Derek's POV
I lost track of how long I had sat in that chair, long after Alaric got up and left, leaving me to drown in my thoughts of self-hatred and the deepest regret. I didn't know how long I sat wondering if I would ever get to see Lillian alive again, if I'd ever get to hold her or hear her beautiful voice.
I heard Alaric's fast footsteps before he rounded the corner into the waiting room, this time with a long blue paper-like gown open at his chest. Like he'd ripped it open when he walked out of the OR.
"Is she—"
"Dr. Mazurek is closing," Alaric said breathlessly, and I slumped in the chair, tears of relief rising in my throat and threatening to wash my face. "Her vitals are stable. We are planning to keep her here for a few days, but if she still refuses when she wakes up we might have to reevaluate and consider moving her home."
"But she's alright?" I pressed, digging my hands into the arms of the chair.
"She needs to heal, but yes, she is stable. We'll know more when she wakes up."
"Is there anything I can do?" I questioned, getting to my feet. I barely took notice of how disgusting my clothes were at that point, so at odds with his pristine scrubs and gown. At least they weren't covered in Lillian's blood.
"I think you being here would be good for her," Alaric murmured. "She will likely be very stressed when she wakes up, and if earlier was any indication, she will likely respond well if you are here."
I dipped my head. "I was never going to leave anyhow," I said. "I told her I'd be here when she wakes up. I plan to make good on that promise."
"Of course, a nurse should be bringing her to room 404 in a few minutes. I have to finish my shift."
I nodded again, but he extended a hand to me. I took it and shook firmly. "Thank you, again, Derek. I hope to see you when I finish my shift."
"Yes, sir."
"Please, Derek. Alaric will do."
*
When Lillian was wheeled into the room, her heartbeat infinitely stronger than it had been when I last saw her, I gritted my teeth to keep from whimpering with relief. The man I assumed was a nurse tucked her bed into the spot between IV stands and life support machines, locking the wheels of the bed.
"I'm Jon," he said as he injected the IV into the port in Lillian's vein with ease. His face was young, kind, but his eyes held depthless thought, swirling behind hazel irises like water.
"Derek," I replied, cradling Lil's hand the second I could reach it. I curbed my need to suck away her pain, knowing I couldn't risk letting Jon see my veins turn onyx. He'd be gone in a minute. Her skin was warm, dry, the only trace of blood left on her was the dried red under her nails. The mud caked to her skin, her hair, gone. The braids she'd done earlier, curving around her head, those were gone too. For a moment all that was heard was the beeping of Lillian's still-slow heartbeat on the monitor.
"Ms. Stager took quite the spill, huh?" Jon remarked lightly, flipping a sheet on the clipboard in his hand. "Got stomped on by a horse?" He raised his eyebrows and looked at me.
"Yeah," I sighed. I hadn't noticed the claws of exhaustion sunk so deep into my bones until I saw that she was alive. Until I sat down next to her and felt the warmth of her hand.
Alive.
I frowned, knitting my eyebrows together. "What time is it?"
Jon glanced at his watch. "Just after one," he replied. "When did you get here? You look like it's been a while."
I frowned again. I didn't even remember. Maybe the whole ordeal started at around eight. "Nine or ten? I don't even know, man."
"No worries," Jon replied. "That chair folds out to a bed in you want to lie down while you're waiting for her to wake up."
I mumbled something incoherent then acknowledged what he said. "I think I'm good, I want to be awake when she is."
"She might not wake up for a while, it says here they had to put her pretty far under. She was pretty agitated when she got in there."
"Yeah," I scoffed. "She was pretty agitated all night. How long do you think it'll take for her to wake up?"
"I don't know, it depends on her reaction to the drugs they gave her. She's also on a mild morphine drip for the pain. She has a few broken ribs, too."
I glanced at her still form, clad in a pale hospital gown, to her chest rising and falling. Dark purple bruises had already begun to form in the shape of hooves where Ophelia crushed her. I could still hear the cracking of Lil's bones under the powerful animal. The mere memory of that scream she let out was more than enough to make the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
"What a mess..." I breathed.
"Ms. Stager should recover, Derek," Jon offered softly. "Ribs don't take too long to heal."
"Yeah, well what about the gaping hole they just tore into her?" I snapped, maybe more angry at myself than anyone.
"It will take time, but her prognosis is very good. She's young and strong. She'll pull through."
