Pinpricks of bright red light started to dance and swirl across his heavy eyelids. In his mind he felt himself drifting from numb unconsciousness to a twitchy, uncomfortable state of awareness. His limbs still buzzed with the shock from the long absent taser and his mid continued to whirl, trying desperately to figure out what on earth Lydia had meant when she said, "You're not him." Eyes itching, he moved his hand to scratch them wearily. However, he found that he was restricted from moving more than a few inches in any direction. Panic set in, all of a sudden he was trapped back with the dread doctors, their horrible mechanical ticks and whirrs echoing throughout his ears. He didn't dare open his eyes, terrified of seeing those cold metal masks looming over him once more. He pulled and pulled against his restraints, still refusing to open his eyes, hoping perhaps that the whole ordeal was just one of his old nightmares come back to haunt him in his sleep- although the burning pain in his neck where the taser had zapped him suggested otherwise. Whatever was wrapped around his wrists and his ankles was itching at his skin, rough edges rubbing it raw as he struggled against them. He could feel his frustration growing, starting with the raw itching in his wrists before blooming into a tight chested pain that eventually erupted out of his chest in an angry scream. The sound filled the room, vibrating in the air around him until it eventually dissipated, settling down amongst the dust and dirt that lay on the concrete floor.

"Why are you crying?"

The voice that spoke sent a nauseating mixture of relief and horror to his heart. It was Lydia, but she sounded so distant, cut off, just like she had when he first entered her cell. Doing his best to steady his breath and stop his sobs, he replied, "Because I'm scared."

"What do you have to be afraid of?" She sounded positively venomous, as though she resented him for his ability to feel afraid, like she felt he didn't deserve the privilege.

Gulping, he screwed his eyes shut even tighter. "I'm scared to open my eyes."

Laughing bitterly, she scorned, "And why is that?"

"I'm terrified that if I open my eyes I'm going to be back with the dread doctors, or with the Nogitsune, and you're not going to be there at all." Despite his best efforts, vocalising his fears ripped another sob out of his throat, although he caught control before any more could leak out.

As he listened, he heard Lydia open her mouth to speak at least three times before any sounds came out. The space around them felt alive with some hopeful energy, squeezing at his chest until his heart was beating twice as fast as it usually would. Finally, after a little sniff, Lydia spoke. "I nearly believed you that time. I don't know how you know these things, but I wish you'd stop pretending to be him. I really do." She no longer sounded angry, just broken and miserable, voice trickling out into scratchy silence as she ended her statement.

Hearing her sound so defeated caused the ache in his bones to grow, as though there were something inside every fibre of his being, twisting everything in the wrong direction, growing and shrinking things until not one part of him fit with the next. Heartbreak would have been an understatement. He was feeling physical pain to hear her so tragically defeated. This was enough to give him the bravery to open his eyes. Breathing heavily, he screwed them tight shut before throwing them open, blinking at the sudden shock of light. When his vision adjusted, he saw that he was staring at a water-stained concrete ceiling. Although slightly disturbing, it was nowhere near as bad as seeing three metallic monsters peering down at you from above. Relief flooded his system, doing little to patch his broken seams, but still providing some small comfort.

His neck ached terribly, but he managed to force his head to turn so that he could see where Lydia was sitting. She looked terrible, although he imagined that he probably didn't fare much better right now. Emaciated and bruised, slumped on the edge of her bed, she regarded him with a distasteful expression. He could see nothing left of the love that had once burned there, so hot it scared him. No. She was cold, and detached, and so sad. His mind stumbled through unpleasant thoughts of all the things they must have done to her to reduce her to such a state. His miserable musings were interrupted when she spoke again. "I've got to say, you're the most committed one so far. Usually they give up when I figure it out."

Bottom lip quivering and eyes squinting, he wavered out a weak response, "I- I don't understand what your talking about. Lydia who's they?" He stared at her earnestly, ignoring the extra tear that ran down the itchy salt tracks already dried to his cheek. How he wished he could scratch them, his hand was twitching at the thought.

Lydia picked up on this. "You even have his mannerisms down. He used to-" her voice clogged up, the lump of sorrow in her throat banning her from further words.

He hated being the source of her misery like this. "Lydia, it is me. I don't understand why you think it isn't."

"OH! I'm sorry! Excuse me for not believing it's the real Stiles fucking Stilinski when you've only been torturing me with the vision of his death for weeks, tricking me with stupid illusions only to tear my hope away, again and again and again. I'm SO sorry that you've broken me so badly, I'm finding it hard to believe yet another one of your goddamn lies!" For a second, she was Lydia again. Fierce and angry and so full of passion that her ghostly pale visage gained colour for the first time in weeks. Pants racked her frail frame. "And I guess locking you in the same room as me is just another step further into my torture. I wish they'd just kill me too."

He was speaking before he could stop himself. "No. Don't you dare." He pulled against his restraints again, filled with a new, stronger need to be beside her, to comfort her. Eyebrow quirked in shock, she contemplated him. Refusing to lose her attention, he carried on. "Lydia, you are far too important, too precious, too- too loved to die. I don't care if you hate me forever, if you never speak to me again please just promise me that you'll never say that again. Never say you want to die, because we both know it's not true. Nothings worth that." He was crying again. It seemed it was all he could do, given the circumstances.

"He was."

"What?"

"He was. He was worth dying for." Having started barely a whisper, her voice was growing louder with every word. "I would have died a thousand times over if it meant he was alive right now."

