Lydia Martin knows that screaming will do her no good. This fact, however rational, doesn't deter her from yelling his name at the top of her lungs. She's not even sure that he's here, not entirely. But she can sense him, feel his presence as it grows closer to hers.
"Lydia," a soft voice sooths, breaking through her frantic desperation. Malia lays her hand on Lydia's arm. "Lydia, stop." The authoritative tone of her voice forces Lydia to obey. Even if she wanted to, Lydia probably couldn't have kept going for much longer. Already she can feel the soreness of her vocal chords.
Lydia sinks to the ground, defeated and weak. Only Malia accompanies her in this cell, which seems to be an unintentional kind of torture. She avoids eye contact with Malia, worried that her friend will see the truth in her eyes. There is silence for a long while.
"It's okay," Malia blurts, surprising Lydia, and, it seems, herself. Lydia must look confused because Malia goes on to explain. "I'm glad." She pauses. "You know, that you love him."
And suddenly Lydia feels like she's been punched in the chest. Never having heard those words aloud, she doesn't know what to do or say. Especially to Malia. So she just shakes her head numbly, her mouth open in surprise.
"You don't have to deny it," Malia says, her voice calm, almost distant. They sit in silence for a while, both digesting this. A shift seems to occur.
"I never wanted this, you know," Lydia says, glancing up at Malia. "I didn't intend to love him." Malia nods.
"I've learned that about love," Malia responds. "Loving Stiles, it's not something you can choose." She smiles sadly. "It just happens."
"I know," Lydia starts, "but I tried, so hard, not to fall for him. I just, couldn't help myself." Surprisingly, Malia laughs.
"Believe me, I'm the last person who's going to judge you for falling in love with Stiles." Malia walks over to Lydia and tenderly takes her hand. "How can I blame you for doing exactly what I did?"
"You're not...mad?" Lydia asks, not wanting to read her friend's words wrongly. Malia's lips form a sad smile.
"No," she says, looking at the ground. "Stiles and I, we've been over for a while now. I just want him to be happy." She glances over at Lydia. "And I want you to be happy, too. If those two things happen to coincide, I'm okay with it." Lydia lets out a surprised snort, giddy that this issue has been resolved.
"Did you just use the word 'coincide'?" she asks Malia, a grin growing on her face. Malia tries to look offended, but the corners of her mouth lift.
"Hey, I'm trying to study more. How else am I going to graduate with my pack?"
After this, they sit there in silence for a while, the banshee and the were-coyote. Lydia still feels the tether, its pull getting stronger until it's almost painful and she wants to scream again. TO distract herself, she begins replaying the reel in her mind, the one she compiled when Stiles went missing. It contains every memory she has of him, every moment she's had the pleasure of sharing with Stiles Stilinski. She closes her eyes and it's as if he's right in front of her, his presence so strong she can feel his body heat.
"You don't care about getting hurt," he said. "But you know how I'll feel? I'll be devastated. And if you die, I'll got out of my freaking mind." Lydia looked into those deep brown eyes, shocked that he cared so much for her.
"And I'm pretty sure that I'm the only one who knows how smart you really are!" he yelled at her. It was the first time anyone had ever figured out her secret. She had thought that no one cared enough to notice.
"Lydia," he said. "Shut up and let me save your life." That was the moment she knew that he'd go to the ends of the Earth just to rescue her. In her clouded mind, he appeared to be surrounded by a ring of light, giving him an angelic aura. Lydia had never seen anything more beautiful.
"Lydia," he says, her name a poem on his lips. "I'm right here Lydia." But this isn't a memory. It's a vision. He caresses her face gently, his eyes searching hers. "Just open your mind."
Lydia wakes with a start, not even realizing she'd fallen asleep. Her cheeks are wet with tears, and her heart feels heavy. She looks around the room for Malia and finds her huddled in the corner, curled up in wolf form. She shakes her awake.
"Malia," she says. "I think he's here. I think he's trying to get to us."
Malia asks groggily, "Who?"
"Stiles," Lydia insists. Malia looks at her, her eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. Lydia's heart skips a beat even before her friend's words leave her mouth.
"Who's Stiles?"