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“Mmm, Cora?” Her words were thick with sleep and slightly slurred, but other than the feeling of sleep dragging at her, trying to coax her back into its depths, Lydia was perfectly content. She had lost count of how many times Cora had spent the night in the last several months - even days at a time on occasion - but on the days she was gone, Lydia had really begun to feel the absence.
After Jackson had left for England, in his parents’ rush to “get him out of this damn crazy town!”, Lydia struggled for a while. Neither she nor Jackson had been under the impression that a long-distance relationship would result in anything other than drawing out an inevitable break up, and so they had parted ways, agreeing to stay friends, though neither had actually followed up with the other.
She had decided to take some time for herself. It was strange at first, to go from always having someone on her shoulder and someone else ready on the backburner, to not really wanting a relationship with anyone.
But time for herself didn’t mean she had to neglect her physical needs, and so she sampled the Beacon Hills High School’s selection of men, if you could even call them that. Every so often she had gone out of her way to get picked up at a bar, but she gave that up pretty quickly when she got tired of the effort for a one-night-stand when she could just as easily point a finger at anyone in school and get the same sloppy and unsatisfying results.
Somehow or other, during all of this, she and Cora had started to gravitate toward each other in a different way. It was small at first, just experimental touches when the moment seemed right, because Lydia knew just how easy it was to scare Cora off through physical contact. She had once seen a teacher gently tap Cora on the shoulder while she wasn’t paying attention during class; it looked like Cora had tried to fly out of her chair, and it was more than a little difficult to miss the look of sheer bewilderment that passed between the two of them. So Lydia was careful, but when Cora didn’t rebuke her advances, had started finding excuses to be closer to Lydia than strictly necessary, and even reciprocating with Lydia’s own light touches, something had sparked for her.
The more time they spent together, the less Lydia felt the need to go out and wrangle another nighttime stud, and when things started getting physical, well, that had pretty much ended her campaign to try out any desperate guy that looked halfway decent. They had never really spoken about what went on between them, and there was a silent agreement to keep this secret.
Last night, however, Lydia had finally decided to broach the subject. That pesky cocktail of oxytocin, vasopressin, and endorphins had been starting to nag at her, and while that made her time spent with Cora that much better, it also worried her when she was away. Not that she thought Cora was sleeping with anyone else, but that opening was there. They had no rules, no boundaries, just their bodies and the sheets and whatever else got tangled up in between. But the longer it went on, the more she wanted those rules, those boundaries, that barrier that could assure her that Cora was hers and no one else’s. The trouble was, even though she liked to think she knew Cora pretty well, it was hard to gauge how she might feel about the idea of an actual commitment.
Cora had been tense when she arrived last night, upset over something that had happened with Derek that afternoon, though Lydia couldn’t get her to go into any detail. Giving up on that particular tactic, she instead dragged Cora into the bed to help get rid of the tension. Afterwards, sweaty, still a little breathless, and tangled up in each other’s arms, she decided to go for it.
“We should keep doing this,” she’d started. Cora had opened her mouth, probably to make some sort of smart-ass remark, but Lydia cut her off. “Exclusively, I mean. You may not have noticed, but I don’t exactly like it when other people use my things.” Smirking, she’d raised a hand to brush a strand of hair from Cora’s face, hoping that she could keep her heartbeat steady enough that Cora wouldn’t pick up on the anxiety threatening to overwhelm her.
“Hmm…” It was a small hum, but there was a grin on Cora’s face that Lydia couldn’t remember seeing for a very long time, small but actually… was that… happy? “Exclusive? The Great Lydia Martin wants to be exclusive with me? ”
“Not if you keep up that stupid tone.” Lydia rolled her eyes and leaned forward to kiss her, lingering for a moment after, teasing.
“Then who am I to say no to such a generous proposal?”
“I’m going to change my mind if you keep talking.”
“No you won’t.”
“Ugh.”
But they laughed, and the rest of the night had been amazing: a back-and-forth between writhing bodies and conversations where Cora actually sounded engaged and happy. They fell asleep somewhere after midnight, neither of them really keeping track, too caught up in the other to care.
“Cora?” she tried again, sluggishly moving a hand to try and reach for her, only to find empty space. Frowning, she opened her eyes and stared at the other side of the bed, empty except for a small sheet of paper. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes and trying to wake up enough to read, she grabbed the sheet of paper and her phone, turning the screen on and angling it so she could read the note.
Running.
5:30 am
bbs.
- C
“Ugh,” she groaned, dropping both her phone and the sheet of paper back to the bed and slumping into the pillow. “Who the hell goes running at 5:30 in the morning?”
