Just a memory (teenwolf fanfic)

17. REGRETS

Lydia

For many times she wished to get up and just leave. The room was silent, and yet the sound of sorrow was just unbearably loud.

Sheriff was there too, head in his hands. Lydia couldn't tell if he was crying. Besides him was Scott, his face emotionless. Malia, then, was pacing around the waiting room.

Melissa was talking with the doctor that came from the surgery room, and then she disappeared back with him. She could be having some news, but she didn't share it with them. Lydia wasn't sure if she wanted her to.

Although she hated to think about it, she knew what happened. She saw that when she was in the coma. She never figured it till now.

Yes, she knew Stiles did it on purpose. She knew why. It didn't mean she approved it.

God damn you, Stiles. Why do you have to be so good?

Hell was he good. The good people are always the ones to get hurt. Because they are good. She was so frustrated that she nearly scream. Not like a banshee, not this time. Not like a scared damsel. Like Lydia Martin. Like a girl. A normal girl. What she always wanted to be.

She sobbed. Everything was easier when Stiles was near. He would keep her busy being an authority or making a plan so she wouldn't think.

Oh god! Did she love him? Thinking about it, there was no good or simple answer to that question.

"We did what we could. You can visit him now", the doctor from before came.

Malia was the first to go, Lydia the last. They entered in his room. Stiles was alone, laying on the bed, his chest bare and wrapped in bloody bandage.

"Oh god", Malia breathed. "Is he going to be okay?"

The doctor hesitated.

"Tell me", Lydia could tell Malia was this close to draw out fangs and claws.

"Well, he is in a coma, simply speaking. He is stable at the moment but breathing a harder. The biggest damage was on his internal organs. We are not sure is he going to wake up, and if he does, it won't be soon."

Lydia felt like someone punched her in the stomach. She gasped and collapsed in the near chair.

I can't lose him.

Malia

Malia blinked to stop the tears. Although her vision was blurry, she could see Scott stormed out of the room. Mostly wanting an excuse to get out herself, she followed him.

"Where to?" she asked him.

He just waved his head. "I can't lose him. Not Stiles. Not him",

She patted his hand. "I know."

  "No, Malia, you don't. He's my brother. You will never care for him the way I do."

  Malia stepped back. "Okay", she breathed, searching for words, not showing she's hurt. As always. "Okay. Whatever. I will just leave you in your miserable world of sadness", she walked away.

  She knew it was mean, but didn't care. Now it was official. Nobody cared for her.  Exept for maybe Stiles.

  Stiles...

  She fell on the floor in the hallway, finally crying.

Scott

He didn't look back after Malia. He got out of the building and to Stiles's Jeep. He literally tried not to breathe so he wouldn't inhale his friend's familiar scent.

  He felt an urge to punish the person that did this. A rare violent feeling rose in his chest. And he drove away in full speed.

  His werewolf senses led him to the end of Beacon Hills, to the woods. He fell out of the car, partly transformed.
He ran away about a mile.

  "Peter!" he cried. He howled, the sound echoing through the fresh night air.

  "What?" a bored voice asked.

  Scott drew his claws out. "Fight me. Right now."

  Peter sighed. "Not in the mood."

  "You afraid?" Scott growled.

  "I see what you are doing", Peter showed his fangs. "Challenge accepted."

  In a matter of seconds, he threw himself on the young alpha. Scott successfully dodged his claws and attacked back. 

  Peter was weaker after the Eichen, it was obvious. Scott, on the other hand, got only stronger. They were fighting like dancing, one attacking, one dodging, and the other way around again.

  Peter attacked. Scott used this and dodged it again. Peter's claws dug in the tree that found itself right on the place Scott's head was just a second ago. Struggling to take them out, Peter lost his chance to dodge Scott's next attack. Young alpha knocked him to the ground, clawing and attacking his enemy over and over again, his claws digging in the flesh.

  I should kill him, Scott thought firecly. I should punish him for what he did.

  "Don't! " and there she was again. Her dark hair tied in a messy bun, wearing striped shirt, black skirt and jean jacket, bow in her hand and arrows in a bag hanging on her shoulder. Her face was completly serious.

  I must be completly out of my mind, he turned back to Peter, who was weakly laying on the floor.

  "You going to kill me?" he laughed and coughed blood.

  Scott hardened his grip around Peter's neck. "I should."

  "Scott don't!" she yelled again. It was so hard to ignore. "Don't become a killer if you don't have to. Please. Don't kill him."

  He hurt Stiles.

  "Scott, that's exactly what he wants, you to act like this. To bring discord in your pack! Please, Scott. You'll only make it worse", she pleaded him.

  In a moment of weakness, Scott let him go.

  "Go", he growled. "And I don't want to see you again."

  Peter clearly figured he was too weak to fight, so he snarled and ran away.

  Scott roared in despair.

  "You did the right thing", Allison kneeled by him.

  "I should have killed him like he deserves."

  "You have no right to decide when someone is going to die. Besides, killing him wouldn't help Stiles in any way."

   They fell in silence. But it was comfortable silence, interrupted only by maybe an owl.

  He turned to face her. "It's just... Stiles..." he struggled to find words. "I can't lose him like I lost you," he finally said.

  She didn't say anything. They were sitting there, lighted only by moonlight, glaring at the sky.

  "They seem really far away", he looked at her quizzically. "The stars."

  "Yeah", Scott moved a little closer to her, like in the good old days.

  She laughed. "I know you think they are indeed far, but not that much, really", she looked deeply in his eyes with her beautiful brown ones "Try to reach them"

  She kissed him. It felt, again, like a butterfly wings.

  He layed on the ground covered by leaves.

  "Close your eyes", she whispered, and he did, afraid to open them ever again, only to reveal she's gone.