A weird combination of misery and affection bombarded his mind, and for a moment, he couldn't find the words to respond. Finally, he whispered, "You really think that?"

Confusion lingered on her features, and she slid off of the bed to sit on the floor, minimally closer to him. "Yeah." A sad smile floated on her lips for a second before it disappeared, running away with the tears that were now sliding down her face.

"Lydia, I don't know how to convince you. But it's me. It's Stiles."

"Please don't lie." Her voice was stern, but it held none of the venom from before.

"Just tell me how to prove it to you."

She shuffled ever so slowly closer to him, eyes locked onto his. "When was the first time you told me you loved me?"

"Third Grade." The answer was out of his mouth before he even had to think about it. Seeing she was about to correct him he stammered on, "Don't you remember? I-I saw you in the playground and thought you were the most beautiful thing I ever saw. So I made you a daisy chain. It took me the whole of recess to figure out how, so I didn't get to give it to you till lunch time. I gave it to you and said 'You're really pretty and I think I love you'. Then you laughed and called me silly, but you wore that daisy chain for the rest of the week."

The tiniest breath of a laugh fell from her lips as she stared at him in wonder. "I- I forgot about that. How did you-"

"And the first time you said you loved me? How could I forget? I had just been in a car crash, which totalled me Jeep, and you literally dragged me from the freaking wreckage, and I thought I was dying. So I told you the most important thing in the world, that I loved you. And then, the amazing thing is, you said it back. After all that time you told me you loved me, and I knew you really meant it. It was enough to keep me breathing till the ambulance got there."

"I-"

"And you wrote me a letter. A beautiful, long letter all about how much you loved me. And it was so kind and wonderful and perfect, and you told me about Alison and all the things she said to you about love. And that you felt that for me. You said- you said you would always believe me, Lydia. You said you would always believe in me. You-"

"Stop." She was a few inches from his face, eyes swimming with tears.

"No, not until-"

"I believe you." She laughed and cried as she said it, shaking hand reaching out to stroke his cheek. "You're alive. You're alive!"

"Oh thank God." He closed his eyes in relief when she pressed her forehead against his, smile threatening to split his face in two. "Do you think you could maybe untie me so that I can give you a hug."

Nodding fervently and wiping her face on her sleeves, she rushed towards his bindings, fumbling with the first for a good five minutes before she made any progress. The shock of learning Stiles was alive had set her whole body trembling and she couldn't stop. Finally she popped the first one open and he had a hand free to claw at the strap around his neck. Progress was a lot faster after that, and soon enough he was shakily climbing to his feet, Lydia supporting him the best she could in her fragile state. The pair of them stood, holding each other upright, clutching at their clothes, their skin, anything to make sure that the other wouldn't disappear again. After a long time just taking each other in, Stiles placed a gentle hand behind Lydia's head, and pulled her in for a hug. "We're gonna be okay."

"How touching."

They whipped around to see a doctor standing in the doorway. Stiles had no idea who he was, but Lydia recognised him in an instant. Surprising no one but Stiles, she stepped between him and the doctor, shielding him from harm. "Don't you hurt him." The malice in her voice was something Stiles had never heard before, and he was surprised that it didn't scare him.

Stiles eyed the taser in the man's hand, saw the unsympathetic look in his eyes and decided it would be for the best just to go along with whatever he wanted. Gently guiding Lydia back so that she was level with him once more, Stiles looked down at her encouragingly, "Hey, Lyds, it'll be fine. We'll be fine." Turning to the man he spoke with much harsher words, "What do you want?"

Raising his eyebrows, the man took him in, "I can see why she likes you. You're just as feisty as she is. So sorry to have to be the one to break up the party."

Head tilted to the side in confusion, Stiles stepped back, moving Lydia with him. "What do you mean?"

Two other guards stepped into the room, one grabbing Stiles and one grabbing Lydia. Stiles was dragged to the door before he could even try to resist. Lydia pleaded with them, "No, please. Don't take him away from me. Don't hurt him, please!"

As though to spite her, the man holding Stiles twisted the boy's arm painfully behind his back, forcing a gasp of pain from Stiles. Lydia began to struggle, itching to send them all flying with one great big scream. Glaring at the doctor, she demanded an explanation. Patting Stiles on the shoulder, he smiled soullessly at them both. "Well, since we've had no luck getting through to you with images of young Stiles here, it seems just perfect to put his sudden appearance to good use. If you cooperate and tell me how to control your powers, then I won't hurt him. If you don't, well-" he made his point by whacking Stiles in the stomach with his baton. Stiles doubled over in pain, wheezing and wincing as the guard pulled on his arm painfully, forcing him upright.

Stiles looked at Lydia through watering eyes, "Lyds, what's he talking about?"

Staring at the doctor with all the cruelty she could muster, she spat, "The idiot thinks that banshees have the power to control death."

Before she could insult him further, the doctor raised a scolding finger, "Ah ah ah. One more word like that and it'll be his face rather than his stomach. We wouldn't want that now would we?"

This was enough to silence her voice, but not to calm her furious glare. Silence followed them as they were lead out into the hall, and away from their cell. The atmosphere the guards were creating promised that they weren't in for a pleasant experience.

A/N: I can do nothing but apologise for how long this has taken me to update, and thank everyone who's stuck around and waited this long to keep reading my story! I wont go into detailed excuses, but I lost a lot of people in quick succession, and it put me out of the game for quite a while. But I'm back! And so are our favourite angsty teens. I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and feel free to leave suggestions in the comments, or just let me know what you think! I love y'all.

Stay Classy,

Icepopppy