She lay there quietly for a few more moments before grabbing her phone to look at the time, then frowned. It was now 7 AM, and Cora wasn’t back. She sat up again and looked around the dark room, just able to make out Cora’s things still sitting slumped next to the wall on the opposite side of the bed, and her clothes from yesterday scattered in that general direction.
Something about this felt weird, but Lydia couldn’t place a finger on exactly why . It wasn’t unusual for Cora to go running in the morning, but very rarely did she stay gone for so long. Surely even a werewolf would get exhausted after running for an hour and a half?
She checked her phone’s notifications, but there was nothing from Cora, just the usual Facebook and Snapchat bullshit, and a random message from Stiles at 3 AM with a sketchy looking YouTube link and his follow up ramblings that she couldn’t make any sense out of.
Setting the phone aside, she laid back down and pulled the covers up over her head, drifting off into a light and restless sleep, figuring Cora would wake her up when she came back in.
Cora didn’t wake her up. The buzz of her phone roused her, and it took her a moment to realize she’d gone back to sleep. She picked up the phone. It was now 10 AM and Cora was still gone. Something’s not right… The uneasiness gripped her again, stronger this time.
Going back to her phone, she saw there were a few different messages waiting for her.
Allison: Hey, still going out for lunch later?
Stiles: There’s gotta be a better place to hide those chains in the school, right? I swear, if I get one more look from all the guys in the locker room thinking I have some weird sex thing with giant-ass chains... Because I DON’T, thanks. Well, maybe I don’t, no one will let me test it out.
Mom: Going to be home late text if you need me
“Where the hell is she?” Lydia ran a hand back through her hair, suddenly feeling very agitated. She hit the call button, hoping Cora would pick up and tell her everything is fine. That maybe she just got distracted while going on a five-fucking-hour run. There was no answer, and four more frantic calls yielded the same result.
SENDING TO CORA: Where the hell are you???
The minutes ticked by slowly, and Lydia eventually made herself get up and put on enough clothing to take the dog outside. She clutched the phone in her hand and kept expecting it to buzz or ring at any moment, to hear that Cora’s calling or sending her a message, saying things are okay, she’s fine, she just got side-tracked. Needed an extra long run. Something. Anything .
11 AM hit and Lydia felt her heart drop into her stomach. Her hands were shaking, and she didn’t quite know what to do, torn between anger and worry, and worst of all, fear. She tried calling Cora a few more times, but every time she got the droning, mechanical voice that announced she had reached the mailbox.
Out of other ideas, she texted Stiles.
Lydia: Have you heard anything from Cora?
Stiles : Uhhh, not lately. Something up?
Lydia: Maybe. She disappeared.
Lydia: She spent the night and left a note saying she went running at like 5, but she hasn’t come back yet.
Lydia: Her stuff is still here and she isn’t answering her phone.
Stiles: Huh. Did you try calling her?
Stiles: Oh
Stiles: I guess she doesn’t usually do this?
Lydia: No. I have a bad feeling about this…
Stiles: I’m omw, stay there
“Like I can go anywhere else,” she muttered. Throwing her phone down on the bed, she straightened up the room, making sure to place all the clothes that had been hastily thrown around the room the night before into the laundry. That would be a fun thing to explain to Stiles. The room straightened up, she showered as quickly as she could, hoping that the phone would ring, or she might hear the door downstairs open, or even Cora scrambling in through the bedroom window. Instead, the only thing that happened was the most suspenseful shower of her life.
She’d just finished putting clothes on and had been starting to brush through the wet mess of her hair when she heard the harsh engine of Stiles’ Jeep idle and cut off outside. Still running the brush through her hair, she went down the stairs and unlocked the door, opening it just as Stiles was flailing for the doorbell. “Heeey! Good timing, huh?”
“Your Jeep makes so much noise, it’s hard to miss.” An attempt at a joke, but it was deadpan, too lost in her worry to really focus on keeping up her typical front. She kept running the brush through her hair as Stiles stepped inside and threw his backpack down. “What’s that for?”
“Oh, you know, just some stuff. I didn’t really know what we’d need, I mean, how the hell do you find a werewolf that just disappears?” Lydia raised a brow, trying to get him to cut to the chase. “Mostly just the police radio and some phone numbers in case we have to like… call people.”
“Call people?” She threw the brush down on the couch and walked over to him.
“Well I mean, you don’t exactly have her uncles’ phone numbers lying around, do you?”
“Do you? ” she asked, both amazed that Stiles would keep tabs on everyone like this, but not at all surprised.
“You never know what’s gonna happen, Lydia. Especially with all the crazy that just shows up in this damn town.”
Hard to argue with that one. “So what do we do?”
