Lone Wolf

"I don’t know.", she confessed. "No offence, but you don’t seem like the girl that watches stupid movies or would keep me company while studying." Lydia shrugged, walking towards the kitchen. An uncorked bottle of red wine caught her eye, making her stop in her tracks.

Cora followed Lydia and stopped short when she did, wondering why. Though she didn't have to wait long. The answer came a minute later. Werewolves couldn't get drunk, but that didn't mean Cora couldn't part take. Especially if it would help get rid of the doom and gloom haunting Lydia's every step. "We can drink wine," she shrugged. "And I'll watch a stupid movie, but I'll probably make comments."

"No one, no.", she whispered, opening the door for Cora. Lydia was wearing a pair of satin sleeping shorts and one of the shirts Allison had forgotten at hers, eternities ago. If she concentrated she could still smell Allison. Green apples, mint and the subtle vanilla of her perfume - it hurt, but at least she wasn’t forgetting her.

Cora was dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt. She felt under dressed as soon as she entered the house, but couldn't bring herself to care. Lydia Martin was in pajamas...albeit, expensive pajamas. "No," Cora shook her head. "I'm fine. What do you want to do?"

Lydia looked up, letting the mask of indifference fall back in place. “Sure. Everything is peachy.” She cringed, as soon as the words had left her mouth. Fake, they were sounding fake, laced with exhaustion and grief. Cora could read her vitals anyway, why should she continue lying? It didn’t matter anymore.

Cora was about to turn on her heel when Lydia lied. It was easy to tell, her voice was uneven and despite the neutral look, she still looked pained. More than that, Lydia still smelled of anxiety and now exhaustion. But all of a sudden, the truth was coming out. Cora's muscles locked, preventing her from walking away. 

It rarely ever happened that Lydia was out of words, but in this moment, she didn’t know what to say. Cora had come to check up on her, to see how she was doing. None of her friends had done that.

Cora waited, patiently. Lydia wasn't saying anything. The moment of silence was deafening, even when she could hear the other girl's heart beat and smell her unease. 

Who would knock on her door at nine pm on a school night? Lydia’s hands shook, as she grabbed a steak knife. You never know nowadays, she thought to herself, approaching the door. After looking through the door viewer, she huffed. What was Cora Hale doing in front of her door? It had been a few days since Cora had brought her home and Lydia considered the whole matter as over.

Finding Lydia Martin with a steak knife clutched in her hand was a little frightening. Cora wondered how much damage the girl could do, knowing that she had most likely researched sword technique if she was handling a small blade. 

"I don’t want to. I want things to go back to normal."

Cora shook her head. They never would. Life moved forward with no room to look back. She wasn't going to try and deny Lydia her grief. 

"It’s not like you had to say that. We both know that." Of course Cora knew what it was like to lose someone. It made it all more difficult to dislike her.

"Sometimes it's good to say it outloud. Admit it." Because sometimes it felt like a secret. Something deep and dark and terrifying. That if you held it in and didn't speak about it, somehow it might not be true. 

"You don’t even like me, forgot?"

"I never said that." Cora shrugged, because she wasn't going to force anything. "But I know what it's like to lose someone." She flexed her abdomen, the contraction of the muscles giving her something to focus on besides Lydia's anxiety and confusion and fear.

Slowly, she calmed down enough to pull back a little and stand on her own feet once more. Hurting was worse than numb, she realized, hands shaking and palms stinging.

Cora waited patiently. She knew what it was like to lose people, but she had never felt someone die. Lydia was the only person to ever feel that. Cora couldn't understand what she was going through, but she could try. 

It felt like forever since someone had touched her this gently. Lydia began sobbing, quietly at first, then harder and lurched forward into Cora’s arms. 

Cora caught Lydia around the middle, supporting her weight. She was surprised, taken off guard. Lydia was bawling in her arms, and Cora didn't exactly know what to do. She shifted her feet, to better support them both, and rubbed the girl's back. 

Grief was weighing her down, the moment as Allison died playing over and over in her head, tearing her heart apart. “Why not? It doesn’t matter anymore. I have no one, Cora. No one. They’re all busy or dead.” Her voice cracked, sobs shaking her body.

"Lydia." 

"Everything has changed." The tears were streaming now, painting her cheeks with smudged mascara. "And more is about to change. More people will die and I can do nothing against it." Lydia dug her fingernails in the palms of her hand, hoping to draw blood, to feel something.

Cora could feel the stress and anxiety pouring off Lydia's body. This was not how she expected to meet the girl again. She didn't expect to find anyone crying, but then again...Lydia had felt Allison die. She was a banshee, she could tell people were going to die. And all of that was breaking her. Cora's eyes narrowed, watching the force with which Lydia clenched her hands. 

Happen was an elegant way to describe how hell had become a place on earth and how her best friend was no longer part of it. The laugh that left Lydia’s mouth was so bitter and laced with grief, it sounded more like wail. “What happened”, she spat out the word, “is that Beacon Hills is doomed. Why would someone come back to a place like this?”

Lydia was so angry. Had she forgot this place was Cora's home? No matter what happened, this was the town she grew up in. These were the woods she had memorized as a child. Cora had lost most than Lydia, and she was back, regardless. 

Lydia screamed, shrill and piercing, but without any banshee powers behind it. What was that? A blur of dark hair and red shirt whooshed past her with a speed that couldn’t ever be human. She could swear the figure was familiar too. Lydia turned around, following the person with her eyes.

Cora squeezed her eyes shut as she met the ground, safely rolling through the momentum. As she stood, picking out twigs from her pony tail, she eyed the girl who knew her name. Lydia. "Sorry I almost ran you over," she grumbled, then, after straightening, she said, "I came back when I herad what happened..."

Once again, Lydia found herself wandering around the woods. But a lot of things were different now. She was fully conscious and clothed, moving slow, without a destination. One thing hadn’t changed - she was alone.

Cora was running. Every since she came back to town things were different. There were more people in Scott's pack, but at the same time people were missing. When she heard of all the people who had perished...she had to come back.