A/N: I own nothing, guys. PLease remember to review ;)

It's an actual miracle-they all make it to college.

All of them, even Malia, who gets into CCFS, a community college in San Fransisco.

Lydia isn't sure that she believes in miracles but she believes in Stiles, and Stiles' plan works.

They all go to college.

Kira surprises everyone by getting into Berkeley. Scott and Stiles both get into USF and that's it, they don't even look at other schools.

Lydia gets into Stanford, obviously.

She loves Palo Alto. Everything is shiny and bright and fresh. No bad memories and no dead bodies.

It's perfect.

She can be somebody now, someone other than Jackson's girlfriend or that girl who they found in the woods naked or the crazy girl who hears voices.

The friend of the dead girl.

Her dorm roommate is a girl named Krystal. With a K.

When Stiles found out she had applied for dorm housing he freaked out.

"But Lydia," he'd whined. "We're supposed to all go together."

"Everyone's cool with Kira's going to Berkeley!"

"You're not Kira!"

"Stiles, I'm not commuting an hour each way every day!"

And that had been the end of that.

Krystal has long blond hair and a fake tan. She's from Houston. How she got into a school like Standford Lydia has no idea, because Krystal parties five nights a week and treats Lydia like a freak for staying in to do homework.

For the first few days Lydia walks around in a rush. She falls in love with all of her professors. She buys new pencils and new pens and rainbow colored post-its.

The whispers started a few days into the semester.

It starts as a hum. Just a quiet noise in her ear. Lydia does her best to tune it out. Music helps so she starts wearing headphones when she walks to and from class. It starts to get louder when she's out. The more people around her, the louder they get. She tells them sternly to be quiet (in her head, duh, she needs a repeat of crazy Beacon Hills Lydia like she needs another stint in Eichen House).

It doesn't even make sense. They never lead her anywhere, never have anything useful to offer. Just a constant distracting buzz in her head.

Lydia goes to class, braves her peers with her sleek MacBook and movie star sunglasses, and dutifully takes notes while her temples pound with faceless voices.

She doesn't make any friends.

She quickly realizes that she doesn't remember how to make a friend. The last friend that she made naturally -that is, not bonded over a supernaturally caused life or death situation-was Alison.

And look how well that turned out.

She doesn't need to make new friends, anyway. She has friends even if they aren't physically present.

She stops going to the dining hall with the girls on her floor. She prefers to stay in her room, eating cereal out of the box while she studies mitochondria.

Stiles calls her the second Friday of the semester, while she's working through a bio lab. "Lydia fucking Martin!" he exclaims. "Where the fuck have you been?"

"I'm at school, Stiles."

"I haven't seen you in two weeks!"

"Two weeks is nothing, calm down."

"Are you having fun Lyds?"

Stiles sounds drunk and happy and she can't bring herself to be honest.

"Of course I'm having fun," she says tartly.

"You have a million boyfriends yet?"

"No," she says faintly, wondering when that became something she felt self-conscious about.

"Playing the field, nice," Stiles comments. "The field's a great place to be."

"You're drunk, Stiles."

"It's a Friday night. I'm in college. I'm supposed to be drunk."

"Do you miss me yet?" she says coyly, desperate to move the conversation away from their social life.

"You know I do," Stiles replies. "Bet you haven't thought of me at all."

"Why would you say that?" she snaps.

"... because I've called you seven times in the last two weeks and this is the first time you've picked up."

"Oh," she says shortly. "I've been busy. Studying."

"Uh-huh."

"Don't be mad," she wheedles. "I'm working my ass off."

"Yeah, yeah," Stiles says, but the warmth is back in his voice. "You going after that Fields Medal?"

"Yeah," she says, pressing her lips together so she doesn't say, Stiles, I made a mistake, Stiles, I miss you.

"You okay?" he asks softly.

"Of course I'm okay," she responds quickly, smacking her palm against her forehead.

What is wrong with her?

"Hey Lydia?"

"Yeah?"

"Would you mind maybe texting me every few days? Just so I know you're still alive?"

"Sure," she sighs. "I can do that."

"Okay," Stiles says sweetly. "I gotta go."

"Okay."

"Love you," he says casually.

She's so stunned that by the time she says it back he's already hung up.

/

When someone knocks on her door the next morning the last person Lydia expects to see is Scott McCall.

Kyrstal is god knows where and Lydia's been up since six working on her problem sets for calc when someone knocks on her dorm room door. She opens it, assuming it's a girl on her floor looking for Krystal but leaning against the doorframe, casual in a grey tee shirt and jeans, is Scott.

He grins but Lydia just stands there, staring at him.

"What are you doing here?" she asks in shock.

"Can't a friend visit his friend?" Scott asks innocently.

"Stiles talked to you," she says accusingly. "He told you to check up on me."

"Why would he do that?" he asks curiously.

"I don't know," she huffs. "Why else would you be here?"

Scott laughs and shakes his head. "Lydia, are you going to give me a hug or what?"

