Lydia's eyes were swollen and bloodshot as she sat on the edge of the kitchen counter in her apartment. It was late- far too late for her to be up but hell, she hadn't slept in days so what was a another twelve hours going to hurt in the end? Isaac was still on base patching up the wounded pilots and Newton was resting on the cot in the back of the lab as Hermann conducted a few more experiments with the radio-toxicity of the Kaiju tissue.
They hadn't expected it. None of them had.
She had been in the control room watching with the rest of them when Newt came running into the room spouting his theories about Kamikaze Kaiju. They should have listened. They really should have.
Because moments after his fumbled words graced the overly tense air the room full of people watched the screen go white, heard the speakers crack into silence and watched Raleigh look at Mako like she was the only one in the room who ever mattered to begin with. No one tried to stop them when they ran to the drivesuit room, when Gypsy Danger roared to life and they were flown out to the Pacific. No one said anything at all.
Scott held Allison up when her knees had buckled. Isaac pressed a kiss against Lydia's hair before he was out to prepare the clinic for the arrival of the rangers. She hadn't tried to stop him when he did, she had just stood, clipboard clutched against her chest, mouth agape, and wondered who was coming back alive.
They all had.
Gypsy Danger and Titan Omega took care of the last Kaiju, an un-named multi-limbed creature that had been called to battle after Kanima was severely injured. That injury is what led to its self-detonation- something none of them had ever considered. Newton had seen it coming, though, from the radioactive samples he had in the lab. Apparently it was a discovery even he had hoped wouldn't come to being true.
Kanima had self-destructed. It had released the toxins bundled up beneath those ugly scales, riddled with radiation and exploded like a bomb. Like the bomb they sent down into the breach all those years ago.
The Precursors had learned and god, they had learned well.
The wine glass clasped between Lydia's fingertips shattered against the far wall and her head fell heavy into shaking hands.
At least they had all come back alive, she reminded herself silently. It was keeping them alive that was the problem. Erica had a gaping hole just below her belly button that would prevent her from ever having children, if she lived through this. Boyd had fractured his collar bone, Derek bruised a lung and broke a couple fingers. Stiles broke three ribs, fractured his hip, smashed his head against something and dislocated his shoulder.
The boys would heal but Erica-
Lydia's feet hit the tiles in her kitchen and she slapped the tears off her face as she walked into the bedroom. It was dark and she sat down in front of the vanity, teeth set dangerously hard as she peered at the reflection looking back at her.
Dark trails of mascara bruised her cheeks, her lipstick was gone, hair was tussled this way and that. She snatched a wipe from next to her perfume and smoothed it over her skin, removing the mask of old ruined makeup to reveal milky white skin dotted with freckles. Her lips were pale and she licked over them after gliding chap stick across the pout of her mouth, brushed roughly through long red locks and tied her hair back into a tight bun.
It was like looking at a ghost.
Deep mossy eyes blinked before she glanced down, fingers rubbing across the cold metal decorating her left hand on the second to last finger.
It clanked against the small bowl filled with the rest of her jewlery and Lydia's eyes welled with tears when she stared down at her naked hand, clenching and unclenching her fist. It would have hurt if she didn't have more to worry about, it would have felt like swallowing burning coals, like sliding a scalpel through the web of her fingers. But she had more to do. She had purpose far beyond that ring and the life she had been graced with.
She had more.
Lydia Martin's heels clicked down the hall as she grabbed her coat off the back of the couch and slammed the door shut behind her when she headed back to the lab.
"He's going to be fine, Derek," Raleigh's words were clear and firm as he watched the alpha lean against the wall outside the infirmary, large hands clenched around a coffee mug far too tightly.
The ranger's gaze was pointed at the floor, a bruise blooming around his right eye, a small cut just below it. His arm was wrapped in a bandage where a shard of metal had imbedded itself just above his wrist and he inhaled deep, tried to convince himself to breathe and shook his head.
"Not if she dies-"
"Erica is going to wake up in that bed next to her co-pilot and she's going to heal up good as new," his mentor snapped, clear eyes staring dangerously in Hale's direction, "and we're going to figure this shit out."
Derek was quiet for a moment, fiddling with the handle of his coffee mug and shifting back and forth. He cleared his throat, looked one way and then another, tapped his fingers against the ceramic cup and huffed, once, twice, "Thank you," the veteran mumbled, "you didn't have to come for us, you and Mako-"
"Shut the fuck up, Hale," Raleigh spat, taking a deliberate step forward before he reached to set his hand securely on the groove of Derek's shoulder, "of course we did. God, of course we had to come for you- Mako and I, we would never just leave you."
