tampered | Screaming, deceiving and bleeding for you [closed]

Entry tags:

Screaming, deceiving and bleeding for you [closed]

When; August 21st,
Rating; PG-13ish? Lydia and Stiles come with their own rating, or something.
Characters; Lydia Martin (

lefthandedgenius) & Stiles Stilinski (

studmuffin)
Summary; Lydia updates Stiles on what's happening at home, including revealing what she's discovered about her own nature.
Log;

Stiles had offered to talk.

The last time he'd offered talk she'd been in her car and he had told her he thought she was beautiful when she cried...and then he hadn't showed up as promised. Lydia is a girl who can forgive and forget, but she never forgets what she's forgiven.

Still, somehow she doesn't think he won't show up this time.

It's an opportunity to check out the locale for Scott's party, and grant her the privacy to tell Stiles the truth - or as much of it as she can trust herself to give him. She doesn't want him worrying about his dad, and she hasn't made up her mind yet about whether she's going to tell him that part.

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They agreed to meet at the coffee shop so that's where Stiles heads to. He leaves his jeep in the woods and walks, the tell-tale red of his hoodie weaving through the crowds milling about. He smiles when he sees her, gives a little wave, nervy-jerking movements part and parcel of what makes Stiles Stiles now.

"Hey."

He moves to open the door to the cafe for her, jostling on the balls of his feet.

"Hey." Lydia's greeting may seem surprisingly subdued, but she still sweeps into the cafe like she owns the place. Nothing, not even her own junk, keeps her down for very long.

There is a glance sidelong though, at the twitch, wondering if the City suffers from a lack of Adderall. She doesn't offer comment on that, but collects her coffee in due course. She'll make motions toward paying for it, but lbr, she's kind of expecting Stiles to play the gentleman on that score. If he doesn't, well. It won't kill her.

Once whatever they want to grab from the cafe is collected, Lydia seems inclined to want to head for the forest proper to check it out as a venue. And to be able to talk privately.

How do you possibly begin a conversation like this?

From the beginning.

She takes a big breath.

"You remember when Peter bit me." It's not a question. It feels weird to say, because it makes it so real in a way that she did not expect it to. Even with all that's happened the incident felt surreal until she said the words. Peter bit me.

He does get her coffee because she allows it and despite how things have changed, Stiles will always have a soft spot for Lydia Martin. So he fills up his own coffee with sugar and carries it after her, walks beside her at an almost leisurely pace. Neither of them are particularly relaxed but he doesn't want to rush things.

"I remember."

Stiles doesn't think he can forget, the panic, the fear that had burst through him and left him on the very edges of a panic attack. And Peter had taken him before he'd been able to make sure she was all right.

This is harder than she expected.

"Everything that happened..." she trails off. Naked in the woods for two days. Visions, sleepwalking. Her connection to death. "I didn't turn. And for a long time we knew I was different, but we didn't what was going on with me. I'm something, you said." Her brief laugh is not a happy one.

"I don't know if you talked to Isaac about the time he came from, but it was the night of the memorial concert. Ms. Blake - the darach - she'd moved on from virgins. Virgins, Warriors, Healers, Teachers...I found her that night. She tried to kill me." Lydia's hand lifts to her throat. "With a garotte." If that wasn't obvious. "I wasn't one of her sacrifices. She just said I knew too much."

One doesn't necessarily have anything to do with the other, but she's working her way up to it. Hopefully Stiles is patient.

He reaches out, a hand at the joint of her elbow as if to comfort her. He doesn't know why this surprises him. Beacon Hills is the land of nasty shit and he's been fooling himself if he thinks that will ever change.

"She was just intimidated by how super smart you are." He knows it doesn't help, but he has to do something, "If that's your claim to mass-murderer fame I think it's a pretty cool one."

She doesn't shove him off when he touches her elbow. Ambivalence has graduated to friendship.

"When she was trying to kill me, I screamed." That's normal, right? Wouldn't anyone scream?

