Hi guys. So this is just one idea I had about how Stiles could be saved, how it can be related to the theory that he sent Lydia a message when he framed the Nemeton drawing for her and a lot of other theories.

This fic is set after 3x23 even though I write it before 3x22

On the story Lydia had met the nogitsune already, which only happened on 3x22 (and truly, it will only happen on 3x23).

Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf or any of its characters!

Focus! She could hear Peter screaming as she realized, as she remembered.

"Why didn't you mention this sooner?" Lydia asked, her voice and hands and everything shaking. Nevertheless, she could hear it now, louder than everything she's ever heard as a banshee or a human, it was so clear, so obvious. It had always been there for her to notice, but Peter was right, she would never focus. If she had just focused, she could have, she would have-

"What do you mean?" Scott questioned exasperated, because he said so many things in such a short time but none of them made sense or seemed important. None of them were new to anyone – or so he thought. Kira's and Allison's were the same and Lydia felt like screaming if she only could, cause there was a new hole inside her that made and destroyed her. It was always there, it had always been there. She would cry if she was the type of girl who cried in front of people, if she was the type of girl who could cry while feeling so anxious and guilty and frustrated with the world.

Focus, Lydia. You never focus, you never listen.

"It's not bolt of lightning ", was all she could muster and great now everyone could see she was shaking. Aiden looked at her as he always did when he thought she was going insane and he had no idea how to manage her.

"Lydia, what are you talking about?" Allison asked calmly, since she was probably the only one besides Scott who had patience with her while the others would just rather ignore her musings.

"It's not bolt of lightning!" she yelled this time realizing she had no time for this because everything was so blinding clear that she had to run. There was nothing else to do or say or explain, she turned around and felt the adrenaline rise in every inch of her tired body.

"Lydia!" Scott shouts out and he outruns her, grabbing her arm before she can leave the room. He will not let her leave without an explanation and while she would usually appreciate his thoughtfulness, she can't this time; not when she knows what needs to be known, not when she's heard what needs to be heard, not when she gets the last message Stiles has left anyone and not when she's needed.

"It's love at first sight." She says only the words that are necessary and looks into Scott's eyes wishing with every fiber of her being that he will understand the words unspoken.

He opens his mouth as if her wishes were heard but he doesn't let go of her arm just yet. "Lydia, we don't know for sure; we… I can't let you risk it, I can't let you risk your life over a suspicion", he doesn't mind whispering as if they were talking about a secret because there is no time and too many supernatural entities that would hear them even so.

"I know" she says without any trace of doubt, Scott inadvertently releases her arm and she just runs again.

Scott runs after her one more time, already yelling he is taking her wherever she needs to go so everyone could hear and follow them, follow her.

-/-

Scott wishes he could ask her as he drives her to wherever his best friend is at, but he can tell her eyes say nothing but hurry already and he'll never get his answer unless it works. He doesn't have much time to wonder as he always finds himself lost in that single word: works. Cause it was all that mattered and it was all that would matter for a long time. If the impossible situation that became his life has taught him something It was that there was no use in knowing something if that something was useless.

And it wouldn't, it couldn't, become useless whatever it was that Lydia knew and that he wanted to know too.

Lydia looks ahead even when Scott doesn't, she needs to hear everything again and again and once more until she memorized it and made sure she never forgot it again; the sound never stopped ever since it began and she didn't want it to.

It was Stiles and her. Talking. She could hear his voice as young and innocent as hers, soon to be too old, soon to be too uninnocent- just like hers. She marvels on how nothing is random and fate exists, tethers weren't things to take lightly; they were made of relationships and fortune, the equal amount of conscientious acts and unconscientious Life, as it chooses how and when it wants people to be- without a warning or a care.

Her eyes must be the vision of determination, not even Scott asks her what she is going to do when she jumps off his recently stopped car and starts running after him.

Lydia doesn't need to run much because the fox sure finds her, all cocky and ahead of anyone's game like it was. Like it thought it was.

