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[Okay. He learned from the last time. He doesn't have to apologize. That doesn't mean he's not struggling with the memories of what he did.

Scott's eyes aren't quite red rimmed, but he is far from relaxed. It's obvious he's broadcasting from the infirmary: there still some structural damage around as the Admiral slowly fixes things.]

I'm, um.

[Sorry sorry sorry sorry. He swallows it back, draws in a shaky breath.]

I'm in the infirmary. [He looks around over his shoulder.] Obviously. I know there's not a lot the doctors can do for people who are death tolling. But one of the things I learned at home can help. I can take away pain, when I touch people. So, I'll - I'll be here. I'l be around. Just let me know if you're hurting, and I'll make it better for a while.

[He doesn't mention that he takes the pain on himself. He hopes Stiles and Dean won't say anything, either. It feels like penance, though that's not the only reason he's offering. If he can help people and feel like he's scouring away his guilt, well...then he's going to.]

[Private to Peter]

You were right. I'm definitely thanking you after.

Are you okay?

[Spam for Stiles and Lydia]

[He's been at her bedside in the infirmary since they reappeared back on the Barge, waiting for her to wake up. He knows she will. Knows it deep in his gut, because the Admiral hasn't failed them like this. He won't leave her there, and he won't leave her dead.

There's a whisper of doubt in his thought, and he's doing the best he can to banish it. It leaves his throat and mouth dry, and he doesn't know what to do.

Looking over the bed at Stiles, he draws in breath to say something, anything, but he can't. It wasn't him, but he remembers tearing her throat out, he remembers Stiles' face when it happened, and he has to look down at his hands again.]

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[Lydia's not the only one who's angry. He's pissed that this happened, and right now? The Admiral is the prime target for that anger.

He watches as Scott takes Lydia's hand and he shifts slightly to the side to give him more room. He knows what he's trying to do.]

So very much agreed. Uh -- about the admiral being an idiot. Not about us being idiots.

[It doesn't seem to be working, and he feels a horrible flare of remembered panic - it's not working, why isn't it working - but the wheels start spinning before the freak out gets moving. She's immune to everything, maybe she's even immune to the good things.

He nods at her thanks, withdrawing his hand. He doesn't feel much like being thanked right now.]

Yeah.

[He's not sure: maybe they are idiots, maybe the Admiral is right. He runs a hand over his jaw. Maybe Lydia's right, and the Admiral's the idiot. He closes his eyes for a second, just to push it all away. When he opens them, he draws a breath and can't quite find the right words, so he goes for the obvious ones.]

I'm sorry, Lydia, I am so-- [He knows she'll tell him not to apologize, but an apology doesn't feel good enough. None of it does.]

Immunity applies to everything, I guess.

[The small smile she offers Scott this time is sincere. Because she can only begin to imagine how terrible he feels. There is a small part of her that feels like she should be pulling away from him, like when you have a far too realistic dream that you're angry at someone and when you see them the next day, you can't help but feel angry. But she knows better. And she knows pulling away from him now will hurt him a lot.

Probably about as much as his apology hurts her. Because there is nothing about the Scott she knows that he needs to apologize for.

She tries to sit up, but the wave of nausea and dizziness make her lay back down before she can do much. Once the room stops spinning and she feels like it's safe to open her mouth without being sick, she turns her attention back on him.]

Don't apologize, Scott. That thing is nothing like you. I remember all of it as if it was me, but it's like I'm remembering someone else's memories because the way she thought and the way she acted-- I wouldn't do those things. So I get it. And you don't have to apologize. I know you weren't in control.

[She pauses for a second and turns to look at Stiles. Her eyes widening with realization and her stomach dropping. This time it has nothing to do with the side effects of the death toll.]

But-- you. You were still yourself, weren't you?

Edited 2014-05-19 00:48 (UTC)

[Of course that had to be how it works. Of course being immune to the bite meant she was also immune to the other things that a werewolf can do, even the good things.

He hates the guilt in Scott's voice, the stricken look on Lydia's face. The only part of this he doesn't hate is that they are all alive and they're both back to normal. That's what he's going to hold onto. He gives Lydia's arm a squeeze before looking back at his best friend, chest tightening at his apology.

And of course he's apologizing for something he had no control over. He's Scott and it's what he does. He lets go of Lydia's arm long enough to wrap his hand around Scott's instead, tugging him gently and trying to urge him up and out of the chair.]

She's right, man. Neither one of you were yourselves.

[He holds his breath and turns his focus back to Lydia, nodding slightly and offering her a small smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.]

Yep, I was still me, thankfully.

[Scott lets Stiles tug him up, like he lets Stiles influence most everything he does. He nods, because he knows, he knows, but it was his face, and they're his memories now, and he hates that. He hates it so much.

Pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment - brushing away whatever quiet, guilty wetness might have gathered there before they can see - he nods again and exhales.]

