his way over to him.

"Hey, Coach," he greeted.

"Do you have a second?" Finstock asked.

Stiles nodded. "Sure."

They made their way to Coach Finstock's office down the hall, Finstock closing the door as Stiles sat down.

"What's up?" he asked, looking at his teacher as the man leaned on the edge of his desk.

"I wanted to see how you were holding up," Coach explained. "I know you've been through a rough few weeks, and I wanted to see how you were handling it."

Stiles sat there for a moment, not sure what to say. Finstock never cared about his student's personal lives – atleast, he never acted like he did. But Stiles thought he saw something resembling compassion on Coach's features, and couldn't help the way his throat tightened.

Clearing his throat, he tried his best to answer. "Um, well, obviously everything's not perfect, but I'm doing pretty okay, I think."

"That's good," Finstock nodded. "That's good."

"Yeah," Stiles said. "And, uh, thank you again for coming to the hospital. That really meant a lot."

A couple of days after the accident, Finstock had come to visit Lydia, and Stiles was pretty sure that he was there to see how Natalie was, as well. They were apparently friends. (Stiles didn't even know that Coach did friends.) But Finstock had been there for everyone involved, bringing food and emotional support (another thing that Stiles didn't know that he did.)

"Don't worry about it," he said, waving Stiles off. "I know how tough this all has to be, especially at your age, and I just…I worry about you guys."

"I really appreciate it," Stiles told him. "But, uh…I'm okay. Getting there."

"What about Lydia?" Finstock asked.

He opened his mouth to reply, but he honestly didn't know what to say. He knew that she wasn't okay. But he didn't know how not okay she was, because she wouldn't talk to him.

"I don't know," he said honestly. "She won't talk to me about it. She won't talk to anyone about it."

"It's hard," Finstock told him. "She'll cope in her own way, at her own pace, you know?"

"Yeah, I know," Stiles said, not helping the edge his tone. He wanted to be understanding, and he didn't want to push her, but goddammit, he needed her. He needed her to be there. He needed her to admit that she wasn't okay so he didn't feel so alone. He had people that he could talk to, but it wasn't the same. Lydia and him were going to be parents only to have it taken away from then, and that was a special loss that only she could relate with. He needed that, but she wouldn't give it to him.

"Hey," Coach said, catching his eye again. "I know you're there for her, because I know you. But I also realize that she's not the only one who's grieving. So if you need anything, you let me know, okay? I'm not kidding about that.

"Thank you," Stiles told him. "I, uh, I should probably get going, though. I have to get to work."

Finstock nodded, clapping him on the shoulder. "Okay, kid. Have a good one."

"You, too," Stiles said.

''''''''''

Malia couldn't concentrate. She was too busy being distracted by Scott and Lydia. Mostly Lydia.

The girl's whole demeanor had changed in the past few weeks, and it was really starting to bother Malia. She watched as Lydia's shoulders were hunched forward, and how her confidence had all but evaporated as much as she tried to hide it. Maybe that's what bothered her so much. That Lydia was so obviously not okay – for good reason – but she tried to pretend that everything was okay.

She didn't even talk about the Biology with passion, which she had always done, no matter how simple the material. Scott and Kira had to have noticed. Lydia seemed almost…apathetic? It was strange. And her chemo-signals reeked. She couldn't place the emotion, but it was pretty strong.

"Are you going to even try?"

A book slammed shut, and Malia brought her attention back to Isaac.

"Sorry," she said, shaking her head slightly. "I was just a little distracted."

"By what?" Isaac asked, his brow furrowing. "We're on completely different floors from the other study group."

It was true. Scott, Kira, and Lydia were in the living room, while Isaac and Malia were in his room. She couldn't help but remember last time she had studied in someone's bedroom, and what it usually led to…

Which is why she was sitting on the floor while he sat on the bed.

"I know," she said. "But I can't help worrying about Lydia, you know? She's not talking about everything, and I know from experience that it's just going to hurt her."

