voluntaryapnea | 10. I can't get used to it/I'll never get used to it

10. I can't get used to it/I'll never get used to it

[Video -- Scorpius]

So...thanks. For finding me and taking me to the infirmary during the breach.

[As usual, he wonders if his own death would have prevented that of someone else's. Allison's. It always seems to come down to that. But he knows that despite the death toll, his own death would also have taken its toll on his friends. He knows that if there's an ultimate choice at stake -- and there is, he'll always choose Allison's life over his own. But in this situation he hadn't known, couldn't have known, and Scorpius certainly didn't, so while the thanks is belated, it is also sincere.]

[Video -- Jack]

Hey. Thanks for...well, Scott said you gave me your own blood or I probably wouldn't have survived. That's pretty awesome doctor-ing, considering the limited amount of supplies and stuff.

[Video -- Scott and Lydia]

She knows we're leaving stuff out. I told her no one really wanted to talk about my murder spree right now, but I don't know if... [He looks down, holds his breath for a moment. He doesn't know if she believes that's all there is. That alone is a lot. But Allison is smart, and she knows all of them so very well. He exhales.]

I'm starting to think maybe we should tell her. Before she winds up finding out some other way.

[Video -- Andrew]

Hey. Any chance you'd wanna do a movie or video game thing soon?

[Video -- Wardens]

Has anyone ever changed the specifics of their deal without leaving the Barge for awhile first? Is that something that's possible?

[Video -- Jean]

I know we haven't really talked but uh, I was wondering if that whole offer you made a few days ago about people talking to you...if that was still on the table. [A beat.]

Because I think that's probably something I should do.

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It's not yours to fix, Stiles. [His voice is quiet, but so sure.]

Not alone. Lydia's right. I'll get her, and we can tell her together.

[Scott can't do this on his own. And he's not going to let either of them do it on their own, either.]

[His chest feels tight the way it always does when they're talking about what happened at home and his nails dig lightly into the palms of his hands.]

All right.

Come over, Stiles. We will wait for Allison and Scott here.

[Because now she's worried about him]

I'll meet you guys there.

[And he is off to figure out how to do this without losing his cool completely.]

[Allison was finally starting to feel a little more like herself...more alive, more normal. She could go for short walks without getting winded, the pain was intermittent now...she was even starting to work out a little bit, playing it safe with some low-impact yoga to ensure she didn't cause any sort of setback. The way she sort of understood it, the death toll didn't quite work that way...but she hated being on her back, so she wasn't taking any chances.

She was just finishing some stretching in front of the couch when she heard a knock at her door. Standing, she grabbed a towel from nearby and blotted the light sheen of sweat off her face, then a nearby oversized t-shirt to throw on over he sports bra and leggings before she padded barefoot to the door...

...and found Scott on the other side. Blinking a little in surprised, she shook it off and smiled. She still had circles under her eyes, but her cheeks had a much healthier flush to them, and she was moving with far more freedom.]

Scott! Hi...everything okay? [Because normally he'd have texted if he wanted to see her, or something. The days of surprise visits were pretty far behind them, so it had to have been important...]

Edited 2014-08-07 19:25 (UTC)

Yeah.

[No. He smiles a little, knowing she won't believe him. He has been trying so hard to forget it all, to push it back. To find his mean again. And maybe he could have done it, maybe Scott could have gone on, and found enough other things to focus on that her death-weight would stop being the last thing on his mind before he falls asleep at night.

But that's changed, since she came here. Since Lydia came here, since it became so much harder to distance himself from Beacon Hills. He wants to, sometimes, even on the days when he misses his home so much it leaves an ache in his stomach.

And maybe that's okay. Things change, and maybe the point is that he can't force a regression to the mean. It has to just happen. He has to ride the wave, and it's about to crash again.

Scott slides his hands into his pockets.]

Are you busy?

Nope? Why, what do you need?

[Her answer is relaxed, casual, and honest...but she would have answered in the affirmative even if she'd actually been doing something. She can see in his eyes that something is wrong, something is off. She's needed...

...because that familiar prickle is rising on the back of her neck, the eerie sixth sense her father called the hunter's instinct. It was that cold shiver in a dangerous situation, the voice in the back of her head that was even now whispering at her, danger, danger, danger...

Something was about to happen.

Something bad.]

We're meeting up in Lydia's room.

[He doesn't need to say who: it's so much different than it was, when he first came here. He relied on so many other people to prop him up, to keep him going, and he did the same in return. Now his best friends are here, people who lived - lived - through the same awful shit, and they're the ones that he means, now. Their pack. Maybe it'll grow, here, in essence - there are too many other people he cares about. But this is private.]

