Chapter Text
She paces back and forth, wondering what to do with herself and hoping against hope that Stiles would return with those flares soon. She tried and tried to lift the safe off Boyd until she was sure that the vein in her head would pop, yet unfortunately no burst of adrenaline would come to her aid.
Lydia jumps when she hears a noise from underneath the bed and debates whether she really wants to find out what's under there or not.
Kneeling under the bed, she slowly lifts the covers, ignoring her heart attempting to pound its way out of her chest. Her first reaction upon seeing an obviously terrified Isaac hiding under the bed is to shriek, drop the bed covers back in place, and do an award half-jerk, half-crab crawl to get away.
She takes a deep breath and tries to ignore the shaking in her limbs. Maybe she couldn't do anything for Boyd right now, but she could help Isaac. She sure as hell isn't going to sit around and wait for things to unfold…especially not in this creepy ass motel.
"Isaac," Lydia says pulling the covers away and ducking her head to look at him. He scrambles to get away from her again.
She remembers the skittish and awkward boy that she'd turned down Freshman year. It seemed like a lifetime ago and life had been so much simpler for her then.
"Isaac, please come out," she says. "It's not real, I promise. None of it's real."
He starts hyperventilating.
Lydia lets the blanket drop again and presses a frustrated hand to her face. She's surprised when it comes back wet. She didn't realize she'd been crying.
Stop it, she tells herself. Stop crying. It's just going to make it worse.
She wipes the tears away and lifts the covers again. This time she tucks them back against the bed. Lydia's never been one to take no for an answer and she isn't going to start now.
With a deep breath, she tilts her body sideways to look under the bed again.
"Isaac." She reaches a hand towards him this time. "I promise I'm not going to hurt you. Come out." Nothing. "We need your help." Still nothing. "Isaac..." She's run out of things to say. She's never been the comforting type and she never will be. Someone like Allison or Scott would be so much better at this.
She lets out a soft grumble of frustration.
Where the hell was Stiles? How long had Boyd been under? Maybe werewolves had a higher tolerance for oxygen deprivation than humans?
Boyd! That was it! He won't come out for her, but maybe he would to save Boyd.
"Isaac," she says, crawling slightly underneath the bed while trying not to think of the filth that had accumulated there from lack of decent cleaning by the motel staff. "Isaac, Boyd's in trouble and he's going to die if you don't come out and help him."
She almost lets out something between a laugh and relieved sigh when Isaac finally slides his large hand into her much smaller one.
Before she can really think about what she's doing, she finds herself clinging to him.
A few months ago, hugging Isaac Lahey would have been something she'd never live down, but given everything that's happened, she thinks that everyone could use a hug right now. So she excuses herself this one time.
Lydia quickly stands up and tugs Isaac by the hand so they can go save Boyd.