Everything was hazy, but he slowly came to perceive things around him again. He could see walls, the décor of a room, the outline of someone's coat on a chair. Someone's hand was tugging through his hair, shaking and failing at being gentle.
His own shaking hand rose up to stop the pulling, though it felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. "Ouch."
"Stiles?! Oh my god. Ms. Morrell! Stiles? Can you hear me?"
It was Allison. When had she gotten to his side? Shouldn't she be with Scott? Belatedly, he nodded in answer to her question. His throat still burned and he didn't trust himself to speak without causing himself more pain.
Allison began carding her fingers through his hair again, gentler this time. Stiles closed his eyes once more, enjoying the sensation. "Thank God. Thank God. You were poisoned. Do you remember?"
Someone was touching his chest, his stomach, but he couldn't bring himself to care who or why. Poison? The yellow flower pastry. Katherine Argent in a silver mask. Stiles squeezed his eyes shut tighter and let out an angry groan. That bitch. "K-Kate," he croaked.
"Yes." Allison's voice was venom. "We found you in the hall with her over you. She ran. The guards took control of her carriage just outside, but she wasn't inside. But don't worry. We're going to stop her, and my grandfather, once and for all. They won't get away with treating you this way. So you just-… You just fight this poison. Okay?"
Stiles nodded again, then groaned when it made him dizzy. And tired. His body still felt so heavy. He wanted to sleep. He wanted… to hear that Kate was in prison. That she was dead. He wanted to hear Derek saying they'd get her, his voice full of vengeance. Oh, but he was too tired to even look around for his fiancé.
"Derek?" he murmured without noticing. No one answered him, and he drifted into a murky blackness.
When he woke up, the room was dark. He felt groggy and stiff, but consciousness was quickly claiming him. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. The return of his senses sent a wave of panic through him.
Allison wasn't there. Derek wasn't there. He was alone! He- Kate had gotten to him in the midst of a party. She'd gone unnoticed by even her family. She'd managed to send the only poisoned pastry straight into Stiles' hands. She'd stayed with him to watch him die. And no one had noticed a thing! How could they stop her? She was ghost! She was a demented, psychotic ghost!
Was this going to be his life? He couldn't escape the brutality of Earl Gévaudan and his fanatical daughter. Never! It would just be an endless loop of waiting for the next attack.
Stiles rolled onto his side and covered his head with his arms. His chest ached with the speed of his heart and his breathing became more rapid with every passing moment. He felt trapped and tied down. He couldn't get out. He was lost in the ocean of torment, unable to find a surface. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe!
"Stiles." The calm, female voice shocked him. It wasn't Kate and it wasn't Allison. Still panting, he peeked his eyes open and found the beautiful, young Ms. Morrell standing beside his bed.
Bed?
His breathing slowed. Where-? Where was he? His eyes skittered around the room. It wasn't his room at the McCall Manor. Though it was different from the room he'd first woken up in almost three months ago, Stiles was certain he was in another private room at the hospital. The furnishings were similar – stale white curtains, a table with a poorly concealed medical tray, and a room divider to block him from view if the doctors needed to remove his clothes. But there were more plants than he was used to – as in dozens of them. They weren't get-well gifts either. These were full fern-sized plants in pots.
"What's going on?" Stiles asked, voice weaker than he'd have liked.
"You're at my brother's hospital. Again." She looked unimpressed, as though Stiles had done this on purpose. "After you were poisoned, my brother tried to save you by inducing vomiting, but I convinced him to stop and saved your throat. I gave you a drink of activated charcoal on the scene. It will have bound with the poison and been flushed from your system by now. I think you're through the worst of it."
Closing his eyes against a headache, Stiles said, "I didn't understand some of that, but you're saying that I'm going to live, right?"
"I see no reason why you wouldn't," Ms. Morrell agreed. Stiles groaned and she took the seat beside his bed. "Are you alright, Stiles?" Complete disregard for his title. Fantastic.
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm just fine," Stiles said, heavily sarcastic. "I mean besides my jumpiness and my anxiety, and my new constant, overwhelming, crushing fear that something terrible's about to happen."
Morrell smiled and spoke slowly. "It's called hyper-vigilance, the persistent feeling of being under threat."
Stiles laughed a little deliriously and ran his hands through his hair, still lying on his side. "But it's not just a feeling, though, is it? It's real. It's based in fact. It's- it's like it's a panic attack. You know, like I can't even breathe."
