Dreamcatcher 15
Ally

Eeazy Sleep Motel, Cleveland, Ohio May 4th 1999 7:14p.m.

Scully made it to the small, cramped bathroom just in time before her stomach rebelled and let go of its precarious hold on the remnants of her lunch.

Vaguely aware of Mulder's hand on her back, she retched and retched until she was afraid she would never stop. What little undigested food had remained in her stomach had long since disappeared into the murky depths of the porcelain bowl, and now her back ached painfully as the spasms continued.

Tears ran down her face unchecked and, collecting at her jaw line, dripped steadily to form a salty pool around the rim of the toilet. Her breathing was harsh, ragged as she attempted to gulp in enough air to alleviate the pain in her chest.

And throughout it all she was almost oblivious to her partner's hovering presence.

Mulder, however, was horrified by what he was witnessing. More horrified still by the fact that until Scully got control of herself, there was little more he could do but kneel on the cold, hard tile behind her and stay with her.

He found he was unable to drag his eyes away from the blistered surface of her hand, wincing as she gripped the edges of the toilet, the increased pressure causing several of the blisters to pop, releasing a clear fluid that shone in the harsh, bright light.

What the hell had happened to her? It was almost as though she had gotten burnt or scalded by something. But he couldn't reconcile this. Up until ten minutes ago, she had been sleeping peacefully against him, nestled in the blanket he himself had wrapped around her earlier in the evening. There had been nothing, *nothing* near them that could have caused such an injury. He had held her against him, comforted by the sound of her even breathing as she slept, allowing his thoughts to wander, growing deliciously sleepy himself in the soft orange light.

Until all hell had broken loose.

It had started with a small, childlike whimper that had alerted him instantly that she was having another nightmare, and his immediate response had been to tighten his arms around her.

Mistake number one.

She had bolted upright and fought against him with all the ferocity of a she-cat, and Mulder had been awed by the strength that had emanated from his tiny partner. She had clawed at his face, her nails scraping the skin beneath them.

Mistake number two had been to release his hold on her.

In her haste to get away from whatever horror was gripping her, she had scrambled backward, arms flailing as she caught him with a right hook across the temple before falling in a tangle of arms and legs to the floor.

He had winced when he heard her head connect with the floor beneath. And then an eerie silence had descended as she opened her eyes, fastened her gaze on the damage she had inflicted on his face, and gone so white that Mulder had been sure she was going to lapse into unconsciousness for the second time that day.

Watching her now from his uncomfortable position on the bathroom floor, as she finally dropped her head to rest against her arms which were now crossed before her, he was becoming afraid of the same thing.

"Mulder..."

Her voice was muffled, but he heard her plea nonetheless, and reached forward to draw her against him. He wrapped his arms around her, over her shaking shoulders to cross over beneath her breasts. There was no resistance left in her.

Where was the woman with the spine of steel that over time he had begun to love with the same ferocity as he respected her? In her place was a shadow. A weak, trembling shadow who lay bonelessly against him. And he was frightened. God, he was so frightened.

He could feel the heat radiating off her skin, even through the layers of clothing that separated them, and gently, he brought his palm up to rest on her damp forehead, swallowing heavily as the heat burned him. She whimpered again at his touch, but didn't move as he drew her closer to him. With her head resting beneath his chin, he breathed in the lingering scent of her earlier shampoo. Almonds mixed with the sharp, tangy aroma of her fear.

"Sssshhhhhh. It's OK. I'm here."

She was crying again. Even without the benefit of sight and sound, he knew that the tears dripped from her eyes. He could sense it. Could *feel* it.

"I'm gonna throw up again..." she murmured brokenly, weakly attempting to pull herself out of his arms.

Mulder resisted her efforts gently. "No, you aren't. It's OK. Just try to breathe, Scully. You need to control your breathing. Just try to relax, OK?"

Keeping one hand wrapped around her, Mulder brought the other up to frame her face. Holding her head in place against him, smoothing her tangled hair with his thumb, he dropped a kiss on the crown of her head.

"Just close your eyes and breathe with me. Can you do that?"

A tentative nod, and he felt her eyelashes brush against his thumb as she did as requested. He concentrated on clamping down on his fear, forced himself to ride this out with her, until finally the shuddering gasps ceased and she matched him, breath for breath, heartbeat for heartbeat as she finally calmed.