"They all heard me." she says softly. "All the werewolves in Beacon Hills heard me. And she stopped and was surprised and called me a Banshee, and a Wailing Woman." She shakes her head. "I've done the research. I understand what they are in stories. The way I'm able to pick up on a death and get drawn to it, that's all part of it."

She lets out a huff of air as the bitter taste of her words leave her mouth. "The thing is," she says quietly, "I don't know if I'm this way because Peter biting me did it, or if I was like this all along and I didn't turn because I'm a freak."

Stiles has read enough of the Bestiary to know immediately that she means Banshee. There's a blip in his step but even then he keeps up, keeps walking beside her, doesn't panic or freak out or run.

Maybe he's the only normal person left in Beacon Hills.

"The club's not that bad. I mean there's exclusion from the rest of society and mockery but -. But I don't think you're a freak Lydia. Not because your scream is supernatural and not for any other reason. This isn't your fault."

Lydia doesn't want to be normal, but she doesn't want to be not-normal, not like this.

She's pretty convinced that she could reveal a secret vestigal twin growing out of her back and Stiles would think the world of her, but at the same time she's not looking at him as she talks. Just sort of straight ahead and rather intent on the direction in the way a guy tries to keep his gaze on the eyes of the girl with the great rack. She's not looking at him because she's afraid that even though he says she's not a freak, it'll be there in his eyes, in his expression.

"I know it's not my fault. I didn't ask for any of it." she replies, gnawing on her lips a bit. "But that doesn't make me any less a freak. Everything in the books tells me what a banshee is, but it doesn't tell me what it means for me and my life. It doesn't tell me how to turn it on and off. But I told Scott that I'm not going try to resist it anymore so I can help him. Maybe we can beat death that way. If I give into it, someone can get there before it happens."

But in her tone there's a not-so-secret worry about the inevitability of the doom she calls down.

At least Stiles isn't likely to hit her with a car part, so he just lets her look where she wants.

"We'll figure it out." Taking a sip of his coffee, his gait even, "You have me here, I'll help you figure it."

"How's that going to work, exactly?" she asks, but her tone is more hopeful than scornful.

"There's a library. There are witches and wizards. There are people we can ask and things we can do. We'll work something out."

"You think the rules for whatever makes a banshee in their world works the same way in ours?" muses Lydia. "I suppose it couldn't hurt. But the hard part is not knowing." Looking over at him finally, the corner of her mouth quirks before she offers a quiet, "Thanks."

"We can look at the lit though, right? See what matches up, if there are worlds with a correlation."

He smiles, a shrug of his shoulders, "Hey, don't worry about it. That's what I'm here for."

"Being research monkey?" Lydia grins. "Put in Reece's cups and Mountain Dew, see information come out?"

But she nods, more seriously. "Can we do it without advertising I'm a banshee?" It still feels weird to say. "This isn't exactly something I can go to an Anonymous Group for. Hi, my name's Lydia, and I'm a banshee." Cue eyeroll.

"You got it."

Because that would literally become his life-force if he'd let it. As it is, Derek tends to throw cereal bars at him to stop him from dying.

"We can keep it as quiet as you want. Nobody knows about the guys being werewolves either."

At that, her brows raise. "You know, I wish someone had told me that from the start. I mean, I haven't said anything to anyone, but I might have, because I didn't know to keep my mouth shut." She's thoughtful for a moment. "Why are they bothering, though? There's plenty of weird stuff here. Aliens with pointy ears. Guys who run faster than the speed of light. All that sort of thing."

"Uh."

He shrugs one shoulder, "I figured it was obvious. I've been keeping this secret for as long as I've been here. Besides, Derek is totally against it."

"Against what, people knowing? And since when is Derek the boss of you?"

That does genuinely puzzle her.

"He's not?"

But ... Stiles is pack now. And he's been following Derek's lead for about a half a year. "Lydia, c'mon. Being an alien from the future? Totally cool. Werewolves? Not so much."

See, no one's explained this pack thing to Lydia yet. At least, not outside of the presumed assumption that all the local werewolves would logically band together under Derek, but she doesn't have any reason to think that would include Stiles.

