Lydia Martin had been in many life-threatening situations, she'd battled and fought and outwitted many foes over her high school career. She knew for a forty-eight hour period that her best friend would die and did everything she could to stop it. The memory laced her nightmares on a constant loop for months after, and she could still feel the jagged, cold tip of the blade lodged in her heart, like Allison's. Lydia thought she'd seen it all, and nothing more could surprise her, until that moment.
"What did you say?"
Scott, with his ever-soft brown eyes and lopsided smile, shrugged his shoulders and shut his laptop. "You mumbled it a few times - Stiles? It's a name, right? I feel like I heard it before."
For a second, Lydia believed time stopped completely. Within her crippling, altered world that one word brought a sliver of dazzling, blind hope. Scott's eyes remained kind and patient, watching Lydia work through her shock. He couldn't register an exact emotion on her, probably because Lydia never felt more numb. Her body, not able to hold it together anymore, sagged against the couch's backing, her bones liquefied and hollowing before Scott's eyes. An inkling, a familiar buzz inside awakened suddenly, carving its way through her veins, threatening to burst.
"Stiles -" she gasped, her hands clutched Scott, who stumbled over to her aide. "Scott! It's Stiles!"
He cupped her cheek in an attempt to soothe her panic, but it fell on deaf ears. Lydia's eyes couldn't stay focused on his kind, worried face or the cluttered coffee table. She clutched Scott tighter and tried to ground herself; images flying around her head. Stiles' smile, his face, his warm kind eyes - his voice, telling her he loved her.
Stiles told Lydia he loved her.
"It's them!" she gasped, Scott flinching away from her. "It's them - the Ghost Riders! They took that boy's parents. They took Stiles!"
She ran both her shaking hands through her tangled hair. Her limbs lighter, no longer carrying the weight of her forgotten friend. "They're taking everyone."
"Lydia, slow down, please." Scott begged, conflicted on how to go about this.
Some of her momentum ceased, her optimism deflating with the skepticism in his eyes. "You don't remember."
It wasn't a question and he didn't give her an answer. Scott looked away, staring at the vast bookshelf across the room. How could Lydia remember and Scott not?
Scott; Stiles' best friend - his brother.
"Hey," she whispered, grabbing Scott's hand, "I'm sorry, it's all coming back so fast. I - I;" she looked down. "You don't remember him?"
Scott squeezed down on her fingers, "It sounds familiar."
"Stiles?" she whispered.
A small, fleeting smile followed, from both of them.
"Stiles-" she said it again, because she could.
"It's Stiles." she couldn't hold in her giggles. Happiness hiccuped out of her, the walls a brighter yellow, Scott's eyes a warmer brown.
She swore to him she'd remember and she did. Lydia sobered almost as quick.
"What is it?" Scott asked. Lydia hadn't realized, but he'd been studying her face, and his smile vanished, like hers.
"He's probably terrified, thinking no one remembers him." she swallowed.
Scott shifted. "Maybe it's dumb to ask, but he's the one you've been thinking about?"
"Yeah," she grinned.
Odd pieces of memories pasted back together in her mind, Stiles giving himself a paper cut, a whispered confession in his old jeep, a frantic, warm kiss to her cheek in the parking lot. Prom plans, college plans; midnight drives to Beacon Hill hot spots - everything was there, back in her heart. Lydia sighed, grateful for her memories, if only it was her burden to shoulder for now.
"We have to find him."
Scott nodded, hopelessly - still not seeing what she could. But, Lydia Martin was painfully used to being a mile ahead of everyone else. "Mason's book!" she beamed, jumping from the couch to retrieve it.
Lydia heard Scott's footsteps as he followed her, dazed but determined. She heaved it from the shelf and dropped it on the dining room table. "Okay, so, Mason came over earlier with this book. I assume it's from Deaton." Scott shrugged.
She waved it off, "Anyway, I was reading the Latin first, and they talked about men riding on lightening, stealing souls."
"Of course." Scott mumbled.
Thumbing through the pages, Lydia came across a chapter titled Evanesce - she thrust her finger at it. "If we're believing anything is possible, this isn't even that outlandish."
"Lydia," Scott laughed, without any trace of humor, "How the hell can we fight this if it's true?"
He glanced over the chapter. All the English words looked troublesome. "We can't see them to stop them and if we do end up seeing them, they take us and erase everyone's memories?"
Lydia shrugged. "It's probably more complicated than that."
Scott crossed his arms. "We don't have a choice, Scott. Stiles is out there and I'm going to find him one way or another. Might as well start believing me now. I'm not shutting up."
He smiled. "He means a lot to you, doesn't he?"
Freezing, Lydia opened her mouth to refute it, like she had for so many years, but she stopped herself, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. In his last moments with her, Stiles was brutally honest, Lydia could return the favor.
"He does. And he means a lot to you, too."