Payment (revised)

Chapter 26

edited: 5/14/20

edited: 9/5/23

The monotonous beeping of the heart monitor was a sharp contrast to the wild beating in Derek's chest.

They had all rushed to her room as soon as they heard. Allison had left her side only long enough to give the news to Scott, the first person she had encountered, who then spread the word to the rest of the pack who didn't hesitate to drop what they were doing to get to their friend.

Four days had gone by since Derek and Stiles reunited. Three days had gone by since Derek and Stiles holed themselves up in his study and bared their gaping souls to each other in all their bleeding glory. Two days had gone by since Derek no longer felt the burning agony he had been tortured with for weeks now due to the constant fear that he wasn't good enough for Stiles.

He hadn't been troubled by his insecurities, not since Stiles had quieted them with his assurance that he wasn't going anywhere. For once, Derek let himself believe it. He was going to make their relationship work, he wasn't going to lose Stiles to his past.

For two days, things had been good. Things had been surprisingly good. It was as if someone had taken Derek out of his real life and traded the horrors for something rich and beautiful and much more than Derek deserved. His happiness was due to the ethereal creature who now clung to his hand like Derek was an anchor.

Derek marveled at it even now. He never thought he'd be lucky enough to have someone stand by him the way Stiles did, and it was as if the pair were living in their private bubble. But all bubbles popped, and Derek and Stiles didn't live an easy life.

The couple had been in the bath, getting ready to go to bed when the knock at the door came. A selfish part of Derek wished it never had. He wished he could still be surrounded by warm water and candlelight. His hands skimming along Stiles's stomach as the boy relaxed in Derek's arms, content to let Derek wash him as he dozed. But the knock had come, and Derek was thankful for it.

He had tried to insist Stiles stay in the bath, but Stiles was Stiles. He had all but laughed in Derek's face at the suggestion, and had already been throwing on one of Derek's t-shirts before the man could do anything to stop him.

The Alpha had tried to be firm with Stiles, but admitted he hadn't tried as hard as he could have. Stiles was pack now; Stiles was family. He had a right to this the same amount they all did. With urgency clipping their heels, the two had dressed quickly and left. The imaginary world Derek and Stiles had lived and loved in came crashing down around them in broken shards of light.

Nothing would be the same after this.

Lydia was waking up.

Stepping into her recovery room felt like stepping into another universe. Where outside in the hall the pack had been frantic, the need for revenge fresh on their minds as they raced to their friend, inside time seemed to stop. Silence blanketed the walls. The smell of lilac danced around them like fairy dust, though it was daisies that sat in a bulbous glass vase on the bedside table.

In the middle of it all lay Lydia. Her hair fanned around her like a crown of writhing flames, her hands were folded gently over her midriff, her eyelashes kissed her freckled cheeks. She was glass to touch.

Sensing her entourage, Lydia's nose twitched.

Her brows began to furrow as she roused from her sleep, her lips parted to take a breath. The room balanced on a precipice, waiting for the last gust of wind to push them over the edge.

Lily green eyes blinked open.

"Lydia," Stiles whispered at Derek's side.

The room erupted into chaos.