"I know," he nodded. "I'm worried, too."

"And have to smelled her chemo-signals?" she asked. "I can't even pinpoint what emotion they smell like. I've never smelled it before."

Isaac shrugged, tapping the end of his pencil on his lip absentmindedly. "I don't know, either. But we can't push her, you know? I mean, this is a lot. She's lost people, but her own kid? That's gotta be so much worse."

"But what about Stiles?" she asked, insistent. "He lost Addyson, too, but he doesn't have the support he obviously needs from Lydia. It's almost painful to watch them together now. They seem so…strained."

"We can't worry about it too much," he told her. "It's not going to help anything."

"But I can't just not worry," she admitted. "They're my Pack."

While it had taken her a while to warm up to the idea of a pack when she first became human again, she didn't know what she would do without it anymore.

"I know," he said, nodding slowly. "But just because they're Pack, doesn't mean that they don't still have a right to privacy. You can worry all you want, but it doesn't mean that you can help them if they don't want you to."

She watched him as his expression grew serious, looking down at his closed book.

"Is that what happened with Derek?" she asked, curious. "He wouldn't let you help him?"

"Some of it," he admitted. "He pushed me away after Boyd died. Kicked me out. I know now that it was to protect me, but at the time I just wanted to help. I was the only beta left, you know? But he didn't want to risk the chance of me dying, too, so he refused my help."

"That must've been hard," she said. She couldn't imagine how she'd fell if Scott did something like that to her, and she wasn't even turned by him. "But everything's okay with you guys now?"

"Yeah," Isaac nodded. "We're good."

"So why didn't you move back in with him?"

Isaac looked at her for a moment, as if he was trying to think. "I was living here. I liked it. Melissa was already more like a parent to me than my dad really ever was, at least after my brother died. Besides, Derek had taken Cora to South America to take care of some things, so he wasn't at the loft anyway."

Shifting to lean back against the bed, her brow furrowed as she tried to remember who Cora was. "That's his sister, right?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "Your cousin."

"I don't really use the Hale name," she said, fidgeting with her pencil.

"So?" he asked. "I don't have the same name as every single one of my relatives. Derek should get her to come visit. I think you'd like her."

"Like I liked you?" she asked, looking up at him. She then realized how close their faces were, and couldn't help her gaze drifting down to his lips as he smirked.

"That's up to you," he told her softly. "I mean, you grew to love me."

"Love's a strong word," she told him, snapping her gaze back to his eyes. "Tolerate is more accurate."

He shifted closer, his shoulders level with the edge of the bed. "Tolerate? I think you do more than tolerate me."

She felt her heartrate speed up, cursing to herself as his smirk widened. "No, tolerate is the word I'm looking for."

They looked at each other for a moment, and Malia felt like she couldn't breathe. The urge to close the distance between them was getting stronger with each passing second, and her heart was about to beat out of her chest.

She didn't know how to handle this. With Stiles, it had been so easy. He liked her, she liked him, he kissed her, and that was all it took. Yes, they didn't work out, but there had been no guessing with him. No doubts. Looking at Isaac, she had nothing but doubts. Why did he like her? Did he like her? He never actually told her if he did or not, even after she admitted it herself.

Malia jumped when the front door slammed, pulling them both out of the moment.

"Malia! Isaac! Pizza's here!"

Malia immediately stood up, refusing to look Isaac in the eye. "We should go eat. I'm starving."

Clearing his throat, Isaac stood up as well. "Yeah, okay. Me, too."

She quickly made her way out of the room, willing her heart to stop its rapid beating.

She like Isaac, she liked him a lot. It was crazy how much she like him.

But nothing was happening until she knew what was going on that head of his.

I know there wasn't a whole lot going in this one, so depending on how much writing I can get done in the next few days, I'll try and post on Saturday.

As always, I love to know what you think!