She dutifully steps into his open arms and realizes with a sharp stab that the last time anyone touched her was two weeks ago, when her mother hugged her goodbye.

Scott is warm and smells like - well, like Scott - cologne and sweat and something earthy. It feels so good she has to press her fingernails into her palms to stop herself from crying when he lets go.

"You okay?" he asks, his hands lingering on her wrists. "You smell weird."

"Excuse me?" she snaps. "It's bad manners to show up unannounced and then start making accusations like you smell weird."

"Sorry," Scott mutters. "Not bad weird, just, I don't know. Different I guess."

"Sorry," she apologizes. "I'm just tired, I'm working too hard. I'm happy to see you, honestly, you just surprised me."

"It's okay," he says easily, like she knew he would.

"So," she says, giving him a toothpaste-commercial worthy smile. "Let's show you Palo Alto."

She takes him to the science building, the library, the campus bookstore. Scott asks polite questions and sticks close to her, one hand hovering just about her back or shoulder at all times.

He's being overprotective and she can only think of one reason why that is.

She is going to kill Stiles. She went off the radar for two weeks and that warrants a check-in with her freaking alpha?

Scott is being very good at pretending this is just a friendly visit, but Lydia knows better.

She's in his pack, and Scott came to make sure his pack is still intact.

"Let's get lunch," he says cheerfully. "I'm starving."

They end up at a little cafe on campus. It's filled with other students and Lydia feels self-conscious, even though she doesn't see anyone she knows.

She realizes she hasn't done this - taken a walk with a friend and gone out to eat, something social, normal-since she left Beacon Hills.

As soon as they walk inside she can hear it, the hum inside her head rise like the tide.

"What's wrong?" Scott asks, shaking his napkin out in his lap.

"Nothing," she says defensively. This is so annoying. She forgot how impossible it was to hide her true feelings from him.

She's also never felt like she had to hide her feelings from him before.

"Why are you nervous?"

"Goddammit Scott!" she says, exasperated.

"Sorry," he says, laughing. "I'm not doing it on purpose."

"I'm not nervous."

"You smell nervous," he says indifferently.

"It's just weird, okay?"

"It's weird that I'm here?" Scott asks, and if she's not mistaken he looks a little hurt.

"Well, it's not like you and I are buddy-buddy all the time."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I'm just saying, it's not like you and I are really one-on-one friends. I mean, we've spent shitloads of time together, saved each other's asses and everyone else's, but we've never really been together together."

Scott's upper lip twitches. "Except for that one time we made out."

Lydia can't help it. She giggles. "Yeah, except for that."

By the time their waitress shows up she's loosened up and she and Scott are bantering gently with smiles on their faces.

He gets a burger with extra fries and a huge coke and Lydia orders a chef salad.

"That's all you're getting?" Scott asks in disbelief once the waitress leaves.

"Scott, I love you, but I really need you to back off. It's just a salad."

"I'm just saying-"

"What?" she snaps. "Why do you care what I eat?"

Scott has the grace to look a little afraid of her. "I'm just saying...you look a little...thin."

"So?"

He fixes her with a look that makes her want to squirm in her seat. "So I just saw you two weeks ago-"

"Yes, I remember, I was there," she snarks.

"- and you did not look like this two weeks ago -"

"So?"

"So it's not normal for someone to lose a visible amount of weight in two weeks, Lydia," he snaps. "So quit messing around and tell me what the fuck is going on with you."

"Nothing," she whispers, shrinking back in her seat. Scott would never hurt her but she generally tries to give angry werewolves plenty of space. It's just basic safety protocol.

"Lydia," he says gently, "it's okay if you're having a hard time adjusting."

"I'm not," she says passionately. "I love it here. My classes are amazing. Three of my professors used to work for NASA, and there's this internship I'm going to apply for that sounds incredible-"

"Okay, I get it," he says hastily. "Math is cool."

"It's saved your ass plenty of times," she says acidly.

Scot pinches the bridge of his nose. "Lydia, come on. I'm your friend. I care about you. Please, tell me what's going on?"

He's looking at her so earnestly, and she knows she should tell him, that all she has to do is say it and he'll be there for her, Stiles will be there for her, she won't have to be alone anymore.

The voices whisper hush hush hush.

"Nothing," she says, with steel in her voice.

She and Scott just sit there and stare at each other, because she lied to him and they both know it.

"Okay," Scott says eventually, his voice steady. "If you say nothing's going on then I guess nothing's going on."

"Alright then," she says calmly.

They eat their lunches quietly and the voices in her head whisper liar liar liar.

After lunch Scott walks her back to her dorm. He's not chatty anymore, instead walking in companionable silence. She hates this, how patient he can be, his unwavering faith in people. She would have felt better if he had yelled at her.

Krystal is in the room when they get back to her door.

"Hi," Scott says, holding out a hand to her and flashing a friendly smile. "I'm Scott."

"Krystal," she says faintly, her eyes doing a sweep over Scott's arms and chest.

Lydia rolls her eyes.

"Nice to meet you," he says, all polite and charming.

Krystal is practically drooling.

