Hope
The day wore darkness. Angry grey skies, blood-red and blue moods, the ebony dress she wore. The casket was a green so deep it almost looked black. As another peel of thunder sounded off, she wept even harder on his chest.
Stiles whispered to Lydia, told her it would all be okay. It was, of course, a fertile attempt to calm her. He knew of their history. As much as it pained him, he had always known deep down that his chances of being with her were zero to a hundred.
She was happy with Jackson, for a while. When he discarded her like a broken toy, however, Stiles knew it was his time to step in. But, as that nagging voice in the back of his brain said time and time again, he could never compare to Jackson.
Now, Jackson's carcass lay in a box ready for burial. Dead, Doctor Deaton had surmised. No kanima powers could save him now, he'd deemed. After running several tests, the veterinarian had determined there was a reason Jackson's body rejected the bite in the first place: some DNA abnormality that really made no sense to Stiles.
Scott stood a bit off to the side politely watching with sadness over his friend while his brain whirred at a thousand miles per hour. Allison was with her family, not really knowing what to think, as she was still in shock. Stiles studied Argent's facial expression for a minute: a fairly impenetrable poker face.
Part of Stiles was glad that Jackson was gone. No more worrying about him. Danger wise, Jackson had been a huge burden. But that was only the fraction of his mind that he never let himself think about. If only they had saved him. If only they had found a way to remove the kanima from him without killing him. If only…
Gerard was dead; Jackson was dead. Unless Argent decided to attack them again, they were relatively safe for a while. But with three of the Argents deceased from the events if the past year or so, Stiles desperately hoped the werewolves were off the hook.
All of this was running through the "funny one's" head as he stroked Lydia's hair and rubbed her back, a way to soothe her. She was gorgeous, despite the fact that her eyes were swollen and her red locks stuck to her face, wet with tears.
"Shhh….We'll get through this. Together."
Lydia looked up. "Thank you," she whispered so softly Stiles nearly missed it.
"For what?"
"For being here. For always being there for me."
"I will never abandon you, Lydia." With that, he kissed her forehead. She did not pull away disgustedly or react in any way.
Stiles supposed she was warming up to him.