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It wasn’t out of patriotism or a desire to save the world, or protect people. It was because she honestly didn’t know what else to do with her life. Getting out of Beacon Hills was always her goal. Towards the end it was battle after battle, loss after loss. It left her looking inside and seeing darkness. She had changed so much from that naïve girl who thought the worse thing in life was to keep moving.

She already knew she could kill, how to use guns, how to live in fear and keep going. She couldn’t live any other life now.

She left straight after graduation and got on a bus to basic training. Scott had watched her go, he loved her and she loved him but she was too hard for him. He too soft, he made her angry- he wanted to save everyone, to be normal. He was the person she would have loved had her transition from girl to woman had not happened in hailstorm of bullets and death.


Lydia was not surprised by the first letter, or the second. She was however surprised when she came out of a lecture and saw Allison. She had been the only one to understand why she left, and why she went to the army. Her father had raged, scared of losing her, not being able to protect her if she was sent over overseas. Scott couldn’t understand how she could willingly enter into more war. Derek hadn’t cared. Anyone else who mattered was dead.

Lydia chuckled there were only five people left alive who knew what really happened in Beacon Hills. Scott hadn’t forgiven Derek but he had forgiven the universe, fate, chance, randomness, God, whatever you wanted to call it. He was training to join the Sheriff department, determined to protect Beacon Hills. Derek was a wild man of angst hidden in the forest. Chris was a broken man pretending to be in control. Holding onto his daughter like she was all that was keeping him from being swept away.

Lydia meanwhile was blazing her own way. She had spent too long being used and lied to. She was finally in control, sure of herself. She was at MIT studying maths, she was already organising a year aboard so she could go to the University of Cambridge in the UK. She was emailing professors at Berkley, Harvard and Oxford. She was getting herself the best possible mathematical education.

Her peers hated her, but she didn’t care. The boys couldn’t stand that a girl was outshining them while the other girls hated that she cared about make-up and clothes. Yet Lydia stood tall, she was who she was and she was never going hide or apologise ever again.

So here she is walking out of a lecture expecting another evening of helping PhD students in Harvard when Allison is standing there with a small smile on her. Basic training had been good to her, she looked calmer, more settled, her smile wasn’t a grimace like it had been just months ago, but it wasn’t the kilowatt beam that she used to wear before it all.


Allison learned a lot from the army but cooking wasn’t one of those things. The army had chefs to cook for everyone, mess hall was there and she lived in barracks. She didn’t need to learn. Lydia meanwhile was a strong independent woman. Ready meals soon got boring and ordering out expensive and unhealthy. Lydia learnt simple food first, using a student cookbook she threw together the basics. However Lydia was also an overachiever, soon she was quickly and easily pulling together Michelin star quality food.

Her mac and cheese pulled indecent moans from Allison, “God, is there anything you can’t do.” Lydia tried to smile and she remembered not being able to save Stiles, watching the Sheriff drink himself to death even after she promised her dying friend she would look after him. She tried to forget calling Jackson needing support only for him to come and die too.

It took a lot for her to really care for people, trust them enough to let them close. Allison was the only one still alive. Lydia had failed them, she had also failed to die with them. Not wanting to bring this all back, to drag down the mood, she just flicked her hair, “Allison dear, by now you should know there is nothing I can’t do.” The two young women smiled at each other. “Not that I’m not pleased to see you, but why are you here?”

“Basic training is done, I’ve got a week’s leave before my next stage, I’ll be specialising in the sniper rifle, so I wanted to pick your brain on some formulas. Get ahead of the class.” She didn’t mention how her dad and been there at passing out parade and had cried. How he looked at her in her uniform like he had lost her. She couldn’t be the support he so desperately needed; she had to take time for herself, selfish maybe but sorely needed.

“Well Private I will be happy to introduce you to the Clock System, drag, and bullet speed.”


That night sharing the small bed in Lydia’s dorm Allison finally slept. She had spent the day watching Lydia, she positively glowed with excitement when she talked about maths. Seeing her so poised and confident, sure of herself and happy was contagious. During basic training she had gotten a reputation of being a bitch. She didn’t sleep, she didn’t try to make friends, she didn’t talk about herself. The years in Beacon Hills had taken their toll on her but now that they had both escaped and were starting to, trying to move on, they could breathe a little easier. Here with a happier Lydia Allison felt safe and calm. It was the first eight hours of sleep she had gotten in years.


At the coach station waiting for her greyhound to Georgia, Allison sat holding Lydia’s hand. Their week had been filled of gate-crashing random lectures, eating as much pizza as possible, playing computer games, and dancing until ridiculous o’clock in the morning. It was like they were real teenagers. It had been amazing. It had been almost perfect. Lydia had gotten annoyed that Allison was in her space for so long. Allison had gotten frustrated by how late Lydia slept in every morning.

It was sad to be leaving Lydia but she was bubbling with excitement to be going to on to further training. She had worked hard, she was in peak physical condition, she was the best in her class with the M4 Carbine rifle. Being a sniper wasn’t easy, it wasn’t for everyone, but she could do it.

When her bus called the start of boarding she squeezed Lydia’s hand tightly and looked across at her profile. “I’ll see you soon. I’ll have another leave after training and before I’m deployed anywhere. That’s if that’s okay with you?”

Lydia turned to face her, “of course, you’re always welcome.” They both stood and hugged each other tightly.

