Dreamcatcher 23
Ally

St Mary's Hospital. Cleveland Ohio. May 7th 1999 11:01p.m.

Something was different. Even as Mulder struggled to regain his senses he knew. For one thing he could hear voices, vague and distorted but voices nonetheless, surrounding him as they melded together. The words not yet discernible they just buzzed irritatingly inside his head, constant, impossible to ignore.

He was aware of the heavy sheets that weighted down his aching body, starched clean sheets that in normal circumstances might have been comforting but that now seemed constricting. Binding even.

And, as he came further towards the surface, something else struck him.

The *smell* here was all wrong. A strong scent of antiseptic and cleaning fluid. An unmistakable scent.

The scent of medicines. Of hospitals.

Absurdly pleased that he had been able to make the connection, Mulder attempted to open his eyes. But the heaviness persisted, dragging him down. Refusing to free him. It wasn't time yet. He knew that. So despite himself he allowed himself to drift once again, to block out the voices that seemed closer suddenly. More familiar as they whispered his name. But the one voice that might have prompted him to throw off the chains that bound him in unconsciousness was Scully's. And she wasn't among them.

**********

He was unsure as to how much time had passed when the voices returned. But they seemed clearer. He was able to separate one from the other. Could hear them clearly beside him. One in particular was becoming increasingly familiar.

"He's coming out of it."

It was enough to prompt him to ease his eyes open, surprised suddenly by the pain that accompanied the action. His whole head ached. From his jaw line to his crown it was encompassed in an all consuming hurt that made the images before him swirl together in a blurring mass as he fought to hold on to consciousness. The effort became almost too much as his hands found their way to the stainless steel tubular bars that were attached to the side of the bed. Their use in the main to prevent the patient from falling, but now Mulder curled his fingers around them as he pulled himself to the side, turning his head as a wave of nausea overtook him. The room tilted crazily, reminding him of long forgotten fairground rides from his childhood. Back then it had been fun.

Nothing fun about it now though as the nausea gave way to painful retching, each action threatening to tear his already aching head apart with the violence of the spasms. Under normal circumstances Mulder might have felt embarrassed by the fact that he was puking like a kid who had over indulged in cheap vino, especially in front of his superior Agent, but right now it didn't even cross his mind. Because right now he just wanted it to stop.

A hand on his shoulder, reassuringly solid.

"Take it easy Mulder it's okay." And then that same voice, hardening with authority as he shouted to some unseen presence in the room. "Get a Doctor in here right now."

Mulder's hand left it's position on the bars, groping the air, trying to connect with Skinner, who for some reason seemed to be wavering back and forth in front of him. Eventually he gave up and dropped his head back on to the comforting softness of the pillow again, closing his eyes in an attempt to block out the pain. His voice, when it came sounded alien even to him.

"Scully...where is she?"

He didn't hear Skinner's answer. Barely even acknowledged the fact that the words had left his mouth before the room once more began to spin sickeningly. Before the sounds around him were replaced with the buzzing as everything went dark again.

The next time he awoke there were no voices. Just softly muted sounds that suggested to him that it was night. He'd spent enough time in hospitals to know that the sounds never really *ceased*. They simply became quieter in deference to the hour as voices were lowered to hushed whispers and the only sounds to shatter the silence were those of patients crying out in the night or of the occasional muted footsteps that passed by on the corridors beyond.

Mulder kept his eyes closed, breathing evenly until he felt it was time to attempt to open them again. When he did he felt dizzy, out of himself somehow, as though his head had been stuffed with cotton wool. But that was okay because it blocked out the pain he had experienced earlier. His hand ached and he gingerly brought it up so that it was in his field of vision, realising that the source of the ache belonged to a plastic IV tube that snaked in to the back of his hand and around his wrist to carry on upwards. He followed the tubing with his eyes until he discovered it's source. A plastic bag of clear fluid that he guessed was probably a combination of saline and pain relief. Morphine maybe. That would certainly account for the heavy feeling he was experiencing.

He discovered that keeping his hand aloft was just too much effort and he allowed it to drop, catching the IV line as he did so. Pain flared briefly around the area and he groaned involuntarily.

Before he had even finished, the voice reached him.

"Mulder?"

Almost simultaneously Skinner's face appeared beside him, concerned, relieved and so damn tired looking.

"How are you feeling?"

Mulder shrugged.

"How do I look?"

"The truth?" Skinner tipped his head on one side as he regarded the younger man beside him. "You look like shit."

Mulder shrugged, wincing as he did so.

"There's your answer then." His eyes narrowed as he allowed his gaze to scan his surroundings.

"Where's Scully?"

Skinner swallowed heavily, wanting to put off the inevitable but knowing that it would be like trying to hold back the wind. Mulder had a right to know. he *needed* to know. But that didn't make it any easier. For the last few hours he had divided his time unevenly between his two agents, spending the majority of time at Mulder's bedside. Understanding the futility of remaining with Scully while she was in her present condition. He also realised that no such rationale would prevent Mulder from going to her. During the hours he had spent here Skinner had concocted and discarded a dozen different ways to break the news to Mulder in a way that might prevent him from leaving his bed immediately and heading off to find her. He knew there was no easy answer. That whatever he said, Mulder would do just as he damn well pleased. It was a pattern he had become accustomed to over the years. So instead, he cleared his throat and decided on a direct approach.

"She's up in the ICU."

Before the words were fully out of his mouth he watched Mulder react in exactly the way he had known he would and he shot out a hand that connected solidly with Mulder's chest to prevent him from sitting up. For a second, Mulder fought against him, but weakness and fatigue eventually won out as he allowed Skinner to push him backwards on to the pillows.

"Take it easy." He advised.

But he knew Mulder was beyond that. He had that look in his eyes that reminded Skinner of a rabbit caught in the headlights. Frantically seeking a means of escape. A way to get to her. Skinner often found himself wondering lately if there wasn't more to their partnership than mere professionalism. He also knew it was none of his business. Slowly, he removed his hand as Mulder relaxed slightly beneath him.

"The ICU?"

"Yes."

"Why? She was fine.......she was injured but........"

His voice trailed off.

"What's wrong with her?" he demanded finally.

Skinner sighed.

"I wish I could tell you. The medical personnel here don't have the first clue. When she....when you...*came back* she wasn't breathing..."

"WHAT?!"

Mulder pushed himself up again and this time Skinner didn't try to restrain him despite the beads of sweat that formed on his agents' forehead.

"What do you mean? She was *fine*."

Skinner shook his head.

"Well she isn't fine now Mulder. She's on life support and the way things are looking they don't expect..."

He cleared his throat, aware of Mulder's stricken statement, hating himself for having to be the one to deliver the news. Seniority sucked sometimes.

"They don't expect her to live through the night."

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