Cora walks through the front doors of the institute, her brother walking next to her, Stiles a few paces behind, looking at his phone with a smile. Derek has been going on jobs with the kids, claiming it makes him feel better, reassuring him that Cora is okay. Though he said that that was probably his last mission with them. Derek rushes down the the basement to assist in training of new assassins. "I'm heading up to the loft, you coming?" Cora asks, turning around to face Stiles.

"Um no actually, I'm going to go shower and then I think I'm actually going to head out," Stiles tells Cora casually. Cora cocks an eyebrow.

"Head out? Where?" Cora questions. Stiles thinks for a moment.

"Thought I might go hang out at the hotel bar tonight, don't worry, no drugs, just need a night out alone," Stiles lies. Cora nods her head slowly.

"Alright then, I'll see ya," Cora says her goodbyes and then rushes upstairs to the loft. Isaac is sitting on the couch waiting for her when she arrives. He is laying on his back, lazily flipping through television channels. Cora wastes no time in sprinting to the couch and jumping on top of Isaac. The boy does not have time to groan before Cora's lips are on his. He widens his eyes in surprise before melting into the kiss. His hands slide up the small of her back as her small hands rest on his jaw. Their tongues begin to battle for dominance. Moving quickly, Cora pulls her lips from his in order to yank off his shirt, throwing it to the other side of the room.

"Where's Stiles?" Isaac asks, praying to god he does not walk in.

"Showering then going out, we're good," Cora reassures him. Isaac looks at Cora's body, in amazement. It's like he is seeing her for the first time every time. As Cora slides her hand up Isaac's abdomen, her fingers trace scars, many from when he was tortured for breaking the law. Isaac shivers. Breaking this law. Suddenly he can feel the blade sliding against his skin. He feels the blood trickling down from each cut, sliding far away from the initial torn flesh. Isaac body locks up and he noncommittally begins to scream. The worst part is, in his haze he can hear Cora screaming as well. She was getting hurt too. His beautiful and strong Cora.

In reality Cora places a hand on each of Isaac's cheeks. Tears pour from his eyes, dampening Cora's palms. His hands grab Cora's wrists tightly as he tries to anchor himself to her. "Isaac," Cora whispers quietly. The screaming stops, the pain goes away, and Isaac is left with Cora straddling his hips with a worried expression on her face. "Isaac what was that all about?" She asks sadly. Isaac takes a deep breath, trying to slow his breathing.

"I'm sorry," he mutters under his breath, "I don't want us to get hurt again, breaking the law like this, I just, I can't listen to you scream like that and be okay with it," Isaac admits. Cora nods slowly.

"So we are waiting until we are thirty to have sex legally, fantastic, that's just fucking grand," Cora gets off the couch and begins to angrily pace around the room. "Because this fucking job just rules our fucking life! I thought this was more than a job! I grew up with it, but no! It took my parents, almost killed each of my friends and now it's ruining my personal life! No, fuck it! I'm done letting it take over my life! I'm fucking done! I quit!"
_______________________

After he is showered and dressed, Stiles heads to the garage, getting into a car and looking again at the text from Lydia. It's her address, apparently she lives pretty hidden within the woods. Stiles begins to drive with his mind racing. What do I do about this? Do I stay with her? How can I leave my friends? Will the baby look like me? Will she have Lydia's eyes and my hair? What does Lydia want from me?

It's takes about an hour to get to Lydia's cottage. When he pulls up the short dirt driveway, Stiles' jaw drops. It juxtaposes Lydia's previous life. As assassins, their normal consisted of glamorous hotels and large mansions. This house however is entirely different. It's like something out of a movie. The cottage is small, dark wood decorating it. The structure however is mostly large stone. Thick green vines along with other plants, cling to the sides of the house. The small windows are framed in a dirty white color, their frames rounded. It has two small chimneys poking out of the round sloped roof. A curvy stone path leads to deep red door. A porch can be seen in the back, hanging over a small brook with a short water fall. The sound of the falling water is soothing. Looking around him, Stiles sees only forest. The small town that is about three miles away can not even be seen or heard. Stiles exits his car and slowly approaches her door, taking a deep breath. Stiles only has the chance to knock once before Lydia has opened the door.

She looks different, but something about her appearance is familiar. It is not her growing belly that throws off Stiles, but her style. Not a scratch of makeup or product in her hair that is so long now that it reaches her waist in messy waves. And her clothes are strikingly different than the black and leather she usually wore during her time as an assassin. Now she was clunky boots with knit white socks. She has a long Mandela decorated skirt that reaches her mid-shin. It's full of red, blue, and tan swirls and designs. Over a denim shirt is an oversized beige cardigan that reaches just above her knees. A owl pendant clings to a black chord choking her neck. Upon seeing him Lydia smiles brightly. She swiftly pulls her hair into a messy bun on the top of her head. "Stiles, I didn't know you were coming today! I would've dressed like you're used to seeing me," Lydia states. Stiles smiles and shakes his head.

