"Lydia? Lydia!"

The high heels that were once on her feet now dangled in her left hand as she pattered down the main hallway of the school. Lydia had ventured off to find Jackson, she knew. But now Sydney could not find Lydia and, to say she was worried, was an understatement. Her pulse was as a rabbit's, making her way into the school's library. She pushed open the door, first only poking in her head, before taking a full step into the room.

"Lydia?" she called again, to no answer. "Lydia, I'm getting really worried. Are you in here?"

It was clear then that the room was in fact empty. There was no way Lydia wouldn't answer Sydney's call. Her shoulders slumped as she huffed out a sigh. She'd been searching for at least fifteen minutes and still no sign of her other half. Calling it quits on this room, she turned to leave. Her heart shot into her throat, her feet shuffling back a few panicked steps, as her eyes landed on a form standing not far from her.

It was a form she recognized. After the initial split second of panic, she exhaled, letting her muscles relax. "Matt, gosh, you scared me," she chuckled, a bit awkwardly from the anxiety. "What are you doing in here? The dance is in the gym."

"I was just about to ask you the same thing, actually," he answered, casually taking a step forward.

Sydney's eyes flickered down momentarily, taking note of his proximity, and took a step back as she replied, "I'm looking for Lydia."

"All by yourself?" Matt questioned, sarcastically unbelieving. "What if something happened to you?"

"It's the High School, not Eichen House. I think I can manage on my own, thank you." It was incredibly disconcerting, his slow steps toward her as she quickly stepped backward. The hair on the nape of her neck stood at attention in the worst way. Squaring her shoulders, she held her chin up. "I'm leaving now."

Sydney sidestepped and made it one stride, one stride before a hand gripped tightly to her upper arm, stopping her. "Whoa, whoa- slow down. What's the hurry for?" Matt asked, rhetorically. He was now closer to her than she'd ever wanted him to be.

"Let go of me," she calmly demanded, giving a tug of her arm.

His grip kept her a moment longer. "Come on, we're just talking."

"I- I need to find Lydia- let go of me," she raised her voice this time, tugging hard. Her arm slipped loose and she stumbled backward toward the door, her lower back bumping into a table. The hit to the table knocked over a lamp, causing a somewhat loud noise. Matt took a step toward her as she righted the turned over lamp. Movement at the corner of her eye caused her to instinctively raise her left hand, swinging whatever was in it.

What was in her hand happened to be her high heels. A heel dug across the side of Matt's face and he cried out, stumbling backward. Sydney gasped in a breath, her heart refusing to leave its comfortable position in her throat, and she ran. She dropped her heels and ran, through the library doors, and to the left down the hallway. "Sydney! Where are you going?" Matt's voice echoed after her, only causing her to run faster.

She shoved herself through the first available doors, launching herself into a stumble across the indoor pool deck. Sydney recovered before she could face-plant. Her feet carried her in a fast paced walk along the length of the pool. The aim was to reach the locker room door on the other side before he caught up to her. But, as usual, she fell short of that expectation. "There you are," Matt said, his voice booming in the practically empty room, as he stepped in through the doors.

"Stay away from me!" Sydney whirled, walking backward now, and held up a hand as if to ward him off.

"Sydney. Come on," Matt gave her a look, starting toward her—rather quickly. "It's me you're talking to. We're friends, remember?"

"Friends? You helped me with my math homework one time- that does not make us friends. Especially not with you chasing me!"

Matt's eyebrows furrowed, "Chasing you? I'm just trying to talk to you."

"You're sick, Matt! Just stay away- whoa-!" Sydney's right ankle caught on the railing by the ladder into the pool and she stumbled back a step, turning to catch herself on the silver hand holds. It just barely stopped her from falling into the pool inches away. She gasped as she felt hands grab her from behind, turn her around, slam her back into the wall feet from the pool. "What? You think I'm not good enough for you?" Matt sneered.

Sydney shrunk back as far as she could. "Get off of me!"

She writhed in the iron grip on her upper arms. In a jolt of frustration, Matt let her go with a shove, causing her to stumble forward. This time, she couldn't catch herself. Instead, she fell to the ground, the right side of her forehead meeting the tile beside the pool drain. It all went dark for a second, but she cried out from the pain of a fiery sting. No. It wasn't a cry, it was a whimper. A whimper was all she could physically manage.