They went over everything Lydia could remember, omitting the rampant sex, cuddling, and talks of dating in secret. Ultimately, they ended up calling Cora’s uncles, Eli and Quinn, and asking if they had any idea where she was. Lydia’s heart sank even further when they told her that she hasn’t been home since leaving for Lydia's the night before.
After that, there wasn’t very much she or Stiles could do except turn the police radio on and wait. She had a strong urge to go searching for her, but she had no idea where to even start. She didn’t exactly have the advantage of super senses to try and track her down, and Prada was useless at finding anything but his food bowl.
After what felt like forever, Stiles broke the silence by offering to send Scott out looking for her, but Lydia didn’t know what good that would do when she was sure that Eli and Quinn had their own werewolf search party out on the job.
“I mean, it couldn’t hurt, right? The more noses out there looking, the faster we find her, right?” he reasoned, but he didn’t look entirely convinced by this either.
“Do you know if they called her in as missing?” she asked, though not entirely sure if the police would even be much help.
Stiles shook his head. “Would’ve come in on the radio. They’re probably trying to find her first before resorting to the police. But, you know what they say about the first 48 ho-”
He was cut off by the radio sputtering to life, choking out information on a new call. “Code Two. This is 33, outside the main preserve entrance. K9 response requested. 10-35, looks like possible 10-54, 187 or 207.”
“Copy. 52 en route.”
Lydia frowned at the radio while Stiles flailed his arms, then grasped at his hair. “ Shit. ”
“What did that mean? Was it about Cora?” she asked, glancing back and forth between Stiles and the bulky, ugly radio.
“I mean, I don’t know for sure, but like… The preserve ? That’s where she runs a lot, right?”
“Right, but what did the rest of that mean?” Her fingers were working restlessly at the hem of her shorts, absently pulling at threads.
“Two, bring back up and hurry, but be discreet. K9 response, those are the search dogs. They didn’t specify for cadaver dogs, so there’s that, but…”
“But?” One leg began to shake, bouncing wildly, anxiety gripping her.
The radio crackled to life again, both whipping around to look at it. “Just received 10-57. Cora Hale, 17-5-4-115 thin build brown eyes and hair; gray running sweats, shirt, black jacket. Usually seen near preserve in mornings, missing since 5 AM.”
“Copy.”
“Fuck.” Lydia reached out and turned off the radio. Whatever came next, she knew she didn’t want to hear it.
“10-57 is um, missing perso-”
“I figured that out, Stiles!” She let out a huffing, choking breath and dropped her head into her hands. Last night had been perfect, and it only took a few hours to drop her into the depths of Hell.
Stiles was quiet, but she could feel him fidgeting on the couch next to her, clearly just as unsettled as she was. Maybe even a little more, since he knew what the messages really meant. She took a deep, shaky breath, then looked up at him.
“Was the first message about her?” she asked, voice strained, and she could almost hear the catch in her throat as she tried to hold back the tears.
“Like I said, I can’t say for sure… but after the 10-57… Probably.” He sighed, and she shook her head, mind reeling. “The first message was just… basically saying there might be a dead body out by the preserve, possible homicide or kidnapping. Usually they get the dogs out when it’s a space that’s hard to search…”
Lydia didn’t say anything, too overwhelmed with the realization that Cora was likely dead, or would be shortly. Tears threatened to overflow her eyes, and she let them. What was the point in stopping them? She sucked in a rasping breath, and could feel a hollow pain in her chest as a racking sob came out as she exhaled. “Why did she have to go fucking running? ” The words were slurred and fuzzy, but she didn’t care.
Stiles reached out a tentative hand towards her and placed it on her back, gently rubbing in awkward circles, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to be touching her. Lydia leaned into his chest and just cried, until she had no energy left, no more salty tears to stain his shirt.
Eventually, she sat up and wiped away the tears with the back of her hand, still shaking. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. This is… Well, this is not good. And you two were like, best friends, and just… yeah. Don’t worry about it.” He gave her a small smile, trying to be encouraging, Lydia guessed. “And hey, she’s one of the toughest people I’ve met. Even if someone did kidnap her, I bet she gave them some good scratches to remember her by. She’ll probably find a way out, too. Just wait. Or who knows? Maybe she’s hiding from whatever it is. They have that like… ‘hide when injured’ rule, don’t they?”
She nodded a little, but she didn’t feel very hopeful. “Even the best-case scenario, it sounds like she’s pretty severely injured…”
He sighed. “Yeah, none of these outcomes seem great but… injured is still alive.”
“I should have woken up and made her stay,” she muttered, wiping away a few more tears.
“Hey, no, don’t do that. This isn’t your fault, Lydia. Even if you did wake up, you aren’t responsible for making her stay, and you’re definitely not responsible for whatever psycho decided to attack her. And for all we know, there’s still the possibility that nothing even happened. Even if it’s, y’know, a small one…”
Lydia shook her head, choking back another sob. “Just… let me know if you hear anything, okay?”