Lydia watched Allison climb onto the bus. See saw a strong young woman off to make something of herself. She smiled and waved, she too had a world to take on.


She wasn’t sure if it was because they saw her have fun with a friend or if she had just relaxed a little more since the visit. But suddenly it was easier to get on with people. She made friends, they stopped being jealous of her brain and came to accept it. They began to see her as more than what she wore and how quickly she could do sums in her head.

It was a freeing time, she didn’t grow up she grew down. She had learnt to be an adult in a stressful world of death and pain. Now she was learning what it meant to relax as an adult. The world was still a scary place but now she didn’t have to hold it up all the time. The world wouldn’t end if she laughed.

Sometimes the guilt would come crashing on her. How could she even think about having fun when back home there was a graveyard full of people she cared about. Allison had an uncanny ability to send a letter at those times. The letters expressed the same feelings, but always ended with a ‘fuck them, I’m allowed to happy and alive. I won’t stop living my life because I didn’t die with them’ theme. It was that that caused the feelings to morph.

She had thought it just a deepening friendship. She never really thought about her feelings, when things change and grow subtly over time you don’t really notice. It takes a shock to open your eyes and re-examine.

The shock came when after sniper training Allison came to stay again. Private First Class Argent had misplaced her pyjamas, so she slept in just her underwear and a t-shirt. It was undeniably sexy, Lydia had already noticed how sexy Allison could be at various times. How could somebody not. But this time was the first time that Lydia felt a thrum through her, instead of a causal ‘wow’, it was a dry throat, wide eyes, and ‘me wants’.

Nothing could happen. Allison was about to go to Afghanistan the last thing either of them needed was to start something. Allison didn’t like causal, and Lydia respected that. So if something were to happen Lydia knew she would have to wait.


Allison didn’t need to be werewolf to know when someone was interested. At first she shrugged it off, relationships are forever changing and evolving if Lydia fancied her at the moment that was fine, it wouldn’t last for long.

However as she thought about it over the next couple of days the idea grew on her. Lydia was an amazing woman, smart, funny, and kickass. She was also gorgeous. It started as idle wonderings, but the more she would think of it the wetter she’d get.

As the week progressed the t-shirt she wore to bed got smaller and smaller. Until eventually she decided to try that leap of faith.

They were lying in bed together, under Lydia’s plush duvet. “Goose feathers really do keep in the heat.” Lydia hummed in reply, busy reading an article. Allison smirked as she pulled her t-shirt off. Lydia caught the movement in the corner of her eye it drew her attention. She stared as Allison was there in her bed topless and smirking at her.

“I’m not declaring love, but give me something to return home to.”

“Allison..” Lydia was cut off.

“Lydia please, I’m leaving for war, it’s going to sandy, hot, and morally dubious. I want something good to think about, to look forward to. Let’s have this and then when I get home, we’ll see if we can take it further.”

Lydia looked at Allison, she was nervous and offering a promise of a future. Allison hadn’t tried for anything good for herself in a while. If Lydia was making her want to take something that made her happy Lydia was more than willing to oblige.

She put down her article and pulled her own shirt off, she then reached across and cupped Allison’s jaw in her hand. She stroked her thumb then brought it across to her lips. Allison closed her eyes and moaned.

Shifting on to her knees Allison moved closer to Lydia, and pressed in for a kiss. Lydia too moved on to her knees and soon they were a mess of desperate kissing and hands. Hands that roamed through hair, over the side of a breast, running down backs, and holding on to hips. Neither could keep their hands still wanting to touch all over.

Allison pulled away gasping, breathlessly she ordered Lydia to lie down, she looked at the feast before her and giggled, Lydia could even work an onesie. Straddling her hips, Allison gently kissed the red head and slowly pulled down the zip. Lydia’s breath caught, the tenderness in Allison’s eyes, as she looked at her, the erotic feeling of slowly and gently being exposed, the feather like touch of hands on burning skin.

Allison licked the valley between Lydia’s breasts and began to kiss, and nip at them. Lydia spasmed, it was so good, she didn’t usually enjoy breast play but her whole body felt alight, craving a caress. Allison still worshipping Lydia’s breasts let her hands start to wander, thankful that Lydia was wearing a baggie onesie.

When she felt hands running up and down her thighs, Lydia’s hips jerked forward, and her legs parted, begging Allison to touch her clit with her body. She could feel it building, so close, she needed heat and friction, and all she was getting was air. Then suddenly there was a finger, circling over her clit, pressuring slowly, maddenly increasing. And then was relief, the feeling of the ground disappearing, Lydia moaned as she came, body twitching. Allison stared at the sight, enchanted.

After a few minutes of blissful peace Lydia looked up at Allison, she was red and sweaty, with hair sticking to her face, but God, was she beautiful. Pushing Allison down on the bed Lydia dived between her legs. And soon heat, warmth, and a sinful tongue had Allison screaming, hands clenching in Lydia’s hair.

They cuddled that night, taking and giving comfort.


Too soon Allison was gone, her letters and emails came some mentioning the horrors she saw, some wishing for Lydia’s cooking, and others daydreaming about the future, these were vaguely hopeful.

A wry chuckle was forced from Lydia, vaguely hopeful was all they would allow themselves these days, and was more than they had even six months ago. They are come so far, they were both hurt, and broken, they couldn’t fix each other, or form together to make one new whole, but they would be there, supporting. And that Lydia thought, as a grin overtook her face, and butterflies danced in her stomach, and that was just the kind of love they both needed.