Large green eyes blinked at the ground before the alpha nodded and lifted his cup to the curve of his lips, ignoring the foul presence of fear and turmoil and so much more that tainted the air around them. He wanted to believe that Raleigh was right- wanted more than anything to give in to the idea that Erica would wake up with something witty rolling off the tip of her tongue and life in her eyes. He wanted it to be right. Derek wanted it to be exactly how it always played out in movies and books. Some kind of relief. A little bit of a happy ending.
But happy endings weren't something that they had been graced with the past ten years and fairytales weren't told in the way they used to be. The reality was the Kaiju and life was just a prequel to death- they'd learned that over and over again as it seemed.
A gasp from behind the door startled Derek out of his thoughts along with an uncommonly elevated heart rate. His chest burned, throat tightened and when he braced himself against the wall with the flat of his hand Raleigh reached out to catch him.
"Whoa, Hale, looks like Stiles is waking up," Becket nodded when Derek shot a questioning glance in his direction, "it's called ghost drifting, happens sometimes."
Derek couldn't help but agree because the anxiety building in his stomach was not his own and the nervousness making its way into the tips of his fingertips felt foreign.
He nearly tripped over himself when he pushed the door open and stepped inside to see Stiles straining against the oxygen mask draped across his face. He was whining, eyes wide and glassy in the brightly lit room.
"Fuck, get it off him," Derek hissed.
Stiles tried to breathe.
Inhale. Exhale.
But every breath left mist against his nose and made his lips warm and wet. It was too much. Suffocation. Lack of air. Trapped.
"He's claustrophobic, Isaac-" Derek reached down and Stiles thrashed, pawing at the mask on his face weakly before his co-pilot finally lifted it off so that the beta could suck in a well-deserved breath of fresh air.
It hurt- the breath hurt. It felt like shards of ice splintering in the confines of his chest, like an avalanche down his esophagus. Stiles blinked repeatedly as Isaac scooted in past Derek and checked the ranger's vitals, nodding and humming as he did. The younger pilot's mind was hazy, a thick fog poured over his thoughts and he absently chewed on his lip, only registering the pain when he bit down to the point of numbness. It was an abstract feeling and the only thing Stiles could quite compare it to was the memories that Derek had shared with him in drift.
It was like desperation weaved through slumber, an exhaustion so deep it settled into panic.
"Hey," Derek soothed, voice soft, soft enough to make Stiles uncomfortable, "how're you feeling?"
Stiles looked to the right, gaze lifting to blink at Raleigh who arched a brow and offered a lopsided grin, then to the left where he saw another bed and Boyd asleep in a chair. A curtain was covering his view of Erica but he knew it was her. He just knew.
His throat hurt and he had no recollection of the last time he had spoken but he figured when he tried to his vocal cords would definitely protest. Stiles cleared his throat anyways, wincing as he did, "My chest hurts," he croaked, reaching with one hand to touch just below his sternum, "jesus- fuck," he bit down on his lip when he felt pain jolt through his shoulder.
Derek hissed at him and snapped his teeth together, eyebrows drawn tight, "Stop moving," he growled, "you broke three ribs. And you fucked up your collar bone."
Stiles blinked like he was waiting for more because realistically he was.
"And you had a concussion."
Stiles tried to move and yelped, eyes brimming with tears, hands shaking when he reached down to splay a hand over his abdomen. Derek's eyes closed.
"And you fractured your pelvis..."
That was a lot. A hell of a lot more than he had expected to wake up to- though, in all honesty, Stiles hadn't thought he was going to wake up in the first place. For the most part he hadn't even realized he had been asleep. The only thing that ever jerked him back into the realism of the situation was Derek's memories and the way they flashed every so often in his medicated slumber.
"How long until-" Stiles winced and whined when he tried to sit up, giving up and falling back with an exasperated huff, "how long until I can get up?"
A small laugh filled the room and Isaac shook his head, "You'll be in that bed for another two days until we can get you to the deck where we have the healing center, right now moving you would do more damage than it would good so sit back and relax."
"I'm hungry," he whimpered, lifting a hand to run through his hair and wrinkling his nose at how dirty it was, "and I want a shower. Can't I just get in a wheel chair and-"
"Your ribs are broken, Stiles, you can't sit up. Your pelvis is fractured in two places; your best bet is to lie back and relax for a couple days. I'll send Harmony out to get you something to eat, alright?"
Stiles huffed another sigh and nodded, complying with the doctor for now and glancing up to Derek who was playing nervously with his fingers and shifting back and forth on the soles of his feet. He looked lost, like something had been draining the life out of him for the past few days and hadn't let him sleep. The alpha had bags under his eyes, a bandage across his face and splints holding a few of his fingers together.
