Go to Derek; he and Peter, they've been there before, so they'll know where it is. Tell them it's the root cellar; they'll know.

Them… they… What the hell did Stiles mean by telling them? Obviously, if Peter knew, then he would be included in the rest, but telling them? Peter wasn't… No. She kept telling herself the entire way to Derek's loft, where she had only been once before and miraculously remembered the location of, that Peter would not be there. He couldn't be there. Peter Hale was off… somewhere else.

But WHERE ELSE could he be? Everyone else had their own errands and Peter… Peter had to be with his dying niece. In Derek's loft. With Derek. Who she had to go see.

She had knocked twice on the metal doors and waited. There was some noise inside, and then the thick door was sliding to the side to reveal…

Her full lips parted as she took him in, and she mentally reminded herself to be strong. To stay strong. She was a survivor. She had survived. She was more than anyone had ever believed… except for maybe him. He had always known that she was something more than what everyone perceived. Something more than she had ever believed of herself.

He seemed just as startled to see her, and she kept her eyes locked with his, refusing to glance… anywhere… else.

"You."

There was no contempt in her voice, no hatred, not even shock. It was more like… accusing. This was the first time she had actually spoken to him since she had raised him from the dead, and the first time she had actually seen him since the night he had killed her ex-homicidal-lizard-ex-boyfriend. Or, he who would not be named for her own sake of sanity. Wait, why was she thinking about Jackson again? Not the time. Not the place.

Peter Hale, the man that had used her, had broken her, saw her, found her, made her stronger, was standing in front of her.

"Me."

Her eyes were still locked with him as she repeated herself, not sure what else to say. It wasn't about the words… and she was a girl with a lot of words. Knew a lot of words, could form them into all sorts of terrifying and intimidating phrases, and yet, she used the power of one of the most basic words to tell him everything she needed to.

"You."

You who attacked me. Who seduced me. Who used me. Who threatened me. You who found me. Told me the truth. Remade me. You who was there for me when no one else was… and then disappeared.

He took in a deep breath and it was his eyes that pulled away first. She could finally flick her eyes away from his to take in a good look at him. At the way his shoulders raised slightly and the way his hair looked perfect and even the little bit of facial hair that she already loved and just…

All the facts in the world told her that he breaking eye contact first meant that she was the one in charge. That he was lowering himself before her. She felt like a queen. But, she knew, deep down, that it was not submission. Peter Hale submitted to no one. She wasn't even really sure he was a Beta - more like an Omega. There was no way that Peter was submitting to anyone. Not really. Not even to her.

It was more than that. She could read it almost immediately. It was guilt. As if everything she had accused him of with one word… he recognized and felt guilt for.

She hoped he didn't feel guilt for all of it.

As he exhaled, he replied with a simple, "Me," acknowledging it all. His eyes stayed down for a moment, as if he couldn't even stand to look at her, to look at the girl that he had broken and had survived, and she wished… wished that he would look back up at her. Even if for just a second. She had missed those blue eyes…

And then he did. His neck rolled slightly and he looked up at her again, and she stared at him, not sure what to say next. Of all the times to have no words…

As his head turned away to call towards Derek, her chin raised slightly. She refused to show any emotion on her face, especially when she wasn't quite certain what she was even feeling. What she wassupposed to feel was very far from what she actually did feel and from what she wanted to feel and it was something to worry about later and all she could do was remind herself, over and over, that lives were at stake and she simply didn't have time for whatever this tension was between them.

Tension? That was to be expected, right? But, did it have to feel so…sexual?

"We have a visitor."

She nodded her head slightly, still watching him, full lips pressed together as if to show she didn't have time for his shit, but really?

Really, she didn't have time for herself.

Because what she wanted and needed… so not what she should do.

So, uh, yeah. For those of you that are old readers of mine, no, I didn't die. I've been hiding away on my TW indie rp account for Lydia. the url on tumblr is lilmisslydiamartin. I write all of my TW stuff on there, and then I've been reblogging it onto my old tumblr that I'm now using again, melanoradrood.

I know that it has been a few months since I updated QOTH but I'll be working on that again as soon as I can convince my betas to forgive me for falling off the face of the planet. More about that on the tumblr account, but yes, hello.

New readers? Ignore the above. Hi. Hello. I write TW Lydia Martin drabbles for all of the ships [except for Stydia] so welcome to reading random things by me! Nice to meet you.

xoxo Christine 3