She realizes she isn't afraid anymore, not like she was when she first saw Stiles being anyone but Stiles. She's fearless and tough, she knows he is unafraid too and that's why it will work. When she smiles at the vision of the boy who was taken away, but the one who took him doesn't smirk defiantly back, she knows it will work. If there was one thing pure void wouldn't understand it was this, if there was one thing darkness itself wouldn't plan on defeating it was this, if there was one thing pain, strife and chaos didn't think could outfox them, it was this.

"Well?" he said, the curiosity of the fox overpowering his need to protect himself and his plans for a moment. The little red-haired banshee came out of nowhere after being hallucinated and scarred away. The little red-haired banshee who walked and breathed like she was ready to ruin everything for him, but she was too small and fragile; too human to do anything but delay his actions – he could kill her, he should kill her right that second. But her eyes, her eyes had chaos in them; that was enough. Enough to grant her one moment.

However, there was no moment to grant, the banshee stood silent before him. Showing him nothing but nerve.

The nogitsune walked softly and swiftly towards her, filled with suspicion and curiosity. "Are you trying to save him again? Don't you know it's useless by now?"

His words were meant to scare and end all hope like they did once, twice, thrice before. But all she can think about is how the right words and the right feelings, the right moments and the right history can change everything.

No, his words didn't frighten her, not this time. This time his words were like the buzzing of his beloved flies that belong to places lower than the ground. Nothing was louder than the sound playing in her head repeatedly ever since Scott mentioned the three most beautiful words the French could mutter. Coup de Foudre.

Coup de foudre.

She doesn't know why Scott hadn't mentioned it earlier, she doesn't know why Kira's mom would tell them about someone's last words and why she would think of bolts of lightning and how they may be their answer to defeat a nogitsune; she contemplates how their friends didn't doubt that assumption. To them it was so obvious that coup de foudre could only mean the objective, cold and violent path. Well, Lydia was cold and objective herself but her brain kept presenting the untiring question: how do you defeat darkness with darkness? Pain with pain? Strife and strife. A never-ending chaos.

But love knows no pain, no strife, no chaos.

She could tell the kitsune was getting tired of her little game and that awareness gave her both peace and alarm. It would all be over soon, for better or worse.

He was without action, irritated for not being able to comprehend the situation, which was completely inexplicable and unforeseen to him. "I guess I'll just have to make you scream, banshee", he declared clinically, not threatening her like before, or like one would expect. Not threatening her any more than trying to find an answer to that one riddle.

He pushed her. It took him three seconds to notice something was tactically out-of-place. He couldn't shove her. He couldn't push her against any walls so he could put his hand around her neck to suffocate her after forcing the answer out of her mouth. He pushed and pushed her shoulders, but the girl held her ground like he was nothing but a breeze. He looked at his own hands wondering if they were paper, his strength terribly diminished turning him as fragile as her.

His eyes left his skinny hands and stared at her. Would it change anything if he asked her what she had done, would she answer him? She looked back at him and the flicker in her eyes synchronized with the wave of brittleness that coursed his body. Then he decided he'd take her eyes off if that was what it took to make it stop.

He lifted his hand so he could reach her face but she easily slapped it away. He couldn't control or use his strength anymore, or lack of it. He didn't know his own limits anymore, how much power would take to lift an arm or kill a red-haired nightmare. He wasn't helplessly weak, he just wasn't…. he just was…

Human. Sordidly, dreadfully.

That realization made him take three steps back, Lydia's delight and fulfillment knew no restrictions anymore. She wasn't crazy and never had been, neither had Stiles. He never would or could; he was always the one who figured things out just as she told him; and she should never doubt herself, as he told her. In that moment, Lydia allowed herself to get distracted for one second as she marveled if that's how tethers work and if that's how they always would.

His eyes watched her enraged and startled but her courage banged against her ribcage, growing wild just like her hope, just like her need for action; there was one thing left to do and it would take all the determination she could find. Sounds of steps behind her made her heart beat faster, they made her rush; Her friends were her only liability. One misplaced look or unfortunate word or inappropriate emotion could put her resolve and success in danger.