"Oh my god," Stiles almost choked on his words, "Der, are you okay?" The ranger jerked himself forward to sit up and immediately regretted such abrupt movement, "I haven't even fucking asked, are you alright? What happened to you, did you get hurt- is, what... Your eye, your eye's messed up and-"
"I'm fine," Hale mumbled bitterly, laying a hand down on Stiles chest to push him gently back down onto the bed, "just a little banged up."
The beta felt his insides twist, his stomach clenched and he closed his eyes, hurling the idea of crying to the far back of his mind. Derek had been hurt. Really fucking hurt and Stiles had been lying in a bed for god, how long had it been?
"How long have I been asleep?"
Raleigh sighed, "Four days," he offered, nodding towards the door and lifting up his vibrating cell phone before he took his leave.
"Four fucking days, Derek? You've been dealing with all of this for four days? Why didn't you wake me up, why the fuck didn't you-"
Derek's teeth ground down against one another, "You needed rest, you still need to rest, Stiles. I can handle all of this, it's fine, I'm fine-"
"You're lying," Stiles hissed, "You can't handle this and you're not fine and-"
"I can," Derek bit, "and I am handling this."
It was hard to look at him, to stare at the person who shared every bit of pain that Stiles had endured, to know that Derek knew- he knew the fear, the dismissal. He heard his thoughts- the overwhelming need to run, the desperation of release, the panic.
Derek had stepped into hell right beside Stiles and it felt like someone had shoved something blunt between the disks in his back and twisted. It felt like anger, like anger and thankfulness and helplessness.
Caramel eyes turned to glance at the curtain covering Erica from his view and he tried to keep himself composed but his eyes burned and his throat clenched and he felt Derek's hand resting on his cheek before any tears could fall.
A soft sigh fluttered over Derek's bottom lip, "She'll be okay," he tried to lie but his voice betrayed him and Stiles could hear it, the shake, the uncertainty.
When Stiles didn't answer he heard Derek's jeans shuffling and the pop of his right knee when he knelt down beside his bed, "Stiles," the alpha breathed, "look at me."
Glassy eyes turned to watch him and Stiles chewed on his bottom lip, nostrils flaring when Derek opened his mouth to speak but then stopped and shook his head. The alpha's hand felt heavy against his face but Stiles leaned into it and shifted to run his fingers down the curve of Derek's wrist.
"I didn't know-" Derek looked away, sucking in a sharp breath, "we didn't know if you'd make it, Stiles. I thought-"
"Shut up," Stiles mumbled, eyes blinking down to the floor, "I'm fine, I was fine the whole time-"
"No," Derek snapped, "you weren't, I felt you, I felt it... You- Stiles, you could have died, you almost died, do you not get that? I am handling all of this but you can't just expect me not to have my focus on you right now."
Derek's voice was firm and he let his fingertips drip just below Stiles' chin, shy of his collar bone, and then away and into his pocket to fish out his phone.
There wasn't much Stiles could say. Nothing, really. Derek was worried, that was apparent, and Stiles was worried about Derek but all the beta could wrap his thoughts around was the blonde woman in the bed across the room and the fact that the Kaiju were now self-destructing like fucking atomic bombs. Everything had changed. Everything.
"I don't need you to be concerned about me," Stiles bit down on each word, "I need you to focus on Erica, what can we-"
Derek's movement was quick, he snapped upright and huffed, pushed an aggravated breath through his nose and glared down at Stiles, "Erica is being taken care of, she is not my fucking main-"
"She needs to be! Why can't you just do this for me, I'm fine, I will be fine, Der-"
"Because I'm not in love with Erica, Stiles!"
Stiles had never really felt silence before. He'd been in the midst of it, understood it, reveled in it, but he had never felt it. Not until Derek's eyes bore into him for a short moment before they drifted down to the ratty converse strapped to his feet, not until he heard the soft breath that Derek exhaled- like it was a secret, an emotion he hadn't shared with Stiles before. It was the silence that sounded like a distant vibration, felt like soft grass tickling the inside of his palm. It was everything that Stiles didn't have time to dissect- everything that neither of them had time to pick apart.
When Derek's phone started ringing Stiles almost looked relieved but he watched the alpha with sincerity in his eyes as something he didn't quite understand curled itself behind his ribcage.
Hale looked at his phone and then to his co-pilot, lips pursed into a thin line before he lifted it to his ear and turned on his heels to walk out of the room.
"Better be good news, McCall."
Stiles was chilled by the ice in his voice and turned his gaze once again to Erica, focused on the quiet beeping of her heart monitor and tried not to think about anything.
Not a damn thing.
"Okay," Scott pointed to the left panel of Lionheart's chest piece, "all we have left to repair are the mortar canons and your coolants in the mid-cavity center," he gestured to the middle of the Jaeger's chest and nodded to Derek who had his head tilted, eyes transfixed on the mech hanging lifelessly on large cables in the hangar.
