St. Clair || Stilinski [2]

Twelve || We Need You

|| We Need You

     "Consider me thankful I wasn't here sophomore year," Jacy remarked through a heavy drawl, her entire body buzzing with pins and needles as she on the cool linoleum floor. "Because this is awful." She couldn't move beyond shifting her eyes, only able to grasp a portion of the room with her human senses.

      Their attempt to help Tracy was...unsuccessful, to say the least.

     Stiles scoffed with his face pressed to the floor, struggling to breathe beside Scott and unable to see his girlfriend. "Try holding Derek's heavy ass up for hours in the middle of a pool." He shifted his head to the side the best he could to catch a glimpse of the vet. "Hey, Deaton, how the hell did she get through the mountain ash?"

     "I don't know," he replied from near Stiles' feet, his own body practically vibrating from the toxin. "It's a barrier no supernatural creature should be able to cross."

     "Scott did it," snapped Stiles.

     "Once," the true alpha countered, paralyzed on the clinic floor with them, "but it almost killed me."

     Jacy growled, trying to force her hands to move with no success. "We should've killed her. Allison was right."

     "Meanwhile," Stiles cut in, "she's probably on her way to kill someone else."

     "Listen, everyone," said Deaton. "We need to concentrate. Jacy, Scott, you two will probably be able to move long before Stiles I can, but you need to focus."

     "What do we focus on?" Jacy loudly asked. "I really, really don't want to feel like this."

"Healing," Scott puffed, his chest struggling to rise fully - A feeling he was familiar with.

     "That's right," Deaton agreed, face pressed to the tile.

     "I don't...I can't focus on healing when it feels-" she gasped for breath, "-like I'm drowning."

     "Jace, it'll be okay," Stiles assured, utter helplessness crossing him. He couldn't reach for her, he couldn't hold her. "It'll go away, you just have to breathe."

     He hated himself for never being able to be there when she was drowning, even if it was only in her head.

      Jacy began to sweat, her heartbeat pushing up so high even Scott couldn't keep track of it. "I can't calm down," she yelled through gritted teeth, a tear rolling down her temple. "I can't move!"

     "It won't last long," Scott assured, eyes on Jacy as he was sprawled on his back. "We're going to be okay, I promise. Doc, how do we focus?"

     "Think of a body part," Deaton instructed cooly, always a guiding light in times of uncertainty. "Your hands, your feet, even just the tips of your fingers. Imagine them moving. See it in your mind and your body will follow."

     And while they thought, wished and willed, no one moved for nearly an hour.

     "Okay," Stiles said, his face beginning to hurt from the pressure of the floor. "I'm pretty sure I just felt my right leg move." He winced, nose crumpled in mild pain as he tried to push through the pins and needles. "Yep, definitely felt it. Like a twinge, spasm, something."

     Deaton, laid out in perfect view of Stiles' unmoving feet, raised a brow. "I'm going to have to disagree. And I think I hold an informed opinion."

     Jacy drifted in and out of sleep as she attempted to make peace with the static running through her body, the sensation of a lap pool surrounding her slowly rocking her out of consciousness.