Summary: A little imagine for the way I see Stydia happening in S6A, following the trailer (THE TRAILER! THAT FREAKING AMAZING TRAILER, AM I RIGHT?!).
This will be a three-part fic: first we'll have Stiles and Lydia before Stiles is taken by the Ghost Riders, then both their points of view while Stiles is away, and lastly their reunion. Hope you enjoy it :)
Beta-ed by the lovely @bebethsas on tumblr. Thanks, sweetie xx
= As of January 24, 2019, this particular story will NOT BE CONTINUED =
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"I'm next," he whispers as it dawns on him, as he realizes everyone he has ever known will forget he ever existed.
He doesn't think he's ever run this fast in his entire life, not even when he was trying to escape a supernatural menace. Granted, that's exactly what he's doing right now, in a way, and yet not quite so. He just needs to defy time, to run fast enough to find someone else, anyone else. Someone who still remembers him before they come for him.
The Ghost Riders.
He's mostly out of breath when he finds her, almost knocking Lydia to the ground when he bumps into her petite frame, but somewhat steady hands find her waist effortlessly as if they always belonged there and she manages to keep her balance, letting out a chuckle at his clumsiness that the old Lydia would abhor, the kind smile falling from her face when she sees how anxious he seems to be. How scared.
"Stiles?" Her voice wavers, her tone is apprehensive.
His hands let go of her reluctantly but he remains close, releasing a breath of relief when he notices she still seems to have recollection of him.
Why does it feel like they're always out of time? "Lydia, I saw them."
"Who?" She asks, confused. It hasn't even been ten minutes since they'd all been together.
He's nervous, she notices, running his tongue along his bottom lip more than once and it instantly makes her feel something in her core that she's sure is a bad omen. Things were going too well to last long.
His words confirm her fears. "The Riders. Lydia, I saw them."
She feels sick, and for a second she feels lightheaded enough that Stiles grabs ahold of her hands, afraid that she might tumble down. "You--"
"Saw the Ghost Riders passing, yes," he mumbles, looking her over because for a second there, Lydia paled.
She looks taken aback, as if what he said is something completely unconceivable and out of this world, as if she doesn't believe a word he just said. "The... The--"
"Yes." Normally he'd blurt it out impatiently, maybe with a roll of eyes or an annoyed huff, but not now. Now, the word comes out whispered, almost in resignation.
"No," she says with a light shake of her head, denial clear in her eyes. "No, it can't be. You didn't--"
His thumbs start drawing circles on the back of her hands absentmindedly. "Lydia, I saw them," he repeats but it does nothing to make her believe in him more. "I'm going to be taken."
Her eyes start burning without her consent at his resolute tone, as if there's nothing more they can do to prevent what's about to happen. "No!"
"Yes, Lyd--"
"No, we won't let it," she says with a trembling voice. "I won't let it."
It's hard to breathe, he thinks, when everything was starting to look up for them and now everything is not. "My-" His voice breaks and his mouth feels too dry all of a sudden, remembering what happened not two minutes ago. "My dad. Lydia, he doesn't remember me. And neither does your mother. I ran into them just a few minutes ago and they... People are already starting to forget about me."
If he's being honest with himself, Stiles doesn't think he'll ever bear seeing the ignorance in his father's eyes ever again, looking at him as if he had no memory of all the years that have gone by and as if Stiles was nothing but a stranger to the man. Of all the things that have happened in his life, Stiles thinks that moment had to be one of the worst he's ever experienced. And now... Now Lydia will forget about him too.
Before he can say anything the redhead cups his cheeks instinctively, and it's hard not to notice how her lower lip is quivering, or how tears start to well in her eyes. "No one will forget you. How could someone ever--"
"You heard Deaton." His heart stammers in his chest at her touch more than it already was from all the running. "The Wild Hunt doesn't just take people, it erases people from reality." Lydia keeps shaking her head as if what she's hearing can't be true. "I'll be taken and no one will remember me."
"I'll remember you."
"Lydia, you won't--"
His words are cut short by her lips, firm yet soft against his own, and for a fleeting second he's so surprised he doesn't really respond. But then he kisses her back because he has known for a while it was coming if only for a moment, the clock ticking against them. Always against them.
She can't hold back a sob. "You're not going anywhere, I won't let you."
Their foreheads touch and Stiles breathes in, her taste still on his lips and he hopes that's something he'll never forget. "I have to. Lydia, they'll come for me. The Riders will come for me and no one can stop them."
"We'll figure something out, you can't just--"
"You'd see them too."
She knows that, of course, but still... "Stiles--"
"No. I'll let them take me and everyone will forget about me. There's... There's no other way around it."
Lydia purses her lips and tries her hardest not to cry. "I'll remember you, Stiles. We all will."
He knows it's a lie. People are already forgetting all about him. "You'll forget me."
The pain in her voice makes his insides clench. "I won't."
For a moment they just stare at each other; then his arms wrap around her frame and pull her in, and Stiles thinks she cries against his chest for a minute but he isn't sure. He doesn't think he can take seeing her cry right now.