"Good," the alpha nodded and reached over to squeeze Scott's shoulder, "she'll be ready in a few days then?"
Scott shrugged, "Yeah, but Stiles won't be ready for combat for at least another week after we get him out of the restoration pod."
"It'll put him at ease to see Lionheart combat ready," Derek sighed, shrugging one shoulder, "he's already itching to get out of that bed so..."
The mechanic's lips twisted and he leaned over to bump his shoulder against Derek's, swaying back and forth until the alpha's mouth twitched upwards.
Heavy footsteps echoed around them, the buzz of soldering tools and the crank of levers causing a commotion in the busy building. Workers seemed frazzled, eyes like gnats flicking this way and that until they seemed to just fall into whatever work was thrown at them. It was uneasy. Desperate. A time that reminded Derek of the first few months he had joined the program. The unrest in the air was tangible and he felt tangled in the emotions of those around him; wrapped up tight and secure by insecurity itself.
"Peter had to fly back to California, right? Do some press conferences and such?" Scott asked, crouching down to tie his shoe while Derek continued to watch the frantic mechanics around him try to get things back in order.
The alpha nodded, "Yeah, he tried to get Herc to go but he wouldn't leave Erica."
Scott swallowed.
Derek's eyelashes fanned over his eyes as he looked down at the linoleum floor.
Everything seemed so backwards.
Life was just out of order.
"Thanks for getting her back in shape so quick, Scott," Derek cleared his throat.
Deep brown eyes lingered over the tall, fairly broken man beside him and Scott didn't have a chance to tell him it was no problem before Derek was walking away, hands shoved deep in the confines of his pockets.
There was nothing like bright white walls and an uncomfortable bed to look forward to in the hours that Stiles was awake. He played with the dials on his monitors until Harmony swatted his hands away and warned him not to play with them or they'd have to keep him sedated. He rolled his eyes and growled back at her with some sarcastic retort about wanting green tea and asking if he could get up and walk around.
Her answer was always no, but moments later she would return with a tray, a book, a steaming cup and a smile.
Stiles listened to Boyd pray, which was interesting because he had never taken the man for someone who believed in god. Perhaps that was just Stiles reflecting himself into the people he had come to love, hell, he didn't know. But he listened and he cried quietly into his pillow every time the man got down on his knees at the foot of Erica's bed and choked on the words.
"Now I lay me down to sleep," Boyd hummed, "to pray the Lord my soul to keep," Stiles closed his eyes at this point because he could hear Boyd's voice begin to falter, "and if I should die before I wake," the beta swallowed from across the room and fisted his hands in the scratchy sheets, "I pray the Lord my soul to take."
It was always the same. A prayer and then soft pleads, gentle apologies, murmured wishes.
"Please, God," Boyd choked one night, "give her back to me. Bring her back to me."
Stiles didn't want to see his friend clutch at a limp hand, didn't want to acknowledge his ragged water-logged breathing, and most certainly did not want to close his own eyes and ask god- or whoever it was that was watching them try and claw their way out of this mess, to open Erica's eyes.
But he did.
Stiles bit down on his lip and he thought of his mother and the silent prayer he chanted over her bed every night in his youth just before he said it again and again for Erica Reyes.
The next day Derek found Allison in the gymnasium, her fists bare and raw as they slammed against the punching bag in the far corner of the large room. It was empty- by her order, he guessed, and as the alpha walked up behind the combat specialist, she said nothing, did nothing, just continued to suck in even breaths and riddle the bag with jabs of her arms.
"Hey," Derek's voice was soft as he reached out, grabbing her shoulder.
Allison turned, eyes wide before she pushed him, palms landing against his chest to send him stumbling backwards.
It was quiet after that. Allison's eyes trailed over the shocked expression on her friends face down to his chest and then to his feet before she turned and kicked the bag, shooting forward to continue striking it again.
The alpha hissed, "Allison, you're gonna hurt yourself, stop," he reached forward again but she twirled, braided hair whipping over her shoulder when she slapped his hand away and curved her arm, fist aimed for Derek's jaw.
He took a step back.
Allison took one forward, jabbing at him again only to be deflected by the side of his hand. The woman growled and Derek's eyes narrowed when she kicked at his ankle which he avoided and huffed, aiming another punch at his face.
Hale caught her hand, spun her around and caged his arms around her shoulders, an embrace that she desperatly tried to squirm away from. Allison Argent spat and kicked and cursed, writhed and bit and cried. Cried and cried and cried.
"Ally... Jesus, Allison," Derek sighed into her hair when she choked on a sob, features crumbling as she sagged against him and lost the will to keep her knees locked. He sank her down, laid her in his lap and stroked his hand across her cheeks when she wept, mumbling everything that all of them had been feeling for close to a week. Things that Derek had tried not to think about, things that had changed the fate of man kind to something that could be unobtainable.