The nogitsune was about to hit her or run towards her friends, she couldn't tell; either way, she grabbed his wrists before he could make his next move. The element of surprise gave her two good seconds of an actionless opponent; she grabbed something green from her pocket and shoved it into the mouth he only then realized was open.

"Lydia" she heard Allison gasp, but didn't pay much attention. All she could focus on was his eyes, how they were widening and watering. He didn't only feel weak, he was rendered defenseless before her. He put his hands around his throat, choking. He wore an expression of hatred; he couldn't comprehend what was overpowering him. Lydia felt terrified and anxious, watching a face she knew so well suffering; worrying if that's all she'd have to do, if that was all that it took for her and Stiles' plan to work.

"What is- what –", he started asking after coughing. He didn't have enough air to finish the sentence, but he had air. Her blood froze; she wasn't supposed to do anything else, she wished and hoped she wouldn't have to do nothing else. Her mind went back to all the tethers and how they operated. She had killed him once and nothing is a coincidence.

She felt herself hyperventilate and tremble, her mind beginning to question herself but her friends were heading their way and there was no time left for mistakes or fear. She had to trust herself. As the nogitsune coughed and coughed and coughed, gasping for air, holding his neck as if it would help taking off the thing she flung into his throat, she gripped his neck.

She was quick and tentatively unyielding, grabbing his neck with both hands so she could suffocate the fox herself. She remembered how coughing was a good sign when a person choked, let alone speaking. Her grip was tight and sweaty, determined and terrified like her. The weight of her action haunting her but it wasn't him, it wasn't him.

"It's mistletoe", she finally answered, her voice breaking but also infuriated, he fought with everything he had to break free of her hold but it was helpless. She seemed stronger than him, even though she was sure Stiles was stronger than she was. She couldn't think about that, though. She couldn't even compute what her friends were saying and how some of them were trying to stop her, her strength and resolve felt unhuman.

All she could think about was the sound of blood pumping, it sounded like drums on a tense but steady rhythm; then the sound of the day she first met Stiles, which still hadn't stopped since Scott mentioned Coup de foude. That gave her strength, that gave purpose and meaning to the violence she was making. She kept focusing on that sound because she couldn't focus on the tears that were clouding her eyes and witnessing an assassination.

The sound of blood was her own heart beating, she realized; maybe it was his. He grabbed her wrists trying to take her hands off him with every ounce of power he had left. Coup de foudre, she thought to herself. His eyes were bulging out of his head and his mouth was open, trying to scream in fury. Coup de foudre, her brain repeated. He fell on his knees and waved his arms aggressively, trying to grab her in trying to make her stop; she pressed his throat harder. Coup de foudre.. She cried harder and he grabbed her arms trying to hurt her one last time. She gritted her teeth and tightened her jaw as if it would make her stronger, as if it would make him give up faster. She had an abrupt impulse to scream, her breathing got rapid and it urged her to let it out. Her scream was so loud and piercing that the whole neighborhood would have nightmares about it. The nogitsune shut his eyes and cringed, still that woman wouldn't stop asphyxiating him in one way or the other.

His hold on her loosened and his eyes rolled to the back of his head; as his body laid on the floor, Lydia took a deep breath and blinked twice, trying to take in what she had done. But there wasn't much time for that either.

Minutes, she had minutes.

Someone else was grabbing her shoulder, she noticed; they have been screaming at her and pulling her for a while but she couldn't hear or feel anything before.

"What are you doing?!" Allison's voice was the only one she was able to make out, but Allison didn't get an answer.

They watched their strawberry blond friend kneel beside the guy she just killed. She was quivering and her mind suddenly started describing to her all the things one should do with an unconscious choking victim as if every detail she missed would cost her Stiles; it would.

"Call 911" her voice was shaky but her friends were indignant.

"Are you out of your mind?!" Derek screamed and she turned around at once, still kneeling beside Stiles but facing Derek, Allison, Scott, Kira, Aiden, Ethan and Allison's dad for the first time. "I'm trying to save him. So, please, just call 911" her eyes were glassy and widened, like the deranged person they saw; there were tears on her cheeks and her lips were trembling. Chris opened his mouth to intervene but she screamed again "just call 911!"