He loses count of how many times he softly kisses the top of her head or hugs her tight. "I'll let them take me, and you'll all forget about me." Lydia whimpers in his arms and he closes his eyes shut, breathing her in, trying to imprint in his memory everything he can about her. After all, he has no idea if he'll forget all about her too. "I trust you'll do everything you can to figure out a way to bring me back, alright? If anyone can, it's you, Lydia."
She looks up at him then, her hands looking for his to hold this time around. "I won't let you go, Stiles. I can't just..."
He catches a stray tear that rolls down her cheek and kisses her again, barely a brush of lips and still so meaningful to them both. He wishes it didn't feel like goodbye. "I need you to go, Lydia, and to leave me behind. I need you to not do something stupid and reckless, and to not look at the Ghost Riders, okay? I need you to stay, and I need you to look after my dad and Scott, and to make sure that everyone else is safe. I trust you'll try your hardest to bring me back, Lydia." It takes her a moment to respond but she nods in resignation. "I trust you."
In her head, she hears something else entirely.
She hears I love you, the same way she's had so many times before.
"Stiles, I need to tell you something," she blurts out suddenly, afraid she won't have enough time to say the words anymore. "Stiles, you have to know that I l--"
"Don't," he murmurs, his index finger pushed against her plush pink lips. "Please, don't... Don't say anything." He swallows drily and she does too, her eyes pleading but he doesn't give in. "This isn't goodbye."
She reaches for his hand again and laces their fingers together, voice wavering. "It feels like it."
He brings up their hands and kisses her knuckles, before gently pulling her closer and kissing her cheek, then the corner of her mouth. He's about to pull away when Lydia captures his lips with hers in a searing kiss, trying to express her emotions without using the words Stiles doesn't want her to say for the time being.
"It isn't goodbye, I promise you," he whispers, and he tries his best not to break down for her, to be strong enough for the both of them now because if this doesn't work out in the end, she's the one who's gonna need strength.
"How can you know that?" She asks almost timidly, unsure.
A faint, knowing smile takes over his lips. "Because you're smart. And if anyone is smart enough to figure this out, Lydia, it's you." She listens attentively, heart beating fast in her chest, and in that moment she knows, without a shadow of a doubt, just how much she's in love with him. "You're gonna walk away, I'll be taken, and however far apart we are I know we'll figure this out, alright?" She squeezes his hand in response but stays wordless, preparing herself for the moment when one of them will have to walk away. "And when we're back together, we're gonna talk about this. About what just happened," because although them kissing again was expected and had been for quite a while, Stiles and Lydia were still sorting their relationship out. "About what's to come, about all the things we want to say and just... Anything. We'll talk about anything," he finishes, his eyes stinging.
"You promise?"
Her voice comes out completely pained, and it hurts him to hear it. He's never wanted her to suffer. "Yeah, I do."
He'll go to hell and back anytime if it means he gets to come back to her in the end.
"I'll remember you," she lets out stubbornly, barely a hum.
"I really hope that's true." He gives in to a small, sad chuckle. "Otherwise, it's ten years wasted," he says jokingly, trying to lighten the mood.
Trying to subside the ache in his chest.
She purses her lips in a tight smile and squeezes his hand as if gathering strength from Stiles himself, releasing a shallow breath. Stiles holds on too. "I'll remember you," she repeats, taking in his features for a few moments longer to make sure her memory will do him justice.
In any case, she doesn't think it will, not entirely. Masterpieces can't be reproduced so lightly.
Gathering courage she takes a step back, moving away from his warmth but her hands still linked with his. "You come back to me, Stiles Stilinski."
Pride crosses his eyes, and love and care and compassion do too, and he finds it hard to let go of her all of a sudden. "I will. I'll find my way back to you, Lydia Martin."
They don't kiss.
Actions could never speak louder than their eyes do in that moment, and he only lets go of her hands when he hears horses in the distance and fear, not for himself but for what could become of her if she was presented with the same fate he was, startles him.
Stiles has to coax Lydia to leave for she doesn't want to, when the time comes, and he ends up making the choice for her and leaves himself in the direction of the galloping sounds, leaving a distraught Lydia behind. He hears her call after him but doesn't look back, unyielding in wanting to make sure that she won't get taken too, unwavering in wanting to preserve in his mind her eyes when they'd seemed so warm and loving just a moment before, and not scared for his life like he knows they probably are now.
And when he meets the Ghost Riders halfway not even three minutes later, Stiles exhales in relief for they seem to have found who they were looking for and no one else. And even though fear takes possession of every single cell in his body just then at the villains' presence, Stiles thinks back to emerald green eyes piercing his amber ones, to the kind smile he's grown used to so much in the last few months and courage fills him momentarily, if only to murmur that "Somebody's gonna remember me" because he knows that someone will.
"They'll come for me."
And they will too.
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Author's note: Feedback is encouraged and much appreciated.