She leaned forward and tilted her head slightly. If Katherine Argent was a panther, then Marin Morrell was a snake – focused and controlled. "Like you're drowning?"
"Yeah." It came out a little desperate. "It's just- it's tiring and it won't stop. I'll wake up in a panic. I'll look out a window and panic. I- I was free. I was happy. And it just kept getting worse. I don't understand, and it's… it's agonizing."
She nodded like she understood and closed her eyes. "Your mind spent so much time in hyper-vigilance while you lived at the Argent Estate that you stopped noticing it. When you were finally allowed to relax, the truth of your past reality began to settle on you, and it feels like it's overwhelming you."
"It is overwhelming me," Stiles argued. He couldn't take this anymore. He was tired, and not just because he'd been poisoned.
"No." Morrell shook her head. "It is not. You are stronger than either Argent. You've been through too much to let a little agony beat you."
Stiles licked his dry lips. "But what if it just gets worse?"
"Well, my mother used to say something that got me through a lot of tough times." Morrell reached into her coat pocket with a gloved hand and produced a small, yellow flower. She smirked a little. "If you're going through hell, keep going."
Stiles, tired as he was, jerked back at the sight of the flora. "That's-"
The apothecary nodded. "This is Arnica Montana, sometimes called Wolf's Bane," Morrell explained. "Eaten in small amounts, the plant is virtually harmless. In fact, it has some homeopathic benefits. However, concentrated doses can induce nausea, vomiting, muscle weakness, a rapid heart rate, and eventually death. This is the herb Katherine Argent used on you."
"How- How do you know what she poisoned me with?" Stiles' heart rate was up again, but he doubted it was from the plant anymore.
"Simple." Morrell dropped the flower to the floor. "I'm the one who sold it to her."
She did not look repentant. She didn't even look nervous about her admission. So far, she'd seemed to be comforting Stiles, counseling him even, but she was working for Lady Katherine. Had she come to finish the job? She was an apothecary. She could easily send him off in his weakened state.
"A colleague of mine sent her my way. She wanted a poison that could kill someone quickly, but that was natural, so it could be deemed an accident. My colleague, Mr. Harris, apparently assisted Kate on a similar venture five years ago, when he procured for her a fair amount of moringa root. Moringa, like Arnica, is herbal and has many benefits. The root, however, is extremely poisonous. The first symptom is normally muscle paralysis, then acute organ failure." She stared Stiles down. "I believe this is how she killed your father."
Stiles couldn't breathe. Should he shout for help? Was anyone else around?
"When Harris came to me for my help, I offered to complete the whole job for him. He suggested I send Lady Katherine a herb known as Wolf's Bane." She definitely smirked then, like she knew a secret. "So I did. It can hardly be considered my fault that neither of them knows that there are two different plants that go by the same name." After making sure her glove was still in place, she pulled a different flower from her pocket. This one had large violet bulbs and a long, dark green stem. "This is aconitum, most commonly called Wolf's Bane. Even touching this one is dangerous. Had you eaten this, death would have been nearly instantaneous."
Brows knit, Stiles tried to follow her train of thought. "So- So you gave her the wrong plant? On purpose?"
Morrell smiled like she was proud of Stiles for his understanding. "Precisely. I knew Harris would follow through with the request, and I could not let another innocent life be taken. The stories Harris told me about Lady Argent… I knew I could slow her down."
She wasn't here to kill him. She had saved his life, long before he'd ever been poisoned. Stiles' heart rate began to slow and even out. In the wake of his panic, his fatigue renewed with fresh vigor.
"I guess… Thank you?" he said, not sure if that was the right thing to say.
Morrell seemed to appreciate it. "You're more than welcome, my lord. I thought it was important you knew the truth. She will not get away with what she's done to you or to your father. Word has been sent directly to the Queen of this latest attack. Lady Katherine was sloppy. There were witnesses, and thus there is a case against her. I will lend my services to the cause as well." She reached forward and gently touched his shoulder. "But you should go back to sleep. Rest. Do you require a sedative?"
"No." Stiles shook his head and closed his eyes. He was too tired for a sedative. It would put him in a coma. "No. I'm fine."
She pat his shoulder and wished him pleasant dreams. Then she was gone. She'd given Kate the wrong plant. She'd helped his body flush out the poison. Now she'd woken him from a panic attack. Stiles wasn't sure if he should thank her again or how he'd even go about repaying her. She was odd, but Stiles kind of liked her, but only a little bit. He liked her brother more, but still not a lot.
