Author's note: So we're beginning to wrap things up here...you will get answers quite shortly. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I did not get Fringe for Russian Christmas.


Chapter Eight

Dreaming--either one does not dream at all,
or one dreams in an interesting manner.

--Friedrich Nietzsche

Ten minutes later, they're gathered around the couch, where they persuaded Olivia to sit down before she fell down. Astrid is monitoring the girl inside the tank; Sian's temperature had gone up to a terrifying 104.5 degrees before the tepid water, saline IV, and whatever else Walter had given her began to take effect.

"Serotonin Syndrome," Walter is explaining to Olivia, "is when there is too much serotonin in the body."

"It's what helps us sleep and keeps our mood up, that sort of thing," Peter says. Olivia's still far from her best, and likely to let Walter's confusing words pass over her rather than demand an explanation like she usually does.

"Yes, yes," says Walter impatiently. "When we stimulated Sian's chip—"

"Chip?" Olivia asks with a frown, and Peter remembers just how far out of the loop she is, and updates her quickly.

"When we stimulated the chip, whomever is monitoring it noticed and flooded the girl's system with serotonin in order to block our investigations," Walter finishes. "I gave her cyproheptadine and benzodiazepine."

"Um, serotonin antagonist to stop her from producing more serotonin and a sedative to calm her muscles so she can start to recover from hyperthermia," Peter translates. Olivia closes her eyes and he thinks she's drifting off, until she speaks again and he realizes she was just trying to consolidate the information in her head.

"We need to find the person who's monitoring her, then, or we won't be able to help her. Any news on that front, Astrid?"

"No, Agent Dunham," the young woman reports. "Everything I have so far is on that computer."

"Right. I'll keep researching that; Peter, see if there are any related cases; Walter, figure out a way to get that chip out, assuming we stop the monitoring; and Astrid, keep an eye on Sian's vitals," Olivia commands. Peter doesn't even mind being ordered around, not if it means Olivia is approaching normal.

Approaching, but not there yet. Olivia's able to work solidly for two hours, finding the woman's name in multiple hospital records, but she begins to fade. Without saying anything, Peter offers her a glass of water, her second dose of antibiotics, and Walter's less severe medicine. "You'll be 100% in no time," he offers with a smile.

"I know," is all she says. He coaxes her into eating something, and once she starts she's able to finish a whole bowl of soup.

"Dr. Bishop? Her temperature's normal," Astrid says, and they all breathe a sigh of relief. Peter pulls Sian from the tank, and it's almost like she's a wet noodle. Her arms and legs flop all over the place; she has no control over her muscles at all, thanks to the drugs. He and Walter respectfully turn away as Astrid and Olivia get her into dry clothes and towel off her hair. Once she's been changed, Peter picks her up and puts her on the couch, still connected to the IV and monitors.

"Here we go," says Walter, gently laying a blanket over the girl. Peter looks at him in surprise, but Walter merely smiles and puts a finger to his lips.

It's a little while later, after Olivia has finally conceded to the idea of taking a nap on a cot in one of the rooms seeing as how she's getting nowhere in her research, that Sian wakes up.

"Olivia?" she calls weakly. "Olivia?"

Astrid runs to get her as Peter kneels by Sian's side.

"Hey, Sian. How are you feeling?" he asks, smiling and pulling a wayward strand of hair off her face.

"Tired," she says, sounding it. "Funny."

"That'll be from the drugs," Walter says cheerfully. A look of alarm passes across Sian's face.

"Don't worry, we'll explain it later," Peter promises, squeezing her hand. "You're okay. We're taking care of you."

"Hi, Sian," Olivia says softly as she kneels down next to Peter, only half-awake herself. "You asked for me?"

"The woman you're trying to find, Dr. Harding," Sian says tiredly, speaking a clear effort. "I know where she'll be. The…the Blue Corn Café in Wichita, 5 o'clock tomorrow, CST."

"What does she look like, Sian? Sian?"

But the girl is rapidly fading and to her credit, Olivia doesn't push it. "There's plenty of time for that. Go back to sleep, Sian. We'll make sure you don't dream."

"Thanks," she whispers, slipping off again. Without being asked, Walter injects his special sedative into the IV.

Olivia's already starting to pack her things, swaying a little. "Whoa, wait. Where are you going?" Peter asks.

"Didn't you hear? Wichita?"

"No way, Olivia. You're still sick, and if you go halfway across the U.S., you'll make yourself sicker." He gently pushes her down on a chair, and she's weak enough that she can't put up much of a struggle. "Call Charlie. Let him go to Wichita. By the time 5 o'clock rolls around, Sian will have given us a description and you can fax it over there. Okay?"

She sighs and rubs her forehead. "Okay."


P.S. I've never been to Wichita, and I totally made up the name of the cafe.