“I mean, I can stay here and we can listen to the- yeah, no, you probably don’t wanna do that.” He shook his head, then started putting the radio back into his bag. “Do you want me to do anything for you? Stay here?”
It took Lydia a minute to respond, her mind fuzzy and a little numb, and she was fighting the urge to crawl back into bed and hide away under the covers. She looked over to him, then remembered the text Allison had sent her a few hours ago. Definitely not making that lunch now . She glanced at her phone and saw that Allison had sent her a few more messages, obviously trying to figure out what the plan was, then looked back to Stiles. “Can you tell Allison to come over?”
Stiles reached for the phone in his pocket so quickly, he lost his grip and had to stumble forward to try and catch it before it fell to the ground. Once he was steady on his feet, he busied himself with the phone while Lydia lay back on the couch. “You think she knows something about this?”
The thought hadn’t even crossed Lydia's mind, and she sat up again, the look on her face a mixture of confusion and intense consideration. “I didn’t,” she started, looking at Stiles thoughtfully. “But maybe she does…” Lydia frowned, not liking the slippery slope this conversation was leading toward.
“Well…” Stiles put his phone back into his pocket as he considered. “If you bring it up, just be careful, Lydia. You might trust Allison, but Cora doesn’t. Like, really doesn’t.”
“Well, Cora doesn’t get much of a say in anything right now, does she?” The words were bitter, and she couldn’t decide who exactly the sentiment was meant for. She supposed it didn’t particularly matter when there was enough misery to go around between them.
“Maybe just don’t bring it up to Allison, that’s all.” Stiles shrugged, looking more than a little uncomfortable.
“Which part, exactly? Because this is going to be all over the news soon, isn’t it? ‘Hale Teen Goes Missing – Possible Kidnapping or Murder’. Not like she’ll be ignoring headlines like that. Her family won’t miss it either.”
“Okay, well, maybe just avoid saying anything that could be in any way misconstrued as blaming Allison or her family for Cora’s disappearance.”
“I wasn’t even thinking that until you brought it up.”
“Oh.” A pause, Stiles fidgeting a little as he stood there. “Yeah, I should probably go. She says she’s on her way. You gonna be okay?”
She nodded slightly, not much of a gesture, but she was running out of energy to deal with much else. “Thanks, Stiles.”
“Probably won’t be thanking me for much longer, but, yeah, no problem. I’ll let you know as soon as I hear something.” With that, he waved, grabbed his bag, and flailed his way out the door.
Lydia didn’t know how long it took Allison to get there. After Stiles had left, she just stayed on the couch, holding a pillow across her lap and staring blankly at the television. Prada had made a few futile attempts to get Lydia’s attention, and started yapping when Allison pulled into the driveway, but she didn’t really register much of it.
Her mind was a jumble of words and phrases mixed in with images from the night before. It had been amazing, but now Cora was gone. Possibly dead. Possibly kidnapped. ‘... might be a dead body.’ She felt sick, a wave of nausea hitting her as a stomach cramp doubled her over on the couch. She had nothing in her stomach to purge, leaving her dry heaving on the couch when Allison rushed in.
The rest of the day was a complete blur. She could barely remember what happened after Allison’s arrival, other than that she avoided connecting Allison or her family to Cora’s disappearance – ‘ possible homicide…’ Even if she thought the Argents might have been involved, Lydia wasn’t sure she was in any state to handle that truth.
Stiles called later, under the (completely correct) assumption that Lydia hadn’t seen the news. They hadn’t found a body, but they had found a crime scene. With her uncles’ help and the K9 unit, they had ID’d a jacket found at the scene reported outside the preserve. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much of a jacket left, and what was there was heavily blood-soaked and had been left hanging from a tree. Farther into the trees, they had also found Cora’s phone, completely shattered beyond any recovery. Stiles said they weren’t giving any official statements yet about what they thought might have happened, but his tone told her everything she needed to know – they weren’t expecting a positive outcome.
Lydia hung up the phone and shut it off. She was done taking calls for the night. Heading to the bathroom, she easily picked out the pills she’d been given last year, “to calm her nerves.” Is there any better occasion than this? she thought bitterly. She took the bottle back to her room, swallowed two, then curled up under the covers once again. Maybe tomorrow they would find Cora, just fine. Maybe she’d wake up and this would all just have been some horrible, sick, joke of a nightmare. Maybe Cora would come barreling through the window at any moment. Most likely, none of those things would happen.
‘You know what they say about the first 48 hours…’
Well, fuck them.
For tonight, Lydia Martin would shut her eyes, and shut out the world.