"Lydia, you don't have to do anything for me, I know you've got a hippie heart, don't forget we spent a whole day looking at pictures of you when you were younger." Months and months ago Lydia and Stiles had dedicated a whole day to the past. Lydia had explained to Stiles that when up until seventh grade, she began to dress fancy and always wearing frilly dresses and even kitty heels. Everyone expected it from her even at that young age. When she did not dress in those tights, heels, and sundresses from Abercrombie or where ever, the other kids would make fun off her and ask her why she looked so sick. She had a breaking point and she began to show up everyday wearing these different clothes. Lydia from seventh grade until she became an assassin had dressed in a comfy, care free manner. Little thought towards how it made her body look, but full of color and personality.. It was her way of showing her true spirit and lack of concern in what she looked like. Apparently Allison was the same way, that's actually where Lydia got her clothes from considering her mother would never allow Lydia to buy such "peasant clothes" as she called them.

Lydia smiles softly. Stiles leans in and kisses her cheek, his hand going to her growing belly lovingly. Lydia smiles through the kiss, glad to have Stiles back. they pull apart slowly, gazing into each other's eyes, completely aware of how cliche this all is. "Wanna come in?" Lydia asks him quietly. He nods slowly, amused, a stupid smirk on his face. She leads Stiles into her home, music is playing, making her hips sway as she walks. Stiles smiles at her, happy that she is happy. He sits down at her tiny kitchen table as she pulls snacks out of her fridge. Lydia sets down two glasses and a pitcher of iced tea. Stiles just watches her, loving her existence. The way her lips mouth the words of the song. The small tendrils of hair that fall out of her bun. He takes in the sight of her swaying hips, pale skin, and bright green eyes. His eyes then focus on her belly where their child is slowly growing. Silently to himself, Stiles vows to never let anything remotely bad get near his child or his wif- girlfriend.

Lydia sits cautiously down at the table, a smile ever present on her face. Stiles continues to watch her. "A baby girl," he mutters. Lydia blushes and nods slowly.

"Yes Stiles a baby girl," Lydia makes fun of him, "any name suggestions?"

"Allison," Stiles says bluntly. Lydia smiles widely.

"I like it anything else?" Lydia asks amused. Stiles smirks.

"We each suggest a name, ready go," Stiles states. Lydia giggles.

"Cora."

"Lilian."

"Claudia," Lydia says, biting the inside of her cheek in anticipation. Stiles stares at Lydia in amazement. His mom's name.

"Fuck I love you, keep that one in mind," Stiles insists before continuing, "James, like Jamie," Stiles says with excitement.

"Braeden," Lydia states, referring to Derek's dead lover. Her baby girl would be named after a dead love, but she herself would be a symbol of a complicated love that worked out.

With a mischievous barely there smirk and a curved hand half covering his mouth, Stiles casually suggests, "Lydia." He continues to sit quietly, anticipating her response. Lydia's jaw tightens and she raises her eyebrows at Stiles who flicks his hand away from his lips. "What? Don't look so surprised, it's the most beautiful name I've ever heard," Stiles defends himself. Lydia blushes and looks down at the table.

"No thanks Stiles, maybe Allison," Lydia suggests. Stiles chuckles.

"I said that one already," Stiles reminds her. Lydia stays looking at him seriously.

"I know," Lydia tells him as he stares at her amused. However when she says this, his expression hanged drastically.

"You're serious?" Stiles asks happily. Lydia nods.

"Allison is my best friend, I've known her forever, without her I never would have met you, she has helped you in several different ways," Lydia argues. Stiles thinks about how Allison can not have kids of her own. His heart aches for that girl. This could be a way to let Allison have a kid.

"Allison," Stiles says under his breath, a small smile forming on his lips. The water of the brooke slides against the rocks outside, splashes softly off of the short ledge. Birds sing songs to each other amongst the thousands of trees surrounding Lydia's cottage. The music Lydia is playing hits a strand of soft music notes. A breeze blows through the open windows, blowing Lydia's small hairs into her emerald eyes as she stares at him, hope behind her eyes. Stiles feels the wind pull his clothing. It cools his skin and makes him feel lighter. This environment, the meaning of that name provides something entirely different, infinitely better than any high Stiles had ever experienced. With happiness coursing through him, Stiles mutters again, "Allison." His smile grows on his face and looks back into Lydia's magnificent eyes. "Allison, our little Allison." Lydia smiles widely, tears forming in her eyes.

"No Stiles," she states, standing, "Allison Claudia Stilinski." Stiles gazes at Lydia in awe as he stands up quickly and throws his arms around Lydia. He kisses the top of her head.

"I love you so god damn much." Lydia giggles.

"I know, I love you t-" Stiles phones buzzes violently in his pocket, ruining the moment. Stiles huffs and glances down at the phone in his hand. There is an address and number of people to kill. Stiles groans and shoves his phone back in his pocket. Lydia sighs sadly, but she forces a smile onto her face. "Duty calls," she states glumly. Stiles looks down at her dismally.

"I'm sorry Lyds, I gotta go," Stiles tells her disdainfully. Lydia nods slowly.

"It's okay I get it," Lydia says softly. Stiles shakes his head and runs his hand through his hair.

"No, no it's not okay, I'll make it up to you I swear," Stiles promises. Lydia smiles and nods.

"Be careful please, I need you, we need you." Stiles nods slowly and plants a long kiss on Lydia's lips and rubs his hand over the bump before walking tiredly out of the cottage.