Within minutes, perhaps seconds, of getting into her partner's car, Dana Scully had fallen asleep. Her body, long ago consumed by exhaustion and fatigue, had given in, and now, knowing she was in the care of the person she trusted most in the world, her mind followed suit and she let go of consciousness. In all reality she doubted it had been much of a choice. She had never been one to give up easily, had in fact rarely done so, but her final cognizant thoughts had been spent telling herself that she was safe now, in Mulder's care; that he would take the reins from here and make it all go away, her pride be damned.

The next thing she knew, he was tucking her hair behind her ear, his gentle touch at once startling her awake and reassuring her. She realized that the gentle motion of the car had ceased, that he had come around to her side of the vehicle. She could hear his voice, also reassuring in its strength and familiarity, but struggled to understand the words he was projecting with it.

"Upstairs," was the only discernible word.

'Upstairs?' she thought. 'Why don't we just run a marathon, while we're at it?' She tried to tell him she had no energy, that there was no way she could get out of the car, but it came out as more of an "uuuhhhggg" with a string of nonsense following it, and she would have been mortified if she'd had the strength. Her tongue felt like thick, wet cement and she couldn't coordinate enough to get her thoughts from her brain to her mouth, let alone get her legs to cooperate with her..

Relief flooded her as soon as she felt his arm slip under her legs, lifting her up and out of the seat, and she mustered every last bit of strength she had to wrap her arms around his neck.. Her feet touched the ground, and for a moment she wanted to cry. Before she had any chance to, she felt Mulder swoop her up again and her hands found their way around his neck, snuggling in and squeezing him even tighter in hopes he wouldn't set her down again.

When she was growing up, she had always shared a bedroom with Melissa. Anytime she had a nightmare or got scared in the middle of the night, she would crawl in bed with Missy and, wordlessly, her sister would make room for her and cover her up with the blankets. The safety and love she felt in those moments, that only a big sister could provide, was enough to lull her back to a peaceful sleep for the rest of the night. Unless her father was home on leave from the Navy.

When Ahab was home, she'd tip-toe into her parents' bedroom and curl up with a blanket on the floor beside his bed, as the Scully children had never been allowed to climb in. There on the hardwood she always found a inexplicable sense of security, comforted just by Ahab's presence and the sound of her parents' breathing.

Without fail, she would wake up in her father's arms as he carried her back to her own bed in the middle of the night. His strong arms holding her protectively, the slight-yet-noticeable smell of his aftershave, laundered sleep shirt, and whiskey night cap combining to form a scent that she had always identified as that of 'Daddy,' there was no other place in the world where she felt as safe as she had in those moments. Every time he would tuck her in tight, kiss her on the forehead, and wish her sweet dreams, all while trying to hide the gleam of amusement in his eye.

Now, cradled by a different set of strong arms, she felt awash once again in the same feelings of love and safety, knowing that she was protected and secure. Instead of Old Spice and Jameson, the scent the surrounded her now was Brut and sunflower seeds, the scent just as recognizable to her now as Ahab's had been., and every bit as comforting.

She felt a bit of jostling, and then... nothing.

His voice brought her back to reality. She had no idea where she was, or what was going on around her, but it didn't matter, because he was there.

"Mmmuuuhhhlllll..." was her pathetic attempt to beg him not to leave her. He quietly shushed her and she could feel tugging on her arms, her warm jackets being divested, before she felt her body lower to a lying position. The surface was soft and cushy, and she was once again surrounded by Mulderscent. 'Bed,' she realized. Another round of the chills struck her and she wanted nothing more than for Mulder to hold her again and make it stop.

"Scully... temperature..." His voice came to her now in fragments, bits and pieces that she tried so desperately to decipher. She opened her mouth, hoping he had a thermometer waiting for her, but was still surprised to feel the metallic tip sliding under her tongue ever-so delicately. His hand came to rest on her forehead, then moved gently downwards to wipe away the tears she didn't even notice she was shedding. Once again, she heard the soft rumble of his voice, and though his words escaped her once again, she was comforted by them.

Beeping noises brought her back towards reality, hazed as it was, and then she was sipping at a glass of water. She felt completely detached from herself, and it would have been frightening if she'd had the capacity to process anything.

More rumbles from Mulder, and these ones sounded panicked, frantic almost.

"S'bad?" she was able to eek out. She was looking at him, concentrating so hard on her words. Never in her life had she found it so difficult to communicate. She gathered up all of her strength and forced herself to pay attention to his response.

"No, it's not too bad," he answered. "But I'm not gonna let it get any worse."

She was slightly alarmed. Automatically, her eyebrow shot up in concern as she questioned him, the words coming out in a jumbled mess, "Whhuzzit?"

She saw him smile just slightly, looking amused, though she had no idea about what. She didn't find anything about their particular situation funny at the moment. She wanted to slug him.

"Just over 102," came his answer. He could have spouted any number at that point, and she would have been able to do nothing more than listen. All of her energy had been spent on the last two minutes of conversation. 102 sounded high to her, but she could barely remember her own name at the moment, let alone what her normal body temperature should be. She knew Mulder would do what was necessary to get her better, high temperature or not.

Mulder was talking again, but the perfectly-formed words coming out of his mouth turned to gibberish by the time they reached her ears. He stopped and looked at her questioningly. She closed her eyes. 'He asked you something, Dana. Think, damn it.' For the life of her, she had no clue what he had just said, couldn't carry a train of thought for more than a couple seconds. She considered just begging him to take her to the hospital, but she was interrupted by more of his gibberish before she could begin to formulate her own.

She wanted to cry when she saw him walking away from her. 'Mulder, please don't leave me!' she thought. She was starting to panic. Had she done something wrong? Was he mad at her? Why would he leave her here when she was so sick? Did he think she'd failed him, the other agents, the victims, on the Sutton case? Was he ashamed of her?

Then his voice returned, its presence comforting and reassuring. "Okay, here we go," then his weight shifted onto the mattress and a cool, damp cloth on her forehead.

She thought she had died and gone to Heaven.

He wasn't going to abandon her. He was going to save her, again. All she needed now was to pull the sheet up just a little and everything would be right in her world. More of Mulder's words, strung together, telling her she couldn't cover up with blankets.. She nodded in agreement, and felt him running his hand over her hair.

The cool cloth had cut through some of the fogginess she was battling, and she granted Mulder permission when he asked to roll her sleeves up. The doctor in her piped up in her mind again, and she knew it was exactly what she needed to start brining her temperature down, but she was bitterly cold. Mulder's gentle rolling and folding was soothing though, and she was thankful for his care. 'He won't leave me, he won't leave me,' she kept repeating to herself, the earlier panic giving way to more exhaustion.

"You okay?" she heard him softly ask.

'Physically? No, Mulder, I'm definitely not okay. But you're not leaving me. So yes, I'm okay.' She simply nodded as more tears slid down her fevered cheeks.

He seemed to accept her reply, and spoke once again. "Okay. I'll be right back Scully. If you need anything, gimme a holler, I'll be in the kitchen. Just don't pull the blankets up."

She lie in his bed, tears flowing freely, but reassured by his promise. 'He'll be right back, Dana. He's coming right back.'