Scully slipped on the simple nightclothes that she had brought: well-worn lounge-pants, and a beaten t-shirt that was velvety soft to the touch. Comfort was what was on her mind right now. The surge of adrenaline and the pain that had ridden in on its back had left her in a suspended state of exhaustion. She bristled slightly at Mulder's knock; happy to let him back in. "Here," he said as he twisted a few cubes into a clean washcloth, "that should help keep it from swelling so bad." He passed it to her and she held it over the tender flesh around the eye as she eased into a chair beside the small table. "Did you eat anything yet? I know there's a granola bar and a pack of peanut butter crackers in here somewhere with your name on it." He asked. She shook her head as he peeled open the wrapper on a cereal bar and handed it to her. "I feel like I could sleep for a year, Mulder," she started as she took small bites, "The adrenaline's worn off and there's just nothing left." He fished a bottle of acetaminophen out of the first aid kit, "Just make sure you take a couple of these." He set the bottle on the other end of the table as he asked, "How much pain are you in right now? And don't try to play it off, be honest." She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, "A good bit." She finished her simple meal and reached for the bottle of pills. She gasped loudly, and gripped her ribs as a sharp pain shot through her side; she slumped back in her chair, groaning, eyes closed and taking deep, deliberate breaths. "Are they broken?" Mulder asked as he leaned down to look at her, his face full of worry. She was breathing through the pain of it, he could see it, and he slowly reached for the hem of her t-shirt. "Let me take a look, ok?" She nodded, knowing that it would torture him if she refused. He gently rolled the shirt up stopping just below her bustline and his breath caught in his throat when he saw the skin beneath. The skin was splash black, blue, and purple, with a few scattered scrapes and patches of red; and ran the entire length of her side, part of her back, and down to her hip. "Jesus, Scully." He managed to choke out, his voice quietly full of emotion, his face darkening as he looked. He held his hand up to her side and allowed it to hover there to compare and measure, "I should take you to a doctor right now…" he started, preparing to stand. Her hand darted out for his, "No," she said, still breathless, "I'm begging you not to, Mulder, please." She thought he would chew through his bottom lip, "Will you do one thing for me then?" he finally spoke, looking up at her at last, "Will you see a doctor when we get back home?" His face was so pained for her, that she would've promised him anything in that moment. She nodded, still holding her side. He took the bottle of pills and opened them for her, "How many?" He asked, she could see his hands trembling slightly, he was angry. "Just two." She said as she held out her hand. "You didn't answer my question," He said as he dropped two sizable tablets in her hand, "Are they broken?" She took the pills and chased them with a few sips of her drink, "I'm not sure, Mulder. They could be deeply bruised, that can feel worse than a break at times." He folded his arms across his chest, "Is the other side just as bad, I couldn't really tell?" She shook her head, "No, just this one; this side took the brunt of the fall down the stairs. It just didn't register at the time how badly it hurt. I didn't…" she trailed off, "...I didn't have time to think, I just reached for my gun. It was the only chance I had…" She looked down, her hand was gripping the arm of the chair, "Mulder, if you hadn't gotten there when you did…" He moved to touch her face, his hand cupping her cheek, "Don't finish that sentence, Scully. Trust me, you don't want to know what ran through my mind while I was looking for you. You're here with me, right now, and you're safe...that's all that matters. Let me help you up, c'mon." Her eyes were shining when he helped her stand, easily supporting her tiny frame as she leaned against him.
He turned down the bed and helped her climb into it. She pulled the sheet and thin comforter over herself, and struggled to find a comfortable position as sleep was threatening to overtake her. "You should rest now. Our flight doesn't leave until after lunch tomorrow, so you can sleep as long as you want; I already spoke to Skinner, we're getting a few days off." stood by the bed, "I'll be right next door, ok? You can knock on the wall, I'll be awake. I doubt I'll get any sleep tonight." He grinned wryly. She sat up and reached for his hand, "Mulder, wait," she looked apprehensive, "Do you think you could stay? Just for tonight? I don't want to be alone." He didn't hesitate; didn't need to think it over, "Let me go get my clothes, I'll come here and take a shower, okay? I won't leave you tonight, Scully, I promise." His voice was determined. He went to his room and returned with his belongings: his weekend bag and overnight things. He showered quickly in her room, and grabbed an extra blanket and climbed on top of the comforter; still hesitant to sleep next to her. He was clean and wearing sweats and a t-shirt, and sat still while she snuggled up to him, her pain still evident. He went along with it quietly, understanding that this was a peace that she had likely been seeking since her abduction by Duane Barry. He settled on top of the comforter, the extra blanket sufficing in the already warm room. She leaned in on his chest and fell fast asleep. He could only imagine what nightmares she would face and had already faced alone. He would help her with Donnie Pfaster, as much as he could. He put his arm around her and held her as close as he dared; her breathing deep and relaxed at last.
Mulder woke in the early hours of the morning as Scully was fighting off an invisible enemy. He gently held her arms as she lashed out in her dreams. She woke up with a breathless gasp of, "No." Her breathing and eyes heavy as they clung to him in the twilight hours of the early morning. Her hands were frantic as they found his shirt and arms in her dreams. She awoke frightened; tears threatening to spill over as she looked up at him in near-disbelief. In an instant, he knew why she didn't want to be alone. It had occurred to him that she dreamed about her past ordeal; but now both Duane Barry and Donnie Pfaster haunted her psyche, and made their way into her waking dreams. She had fought him in her sleep and beat at his chest softly, as if her hands were still tied. His own eyes filled with tears as he held her down, allowing her to confront whatever demons she faced in her nightmares. To wake her would've been disastrous, the shock so traumatizing, that she might hate him for waking her. He only pulled her close as she fought, both arms circling her in the wee hours of the morning. She woke suddenly, her terrified eyes looking into his hazel ones full of worry, and she buried her face in his shirt and cried. He rubbed small, careful circles on her back as she shook against him, her sobs quiet, offering comfort where he could. The movement had made her ribs hurt, and she held her abdomen and tried to breath through the pin and the tears; curling into a ball against him. He gently kissed the crown of her head, his lips nestling in the soft red hair, and spoke words of reassurance and kindness over her as her tears subsided. He felt her finally begin to relax against his chest, sleep threatening to overtake her at last. He told her stories of when he was a boy; the long summer days on the Vineyard playing baseball, the ghost stories he would tell Samantha...he heard her soft snores as he was getting to his favorite episodes of The Twilight Zone. She released her death-grip on his shirt, and slept soundly on his chest. He kept a protective arm around her and sunk down lower to try to drift off himself. Scully faced off with a monster and lived to tell about it; the room was warm, she was safe in a dreamless sleep on his chest, and for a few more hours until they had to wake up, all seemed right in that Minneapolis motel room.