It was a struggle to summon a returning smile. I knew the man was just trying to do his job. And the logical part of me believed him. Lil's injuries didn't seem too severe now that she was stable and not coughing up all kinds of blood on me. But the weight of that she could have died clung to me. I could still feel her nails digging into my skin, her hands trembling as she cried against me.
"Hit this button if you need anything," Jon said, gesturing to a button next to Lillian's bed. He was gone without another word. The second he was out the door I steeled my nerves and took a breath, starting to leech the pain out of Lil's body. I could feel the hurt crawling up my arms, along with the black that coloured my veins.
I held her hand between both of my own, resting my elbows on the bed, before resting my forehead on my hands. I was exhausted in my bones, exhausted in my breath. But I wouldn't sleep until I saw her awake.
I lost track of how long it was before I heard footsteps in the hall. My head snapped up and I stopped taking Lillian's pain, eyes on the door.
A teenage boy stepped inside, and I sat back. His eyes narrowed as he beheld me. I knew mine were much the same.
"Who are you?" he demanded, taking a cautious step toward us.
"I could ask you the same," I replied.
"Lillian's one of my best friends," he snapped back, and something about the way he spoke reminded me of someone. The Sheriff. "Forgive me if I wonder why there's some random dude in her room, holding her unconscious hand after she just had surgery at two AM." The kid paused, his eyes narrowing further as gears turned behind his eyes. "Wait... are you Derek Hale?"
I dipped my head, only hoping he would leave soon.
"Why are you here?"
"I was with Lillian when the accident happened," I said, not possessing the energy to want to explain what happened or who I was to Lillian.
"My friend's mom told me," he told me, "that Ophelia stomped on her?"
I nodded once.
"That doesn't really make sense," the boy frowned. "I've never seen that horse spook at anything."
"What are you doing here, anyway? It's two AM, like you said. Don't you have school tomorrow?" I interrupted him, not feeling like getting into an argument about why Ophelia spooked and nearly killed Lillian.
The kid levelled a glare that rivalled my own. "School kinda takes a back seat when one of your best friends is in the hospital."
I raised my eyebrows. "What's your name?"
"Stiles." His voice was a thinly-veiled snarl.
"Huh," I mused. "She's never mentioned you."
That set Stiles on fire with fury, I could see the curls of flame in his eyes. With a contentious huff, he sat down in the chair opposite me. I gritted my teeth to contain my growl. No, he wasn't leaving, despite his distinct distaste for me.
Above my own selfish want for him to get out of my face and leave us in peace, I wanted him gone more because I needed to be alone to take her pain. I didn't really feel like making pleasant conversation with him, so I lowered my head to its previous position, resting against my own hands that cradled Lillian's.
Mercifully, Stiles didn't say anything else for a while, until Alaric walked in. Stiles paid sharp attention; he respected the man. I wondered for a moment how long they had known each other.
"Stiles?" Alaric said, closing the door behind him. "What are you doing here?"
"I-I came as soon as I heard," Stiles replied. "Melissa called me."
Alaric sighed. "Thank you for your concern, Stiles, but we want the least amount of commotion here if Lillian wakes up."
Stiles' eyes widened and shot between Lillian and Alaric. "What do you mean, 'if'? She's not dying, is she?"
"No, no, I meant if she wakes up when you are here," he explained, and I loosed a quiet breath I hadn't known I was holding. "She has had a very bad night, I want things to be of the least stress possible."
"What's he doing here, then?" Stiles snapped, gesturing a hand in my direction. I again reined in my snarl, fighting the urge to lunge over the bed and shatter that hand.
"Derek was with Lillian when the accident happened. She is expecting him to be here when she wakes up," Alaric replied softly, as if to soften the blow his words might have been to Stiles.
For a moment, I felt bad for him, for the way he looked at Lillian's sleeping face. The longing.
"You should go home and get some sleep, Stiles," he added gently. "You can come back tomorrow. I'll let you know if she stays here or if we move her home."
Stiles sniffed back silver lining his eyes, nodding. "You'll tell her I was here?"
"Of course," Alaric promised.
I leaned back, watching as instead of turning to the door, Stiles found his way to the side of the bed and took her other hand. He opened his mouth to speak, but paused, then closed it. He then squeezed her hand and left, bidding Alaric a soft goodbye.
The door came to a shut behind him.
A/N: Man, I love the Stiles/Derek dynamic that's brewing. Hehehehe. These chapters have been so much fun to write. Please let me know what you think!!
Cheers,
- TAAF_