Sydney's head swirled as she tried to get her bearings. It felt like she were being tossed about on a vast ocean of numbness right there on solid ground. Matt stepped over to her and gripped her arms, yanking her up to her feet. "Please! Please, please...stop, please- stop this," she mumbled, audibly wincing from the sudden movement.

"I just want to talk to you- but no! You're too good for that. I should've expected that from the Martin twins. Both just a pair of pretentious-"

"Matt, please!" She pushed, as she struggled against him, and it was only aggravating. It elicited a sharp hit to the jaw with a pair of knuckles. The force rocketed her to the left, out of his grasp, and down again. This time, her head hit hard against the edge of the pool before her body fell in, water splashing up around her from the weight. Red oozed from the back of her head and the side of her forehead. Its color polluted the immediate water around her in seconds.

Slowly, it was spreading. Sydney floated there in what seemed to be a kind of suspended animation. She didn't feel it, the moment the life left her body. All she knew was a pitch blackness the moment her head hit the edge of the pool. Now her unmoving lungs filled with chlorine infested water and her blood-oozing body was slowly moving to the surface. Matt realized then just what he'd done. It had not been his intention.

Hurting her, touching her, killing her. None of it. He shook his head in disbelief. He blinked, but the scene never changed. A bubble of guilt popped in his stomach, turning everything it touched sour. With round eyes and a heartbeat faster than a rabbit's, Matt back pedaled and turned on his heel, sprinting for the exit. As the door slammed shut behind him, there was nothing. It was silent across the vastness of the pool room. Blood—also suspended in its own right—coated most of the water within a four foot radius of Sydney's body. She'd slowly been rising since she landed in the water.

As her nose and mouth broke the water's surface, her lungs inflated ever so slightly. She was too damaged to move, even if she could. So she lay still there in a paralyzation of pain and disorientation. Then she heard it. A voice, quiet and muffled. With the water filling her ears, it sounded like someone was yelling into a Solo cup. Little did she know, it was Stiles. Little did she know, he'd been looking for her for over half an hour after getting back to the school from the hospital. She had no knowledge of how long she'd been dead.

All Sydney knew, was that she felt immense pain and it happened seconds ago. Stiles pushed through the pool room doors, sighing heavily as he once again found no sign of Sydney. He couldn't put his finger on it, but something made him stop. He stood there a moment, on the edge of turning around, frozen in an anxious uncertainty. Something caught his eye—a flash of color. A color that didn't belong in a High School swimming pool. Or any pool for that matter.

He took slow, cautious steps forward, his heart beating hard against his rib cage. Then he saw her. Her form came into view, floating in amongst the red water filling a good part of the swimming pool. His pulse skyrocketed in a split second of disbelief and shock. Then he was moving. "Syd? Sydney!" His body lurched into a sprint. He didn't stop, either. He leapt off the edge of the pool, diving into the bloody waters without a care for its cleanliness.

Stiles wrapped an arm around her to lift her head fully above the surface. "Sydney? Syd- come on…" He swam them to the edge, maneuvering her up onto the concrete before climbing out of the pool. Stiles's hands pushed back the wet hair draped across her face, then slid down to rest on her cheeks, lifting her face. "Sydney, baby, come on- wake up. Wake up! Please, wake up." She was a gruesome sight—grossly pale skin, partially blue lips, red covering the good majority of the top of her head.

His heart was beating too fast, his lungs working too hard. Stiles was a ball of anxiety, but now he felt a dizzying sickness threatening to overtake him. Jackson pushed through the doors to the pool room just then, skidded to a quick halt due to the scene before him. He looked on in horror with wide eyes. "Oh my-"

"Call nine-one-one!" Stiles shouted at him, only taking his eyes off Sydney's face for a short moment. "Go! Get help!"

Jackson slowly backed up, turning only to push right back through the doors in his anxious burst of speed. Stiles looked down at Sydney. She was an ungodly cold temperature against his warm fingertips. Stiles jolted as her chest expanded suddenly, retracting with a burst of a sputtering cough. He quickly helped her roll to her side and she coughed up many small spurts of water. "Sydney- oh thank goodness," Stiles exhaled, though his body was still racing with adrenaline.

Sydney was panting, taking in deep gulps of air. The voice she could manage was small, "...Stiles...?"

"Yeah, Syd, it's okay- I'm here," he assured her. He was shaking, his body slow to catch up with his mind in the turn of events. Sydney was still blood-soaked. Her dress was now a ghastly shade of orange-red, and her black looking hair was shimmering red at the top. She felt so weak. So numb, yet so much pain. Her fingers gripped at his wrist, desperate for something to hold onto, desperate for something to cling to to keep her mind from running away with her.

