A/N: I've always loved the episode Nightmare, but that final sequence just gets me every time. I'm willing to cut TV some slack, but honestly, how could they possibly make such a glaring mistake (no light for Daniel, Becky, and Israel as they explored the back passageways) and yet have the Shawnee correctly take torches with them just a minute later? You either make the error with both and let fans write it up as a nit later, or you give both light. But you can't have it both ways. Caves are dark away from openings. There's a local one with a tour where they turn the lights off for a few seconds. You can't even see your hand in front of your face. Either the Boones should have asked the filming crews with camera lights just to one side for physical help, since they were already crossing into the episode and helping them out visually, or the Boone family was exhibiting super powers.
Anyway, here's a non-seeing-in-the-dark ending for Nightmare.
(DB)
Becky propped the rifle against the bluff wall and raced down the rough, rocky path. Israel was doing his best to hold his father on his feet and aim him for the cave, and Daniel was doing his best to stay upright himself, but she could see that Israel was almost contributing more to their progress, and that scared her.
She caught her husband, quickly ducking under his left arm and noticing the blood on the front of his shirt at the same time. He shifted his balance, leaning heavily against her and trying to spare Israel. Together, the three lurched up the path. She could feel Dan trembling, could feel his legs trying to give way. He was at the absolute limit of endurance.
She pushed on his back as they reached the entrance, helping him duck under the low roof of the passage, and heard his quickly stiffled hiss of pain. Her hand came away wet, and she realized for the first time that he had a bleeding wound on his back as well. Unknowingly, she had nailed it.
She was too lost in concern for remorse just then, though she would remember to feel it later. Dan was wobbling as they entered the cave, his body swaying as if in a strong wind, and she and her son carefully guided his collapse as she moved around to let his head land in her lap. He turned his head, revealing the wound on the left side of his face, and she touched it gently, assessing the bruising and the split skin. She reached for her petticoat to start stripping bandages and looked up at the same time at Israel.
"We were caught by some Shawnee," he explained. He seemed all right, though she could see the fear in his eyes as he looked at his father, along with a childhood expression of faith as he watched her. She heard the plea as if he had voiced it aloud. Fix him, Ma. You can make anything better. He's got to be all right with you tending him.
Dan was still conscious, but he wasn't even trying to minimize, and that frightened her more than anything else so far. This was bad, too bad for him to even pretend otherwise. She reached for his shirt, and he struggled to raise his head.
"Becky." His voice sounded weak and shaky. "The rifle."
Of course. She should have thought better of abandoning it, but she had only been able to think of reaching her struggling husband. But they were still in danger. Two Indians remained out there and wouldn't stay scared off for long.
"I'll get it," Israel volunteered. He ran out, and Becky moved Dan's shirt down. It was an arrow wound, and judging from the blood still on her hand from his back, it went clear through. It had at least been packed hastily with moss, but blood was still seeping out. She pressed the cloth against it the hole in his chest, and he couldn't help pulling back slightly, though he didn't make a sound.
"I'm sorry, Dan," she said, tears welling up. She furiously blinked them back down; time for that nonsense later once he was better and they were safe. "I've got to stop the . . ."
He raised his good hand, brushing it against her lips to silence her. "I know," he replied. His eyelids unwillingly slid shut.
Israel raced back into the chamber. "I couldn't get it," he said urgently. "They're coming!"
Dan, eyes again open, tried to sit up. "We need to get back further in the cave," he said. "There may be another way out."
Becky grabbed his arm to help haul him upright, but Israel was shaking his head. "There's not, Pa. I explored it when we first got here that afternoon while you were unloading the things I couldn't carry."
The family looked at each other, united in realization. They were cornered, they were trapped, and they were defenseless.
Dan tried to get up again anyway. "I can take at least one of them," he stated.
Becky shook her head, a few of the threatened tears spilling over. Never had she loved him more, but it just wasn't possible. He was in no condition for a fight. "You can't," she protested. She hugged him fiercely, jolting his injured shoulder as she pushed him back down onto the blanket. "You can't."
"I can't just . . . lie here . . . and let them kill us," he panted.
She looked around in desperation. Was there anything else? His gun was obviously lost somewhere. Hers was outside. The knife . . .
He followed her look and grabbed it from his boot. "I'll do my best," he said weakly. She helped him sit up a little, but she didn't offer to take it herself. Only he had the skill to make the knife a distance weapon. She suddenly remembered that there was another knife, a smaller one she used in food preparation.
"Israel," she whispered. A stone rattled on the path outside the entrance. "Get my food knife from the bag with the utensils." Not as long, as sharp, or as deadly, but she was sure if she had to, she could hit something that mattered.
Israel scampered to the far side of the chamber, rustling in the bags, and at that moment, the two remaining Indians came through the entrance. They were moving slowly, cautiously, and they had to bend over for that low stretch of ceiling.
Dan threw the knife with his good hand as they straightened back up. Becky heard his grunt of effort, felt every already-strained fiber in him give it everything he had, then felt him go slack. He passed out, falling back just as the chief did with Dan's knife buried to the hilt in his chest.