Okay.

[It feels like exoneration, even though he knows he didn't technically do it. And he's grateful for it, that she understands, even as he feels like he should be held accountable. At least Lydia's reaction makes him glance between his friends, wondering what happened and not yet willing to prompt it into the open.]

[Although she means every word she just said to Scott, she suddenly feels like a hypocrite because one look at Stiles and she wants to be sick and apologize and never look at him again.

She has a much better idea of what Scott was feeling except she was messing with the real Stiles. The way she was touching him, manipulating him, kissing him. She remembers all of it and she fells dirty. Because she respects and loves Stiles so much and she knows everything he's been through and even if he had an idea what was happening, she knows that at least used to have feelings for her and those things she said to him and did to him, to this Stiles--

Lydia closes her eyes and rubs her hands over her face, taking a couple of deep breaths and willing herself to calm down.

She just needs the two of them to leave first. She doesn't need them to see her like this.]

Edited 2014-05-19 01:23 (UTC)

[And it's suddenly very, very quiet, and incredibly awkward. He shifts his gaze away from Lydia, because he knows instinctively what she's thinking about and guilt flits through him. They hadn't really done anything beyond kissing. He wouldn't have -- because he knew it wasn't her. It still feels like it was taking advantage.

And of course it's going to be uncomfortable now because she knows, remembers the kissing. She undoubtedly knew that he hadn't exactly pushed her away as soon as he should have and he feels kind of sick at the thought that this might be something that they can't get past.

He knows she doesn't have those feelings for him; she never has. He accepted it a long time ago when they'd become actual friends. He wants to bolt now, even if he resists because that will just be more awkward. And he can see the curiosity in Scott's eyes when he looks at his friend and he winces a little and shakes his head.]

So, uh, is anyone thirsty? I could go get water or something.

Edited 2014-05-19 01:31 (UTC)

[He can literally smell their discomfort, and it's all he needs. He remembers what the Lydia of that universe was trying to do. So he fidgets, and nods aggressively at Stiles' question. Maybe Lydia just needs a minute alone: he knows he needed days, after the last time, to just sit and pick apart the differences, convince himself that he was separate.]

Yeah, uh, lets go grab like, a pitcher and some cups. We can like, be right back. Without rushing, cause, we wouldn't want to spill anything.

[Nailed it, McCall. Nailed it.]

[Lydia winces. They aren't subtle but if it gets them to leave for a while, she can't really complain. Because she needs to get her head together. All of the memories of her other self are mixed up with her own. Including the ones before the barges crashed.

The ones of her other self and the other Stiles. Lots of them. She shakes her head to clear it at least somewhat and when she opens her eyes again, she looks at Scott only. Lydia Martin doesn't blush, but her face certainly feels warm right now. Because it's Stiles and she knows she will have to talk to him about this eventually. She can't risk not to. They need each other too much.]

Water will be good.

[He is so grateful to Scott right now that he can probably smell that, too. Although he's not sure gratefulness has a smell. He'll ask Scott about that sometime probably. He doesn't even care about the lack of subtlety because there's nothing subtle about this situation. At all.]

Yes. Yes, water is good. Water is definitely one of life's necessities. And that's why we need to go get some.

[He grabs onto Scott's arm and pulls him away, pretty sure his own face is flushed with embarrassment.]

Yeah - what he said.

[He manages a smile for Lydia, small and honest, because awkward is fine, they'll get past awkward. She didn't have to forgive him, didn't have to be open minded enough to look at him and not see a monster, but she was, and he is still grateful.

Then he turns, letting Stiles drag him out the door. Lydia Martin may not blush, but Stiles Stilinski sure as hell does. Scott claps a hand on his back as he heads out the door, angling for the stairs and the dining hall above.]

Hey. It could have been worse?

[Stiles can't help but grimace a little at that. He supposes it could have been a lot worse, really. In a lot of ways. Still. It's awkward. And yeah, Stiles is used to awkward, but he's also pretty used to things not being awkward with Lydia and he doesn't want things to revert to the way they'd been once upon a time.]

Yeah. It's just...it wasn't her. But she has her memories and...

[He winces. Obviously Scott knows that. And has been through something way more upsetting than kissing someone when that someone was not themselves. He needs to prepare himself for next time. Better than this time. Now he has firsthand experience of what to expect.]

Hey, it'll be okay. It, um. Sorta happened with me and Daneca, last time.

[Which is something he really needs to talk to Stiles about, because it's just not natural not to share everything with him. He just keeps hoping for a better time.]

The memories kinda fade, though. So, I mean. It won't be weird for long, at least...

[He hits the stairs and starts trotting up two at a time, giving Stiles his best everything will be totally fine face. It's been better.]