Stiles slid his arm under her, the other wrapping around her front, and he hefted her up and pulled her left side against his chest. Though her eyes remained closed, she was acutely attuned to the world outside. Her body trembled—and it wasn't from the cold. Stiles held onto her tightly, her head lolling against his shoulder, and sat there with her until paramedics arrived.

Sydney sighed through her nose, turning yet another page of Milton's Paradise Lost. It was one of her favorites. Her mother had brought it for her the second day she'd been awake. She'd only been conscious for three, unconscious for two. She no longer had bandages, the doctors even said she might be able to get home in time for school next week, but they also said she needed to stay a little while longer just for observation.

The IV in her arm was beginning to itch, though. She readjusted her position, trying to ignore the urge to scratch it. "Sydney, honey?" Mrs. Martin poked her head in a second, before stepping in fully. "There's someone here to see you—a Stiles Stilinski?"

Sydney perked up a bit at that, putting down the book. "Let him in."

Mrs. Martin held open the door, stepping back, and Stiles walked into the room. He wore jeans and a puffy vest/hoodie combo, a small white box in one hand and a balloon ribbon wrapped around the other. The balloon bobbing in the air above his head touched the top of the door frame briefly as he entered. It was a rich coral pink, with an orange goldfish sporting a cast on his leg with a crutch beneath his arm. GET WELL SOON was written on the blue above him.

Sydney smiled as brightly as she could, though she still looked weak and tired. Mrs. Martin stepped out, closing the door behind her, and Stiles took slow steps toward the left side of the bed, closest to him. "Hey," he smiled a bit.

"Hey," she replied, trying to uplift her tone. She jutted her chin at him, "What's in the box?"

"Open it," he resigned, holding out the box to her.

One eyebrow rose in curiosity and she snatched the box from his hand, setting it in her lap before easing open the lid. Plump, deep red strawberries covered in chocolate—some adorned with nuts or white chocolate stripes—lay in three lines of four inside. Sydney's mouth dropped open as her eyes swiftly moved up to Stiles's face. "You didn't," she gaped.

"I did," he smiled.

"From Shelly's?"

Stiles nodded, smile growing from her reaction, "Mm hm."

Sydney dropped back into her hospital pillows with a sound of contentment. "You're my hero," she said, as Stiles laughed. She shifted to the left a bit and he eased himself onto the edge of the bed. "Seriously though...you kind of are my hero."

"Wha- no, no. I didn't do anything you wouldn't have done for me," he waved it away, making a pfft.

"Liar," Sydney smirked, plucking one of the strawberries from the box. "Want one?"

Stiles's eyebrows furrowed, "I can't, they're your present."

"Come on, you know you want to..." she waved the strawberry in front of his face.

He groaned after a second, caving in with a toss of his eyes as he snatched the chocolate and nut covered berry from her fingers. Sydney smiled, reaching into the box for another, as he took most of the strawberry into his mouth with one bite. She took a bite of hers, momentarily closing her eyes as she sighed through her nose. There was no hospital food on this earth that could possibly compare to chocolate covered strawberries.

They sat in silence for a moment, both enjoying their sweet berries. After her third, Sydney sat back a second, her eyes moving to Stiles. Bits and pieces of the night of the winter formal were still very fuzzy in her mind. But there was something she couldn't get out of her head, something that had nagged at her, peaked her curiosity ever since she first woke up in the hospital. "You called me baby," she blurted, looking down at the berries as she plucked another.

Stiles's muscles became as rigid as a metal beam. He almost choked on the current bite of strawberry in his mouth, just barely getting it down without making a scene. He took in a shaky breath. "Uh...what?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow.

Sydney looked up at him, "When you pulled me out, you called me baby."

"I- I did? Huh, that's...that's so weird. You know, I think sometimes when your brain hasn't gotten enough oxygen for a certain amount of time, you kind of hear stuff, you know?" Stiles was quick to stammer an excuse, and Sydney nodded slowly with slightly narrowed eyes as he only made a fool of himself further. "Like, your mind kind of plays tricks on you and makes you think you heard something when…you didn't."

