[Teen Wolf] Maybe Tomorrow
Title: Maybe Tomorrow
Series: Teen Wolf
Characters: Isaac Lahey, Lydia Martin
Rating: Fiction T
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Complete: Yes
Off-site: fanfiction.net | AO3 | dreamwidth | tumblr
Summary: A breathy realization and an unfinished sigh. His eyes try to meet hers but she's steadfastly looking at the girl beside him. *lysaac ~ post s03e11: Alpha Pact*
A sudden rise in the steady staccato of heartbeats. He angles his head, trying to hear where it's coming from.
A breathy realization and an unfinished sigh. His eyes try to meet hers but she's steadfastly looking at the girl beside him.
She turns away at what Deaton says. Shifts her attention and dismisses him. Like always, he wants to mutter. He looks down on his feet instead. Listens to the conversation around him and maybe, just maybe, waiting for a reaction that never comes.
==
It's been four hours.
They still haven't woken up from the ice bath. He doesn't hear their heartbeats, only Deaton's and hers.
He angles his head and tries to pick out the sounds. Small glass containers clink. The wind moans outside. Trees hitting the glass panes and the walls. Knocking. A cat landing in the garbage bin. A deep sigh and the crinkle of pages being crushed.
"There's some blankets in the that drawer if you want to get some sleep, Lydia.", Deaton softly says in the next room.
"Thank you...but I don't mind waiting."
==
He returns to the room with the tubs. He checks on Scott first, then Allison, finally Stiles. There hasn't been any change. Their motionless bodies lie suspended in the icy water and an involuntary shiver runs through him.
Being under the ice was an experience he did not want to repeat. He doesn't remember all of it, only willing himself to submerge with Scott and Derek's hands to guide him and then springing up from the iceless albeit cold water after.
He hears it then.
A whimper.
And fast breaths... as if each lungful was not enough.
==
He sees Deaton asleep in his chair, arms crossed and head tucked in. His chest rising and falling evenly.
With quiet steps, he walks to the hallway. He glances at the waiting area. The door is closed, Deaton flipped the sign an hour before they all arrived and locked it before the business with the tubs. No use inviting any attack from the Alpha Pack.
But just to be sure, he goes to the doors to check the lock and that's where he finds her. Swathed in blankets, lying on her side, one of her hands acting as a pillow for her head while the other is held close to her throat.
He looks at her throat.
The white column marred by dark red and purple lines.
He knows that it burns; he has experienced enough violence from his father to know the extent of bruises just by looking at them.
But why didn't she just cover it up?
She stirs in her sleep and grimaces. She's shaking her head slowly from side to side and if he wasn't so keen on her, he might not have gotten it. The small "please" before the tears leak from her eyes.
Oh Lydia.
He kneels in front of her and extends his hand to -- to what? Wake her up?
His hand stops midway and he looks at it. A couple of months ago, he would have been the one to kill her. One quick swipe of his claws and Lydia's life would have ended. Or maybe, he could have squeezed. Squeezed until the air left her lungs.
Would he have done it?
Could he have killed her?
Could he have had the courage to kill Lydia Martin?
Lydia Martin.
The girl he asked out in freshman year and laughed at him in reply. The girl who had so many nice things in her perfect little life. The girl who disappeared after being bitten by an Alpha and survived. The girl who loved a monster so much that she saved him. The girl who saved his pack in that crazy motel.
The girl who found him.
With a shake of his head, he lets his hand continue its descent.
Soft and warm.
That's how she feels to him. Soft and warm, her pulse thrumming under his fingertips.
Black veins appear on his hand.
Her face relaxes and her tears stop.
"I'm sorry, Lydia", he whispers.