She turned to Stiles again and opened his mouth, hoping she'd find the mistletoe there but their luck was always so brutal; the mistletoe was nowhere to be seen, meaning that it could be anywhere in this respiratory tract. She checked his chest even though she knew it wasn't rising or falling. She took a deep breath and that allowed her to notice that Scott and Allison had kneeled next to her, they were apprehensive and they were quiet, they trusted her somehow; she needed to make sure they haven't misplaced that faith.

She placed her hands on his stomach, a little above where she thought would be his navel; her hands were sweaty and shaky but she pressed his abdomen firmly, mustering all the strength she had. The sound in her ears was louder now, his juvenile voice rambling like it would when he got nervous, asking her what was she doing in the hospital; another tear fell and it landed on his shirt as she gave the second upward thrust, hoping the boy would come to life already.

Three, four, five, six, seven, eight, she counted looking at his lifeless face; he was so pale and still; "Stiles, please" she muttered and she couldn't hear her own voice; the voices in her head were so loud her hearing would be damaged.

Lydia opened his mouth again because it had to work, she had to save him; His smile was so unaffected and innocent when he was little, she remembered.

Nothing, she saw nothing again. She made a strangled, exasperated noise and Scott put a hand on her arms, trying to tell her he could help. "No, I have to do it", she answered.

My mom is sick

She heard his voice as she put her hands on his stomach again. She pressed, again.

And you, why are you here alone? 8-year-old Stiles asked inside her head.

"Stiles, wake up" she said quietly in the present day. She pushed and pushed his abdomen upwards. "Wake up", she commanded.

"My parents are visiting my aunt", her 8-year-old self explained.

"Why aren't you with them?"

"I don't like sick people."

There was still no sign that Stiles was breathing and no sign of her hope coming back to life either. Lydia groaned in frustration and gave another thrust upwards, "Wake up, Stiles!" she was yelling, "Wake up!". Lydia's voice was hoarse, her eyes and nose itched and burned from holding back the waterworks she needed to shed. It had to work, she couldn't be wrong again. She was so sure again. "Wake up!" Lydia roared as she pressed his abdomen once more, "please."

He faced his hands instead of her, Lydia didn't hear it but she remembered. She recalled the look on his face, which quickly grew devastated; it made her feel hollow inside for a moment, it was not a foreign sensation for her even by the young age of 8; but it felt so unwelcomed that day, it was so shameful.

"I'm sorry"

She felt hollow inside, if only she could see any look in his face at all, she would take anything but nothing. She began to wonder if she should start the CPR, how long his brain had gone without oxygen already; she wondered if he'd be undamaged even if she managed to make him breathe. But the mistletoe was in his mouth when she opened it, which meant something worked at least; she took a deep breath, allowing the sense of relief even if for one instant.

Lydia reached for the little plant she once found in her locker and took it out of Stile's mouth; she threw it on the floor and immediately put her head over his chest to feel if he was breathing.

Before Scott could ask anything, Allison could analyze the little plant or anyone could move, an ambulance was heard. Lydia was crying again when Scott took her off Stiles, all her self-control and heroism wearing out; Scott could feel the banshee shaking as he held her arms, she was weak. By smell, he could pick all sorts of confusing and soul-sucking emotions, but other things too. Scott could swear that in the middle of all that darkness, sadness and apprehension he could smell other things, brighter things…like, like hope and happiness. Thinking about this, he almost didn't catch what the paramedics said… something about taking Stiles to the hospital and exams and then the ambulance went away but why- how could they- Stiles wasn't-

Lydia seemed as lost as he did as she stood there in his arms, both still kneeling on the floor and watching the ambulance going away. Then, he heard her mumble:

"He was breathing"

Yes, I know this was pretty crazy (or maybe not?) and there was not that much Stydia... but fear not! I'm already writing chapter 2 and it is filled with all the explanations you need and, more importantly, THE STYDIA

Tell me your thoughts about it? and feelings? and anything you feel like telling me?