Maybe she was right though. Maybe he could survive this poisoning, could survive the panic attacks, could survive the Argents. He'd regain his strength first, then he'd get medicine for the anxiety if need be. He'd take down Gerard and Katherine Argent. He wouldn't let them win. He was too stubborn to do anything else.
If you're going through hell, keep going. Stiles liked that line. Maybe he'd keep it.
… …
The sun woke him next, rays of light bouncing off the walls of his room and making everything white or metallic glow. Yay for white curtains and metal hospital equipment. He was tired of waking up feeling like he weighed a million pounds, like gravity had increased to double its effect. It took some doing, but he eventually convinced his head to turn to the side, to look at the rest of his room.
Finally, though he had been absent the last two times Stiles had regained consciousness, Derek was in view. He was sitting at the desk, his back to Stiles, writing. Stiles' lips pulled up into a smile and he felt at ease despite the soreness of his limbs. Derek was there. He was alright.
For several minutes, he watched Derek scribble out a letter. The lord sighed and put down his quill. Then he set his face in his hands and sighed again. One hand dropped lamely to the table while the other ran up and into Derek's hair. Even from behind, Stiles could see the tension and anxiety. He understood the feelings all too well.
"Hey," he said, and Derek startled. "You're going to ruin your hair."
His voice, just like the last time he'd woken up, was rough and weak. The poison and all the vomiting must have done a number on his throat. His voice was recognizable, though, because Derek spun in his seat to stare at him. Then he was up and striding across the room. He dropped into the chair beside the bed and instantly took up Stiles' heavy hand.
He said nothing, just pressed his lips to Stiles' knuckles. Stiles was beginning to love that kind of greeting. He let out a content sigh, but Derek must have thought he was in pain. The grim looking lord pulled back and frowned darkly.
"I'm sorry," he said, his voice almost as rough as Stiles'. "I don't know how she slipped in. I should have noticed her. I'm sorry."
"Idiot." Stiles curled his fingers around Derek's and then bumped their hands into Derek's chest. "How was that your responsibility? It wasn't your fault."
Derek dropped his head and brought Stiles' hand up to rest against his forehead. He took in a slow, deep breath. "You have to stop doing this," he murmured. He sounded beyond sad. He was distressed. "It was one thing to hear of your death. It was-" His voice caught. "To see you dead. I-"
"I'm alright," Stiles assured, and it felt like he'd been telling that lie for five years, but this time it was apparently true. "Ms. Morrell says I'm through the worst. Tell me news of Kate."
Kate was more important right now. That, and maybe talking would erase some of the hurt from Derek's features. It worked, sort of. The distress shifted with Derek's eyebrows until it was fury, not sadness, that shown from every angle of Derek's handsome face.
Lady Katherine Argent had fled the scene when a servant had stepped into the hall and seen her. The servant screamed, drawing other party goers into the hall. Derek was among the first on the scene, shouting for someone to catch Lady Argent. Stiles, unable to breathe, looked dead on the floor. He'd been pale and unresponsive, but every few moments he would wheeze for air. Deaton tried to save Stiles while Derek initially chased after Kate, but he'd hurried back as soon as the guards were seen seizing her carriage. Derek watched while Morrell apparently stopped the poison from being further absorbed, watched while Stiles started to breathe again – though it was shallow and shaky at best. He'd knelt beside Stiles and hoped to God that whatever the two doctors had done, it had been enough.
Kate's carriage was apprehended, as Allison had said, but she was nowhere to be found. None of the inns had a record of her, though they were searched regardless. By morning, officers had been sent to the Argent Estate, but they had sent back a report that the lady was not at home. The officers stayed in town, watching the estate for her return and keeping the Earl under surveillance.
No one knew of any good friends that Kate could hide with, or of any other property held by the Argents. Stiles had been unconscious for nearly two days, and Kate had yet to be taken into custody. Or even seen.
Derek had assisted with the search for the whole first day, along with Scott and the police of course. And even Liam had been intensely invested in the investigation, so he obviously didn't hold all the letter writing or dog jokes against Stiles.
When Kate first escaped, Derek wanted to rush around in search of her, but fear had won out over anger. He helped transport Stiles to the hospital, made sure he was in good hands. He made sure Stiles was recovering, and then Derek's desire to help with getting justice – or vengeance, the two concepts were so similar for Stiles – won over. He was called to help in the hunt for Lady Katherine Argent, and it took over all of his thoughts. He was so invested that he was stunned to realize the whole first day had passed without him visiting Stiles. He'd heard updates, of course. Allison had sent word to Scott through the day, but it wasn't enough.