She clutched at his wrists, shook and sniffled, "I can't lose her too," Allison's voice cracked, "Derek, she can't die, I can't- we can't lose her. Erica can't die, she can't, she can't-"
Derek closed his eyes.
He nodded against the top of her head, tried to whisper that everything was going to be okay but the words just refused to surface.
So, Derek convinced himself to breathe and rocked Allison against his chest in the empty gymnasium.
Lydia's bare feet padded across the smooth floor of the lab and Newt scoffed at her as she reached across him to grab a note book, "That's completely unsanitary," he pointed at her neatly painted toenails and the red-head answered with an arch of her brow and the lift of her leg as she pushed her foot at his face.
"Ew, god, get away," the eccentric scientist pushed her playfully until she flopped into a chair and wheeled herself back to the small counter space she had- over flowing with research, books, papers, folders and vials.
The woman took a moment to tie her hair back before she opened the notebook and flicked through each page, nodding a few times, folding the edge of certain pages down and continuing on to the next. She hadn't had time to grieve, to wonder, to visit.
Lydia hadn't bothered to entertain the idea of Erica's death due to the fact that thinking about it could very well have driven her over the edge and back into a darkness she had been fighting for some time to destroy.
So she dove into her work, buried herself in theories and research, created a machine out of her mind and tried to piece together anything that could help them devise a plan to close the breach. To end the war- even if for a short time.
Hermann did the same, he contacted the other regions and bases, connected with the field specialists there and obtained as much information as he could on whatever it was he could get his hands on. There wasn't much- just empty skeletal ideas that led to dead ends and to the same game plan they played out all those years ago. Drop a nuclear Kaiju into the breach and let it detonate, hopefully wiping out the Precursors or deterring them from returning. The knowledge that it was a copy-cat plan didn't set well with any of the three scientists at Shatterdome, nor did it sit well with their Marshalls.
It just didn't seem full-proof, not that any plan they had was going to be an iron locked success but they needed something that they could at least believe in. Going backwards, rewinding and playing out the past wasn't something anyone would have faith in.
It was in the afternoon that Newton blurted the words out so non-chalantely that Lydia choked on her skinny vanilla latte.
"I can drift. I can do it, let me drift with the Kaiju again-"
"Are you a mad man!" Hermann interrupted, slamming his cane repeatedly into Newt's shins, "You almost died the first time and the second time was still terrible, absolutely not!"
A piece of hair dripped over Lydia's shoulder and she could hear the clock tick once, twice, a third time. Wide green eyes blinked down at the lined paper on the notebook settled in her lap and she picked nervously at her thumb nail as the idea circulated itself in her mind. The Kaiju share a hive mind, they look to one another for direction. The precursors set them in their ways and then send them off to do the dirty work but-
The soft gasp enticed Newt to turn and face her.
Hermann blinked, shaking his head as his tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth, "Tell him he's an idiot, Lydia."
The woman tilted her head to the side and reached up to grab the old Latin writing that Pentecost had left. The bible. History re-written. A clue.
Her voice was sharp when she stood and slammed the note book down, pointing at the phone and then to Newton, "We need a hacker."
Once Stiles' two agonizing days in bed were up, Isaac had him transported to the restoration pod which was in the regeneration hall on the first floor. It was an interesting room filled with hollow cylinders trapped in soft white light. The walls were all just as stark as the infirmary except for a few decorative ferns hanging here and there between the machines.
Stiles arched a brow and squinted over the rim of his glasses, head tilting to the side, "What's up with the plants?"
Dr. Lahey turned his attention to one of the lighter green ferns nestled just below a vent in the ceiling, "Honestly? Relaxation purposes. They help the pilot's feel a little safer."
Stiles couldn't disagree, the plants did distract him a bit, but they didn't necessarily make him feel any better about the situation at hand. Perhaps that was due to the fact that he wasn't concerned about the idea of his bones rearranging themselves but more so on the radioactive Kaiju, his co-pilot, the dying woman still struggling to hang on to life upstairs and his father who he hadn't been given the chance to speak to in over a week.
The panel on the restoration pod slid open when Isaac pressed a few buttons. It hummed warmly, dormant and waiting for Stiles to slide himself inside.
Stiles looked anxiously to his phone, typing out a quick text.
To: Derek Hale
From: Stiles Stilinski December 1, 2031, 10:07 A.M
where are you
The beta let a sigh fall over his lips when he heard steady footsteps near the door and felt his body relax into the familiar weight of Derek's hand on his shoulder.
"Where've you been?" Stiles mumbled when his co-pilot glanced down at him, "I haven't seen you in two fucking days."