Instead she just kind of looks at him. "There is absolutely no supportive logic to support that statement. It's pretty clear that a lot of people let their freak flag fly in this place. Our friends choosing not to is their choice and I'll respect it, but don't give me that look and try to convince me that there's some kind of okay-not-okay standard of comparison for werewolves versus pointy eared aliens from the future or guys who can travel faster than the speed of light, and whatever else is here." She can't help but add, "Derek's been keeping his werewolf junk secret for years. It would be hard to let go of that no matter what environment he's in."

He sighs, can't help it, his hand running nervously through his hair.

"Well, I've been keeping it secret. And I'll be really pissed if it turns out I was allowed to talk about it the whole time."

"It doesn't do any harm to keep it a secret," Lydia shrugs, "I'm just pointing out that it's really not relevant here, and the need to keep it a secret really has more to do with where we come from and ingrained behavior than actually needing to keep it secret."

"Are you psychoanalyzing the werewolves?"

Major props to Lydia though. And he understands her. But Scott had asked about telling his dad and Stiles had reacted just as violently to the thought. He's as bad as Derek is.

Is she psychoanalyzing the werewolves? Well...

"Scott has to have everyone like him and protect everyone, Derek's a scowley loner with abandonment issues, and Isaac...has enough childhood trauma for an Oprah episode."

It's not meant to be unkind, but there it is. And if she knew that Scott's dad was an FBI Agent? She'd totally be Team Stiles on that score.

"Welcome to Derek Hale's pack of broken things."

It's a common denominator, inner pain. Maybe that's why Derek was so insistent he join the pack.

"Are you allowed to invite girls into the club? And without Derek's permission?" She makes as if to be scandalized. Her tone is light, anyway.

(Besides, she's about to be part of Scott's pack. She just doesn't know it yet.)

"When I was gone the last time, Derek kidnapped my friend Mae and kept her safe in a tunnel. So he's totally already broken the no girls allowed rule."

( WE SHOULD ALL JUST BE IN ONE PACK, WHY. )

She glances at him sidelong. "You know that sentence began wrong with 'Derek kidnapped my friend', right? But uh, good to know he's equal opportunity."

(BUT WHO'S THE BOSS, STILES? WHO'S THE BOSS? CUZ IT AIN'T TONY DANZA.)

"Kidnapped with good intentions?"

No, he isn't making this better.

All she can do is look at him askance. With Lydia Stare. Then, mercifully, she changes the subject.

"So who do you think would be good to ask? Ginny, maybe? She flies around on a broom, right? So she's a witch?"

"Yeah. She could be a possibility. I mean I think they totally mentioned a banshee in Harry Potter. Maybe in Chamber of Secrets? So she might know."

"Can you think of anything else? Maybe Spock would be able to analyze it on a scientific level." Lydia's gaze is thoughtful, "If science has any place in all of this crazy."

"Would he believe us?"

"Remember what I was saying about all the freak flags flying around here? I think he would, but he'd try to put it in a scientific framework he could understand." Lydia says. "Do I really need to quote Hamlet to you, especially in this place? Because I totally will." she mock threatens.

"No Shakespeare quoting, no, no!" He pretend cries, holding up his hands, "I give, I give."

"Smart boy." she purrs in approval, giving him an approving pat. "Alright, then. Ginny. Spock. Anybody else you think I should ask?"

"Maybe ... crap, I don't know."

He walks and walks, "I used to know Charles Xavier. I bet he'd have been able to help us."

"Who's that?"

X-Men is a little out of her purview. Maybe she saw those movies with Jackson on a date? She stared at her cell the whole time.

"Comic book dude. Total genius. Tried to adopt me. It was cool."

He remembers it so fondly.

She glances at him sidelong. Okaaay. "So we'll start with Ginny and Spock then." She gives him a thin smile. "Thanks, Stiles. You make it sound...not so bad, really."

"It's going to be okay."

He gives her a solid smile, firm and hopeful, "We'll figure it out."

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Screaming, deceiving and bleeding for you [closed]

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