Becky helped cushion Dan's head, guiding him down slowly, as she and the last Indian looked at each other. He studied her, dismissed her, and turned his attention to her prone, motionless husband, raising his war ax.
Becky threw first using the only weapon left within her reach. She grabbed a blazing stick out of the fire in the middle of the chamber and hurled it straight at his face.
"Aiiieee!" The Shawnee's yelp of pain echoed off the rock walls. He dropped the war ax, clutching at his face blindly with both hands. His hair was sizzling. Becky grabbed another brand and erupted to her feet, ready to charge. It was at that moment that she felt Israel behind her, pushing the smaller knife into her hand. She threw the wood first, doubly ensuring that he was too occupied with pain to think again of going after Dan, and then she attacked. The knife plunged fully into his chest.
He choked and coughed, his breath going out in a rush, and he clutched at his chest with one hand while still exploring his seared face with the other. He was clearly badly hurt, but this wasn't instantly fatal, not like the chief. As he staggered back, Becky bent to get his war ax and followed up her first strike, and that time, she had no doubts of the immediate result. He gave one gurgle and was dead before he hit the ground.
Becky and Israel looked at each other, then at the two dead Indians. "Were there any more?" she asked.
He shook his head. "None left."
She sagged, the adrenaline of the fight going out of her in a rush. She and Israel both rushed to Dan's side. "Pa!" Israel looked at him anxiously.
Becky watched him breathing, slow and steady. "He's just unconscious, Israel. He's still alive. Could you bring me the small bag with the medical supplies?"
He hurried over and back, and she opened it up, surveying her selections. She brushed the hair away from his head injury again. "Israel, is he hurt bad enough to be bleeding anywhere else besides his head and his chest?" She would hold her own inspection later in detail, but in the first urgent analysis, he could help her prioritize.
"I don't think so. I hadn't seen anything." Israel shivered in memory. "He couldn't run once we got away. He kept falling over. But he said that was just from being tied up. His legs weren't bleeding. They had him all tied and stretched out so he couldn't move without choking."
Becky filed that mental image for reaction later, too. She took a quick scan herself and couldn't see blood anywhere else on his clothes. She resumed treating the arrow wound, which was bleeding a little more now from the exertions. Israel helped her roll Dan up on his side, and she put some cloths under the spot on his back, then let his weight come back down against them while she kept up pressure from the front. Hopefully, that would help stop the bleeding on both sides at the same time.
She had just finished treated his head injury, with his chest neatly bandaged and no longer bleeding, when his eyelids fluttered. He snapped back to alertness with a jerk, but he fortunately was too weak to really fight them. "No! Leave them alone." He blinked as his eyes focused, looking around for the Indians, seeing only his family. "Where . . ."
She kissed him tenderly. "It's okay, Dan. The Indians are over there on the ground. They're dead."
He relaxed. "Thought I missed and threw away the knife for nothing. Everything was going gray right then."
"You didn't miss. I've never seen you make a straighter throw. It's all right, Dan, it's all over. We're safe now."
He leaned back. "You got the other one," he stated. It wasn't a question.
"Yes," she confirmed.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. He didn't hurt me."
"She threw the firewood at him, Pa. She was great!" Israel was starting to be removed enough from danger to remember it without shivering now.
"She is great," Dan replied. His eyes were half shut.
"Just go to sleep," Becky said, stroking his forehead. "That's what you need most right now. But after you've slept a while, I'll make us a good soup."
"Get the rifle," he insisted.
Oddly, neither of them had thought about that yet. Israel looked as surprised as she felt, and then he got up and darted outside, returning a minute later with her rifle. He handed it to her and bent to pick up his father's from the floor of the cave. "Hey, Pa! That Indian had Ticklicker."
Dan smiled. "Good old Ticklicker. Be sure to reload. The rifle at least needs it." His voice was even weaker now.
"We will, Dan. I promise. Now get some rest." Becky held his head in her lap, stroking his hair gently until she was sure he was sound asleep. She double checked the bandages on his chest; holding steady, and the bleeding hadn't started up again. Finally, she reloaded her rifle and checked his.
Israel was looking droopy by this point himself. "Here," she said. She laid out another blanket next to his prone father on the uninjured side. "Lie down next to him, Israel. If you wake up scared about him, you can just reach over and feel him breathing."
He settled down against Dan's long frame. "Night, Ma."
"Good night, Israel." She thought of the words as she sat there watching them. Good night. In spite of everything, this would be a good night. She had them back, and while he was badly hurt, she was confident that Dan would be okay in time.
No, last night, left alone with her imagination, wondering if she would ever see her husband or her son again, that had been the nightmare. Tonight was once again family, and even with difficulties, she wouldn't trade that for anything.
She stood up and dragged the two dead Indians out of the cave, tipping them both down the slope. She didn't want to share their chamber with those two. Going back in, she checked on her son and then on her husband. Both were sleeping soundly. Finally, she placed her rifle ready to hand, stretched out her own blanket on Dan's left, and carefully lay down, aware of his wounds but needing to be close to him. There, feeling his warmth and presence next to her, she fell asleep herself. She knew she would wake up several times tonight to check him, and any sound from outside would have her alert at once, but for the moment, her own exhausted body demanded a respite.
The nightmare was over.