Derek swallowed dryly and Stiles felt a knot start to fester in the pit of his stomach. His throat clenched, chest burned and he bit down on the inside of cheek. Something was wrong, Stiles could feel it. He could feel it in the tightness of Derek's fingertips, read it like words across the tension in his brow and couldn't dismiss the fleeting movements of his usually all-too heavy stare.
When the alpha said nothing Stiles' teeth ground down against one another. He opened his mouth but the hum of the pod intensified and Derek squeezed his shoulder once again before Isaac gestured to the white padding inside, "This isn't going to be fun," the doctor promised, "but once it's done, it's done and you'll be good as new."
"Good as new?" Stiles repeated.
Isaac Lahey nodded and shrugged towards Derek who was hesitant to remove his fingertips from around the sharp edge of Stiles' shoulder when he was hoisted out of the wheelchair and carefully set in the pod.
Hale agreed, "It's going to hurt like a bitch," his lips twisted into a frown and he narrowed his eyes as if a distant memory had intruded the conversation, "but it's worth it."
Pain shot down into Stiles' legs and warmed the tops of his feet, his chest ached and he winced when he laid down against the cold memory foam padding inside the pod. It was small and his heart was pounding. Too fucking small. His legs lifted on their own accord and he felt the side of his foot hit the round side of the machine as the pod slid closed.
"Derek," Stiles didn't realize that he had called out his co-pilots name until the sound of Derek's palm against the glass rattled him back into existence. Wide caramel eyes blinked rapidly as Stiles tried to calm down, tried to breathe, watched Derek nod slowly and assure that everything would be okay, voice muffled through the glass. Stiles could almost see his breath, felt the pod latch into place and start to hum even louder.
Isaac reached for Derek, tugged on his arm and nodded before he pressed another few buttons on the pods surface. The control panel was small, just the left of the machine itself and as Derek gave Stiles one last nod the surface of the glass pod was shut out by a steel outer layer that paneled itself around the entirety of the spherical instrument.
Stiles couldn't keep his breathing under control, couldn't keep himself from shaking and he squirmed when the soft light that he had seen before intensified and a quiet mist released from the vents just shy of his ear lobes.
It was hard to understand where it came from- the pain. It felt like someone had reached inside of each of his limbs and started picking apart the pieces that needed to be tied back together. He heard his collar bone pop and he didn't know if he had screamed or yelped or done anything at all when his torso stretched and his ribcage re-aligned itself. The fractures in his pelvis were the most painful; he writhed and bucked when he felt his insides start to burn. It felt like someone was dripping hot wax onto his nerve endings, like they had dipped him in some kind of acid that was slowly eating away at his bones.
But when it ended, it ended.
His cheeks were blotched red, chest the same, but Stiles rolled his shoulder, flexed his stomach and pressed his hips up when the pod hummed and beeped. The paneled scales covering the machine folded back down and the door slid open, allowing Stiles to slide out and stand up.
It wasn't the most graceful re-appearance, seeing as the lack of movement for days upon days had given his legs quite a shock when they were given the duty of holding himself up. "Whoa," Derek laughed softly and caught him, one hand wrapping around Stiles' waist while the other lifted his shoulder up, "slowly. Your body needs time."
The feeling of Derek against him reminded Stiles of just how important the man holding him up was. He could feel the strength tamed beneath his palms, could almost hear his heart beat thumping against his chest as he turned to watch Stiles carefully.
"Alright, how do you feel?" Isaac walked forward and prodded at his ribs, causing Stiles to hiss and recoil. The doctor felt along his collar bone and Stiles blushed when his hands skimmed across his waist band to press against his hips, "Everything seems to be okay-"
"Y-yeah," Stiles mumbled, "I feel fine. Which is..." he leaned against Derek before reaching down to touch his own torso, run his hands down the curve of his hips to the flexing muscle in his thighs, "surreal..."
"Technology has brought us to new and strange places," Isaac sighed and pointed lazily towards the door, "you need to rest for a few hours before you try to train, get something to eat, take a shower, relax. Come back and see me tomorrow."
The beta nodded dumbly as Derek growled something under his breath that coaxed Stiles to lean into him as they walked.
Derek's hand was set comfortably on Stiles' hip, his arm secured around the ranger's waist to help steady him out the door and towards their apartment.
It felt so off and so completely alright at the same time. There was conflict settled inside the comfortability that came with the package of the two of them. Stiles could feel the tension but he could also feel the warmth. The way Derek hummed for him to watch his step when they walked through the doors of the apartment building, the far too delicatre gesture for Stiles to lean on him when the alpha fished around for his key and then pushed the door open.
"I'm okay," Stiles assured when he squirmed in Derek's grasp and turned to face his co-pilot as he clicked the lock on the door, "but you're not," he tested, eyeing the veteran carefully as green eyes turned to stare at Stiles' feet.
