Author's note: So here there's some sciencey-wiency, but I did my research. I even printed stuff out so I could read it while I was writing! Also, there's a curse or two.
Disclaimer: Still not mine. Unbelievable.

Chapter Seven

Channels are blocked in the mind, from the day.
Lie down in blackness of night, forgotten remnants
rush to the mind, or creeping slowly appear in the dreams.
--Nathaniel LeTonnerre

The day could actually be called peaceful after that. Walter is happy with his films, Olivia's asleep, Sian is over in her corner playing video games, and Astrid and he are researching. The only wrinkle is when Astrid gets a phone call from Broyles (as they've turned Olivia's off) and has to cover. Agent Dunham is ill. Yes, she's on antibiotics. Yes, we're still working. Yes, I'll give her your regards.

"Ah ha! Astronomy, Peter, come look!" Walter says triumphantly, and they both move over to shush him before he can wake Olivia. "Yes, yes. Sian's hippocampus is quite large, as I'd expected, but she also has this."

Peter squints at a small spot. "Is that a tumor?"

"No, no, the shape is too regular." Walter shifts to a closer view. "Do you see it now, son?"

"I'll be damned. Is that a chip?"

Walter nods enthusiastically. "It likely records what she dreams and probably increases her serotonin and other monoamine production."

"To make her dream for longer amounts of time and have the dreams be more vivid," Peter translates for Astrid. "You find anything on that Dr. Harding?"

"She's not in any official system, so it's taking time to figure out who she really is. I've also been cross-checking sinus surgeries with those two doctors, but so far Sian's the only one."

"I imagine it's because of her abnormally large hippocampus. Her dreams were most likely vivid before, but once they altered her and inserted the chip, she gained the ability to enter into shared dream states," Walter explains. They all look at Sian, who decides on that moment to look up and gives an awkward little wave. "We must test this."

About an hour later, they once again have Sian hooked up to electrodes and a machine to measure and manipulate her brain functions. It had taken Peter half an hour to convince Sian to get hooked up again, promising over and over that she isn't going to sleep this time, that they just want to ask her questions and do a few tests. In the end, Peter has to swear on his life that he'll pinch her if she falls asleep.

"Are you ready?" Walter asks.

Sian shifts around uncomfortably. "Do I have to?"

"It's the only way to understand how this ability of yours works," Walter says honestly. Finally, the girl nods. "Excellent. Now, I'm going to give you words and I want you to give me the memories which you associate with the word. Understand?"

"Sure," Sian says. "That's easy." She relaxes a bit, but her hold on Peter's hand is tight.

"Butterflies."

"Building a butterfly model with Lauren in 3rd grade."

"Blue."

"Being Violet Beauregarde in our school play."

Walter nods at Peter, who applies a light electrical charge to the electrode nearest the chip. Sian blinks, but doesn't seem bothered. "Chicken."

"When I was seven, me and my mum went and bought a live chicken so my grandmother could kill it and roast it when she came from Wales. By the time she came, Yan and I had named it and refused to let her anywhere near it," Sian says.

Astrid's eyes widen. Walter smiles. "The beauty of the hippocampus, my dear."

Peter starts to smile, but frowns when he notices Sian's focus is on the space above the couch. She's shivering, too, and starting to sweat. "Sian, what's wrong?"

"I see him," she says, breathing hard. "The man from her dream. He's there."

"Walter, what's happening?" Peter asks worriedly as his father immediately begins to remove the electrodes. For Walter to stop an experiment, something has to be extremely wrong.

"Take her pulse, and look at her legs. Astring, we need the tank prepare immediately, lukewarm water, hurry!" Walter demands, looking at Sian's pupils.

"The tank? You cannot put a little girl into the tank," Peter hisses, pushing his father away from Sian.

"Her pulse and her legs!" Walter snaps, and Peter finally looks. Sian is twitching sporadically, especially her legs, and the wrist that he takes is burning hot. Her pulse is thready and even more rapid than her breathing.

"Shit," says Peter. "The tank, Astrid! We need to cool her down!"

The girl's body is wracked with tremors and she's sweating heavily, her hair damp and stuck to her flushed face and neck. She's still staring at Olivia and babbling about the man, the man who wants to hurt Olivia. Her twitching is becoming more and more fierce, and he sticks Olivia's thermometer in the girl's mouth to find her temperature is 103.8 degrees and climbing.

"Tank's ready," Astrid pants, having filled it and shoveled in salt in double time.

"What's going on, Walter?" Peter asks when Walter approaches with a syringe, ready to push him away again.

"It's called Serotonin Syndrome. This should help; hold her steady." Carefully, Walter injects the contents into Sian's arm, and she gradually relaxes her muscles, slipping into unconsciousness. Peter helps Walter insert an IV line (just saline) and hook her up to monitors, and they slide her into the tank.

"Jesus, Walter, really. What the hell is going on?" Peter demands as Walter tries to close the doors. "You can't lock her in there! Cooling her off is one thing, but leaving her in the dark?"

Walter is a scary scientist sort of calm. "Her body needs to be tricked into believing it's sleeping, so that her hippocampus can do its work and remove the serotonin from her system before it kills her."

In the tank, Sian's face is still bright red, and her breath is coming in weak gasps. He can feel her heart still pounding, so he gently lets her go to float in the water and allows Walter to close the door. The three of them stand her breathing heavily from the urgency of it all, until the too-weak-to-be-horrified voice of Olivia Dunham comes from behind them.

"Will somebody please tell me what in the name of god would possess you to put that girl in the tank?"

Walter turns around, looking like a child who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "It's saved her life, Olivia," he says earnestly. "I promise."

If anyone celebrates it (and I do), Merry Russian Orthodox Christmas! I hope Dyed Moroz (St. Nicholas) was good to you :)