would you have not survived?

part ii. equanimity

Goddamn it, Lydia misses him.

It's been a known feeling, ever since she left him. She's felt the emptiness within her since the moment she decided that she had to go. Yet, she had managed to power through the heartbreak with the knowledge that, in the long run, it would save Stiles.

Now, though, the lack of a Stiles in her life is getting to her. She feels the same sense of loss that she had back when the Ghost Riders took him away. She thinks it's been ebbing away at her, slowly, ever since their separation, but it's hitting her in full force right about now.

Or, more likely, she's finally letting herself feel it in full force.

After everything, she wonders if she made a mistake. Derek's funeral had been a stark reminder at how fleeting life is, and Stiles' words still haunt her.

"What if it happens anyway?"

Perhaps she'd saved him from a horrific car accident. But what if another supernatural force becomes known, and Stiles isn't busy with whatever he's working on? What if he had been called, and he'd shown up, and the fate he'd narrowly avoided so many times in the past finally claims him?

Lydia doesn't think she could bear it. She doesn't think Stiles would ever forgive her, either, thinking of Allison's words.

So, she calls him.

When she hears his voice, it's like finding the missing piece of the puzzle. She's never been so much of a sap to think that she needs a man to survive, and Stiles has never once tried to insinuate any such thing, but she knows in that moment, she doesn't want to spend another moment without him.

But she can't blame him for being angry with her.

And, she's still terrified of losing him.

"So, you told Scott," Stiles says slowly.

"I did," she confirms. "I'm surprised you didn't."

"I didn't really tell anyone," he replies. After a second, with a sigh, he adds, "I didn't really talk to anyone."

Lydia's heart clenches with guilt. She'd known, from vague sayings of their mutual friends, that he'd pulled away. Jackson described his apartment as a mess, reeking in grief. Malia had offhandedly told her, without thinking, that Stiles hadn't showered in days when she'd popped up at his door. And Scott would remark on how little he'd seen of Stiles.

Even without that, she could've guessed, based on the few times she'd seen him in the past year. Desperate, exhausted, and ready to drop anything and everything in his life to run back to her.

She doesn't know what to say, — she can't get herself to say the words she desperately means, "I'm sorry," — so there's a long silence.

Eventually, Stiles clears his throat and says, "So, you told the Nogitsune."

"Actually, I told Mr. Harris, who was asking for the Nogitsune," she clarifies with a hint of snark in her tone.

"Our high school chemistry teacher?" he asks, bewildered. She can picture how his face twists at the words. "Isn't he dead? Sacrificed?"

"Apparently not."

He barks out a little ironic laugh, and she smiles. It's like old times for a moment.

"Well, Scott definitely didn't mention that," he says, still in a little bit of awe. "He just said someone released — Mr. Harris released the Nogitsune?"

"Yup."

"I always knew he was evil," Stiles mutters under his breath. "Took fifteen years to prove it, but I knew it."