It's okay, [it's not, but--] there's nothing....nothing happening.

[No one is in danger. No one is hurt.] We just need to talk.

[...They're ready.

That whisper is telling her it's time. It's not a threat, it's worse than that: it's truth. Her gut says it, her eyes see it: that hole in Scott, gaping like a canyon. He's still trying to hide it, God bless him...but it swallows all the light in his face, a black hole nothing can escape.

They're ready. It's time.]

Okay! Just...give me a second?

[She moves as she speaks, quietly shutting the door and leaving Scott to stand outside. She fights to keep her heart rate level, dashes into her room as silently as she can on bare feet, making a beeline for her bed.

From under her pillow, she pulls her ring daggers, sliding one out of the sheath to watch the blade gleam.

If she hears the wrong thing from her friends...if a name she can learn touches her ears...

She's fairly sure she'll become an inmate by morning.

Sliding the dagger back home, she tucks the sheath into the back of her leggings, making sure her shirt covers the bulge before grabbing a pair of sneakers out from under her bed. Returning to the door, she steps out of her cabin, gesturing with her shoes before she tugs them on one after the other, leaning back against the corridor wall for support. Once they're on, she smiles and gestures to Scott, plastering her most innocuous smile to her face.]

After you.

[He waits. He nods as she vanishes into her room again, leaning against the wall beside the door. For a moment, alone in the corridor, he lets his head bow and his shoulders slump. Scott doesn't try to listen for what she's doing inside: he closes it out, and waits.

She knows something's up. Stiles said as much. And he can see it now, too: she expects something.

This is going to suck.

Scott straightens when the door opens, he even smiles at her as she puts on her shoes. Then he heads for Lydia's room, side by side with Allison.]

[Stiles doesn't go immediately to Lydia's room. He shuts off his comm and paces his room for several long moments, anxiety weaving its way through his veins like the ice water that he once drown in. He doesn't want to do this, even though he's the one who brought it up. He doesn't want to, but it feels like there's no choice. (When is there anymore? When isn't at least one of them always left floundering without some kind of choice?)

He exhales and then draws in a slow, deep breath before pulling a gray hoodie on over his t-shirt and flannel shirt. He makes his way out of the room, tucking his hands in his pockets, moving past the people he sees in the hallways and stairwells without speaking. He has to focus now.

He makes his way to the fifth floor, fingers curling into fists in his pockets as he pauses outside of Lydia's door, closing his eyes for a moment. Then he reaches out and knocks lightly.]

[When she hears the knock, she's afraid it's going to be Scott and Allison instead of Stiles. She wants to check on him, reassure him as much as possible -- which she knows isn't much -- before they do this. As hard as this may be on her and Scott, because of how close to Allison the two of them are, she knows it's worse for Stiles. Because no matter what they say, no matter how much times goes by, he feels like this is on him and he probably always will.

By the time she opens the door, she's composed and although she's not really trying to look perky, she does have a smile on her lips. It's mostly a reassuring one, that intensifies the second her eyes fall on Stiles.

She reaches for his hand and pulls him into her room the same way she's done so many times before, but it's mostly just a comforting touch.]

They're not here yet.

[She catches his hand in hers before he has a chance to stuff it back into his hoodie pocket. He follows her into the room silently, nodding at the fact that Scott and Allison haven't arrived yet. He looks around at the familiar room, heart beating quickly in his chest -- a familiar feeling between things like too many doses of Adderall and too many problems with anxiety. Still, the brush of her fingers over his is soothing and while he doesn't really relax, it does calm his nerves a bit.

For a moment, he just looks at her. Then he allows his fingers to curl around hers as he takes a small, hesitant step closer to her, reaching out and resting a hand on her shoulder.]

Are you okay?

[Lydia takes a moment to close the door again before she turns to face him. She's about to ask him how he is doing when he reaches out for her shoulder and gets his own question in first.

With a deep breath, she squeezes his hand gently then glances down for a second.]

I'm okay. I just want to get it over with. Maybe it will make her less likely to put herself in danger. [She doubts it, but she can hope.]

[He lets out a breath at that, nodding.]

Yeah that's...that's part of why I thought we needed to tell her.

[He doubts it, too, though. Because she's Allison. She's declared herself the pack's protector.]

[Or it could make her even more likely to put herself in danger. Depending on how she takes the news, but Lydia doesn't need to make either one of them more anxious.]

How are you handling it?

[He shrugs and glances away, ignoring the way his chest tightens. How is one supposed to handle telling a friend that they're going to die largely because of your own weaknesses? He'd meant it when he'd told Allison that he'd rather die himself than have to watch her die again. It extends to Lydia and Scott, too. It always has.]