Mulder remained motionless for a few more minutes, until he was confident that the crisis had passed for the moment, and then he spoke once again.

"Let's get you out of here. Can you stand?"

Another tentative nod and she allowed him to help her to her feet, leaning against him heavily as her shaking legs threatened to thwart her efforts in reaching a standing position. The minute she was upright, Mulder stepped to the side and bent slightly. Catching her under her knees he lifted her easily and cradled her firmly against him like a child, marveling, not for the first time, at just how fragile she really was. Maybe sheer worry was clouding his perceptions, but right now she seemed almost weightless. Lying in his arms, she displayed an almost unheard of acceptance of her current situation.

Special Agent Dana Scully - the same woman who had faced down innumerable threats to her life - displaying a tired resignation, a *need* that Mulder had never seen before.

Oh yeah. He was scared all right.

But he forced himself to concentrate on doing what was needed right now. The worrying could come later.

Crossing the threshold of the two rooms, he carried her slowly toward the bed, conscious to keep his movements gentle, aware of her damaged hand. He lowered her onto the bed's surface and pulled the already turned down covers up to her chest. And all the while, she followed his movements with dull, half closed eyes, only wincing once when he inadvertently brushed her hand with one of the soft blankets. He frowned in response to her gasp of pain, and immediately spun around and disappeared once more into the bathroom. Listening to the sound of running water, Scully wasn't surprised when he re-emerged clutching a hastily wrung out towel in his hand.

Perching at the edge of the mattress, he reached for her injured fingers and carefully, so as to avoid causing her more pain, wrapped the material loosely around them.

"This should help a little."

Almost instantly, the coolness of the water brought relief to her burning skin and Scully closed her eyes gratefully for a second. "Thank you."

The bed creaked slightly as he shifted his weight, reaching across her and catching hold of her other hand. Almost against her will she felt her fingers curling around his, holding onto him as though for life itself.

"I want to take you to the hospital," he stated softly.

Scully's eyes widened and she snatched her hand from his. "NO!"

Surprised by the sudden vehemence in her tone, Mulder recoiled slightly. On seeing his reaction, Scully fought against the fear that hovered on the surface, threatening to consume her, and once more reached out for him.

She didn't even pretend to know what was happening to her, but the memories of the dream were vivid. Replaying over and over in her mind in glorious Technicolor every time she allowed herself to think about them.

And somehow, she knew that she was the key to everything. That as crazy as it sounded, she might be the only one able to bring this nightmare to an end. She had to make him understand. Had to make him start thinking logically about this case again. To shift the focus away from how she was feeling. To bring it back on to the *why* she was feeling it.

"No hospitals, Mulder. Please. I don't need a hospital."

He wasn't happy. She could see it in every fiber of his being, but she sensed she was getting through to him when he hesitated before speaking.

"Your hand..."

Scully shook her head and forced herself to look at the blistered, swollen mess that had inexplicably taken up residence at the end of her slim wrist. "It's OK. I can treat it. *You* can treat it. It looks worse than it is. First and second degree burns. I have everything with me that I need. A hospital wouldn't be able to do anything more than we can do here."

She watched as her words registered, watched as her partner raged an internal battle with himself, until finally, despite the clouds that still darkened his face, he nodded wearily. "OK. I'll go fetch your bag."

He rose to leave, but Scully called him back before he reached the connecting door. "Mulder?"

"Yeah?"

She took a deep breath. "When you're done, there's something I have to tell you."

He opened his mouth to ask her, but something in her expression told him she wasn't yet ready. She needed the space to get her thoughts together and besides, her injury needed tending to first. So instead, he just nodded slightly and turned into the adjoining room.

She watched him go, listened to the sound of him locating and picking up the rental car keys. The small but well-stocked bag of medical supplies she always carried with them was still locked in the trunk. It was just easier that way, especially since most injuries they had ever received had occurred while out in the field. Of course there were always exceptions, she concluded wryly.

Scully let her head sink back into the softness of the pillows. God, she was tired. So damn tired. But to fall asleep now would spell disaster.

{I'll just close my eyes for a second.}

She was dimly aware of her eyelids fluttering closed.

{I'm not going to sleep. Just closing my eyes...}

And she drifted.

When Mulder returned five minutes later, medical bag in hand, Scully was gone.

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