Chapter 48

"You had us worried there for a while, kid." She heard the voice before she saw who it belonged to, opening her eyes slowly and blinking at the bright light around her. She looked around for the person who had spoken to her, her eyes falling on Alaric, who was sat by her bed, holding her hand tightly.

"Welcome back, Otti," she heard a softer, female voice on the other side of the bed, and turning her head weakly, she saw it was Jo, who was inspecting one of the monitors that she was connected to.

She smiled weakly, and nodded in silent thanks as Ric handed her a glass of water and supported her to drink it, smoothing her hair gently from her face.

"What happened?" she asked quietly, after a few sips of water, relishing the feel of it soothing her hoarse throat.

"You had a one of your attacks, Otti," said Jo, turning to look at her, and Ottilie noticed how tired she looked all of a sudden. "Your body was so exhausted from it that you've been out for four days."

Ottilie's jaw dropped. She'd never been unconscious for that long – no wonder she felt so weak. "Four days?!" she exclaimed. "Where's my dad? And Stefan?" she asked suddenly, looking around the room for any sign of them, and seeing only one of Stefan's books carefully laid on a table at the back of the small room.

"I made them go home to rest and eat," said Alaric, "they hadn't left you for days, and being in a hospital isn't the best idea for a hungry vampire, you know…"

She nodded. "Thank you for being here," she said, squeezing Ric's hand gently and smiling.

"That's alright, sweetheart. I'm going to go and call Damon, okay?"

She fell back into her pillows, watching as he left the room, trying to remember what happened to her. The last thing she remembered was being at the standing stones with Greg… Greg! Was he okay?

"Ottilie," said Jo cautiously as the monitors tracking Ottilie's heart began to show signs of her being in distress.

"Is Greg okay?" asked Ottilie, worry plastered across her face as she tried to sit up.

"Yes he's fine, Otti, you need to take some deep breaths, okay? He's totally fine, just worried about you. He's been to visit you every day with his parents," said Jo, trying to reassure the girl and stop her having another attack, keeping a careful eye on the monitor.

Ottilie took a shaky breath. "What's happening to me?" she asked quietly, looking Jo square in the face.

"Your body is exhausted," said Jo, honestly, "you're at a high risk of having another attack, so we need to keep you calm. I'm going to give you something to help, okay?"

Ottilie nodded, focusing on breathing as deeply as she could, whilst Jo left the room briefly to get some medication. By the time she returned, she was already drifting back to sleep.

"She's going to have to go back on the beta blockers, Damon, she's not strong enough to survive a surgery."

"She didn't react well to them last time, she couldn't keep her blood pressure up. I don't want her fainting everywhere!"

"She was much younger then. Her body will be able to metabolise it better now she's grown a little, and she won't be on a high dosage – just enough to keep her stable until we can operate."

Ottilie lay, listening to the hushed, urgent voices around her, the owners of which apparently weren't aware that she was listening. She'd dreamed of the strange lady she'd seen when she touched the standing stones, and all that had passed returned to her memories. Jo sounds grim, she sighed, still with her eyes shut. But I just have to stay alive to defeat Marcel.

"Otti?" Damon had noticed her sigh, and rushed over to sit by her, taking her small hands in his. "Otti, you're awake!"

She opened her eyes reluctantly, slightly relieved to see that it was dark now, and the bright lights had been dimmed.

"How do you feel, sweetheart?" he asked gently, stroking her hair adoringly.

"I'm okay," she said, quietly, not sure how else to respond. She felt awful, in truth, but didn't want to worry her dad any more than she already had.

"Liar," teased Damon, leaning in to kiss her forehead, "but it's okay. I still love you."

She smiled weakly. "Love you too. When can I come home?"

"Not for a little while yet, Otti, you stay here so the doctors can keep an eye on you. They're a bit worried about it happening again."

She nodded, sighing a little at the thought of being stuck in the square white room for any longer.

"What happened, Otti? Greg rang me to say that you were just staring at a stone before you collapsed?"

"I'm not sure, I was touching the stone and had a kind of vision, I guess. I know…" she saw a look of dubiety cross Damon's face, "I know… but honestly, it was like I was in another world. I saw a woman who looked a bit like me – actually she said she was me, and that my soul purpose was to defeat Marcel to balance nature."

Damon looked confused. "I thought Adfectus Witches didn't serve nature?"

She shrugged, deciding to leave the bit out about nature witches not having enough power, and her only having enough power if she was prepared to die for it. Luckily, Damon decided not to press the matter, simply relieved that she was more or less okay.

"You hungry?"

"Not really"

"You need to eat, Otti, or you won't get better."

"I know… hospital food sucks…"

"Shall I go and cook something and bring it back?" Damon offered, knowing that such an offer was surely irresistible. Right on cue, her face light up and she nodded, smiling at him. "I'll be back soon," he said, kissing her again before speeding off, back to the boarding house.

"Hey!" she said brightly, looking up as her latest visitor entered her room. It was the third that day, and although she was extremely grateful for the care that people were showing her, she was absolutely exhausted and wanted nothing more than to sleep. But this visitor quickly shoved those feelings out of the way, and sat up in bed to greet Greg.

"Hi," he said, shyly, almost holding back from going to her as he took in her appearance. Sure he'd seen her whilst she was unconscious, but now that she was awake, it was more obvious how pale she was, and how thin and frail she suddenly appeared.

Mrs Blythe, who had accompanied her son to visit his friend, seemed to sense his dismay, and moved quickly to avoid prolonging it, and perhaps embarrassing Ottilie, should she realise it.

"Ottilie, darling!" she said, walking up to the girl and enveloping her in a motherly hug. "It's so good to see you awake. We've all been very worried for you, but we knew you'd be okay!"

She pulled out a tin of cupcakes. "I've been baking this morning – would you like one?"

Ottilie nodded gratefully and thanked her, whilst Greg finally walked over to her to take the seat next to his mother, smiling at his smaller friend. All three of them tucked into the cakes, and Ottilie listened with attentively whilst Greg recounted stories from school.

Half an hour later, Mrs Blythe stood up, brushing some escaped crumbs into the tin. "I'm just going to nip to the loo, darling," she said to Greg. "Then we'll leave Ottilie in peace, okay? I'm sure she's desperate for a nap!" She smiled down at Ottilie before leaving the two young teenagers.

"I'm really sorry, Greg," said Ottilie, shyly, aware that she'd probably traumatised him for life.

Greg just shrugged, smiling slightly at her. "I guess I'm getting used to it," he teased, making her giggle. "Seriously though," he said, suddenly sober, "I was really scared. I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you, Tillie…"

She looked up at the sound of her new nickname. "Tillie?" she queried.

"Otti – sorry…"

"No it's okay, I like it – nobody's called me that before."

"And I really like you, Tillie…" whispered Greg, before leaning down to kiss Ottilie gently, feeling himself blush. Pulling back as he heard his mother turning the handle of Ottilie's door, he looked at the girl, noticing the faint pink in her cheeks.

She smiled shyly at him, wishing the kiss could have lasted just a little longer.

"Thank you for coming to see me, and for the cakes, Mrs Blythe – they were lovely!" said Ottilie, finally finding her voice after the initial shock of Greg kissing her had left her. "Will you come back tomorrow, Greg?"

"Of course, Tillie."