With the amount of dread and nauseousness you'd expect?

[At least he's being honest. Lydia takes a deep breath and nods, smiling softly at him as she wraps her free hand around his back and leads him toward her bed.]

That's what I thought. And I honestly have no idea what she will say, Stiles. But I know this won't change how she sees you.

[He sits down on her bed and looks up at her. No. He doesn't think it'll change how Allison sees him. But it should.]

I know.

[She looks down at him for a moment then nods and takes a seat next to him so they can wait for the others.]

I know it's near impossible to try and relax, but at least it will be done soon. [And then she plans on keeping a close eye on Allison for the next couple of days.]

[Allison doesn't say a word on the way to Lydia's cabin.

It's how she is at the start of a hunt, when there's no room for words over the slice of a honing stone over the edge of a blade, or the metallic sounds of a gun being loaded, the twist of an arrowhead being screwed to a bolt. The weapons speak for themselves: promises of pain yet to be inflicted, a conversation in bullets and knives about how death will be meted out this time.

She doesn't have a target yet...but when she does, she will be ready.

She's quiet...but without really meaning to, her shoulder keeps brushing Scott's as they walk side by side, their arms jostling together. It's no more than reaching for that solid heat, that reminder of why she's here.

Warmth. Safety. Love...family.

When they reach Lydia's cabin, Allison extends her hand to knock first, musing at how much regret she feels...distant and detached, but she felt no regret when she fought for Gerard, when she nearly killed for him.

She has no idea what she's walking into here. Whether she will fight for her pack, kill for them, bleed for them...even die for them...it's sorrow and joy at the same time, a wistful sort of pleasure because she's finally doing it for the right reasons.

The pack may not see it that way. The Admiral may not see it that way...but if they give her a name, if someone has to be punished...she'll tell them her deal, in detail. She'll trust them to save each other.

Whatever is about to happen is bad...but she will make it okay. She's ready.

And she tries to communicate that all to Scott by pressing her shoulder more solidly against his as they wait for Lydia to open the door.]

[Her shoulder keeps brushing his, and all he wants to do is turn around, grab her arm and just run somewhere else. He wants to go to the river and find a river, build a raft and float away with her. Anything to stop her finding out, anything to change what they're about to tell her.

They were supposed to fix it before she ever needed to know, but they're just kids. They're so used to lying, but that doesn't mean they do it well.

He doesn't say anything on the walk over. Part of him wants to fill the silence, but he just lets it grow between them. It feels like they're on opposite sides of a canyon, but every time her shoulder brushes his, she feels a little closer.

And at the door, when she knocks, he stretches his hand to close around hers and squeeze. Just a little, just for a moment. His hand is back at his side by the time the door opens.]

[He hears the knock and he has to shut his eyes for a moment. They've tried so hard to keep what they're about to tell Allison from Allison to begin with. His breath hitches as doubts race through his mind.

Maybe this isn't right. Maybe they should just keep maintaining this secret. He's good at lying. It's his natural inclination approximately fifty percent of the time. He's just done so much less of it since his dad had found out about all the supernatural stuff. He's out of practice. Not as good at it as he used to be.

He bites down hard on his lip, opening his eyes and looking over at Lydia before he rises to his feet. It isn't his room, but this is still all happening because of the Nogitsune. He needs to have a hand in trying to fix things. He moves over to the door and opens it, looking first at Scott, then at Allison before stepping aside to let them in.]

[Lydia steps up next to Stiles, a hand over his back as she realizes he's the one opening the door. She was going to do it herself but she understands his need to have some control over the situation. Also his need to just get it over with.

Still, when her eyes fall on Scott and Allison, she can tell just how tense Scott is, and he's by far the worst at hiding his emotions out of the four of them. And she is probably the best one at it, so she smiles softly, trying to offer the others some comfort even thought she's not feeling any of it herself.]

This won't be long. [It might be new information for Allison, but it's a reminder for the other two.]

No. It won't.

[Allison moves into the room and turns to face the three of them, arms folded as her face moves over each beloved face in turn: Lydia's gentle expression, Stiles and his haggard visage, Scott looking for all the world like a scared dog ready to bolt at the first loud noise.

She doesn't want to be the first to shout...but she has no choice.

Folding her arms, she straightens and takes a deep breath.]

Tell me.

10. I can't get used to it/I'll never get used to it

[Stiles | Lydia | Scott]

[Stiles | Lydia | Scott]

[Stiles | Lydia | Scott]

[Stiles | Lydia | Scott]

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