Peter had bandaged her up as best he could. He'd called for an ambulance, but he'd basically been told that there was zero chance of getting one anytime soon; people all over town were being attacked, and he was low on the queue. He'd yelled at the phone, but got nothing more than the dial tone yelling back.
Beth hadn't had much in the way of potion ingredients, not that Peter was certain how to go about making an antidote for heavy metal toxicity. He'd Apparated back to his flat and dug up a bezoar, purchased during the days when he was paranoid about someone finding him and trying to kill him, and then hurried back. He was afraid to leave her alone, afraid of having her wake up and not have him there. In his haste he'd splinched all the hair off of one arm.
Peter popped back into the room just as she spoke. "You're awake? Good." He knelt down and swept her hair out of her face. She wasn't looking well, but nor was she looking any worse. "Here, take this." He slipped the bezoar between her lips. "I think it will help. I hope."