"Uh huh..." Sydney exhaled, eyes shooting down to the box in her lap. That wasn't the outcome she'd hoped for. Stiles inwardly kicked himself in the face, displeased with the turnout as well. A sudden shrill scream pierced their ears, causing both pulses to skyrocket, both their bodies jolting in surprise. The scream was close by, and very feminine. Sydney's heart leapt into her throat. "Lydia?" her eyes were wide. "That's Lydia!"

Stiles shot to his feet, darted for the door, "Just stay here, okay? Don't move!"

He threw the words over his shoulder as he skidded through the door and barreled toward Lydia's room across the hall. Sydney's chest was quickly becoming a bubble of anxiety preparing to pop. She pushed off the white box, along with her blanket, and swung her legs off the side of the bed. Her fingertips found the needle in her arm and they tugged at it, desperately pulling it out of her skin in one swift yank. She was up and walking fast, right through the open door.

She broke into a run, seeing Lydia's door open, both her parents and Stiles inside. Sydney ran straight in through the door. Her father quickly wrapped his arms around her to stop her, causing her to jerk forward a bit from her previous speed before relaxing back against his chest. "Sydney! Syd, sweetheart, what are you doing up?" he questioned, worriedly.

"Sydney..." Mrs. Martin looked at her with disapproval.

"Where's Lydia?" Sydney was frantically searching, her eyes moving quickly all around the room, and not finding her sister anywhere. "Where is she?"

"We don't know, Syd. She's gone missing," her father broke the news.

Sydney's chest was heaving to keep up with the rapid need for fresh oxygen, her pulse like a rabbit's. Her worry only increased, and it felt as though she almost couldn't breathe, looking up at her father in disbelief. "What? How could she be missing- she was right here!"

"Sydney, honey, let's get you back to bed, alright?" Mrs. Martin suggested, taking Sydney's form by the shoulders. She couldn't put her finger on it. Maybe it was the tone she used. Maybe it was the tightness to her grip. Maybe it was the placement of her hands. She couldn't tell. But Sydney thrusted herself backward in a jolt, almost shrieking, "Don't touch me! Get away from me!"

Her back hit the door frame to the room. Another wave of panic hit her then. It felt like she was being shoved into the pool room wall. This time, she actually shrieked, sidestepping to the left to maneuver away from it, her hands up and covering her face as she back pedaled into the hallway. Her distraught parents called to her, tried to talk her down, but she wasn't responding to any of it. She only batted them away in terror.

Stiles felt helpless, watching her parents try their hardest to get through to her. He knew it wasn't working. All he could see was an unpleasant ending for everyone involved in this scenario. In a last-minute decision, he took a step forward, "Sydney? Hey, Sydney, listen to me. It's Stiles."

Sydney's eyes darted left and right, before settling on the ground. Her chest still heaved, her lungs working too hard, causing a dizziness. At the sound of his voice, she forced herself to look up. To show him there was a part of her trapped deep within her that was in fact lucid, that was in fact listening and responding. The rest of her was a scatter-brained anxiety attack. Stiles stepped out of the room, easing his way up beside her parents, a foot away from her.

"Syd, take a deep breath, okay? Can you do that?" he asked, keeping his voice calm. She closed her eyes, but nodded quickly. Mrs. McCall and the Sheriff stood just down the hall, watching, waiting for the need to step in. "Good...okay, Sydney? I need you to take my hand. Take my hand, Sydney." Stiles held out his hand toward her. She opened her eyes, settling her gaze on his palm. Her hand raised, reached out, but retracted as she shook her head, stepping back.

She quickly shook her head in indecision, breathing too quickly. The dizziness was clouding everything. The memories assaulting her were clouding everything. There was no mental clarity she could grasp onto, nothing other than his voice. "It's going to be okay, I promise," Stiles continued to try, desperate now.

"I can't- Stiles, I can't," she looked apologetic, as her cheeks began to glisten in the bright hospital light.

"Yes, you can," he urged, taking another step to gain the ground he'd lost. His hand remained outstretched. "Take my hand and don't let go. I won't let go." Sydney was teetering on the edge of agreeing and falling into a completely chaotic state of mind. She reached out again, and Stiles inched forward, trying to coax her into it a little more.

Finally, her fingers touched his, and his hand encircled hers with a firm but soft grip. Her shoulders dropped as she exhaled sharply. The anxiety and fear were crippling, bringing a sob up her throat and out her mouth. Sydney lurched forward, wrapped her arms around Stiles, clinging to him as though he were the only thing keeping her sane. Because, in that moment, he was.