[He arches his eyebrows at that, looking at Scott curiously as he follows him up the stairs. He's glad the memories at least fade somewhat. More for Scott's sake and Lydia's sake than anything, though he's sure there are others on the Barge that are also dealing with the fallout of what their mirror selves did. He knows Bucky is struggling with it. He wonders how Helena, the woman he found cowering under a table on the other barge, is doing now. He should probably check in on her.]

Okay, not gonna lie. Waiting on details for that one.

[And yeah, he doesn't buy that look, Scott, but he's not going to let it go for now because he's not sure that pushing so soon is going to help anything. Sometimes that just makes things worse.]

[He ducks his head, not quite smiling but getting pretty close.]

We were kind of a thing, over there. I was, uh. Trying to convince her to be a werewolf with me.

[And she'd work him and take his mind off it every time. He scratches at his jaw, shaking his head like he can shake those memories off.]

I kissed her. Here, I mean. When she woke up. I mean, not - after she woke up. We were in the CES, and I was--

[He has such bad timing. He was telling her about Allison. He was trying not to think about home, or Kira.] God, I can't believe she didn't hit me.

[Somehow that doesn't surprise Stiles. Apparently certain things just remain the same regardless of universe. He glances at Scott for a moment, arching his eyebrows as they walk. ]

Okay? Wait, why would she hit you, though? [Yeah he's kind of confused now. He was under the impression the thing with Daneca was of the mutual sort.]

Cause I was telling her about Allison.

[He scratches the back of his head, shrugging preemptively.]

It was just - it was really shitty timing. She wasn't mad, but like, I wouldn't have blamed her if she was.

[Stiles' chest tightens immediately at the name, and he wonders if it'll ever stop feeling like someone's punched him in the gut when he hears it. Probably not. He nods at Scott's comment though, expression unreadable.]

Okay but she's not mad so that's definitely a plus.

[Scott has been saying her name in his head since she died. He's been convincing himself that it'll be undone, and that she wouldn't want any of them wasting time on grief when they know it won't last. He's unmaking it and pushing it away in his head, because it's the only way he knows how to press on right now.]

Yeah. Yeah, totally. I like her a lot.

[He turns to look at Stiles as they enter the dining hall, trusting his friend to give him the truth.]

Does that make me an asshole?

[He isn't sure where he stands with Kira: he heard her say she didn't want a boyfriend, but then they'd kissed, and with everything else that happened, he doesn't know if he's doing the wrong thing with Daneca now.]

[The only time Stiles says her name is when he's sleeping. When he's dreaming. Except he isn't speaking it so much as screaming it. Sometimes Scott's screaming it. Sometimes Lydia is. Isaac, Chris. He swallows heavily, trying to tamp down on the emotions he's trying to deal with.]

Dude. [Scott's question shakes him out of his head momentarily and he lays a hand on his best friend's shoulder.] No. You're not an asshole. Things are complicated. You and...[He struggles, breath catching in his throat for a second.] Allison hadn't been together in a long time. [And honestly, Stiles has no idea what exactly was going on with Scott and Kira back home. He knew they'd gotten close, but he isn't sure how close, really. He thinks it must not be very close if Scott's so into Daneca, though. Because Scott isn't a cheater. He's just not that guy.]

So no. You're not an asshole okay? Just...trust me on that.

[Stiles struggles, and for the second it takes him to say her name, Scott feels like he can't breathe. It can't always be this way, small moments of suffocation, learning to breathe around her name again. It just can't.

At least Stiles' certainty helps. Scott nods, because he's always trusted Stiles, with everything, not least of all to check him when he needs it.]

I trust you.

[He smiles, and it's so many things - tired, sheepish, pained, but he's trying to fight them all away.]

We should all hang out. There are a bunch of teenagers on board, now. I don't think there used to be.

[He is equally parts grateful and unsettled by how easily Scott trusts him even after everything that's happened. He's honestly never been sure how he wound up so lucky in the best friend department. He doesn't think it's going to get easier for him to say or hear Allison's name, doesn't think it probably should be. But he does hope it gets easier for Scott and Lydia. He hopes he can get to the point where he's good at pretending it's easier for him too.

He is certain that Scott McCall isn't an asshole by any means. But the smile Scott gives him is so full of mixed emotion and yeah. He's right there with him, as usual.]

That'd probably be good, yeah. And I got the impression when I got here that you were basically the youngest one.

Not anymore. And anyway, there are a couple of kids around. And Mindy, she's gotta be younger than us.

[That gives him pause, and he cocks his head to the side as he grabs a pitcher and some cups from the dining hall.]

Does that mean people thought I was immature?

[He nods slightly at his comment about Mindy, and suppresses a chuckle at his question.]

Nah. I think it just unsettles some people when people our age show up as wardens on the Barge, man.

You're probably right. [yeah, he knew he was mature u_u totally u_u] Doesn't help that my inmate is like, our parents' age.

[Okay, not really, but. Still.]

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