Title: Delirium
Author: Dantzi Jean 
E-Mail: phantom_lass@hotmail.comphantom_lass@hotmail.com 
Disclaimer: If they belonged to me this kind of stuff would have been happening a LONG time ago.
Spoilers: Teeny tiny one for Pilot
Rating: PG (none of the good stuff)
Keywords: MSR, MA, V, MPOV 
Summary: Some daring things are said while one is sleeping.
Archive: Anywhere just e-mail me first for permission and my name stays on it. 



    I was driving her apartment, we were supposed to discuss a case, lately we’d been disagreeing on too many points and not agreeing on anything, it promised to be a very stress-filled evening. I’d brought a  pizza, as a sort of peace offering, and the smell of the enticing sauce and spices were making my mouth water, I could just taste the peppers and mushrooms on that delectable slice right now, the anticipation of that one sumptuous bite was causing me to drive faster. 
    I knocked on the white door to her apartment. There was no answer from within. I knocked again--no answer. “Scully?” I called out in case she had still not heard my knocks. I placed the pizza on the floor and flipped open my key ring, I knew she was supposed to be home, she probably just went out to get some of her much needed caffeine. 
   "Scully?"  I said again, and walked in to her apartment. I placed the pizza and the candy cane striped files on the table, neglected for the moment. I scanned the room and there was still not sign of my partner. "Scully?" I called, getting anxious. And again there was no answer from her still and silent apartment. I walked a little further in to her sanctuary, not really wanting to leave the pizza for much longer, seeing as how I skipped lunch that afternoon.
    I walked into her bedroom and I saw her. She was asleep and I smiled almost as if a reflex at seeing her looking so childlike on the bedcovers. She was lying on her side with a hand resting underneath her cheek, the blankets only covered her feet, and a book lay beside her on the bed. I moved toward her intending on waking her, and in doing so I noticed the dark circles beneath her eyes. I had pushed us rather hard that week, and though she never said anything to assent her exhaustion, I saw it in her movements, the way she stretched her neck when it was too stiff or the limp shoulders at the end of the day, and now the dark circles under her eyes told me she needed her rest. I tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear, feeling the warm silky smoothness of her skin. But something as amiss, she was too warm, her flesh was heated to the touch, as if feverish. I noticed the reddish tint to her skin. I felt her cheek for a second time and it felt even warmer then before, she was burning up. I grabbed her waist and her knees and carried her, she was ill and she needed a doctor.

 

                               ***

 

 

    The memory of the night I had found her was branded in my mind the fear and pain at knowing she was sick. I took her to the hospital, the doctors in the ER took one look at the ruddy color of her skin and admitted her. The doctor explained the diagnosis to me but my attention was on her not on the rambling physician. I sat by her bed and held her hand and talked to her, mostly I told her nothing, if only to let her know she was not alone. 
    After the third day, the fever had not weakened and she had not regained conciousness, the doctor told me she was very ill and could develop delirium as a result of the fever. I was so outraged that he could even mention the word. Scully could never blindly ramble about nothing in a mindless daze. Never! 
    Despite my thoughts by that evening it had happened, she was delirious, and I was powerless in the face of it. I sat by her bed in the uncomfortable hospital chairs and held her hand and gazed at her prone form lying still on the bed. I guess I must have drifted off because I woke to a movement under the blankets. Hope surged within me, at the movement, hoping that she would awaken and ask the time and we would laugh, and then she could go home. But I looked up only to find her still in the fever. 
   "Mulder." I heard and stiffened, wondering if I had dreamed the word, I clutched her hand tighter. 
   "I am here, Scully." I answered her. 
    She mumbled something unintelligible, and I had to lean close to catch a whisper. "Must not tell him..." 
   "Tell who? What?" I asked, even though I knew she was most likely out of her head. To see Scully, who was so sharp and intelligent reduced to raving made my throat tighten. 
   "Must not tell Mulder," she muttered growing agitated. 
    My mind raced at thoughts of what this dark secret could possibly be. Would this new discovery disclose some perfidy about Scully? 
    Scully tossed her head back and forth against the pillow, and I put a hand to her damp forehead to calm her. 
   "He could never..." 
   "What?" 
   "You must not tell him, mom." 
    She thought she was talking to her mother. A nagging of my conscience told me to stop listening and walk out of the room but I couldn't do that. My arms and legs would not obey me and I couldn't do that to her. 
    "You must promise not to tell him, mother," she whispered fiercely grabbing my arm. 
   "Promise me!" 
    Her ravaged face took on an expression of such urgency that I pressed her hand to my chest. "I promise," I whispered. 
    She relaxed at these words and turned her head away. Desperate to 
keep her talking, even if it was only in ravings, I gripped her hand tightly. "What is it, my dear? What must I not tell anyone?" 
    For a long moment she did not respond. Then I heard her voice in the barest of soft replies. "You must not tell Mulder." 
   "Tell him what?" 
   "Do not tell him--" she moved again, her lashes fluttering to reveal tears pooling in the corners of her once so vivid eyes "--I love him." 
      Stunned into silence by this admission, I let her slip back into her dreams, and I didn't wake her again that night. I could not move; I stayed bent over her, my hand holding hers. Then I noticed that her hand was suddenly wet with tears. Tears that were not hers. 


    I lost all track of time, that night. I heard an orderly come in to the room but I paid no attention to her. 
    She was dying. I had to face it. I thought of the first time I had met her. I had wanted to get rid of her, fast. She kept up with me and challenged me with her vitality, her passion, and stubbornness. I smiled at the last one. I could not picture my life without her. 
    I could not bear it any longer. With and angry bellow I turned away from her and I did not see the frail creature in the bed but the untamed spirit that lay within. "Don't you think you can get away from me that easy, Scully!" I shouted. "You will *not* die! I've told you before and I mean it! Do you hear me?!" 
    I raised my fists in the air "I will not let you leave me. Scully, you WILL NOT die!" 
    I no longer worried about disturbing her slumber, but I seemed determined to wake her. I paced the room ranting like a madman, it was a wonder they didn't lock me up on the spot. I felt determined, by the very force of my will, to make her live, even if it meant I must die for it. 


    I thought I was dreaming. But I blinked and the vision remained. Blue eyes, wary yet clear, studied me. And the soft sound of my name flitted to my consciousness. Rolling onto my back, I realized that I was lying next to Scully in her hospital bed. I, still fully clothed and she under the covers. I was confused and then I glanced at her. Scully! 
    I sat up abruptly "Scully?" 
   "Hmm?" she looked at me and I felt as if I might burst of the emotions that swept through me. 
    She was awake. 
    She was alive. 
    And she loved me. 



END