So now Derek was here. He'd sent Allison away to clean herself up and to go see Scott. Apparently Allison had been beside him while he'd wretched and heaved, and the hem of her skirts was still murky with it. Gross.
"I've spoken with both Dr. Deaton and Ms. Morrell. They said the-… Are you in pain?" Derek asked, and the guilt and concern was creeping back in.
Taking stock of himself, Stiles considered lying as usual, but he didn't want to lie to Derek. So he nodded. "My stomach," he admitted. "It's still cramping, though not as bad as at the party."
Derek nodded solemnly. "Yes. The doctors said the pain should fade in a few days." Stiles groaned and rolled his eyes. A few days? It was a nightmare. Derek almost smiled at the reaction but it didn't get quite far enough. "But the muscle weakness may last for awhile. Deaton thought a fortnight. Morrell disagrees."
"Does Ms. Morrell think more or less time?" Stiles asked. He was so done with feeling like he'd rather stay in bed.
With a shrug, Derek tried not to sound concerned, but it was obvious he was still worried about the side effects. "You will be able to get up and move about in a few days, but she claims the poisoning will leave you with bouts of muscle fatigue for several weeks, possibly as long as two months."
It was worse than Stiles had hoped, and he covered his face with his hands to hide his disappointment. But on the other hand, he'd been worried the poison would leave him partially invalid for the rest of his life. In that way, he'd actually turned out lucky.
Derek slipped his hand up over Stiles' and gently pulled it away from Stiles' eyes. "Are you alright?"
"No." Stiles squinted at the ceiling, eye beginning to sting. "I'm going to be randomly useless for two months. I have random bouts of panic. I'm mentally unstable, and the people who caused it are still around, trying to kill me or at least make it worse. I wouldn't want to marry me. I don't know why you'd still want to marry me. I'm a complete wreck."
Squeezing Stiles' hand, Derek gave a minute shake of his head. "I will walk with you."
"What?" Stiles forced himself to look at Derek instead of the ceiling. Derek's eyes were as intense and beautiful as ever, and they assured Stiles that whatever Derek was trying to say was sincere.
"If your legs are weak, I'll help you stand." Derek's cheeks were turning red, like he'd been outside too long. "I'm… a bit obsessive. I have tunnel-like focus. You will need to temper me and my morose nature. When someone wrongs me, I take it very personal. I will need someone to remind me not to go too far. I'm also shy of criticism and new company."
"I've been told I share too much and have a habit of insulting new company without meaning to… At least, I don't mean it most of the time," Stiles said, trying to point out his own flaws. It was a lot like self-sabotage, but he sort of felt like he deserved it.
"I think your personality, as rough as some might see it, compliments mine well. I love your random thinking, and your morals align closely with mine." Derek frowned, eyebrows drawn together pensively. "So I will hold you up when you are weak. I will be your anchor when your mind tries to sway you. I don't mind being there for you, Stiles." He cupped the side of Stiles' face. "Don't push me away."
It hurt in such a good way. The ache in Stiles' chest had nothing to do with poison or illness. He was a sucker for sweet words like this, and Derek was surprisingly good at delivering them. He gripped Derek's hand in both of his and took a deep breath.
"I love you," he said. His voice was still rough, and he couldn't find the drive to push himself up from the bed, but he could still tell Derek the truth. "I don't know why you seem to love me in return, but I love you more. You are the first person I have wanted in my life so badly that I-… I would kill for you. I know that sounds drastic, but I would defend you to the end. You know… when I can stand on my own again."
The smile on Derek's face was untainted by worry or guilt. He leaned over Stiles and pressed their lips together. "Let us hope that neither of us will need to kill someone… at least after we take care of the Argents."
"You're not going to kill her," Stiles said in exasperation. As much as he wanted Kate out of his life, he didn't want the blood to be on Derek's hands. Let an officer or anyone else put an end to her, but not Derek. He didn't want to ruin Derek's life over this too.
Derek hummed. "Just a little bit of murder?"
With a snort, Stiles rolled his eyes. "Just a little bit of jail time?"
Derek smirked and kissed him again. "No one would speak against me. Not after the party." Another kiss. "Let's test that theory."
Stiles laughed. "Let's not."