CHAPTER 7
How she knew his name was beyond her, Daija did not know who this man was. If she had been able to wrap her mind around the situation a little better, she would have assumed he had somehow planted that information –his name- in her mind. Then she would have checked herself into the nearest insane asylum.
"This isn't happening." She said loudly, forcing her voice to rise past the breaking point. "You're not real."
Mark's response was to bend down and press his lips to hers; the soft pressure telling her he was quite real. One large; work roughened hand moved gently down her side; his palm skimming flesh before coming to rest on her hip.
A strong scent of formaldehyde filled her nostrils, reminding her sharply of the basement and all the embryos she had found carefully preserved in those Ball canning jars. It took her a second to realize the scent was coming from him like it was deep seated in his pores, it was his odor.
Mark's lips curved into a knowing smile, watching the horror and comprehension dawning in her eyes. "You threw out my infants." He said, his grave voice at odds with the smile on his face; green eyes wide. "My poor babies, you threw them away." He shook his head.
"Your- YOUR babies?" She echoed, shaking her head; nose wrinkling as the odor seemed to grow stronger. "What did you do to them?"
He frowned, looking towards the window.
Daija followed his stare, blinking as the sunlight seemed to only get brighter.
The light was beginning to eat at the room, obscuring everything with its brightness…
***
"Daij, Daija, come on baby… come on…" Shawn gently smacked his wife's pale cheeks; frowning as he rested the palm of his hand against her forehead; she was burning up though the rest of her body; her hands for instance, were freezing to the point where she could have been an ice sculpture.
He glanced at the open window; frowning and looked back down at his wife. She was breathing, that much he was certain of but she was freezing. He piled blankets on her before wading through the snow that had flurried into the room, leaving at least two feet near the sill.
Cursing under his breath, Shawn fought with the window; struggling to close it and finally did; flexing his fingers as he turned to survey the room and Daija. He had only made it home after a long night in a motel room, the factory shut down due to the weather it was now that bad. He had only made it home on a wish and a prayer, knowing the good Lord above had been watching over him because the roads were treacherous.
It was freezing throughout the house, he knew the furnace must have gone down sometime during the night and obviously Daija was in no condition to venture down to the basement to get the wood stove going. He wondered when this fever had set in as she hadn't had it the morning before.
Shawn knew he was going to have to leave her alone long enough to go light the woodstove and have a look at the furnace, but he was reluctant. He walked over to stand beside the bed; glancing at the snow that wasn't melting on the floor. Cursing under his breath again, he scooped Daija into his arms, blankets and all.
Holding her against him was like plunging himself into an icy lake; she was that cold and he almost dropped her from shock alone. After a moment to settle himself from the shock; Shawn carried his wife into the 'guest' bedroom; kicking the door open impatiently.
It was one of the rooms they had cleaned but other than that… it was barely livable. This room had two things in it that made him bring her in: their old bed that they had brought with them from Texas and no snow on the wooden floors.
After settling her in, he hauled ass downstairs and then down to the basement; his numb hands fumbling with the grate to the woodstove. There was a full cord of wood on the back porch but there was also a sizeable stack down here against the far wall; near the shelf Daija had cleared off.
It took him longer than he wanted to get the stove going, knowing he would have to come down and check on it every hour and held out his hands towards the flames; feeling the warmth washing over him. Shawn looked up at the ceiling, knowing he needed to get back to his wife and spared a glance for the furnace.
He should really have a look at it but the woodstove would have to do for now, he knew there were ducts that connected to it and led to various rooms throughout the house. He knew definitely because of the black soot that had coated parts of the walls they had scoured.
"Fuck it." He headed back to Daija.
***
It was unbearably hot, sweat was literally pouring from her forehead and she could feel the dampness beneath her back and that was not comfortable. Nor was the hair that was sticking to her body.
"Shawn?" Daija whispered hoarsely, feeling like the words were sticking in her very dry mouth and made a face; rolling her tongue in an effort to build up saliva.
"I'm here, baby."
She became aware part of the reason it was so damn hot was because he was holding her. They were both under what had to be each and every blanket, quilt and comforter they owned; both of them naked; sharing their mutual body warmth.
Shawn watched as she struggled to move, finally helping her push away several of the blankets. He moved so he was kneeling on the bed; not minding the warm air coming into contact with his perspiration slicked skin; causing a somewhat cool chill to course over him.
"How… when…" Daija made a face; apparently suffering cotton mouth and trying to work around it; her finally clear eyes meeting his; confusion in them. "When did you…" She hesitated again, glancing around the room as if realizing that they weren't in their bedroom; frowning. "What day is it?"
"Saturday." He said matter-of-factly, reaching out to place his palm against her forehead, then slid it down to her cheek; nodding with satisfaction. "You're fever is broken."
"Saturday… But that means…"
"You've been in and out of consciousness since Wednesday morning, or at least, that's when I got home and found you in the bedroom… You were burnin' up and yet… colder then ice…" Shawn seemed troubled by the memory, watching his wife's face carefully. "The window was wide open, there was at least two feet of snow on the floor…. That's why we're in here."
A mixture of emotions warred on Daija's face as she struggled to understand, aware Shawn was looking at her with concern but she couldn't help it. Something was tugging at her mind, urging her to remember and when she did… she gasped as if she had been doused with a bucket of cold water.
"Mark!"
The fearful yet oddly triumphant, hoarse tone his wife had shouted another man's name made Shawn reel. "Mark?" He echoed. "Darlin', who's Mark?"
"I- I… I don't know." Her face seemed to fall, shaking her head. "A dream I had, I think…" Now it all made sense, she had been feverish and hallucinating. Relief swept throughout Daija and she managed a slight smile; reaching for her husband's hands. "I must have broke out with fever sometime in the afternoon… and… I don't know, I know I came up to bed and that was it…"
"Well, you seem fine now." Shawn said doubtfully. "You need some food and something to drink though, you've got to be parched."
Now that he mentioned it, Daija did feel like her throat was made out of sandpaper, nodding her agreement.
"And some clothes…" He smiled mischievously.
"I probably need a shower…"
"Or a sponge bath, I've been giving you one daily… you've sweated so much I wouldn't be surprised if you've lost weight." He chided teasingly, already up and on his feet.
Daija watched as he slipped into the bathroom, hearing the tap and knew he was getting her a glass of water. "Were you ogling me while I was sick and possibly dying, Shawn Michaels?"
"Mrs. Michaels… I was only doing my husbandly duty by taking care of you."
Daija waited until he had handed her the water and she had slaked most of her thirst before weakly throwing a pillow at him with a scoff.
Shawn, feeling relieved and in an almost elated mood now that he knew she would be alright, let it hit him square in the head and feigned injury, dropping to the floor with a loud.
As he lay there, Daija's giggles floated down to him causing a smile to spring to his lips.
Everything was going to be alright.