The apartment was well kept, no dishes, the blanket was folded neatly and draped over the back of the couch. An empty Blue Moon bottle was set on the breakfast bar. Derek inhaled sharply through his nose and turned his head further when Stiles took a step towards him.
"Der," Stiles swallowed, "look at me."
Stiles swore he could get lost in the forest hidden behind Derek's eyelashes any day.
"What... What is it- what, talk to me, I can feel it- I," Stiles waved his hand between the two of them, eyes dancing nervously behind the black rimmed glasses settled on the tip of his nose, "I need you- I need you to tell me or..." he swallowed again, back straightening when Derek leaned into his space and inhaled the words stumbling out of Stiles' mouth.
"Or... s-show me, but Derek, you can't just..." the beta sighed quietly, letting the sentence go as his co-pilot closed the distance between them and pressed his mouth over Stiles' lips.
It took a minute for him to reach out and let himself touch Derek, to control his fingertips and slide them up over his shoulders. Not because it was off or seemed unfamiliar, quite the opposite, really. Stiles felt him like he felt himself; felt him like he felt the sheets of his bed back home, like he felt locked inside of Lionheart. Derek felt like permanence and fire and everything that Stiles almost took for granted.
Stiles whispered 'I missed you' through the gaps of their lips and felt Derek's hands start to tremble, reached out and grasped his cheek, felt the coarse hair on his palm and pulled at the alpha's face like perhaps it might have been the last thing he had to hold on to.
There was moment when he wanted to talk about it all, set Derek straight and tell him that he loved him back, that it wasn't all in vain. He wanted to cry, he wanted to see Derek cry, to talk about Erica, about the fight, about everything. But then there was Derek's hands like hot coals tearing at his shirt, and his mouth blocking out the rest of what Stiles had rehearsed in his head as he latched it down on the bottom of his throat and bit.
The moment when Stiles opened his mouth and tried to spit out a wait, or a hold on, all that came sputtering out was incoherent nonsense until he heard Derek mumble 'I love you too.'
Maybe he was saying all the right things, breathing them like the ghosts of words he had mistook for gestures into Derek's neck, choking on them and pressing them into his co-pilots flesh when they finally made it to the couch and Stiles felt the cold leather against his back.
Maybe this was an escape, or maybe it was an epiphany, Stiles didn't know. What he did know was Derek and the press of his lips, hard, warm and full of an emotion that the pilot truly did not know how to process. He knew Derek's hands as they skidded across his skin, knew his tongue, knew his chest, knew just how to tangle his fingers in Derek's dark locks of hair and feel him like he had never felt anyone before.
"I almost lost you," Hale breathed the words into another bruising kiss and Stiles swallowed them down.
I almost lost you
Lydia Martin threw a dress into her suitcase, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and rambled on about her plan to Isaac who stood with his arms crossed in the door way of her bedroom. He sipped on a cup of dark coffee and shook his head when she continued to sigh and assure him that it would work- it had to work, she kept repeating.
"I mean, if it doesn't work then it's just another used up theory but, Isaac, I," she breathed, turned to face him as her shoulders heaved, "I don't know what else to do. We have to do something, now."
The woman whirled around again and started shoving pairs of heels into her case followed by a cosmetic bag and some shampoo and conditioner. The tight pencil skirt wrapped around her thighs was riding up slightly and the red button up shirt she had tucked into it was coming askew in the back.
"Come here," Isaac laughed softly, tugging at her arm as he reached to tuck the shirt back in. Lydia's nose wrinkled and her flush was far from deliberate.
"Excuse me," she smirked playfully, swatting at his hand and moving to fix her outfit on her own, "I don't need you pawing at me while I'm trying to explain to you how I'm going to save the fucking world."
The doctor rolled his eyes, "Lydia… You can't… You can't do this-"
"I can, actually," she piped matter-of-factly, closing her suit case and sitting on it so she could zip it up.
Isaac's teeth were set hard and he shook his head once again, stomping forward to catch her wrist when she reached for her phone as it rang on the nightstand, "Please, listen to me-"
"Isaac," Lydia warned, mossy eyes sparking in his direction as she tugged her arm away and reached for the phone.
"This is Lydia," she answered, eyes still boring into Isaac who stared back at her. They stayed like that for a moment, simply watching each other breathe, Isaac focused on the soft pout of Lydia's bright pink bottom lip, Lydia settled on memorizing the way Isaac's jaw flexed when he was angry.
Isaac shook his head, soft eyes pleading with the woman before him to lower the phone, to agree with him for once, to find another way but she inhaled deep and tilted her head, an apologetic glance thrown his way before she spoke, "tell him to be ready for pick up as soon as I land. We'll be heading straight to the base in New York to run through the deal before we fly back to Shatterdome."