"I should go," Scott says. "I have to meet Kira."

"Okay," Lydia says evenly, pushing down to suddenly overwhelming idea of Scott leaving her.

Scott pulls her into a bear hug, holding her close to his chest. "Your roommate is crazy-jealous of you," he whispers.

Lydia grins. "Good."

He releases her gently and turns to leave but she finds herself reaching for him.

"Scott," she says softly. "Don't tell Stiles, okay?"

"Lydia-"

"Please?" she whispers desperately. "I don't want him to worry about me. He worries too much already."

Scott smiles at her fondly and leans in to kiss her cheek. "We'll always worry about you, Lydia."

When Scott leaves Krystal stands up and crosses her arms over her chest. "Who was that?"

"That was Scott," Lydia says casually.

Krystal squeals. "Where have you been hiding him? He's gorgeous. God Lydia, no wonder you never go out, why would you need to!"

Scott's not her boyfriend, but Lydia doesn't exactly correct her.

Somehow having a boyfriend has made all her anti-social behavior suddenly acceptable. Krystal magically starts being nice to her and Lydia cries herself to sleep that night in her narrow bed, trying to remember what it felt like when Scott hugged her.

/

She stops going out.

She doesn't feel safe out there. It's too loud, too many voices vying for her attention. She walks to and from her classes with her head down, avoids strangers and classmates alike.

She's safe in her dorm room, with her books and the whispers. So she stays there.

Every few days Lydia texts Stiles that she's still alive and every time he texts back, good, and she rolls her eyes and goes along with her day.

She tries to focus on school. She studies at her desk for hours, she reads and highlights and makes notecards and reads some more. She counts her accolades, buries herself in numbers.

At night she lies awake in bed and listens to the whispers, trying to make the sounds coalesce into words that she can understand.

It hits her looks, eventually. Her skin starts to turns milky white and her eyes develop strange purple shadows under them from lack of sleep.

Lydia buys concealer.

At some point she stops eating. It's not on purpose. She just forgets. She makes pots of coffee and studies furiously, and she just forgets. Having whispers constantly distracting her makes it hard to focus on anything beyond finishing her homework.

Krystal thinks that Lydia and Scott are fighting. She sneaks her frozen yogurt from the cafeteria and paints her toenails. Lydia still doesn't like her but it's better than when she was being ignored.

Not that she can really feel ignored when she has Scott and Stiles constantly texting her, making sure she doesn't pull a disappearing act.

When she texts Scott that she's fine, honest, she's just so busy with school and didn't he promise to make sure Stiles wasn't wasting up all his energy worrying about her, he texts her back a single word.

Eat.

Lydia throws her phone at the wall and listens to the voices in her head laugh at her.

She has midterms the fourth week of school. She absolutely crushes Intro to Lit, Women's Studies and Psych 101.

It makes her feel more like herself, the confident Lydia who got straight A's even when she was up all night fighting the supernatural. Calc goes well but she gets a headache halfway through and it doesn't go away, which sucks because she has a Bio midterm the next morning.

She ends up studying all night with an ice pack over her aching forehead and a thermos of coffee. She does not care what kind of freaky banshee thing is happening, she is going to ace that test, because she is Lydia Martin and Lydia Martin doesn't fail.

The morning of the midterm she wakes up extra early. Lydia blow drys her hair into perfect waves. She painstakingly applies concealer, blush, mascara and lipstick. She dresses in tight skinny jeans, a pretty light blue sleeves top, and wedges that give her four inches of confidence.

She stares at herself in the mirror. Sure, she's looking a little frail, but her cheeks have a rosy tint and her hair shines.

"You can do this," she whispers to herself. "You were born to do this."

She gets to the exam room fifteen minutes early and sits in her preferred aisle seat, pencil at the ready. By the time the test papers get passed out she starts to get nauseous and grips her pencil tighter.

One hour. She can get through one hour. She's Lydia fucking Martin. This is what she does.

She rubs the back of her neck and continues with her test.

The room starts to get louder. She can hear the girl behind her snapping her gum, the scratch of her neighbor's pencil on his paper. It starts as a hum that quickly accelerates to a viscous roaring in her head.

Lydia lets out a little gasp of shock and quickly flips through her test.

She's only halfway through it. The voices shriek like a piercing bell in her head.

Eighty percent. She'll finish eighty percent, which gives her a chance of getting a B with a decent curve, and then she'll turn in her test and go back to her dorm.

The pain in her head splits open and it's like kanima venom-she just crumples.

Lydia falls sideways out of her desk and the girl behind her with the gum shrieks. She clutches her head and grits her jaw but it's clawing out of her and it hurts.

This can't be happening, not here, this isn't happening.

She wants Stiles.

The guy next to her is touching her shoulder and she can hear someone calling nine-one-one.

"Please," she whispers feebly, "Get away."

It crashes over her and she tries so hard to stop is but she can't, it rips her wide open, and she feels it right before she passes out-everything she worked so hard to get out of Beacon Hills for has just been ruined.

Lydia screams.