Isaac closed his eyes and exhaled when he heard Lydia shuffle around the room to grab her purse, heard the wheels of her suitcase against the hard wood floor and opened his eyes to find her leaning forward and pressing a chaste kiss against his lips.
The doctor froze and Lydia didn't smile, she simply stroked her thumb across his mouth to remove the stain of lipstick left behind and told him she'd be back in three days with the recruit she'd found in Rhode Island.
Isaac heard the door shut. Listened to the silence left behind and reached up to brush his fingertips across his lips.
Only Lydia Martin could kiss a man once and leave him cracking under the weight of her lipstick.
No one was there when she woke up.
Not a single person.
But her scream could have woken the dead.
Harmony nearly tripped over her own feet when she ran into the infirmary, hands shaking as she flung the curtain back to see Erica Reyes retching out sobs at the sight of her own body.
"What the fuck happened to me?" the pilot wailed, hands shaking as they hovered above the wound on her abdomen, a gaping healing mess of skin that was sunken into her torso. Her belly button was concaved, hips grotesque and sharp as they jutted out like the edge of a cliff where her body simply disappeared inside itself.
The small nurse spoke words of encouragement, cooed and assured as Erica continued to curse and cry.
"You were in an accident, Miss. Reyes, do you remember anything?" Harmony was adjusting her vitals, hands placed on Erica's shoulders when she tried to lift herself from the bed, "Erica, stay put, sweetie, just-"
"Erica!" Herc's voice sent her attention snapping from the wound on her stomach to his eyes as they bunched up to hold back the tears that threatened to spill down his cheeks, "my wild girl, thank fucking god."
The blonde's lips trembled, her body quivered and she gasped in and out, ragged inhales and desperate exhales.
Isaac was next, running in as he shrugged on his lab coat, followed by Boyd who nearly fell to his knees at her bedside and pressed their foreheads together.
"Boyd? Boyd, what's happened to me?" she choked, features contorted as she wept, "What'd they do to me?"
They didn't calm her down enough to explain exactly what happened until Chris Argent made an appearance and they changed her bandages, until she asked everyone to leave except for Boyd and cried into his hands like they were going to absorb her pain, like they were going to dissolve her injuries and give her back the life she deserved, the life she had denied herself for the sake of humanity itself.
Stiles had been in the shower when Derek got the phone call and was hurled out of the water and told to get dressed. They ran- the two of them, climbed the stairs and skidded to a stop outside the door where Herc halted them.
Boyd was with her and Stiles rested against Derek's chest as they listened to her cry, listened to Boyd try to explain and winced when they heard the sound of Erica apologize to him, again and again and again.
Allison covered her mouth with her hand. Scott's eyes squeezed shut. Herc shook his head and put his hands to his lips when he saw the twins pacing down the hall towards the group of people all waiting to console their friend.
Derek held on to Stiles, clutched his waist and closed his eyes. Stiles would have covered his ears if he could have because this was not how it was supposed to be.
This was not the way he saw it played out in his head. All smiles. All tears of joy sliding down their cheeks as she opened her eyes and absorbed the life around her. No, this was not the way it was supposed to be. Stiles had convinced himself of his acceptance of that reality months ago, but it wasn't until he was standing in a cold hallway pressed against the only thing keeping his breathing steady, listening to one of his best friends weep over the cards she had been dealt did he understand that acceptance was not aggreeance and aggreeance was not the light at the end of the tunnel.
There was no light.
There was just waking up into a nightmare and being convinced it was a dream.
There was only life and death, no happy ending, no other side of the fence, just this life. Just the give and take, the risk and reward.
Stiles inhaled through his nose and exhaled through his mouth as Derek rubbed circles into the small of his back.
"We got her back," Derek whispered softly.
Stiles nodded as he listened to her sniffle and cough from inside the room.
"Yeah," he mumbled into the curve of Derek's shoulder, "yeah, we got her back."
Lydia Martin smiled across a large wooden table.
"So, computer science major, huh?" She grinned, eyebrows arched, "We've heard a lot about your skills when it comes to re-programming extremely delicate data and we've also heard of some of your side projects."
She winked.
"My side… projects?"
"You're a brilliant hacker," Lydia laughed, swinging a leg over her thigh as she grinned and glanced around the large library, "I was thinking perhaps you'd like to help me with a project that could save the planet. To be quite honest, my interest in your answer is low, what I'm telling you is that you're being recruited and that your choices are limited."
Lydia did not speak like Raleigh, warm and welcoming. She spoke like someone who was losing a fight.
"Mr. Mahealani?" the red-head tilted her head to the side.
Danny swallowed, cheeks flushed as he clutched a text book against his chest, and nodded, "When do we start."