I awake in the dark, and lie very still. I can hear Free breathing beside me. It sounds easier, less clogged. That's good, it was worrying me. I turn, and the room is so dark that I can't really see her. Just the barest silhouette, the curve of cheek. I touch her forehead lightly, and it feels cool, thank God. The fever broke sometime while we slept.

Her forehead is cool, but the rest of her body is very warm. I cuddle against her, snugging my arms around her waist. Warm, soft, pliant. The medicines are still coursing through her, keeping her relaxed, sleepy if not asleep. She's lying sprawled loosely, except for her hands crooked up over her head.

Her head moves slightly on the pillow. There is the silky brush of her hair. The fringes are still a little damp, whether from her bath or sweat, I can't say. The overiding scents are honeysuckle and musk. It's intoxicating.

There's a bead of sweat on her upper lip. I cant' resist. I lean over and lick it away, tasting her salt, and soap, and the faint tange of the codeine based cough syrup that is partially responsible for her deep sleep.

She shifts a little, her own pink tongue lapping at the place where mine touched. Then her eyes slit open. Slivers of stormy sky, clouded. Not fully aware. Her lips move a second before she makes sound. "...Dana?"

"Sh, it's all right." I stroke her hair, combing the curls as I've wanted to for so long. "You're much better now. You're going to be fine. I'm taking care of you, like I said I would."

I kiss her softly. Her lips tremble beneath mine. It's all still so new to her. "You need to sleep, baby. You haven't slept good for so long. That'll make you better."

She arches up slightly. "Dana, please..."

I kiss her throat, feeling the slow, steady pulse begin to speed up. I love it when she says my name. I'd do anything for her, give her anything in my power. Because she's given me so much.

"Just hush a little while longer, Free. You don't have to do anything. I'll take care of you."

Her skin is so smooth. I could just devour every inch of her. It's so hard to believe that I can, that I can touch her all I wish. Hold her, taste her, move against her... It was all so far away this morning...

This morning. God, did I make a hash of it. Just blurting it out like that. When she was ill, and weary, and in no shape to make life decisions. She was right to tell me to go on to work, that she wasn't ready to talk about it right then.

Lord, I'd even more or less grabbed her ass. Bonehead move, but... it was just there. I swear, I started out just rubbing the sting out of the B12 shot. I should have known better.

But she reacted better than I had any right to expect. I could have very easily ended up kicked across the room by a very startled, or angry woman. But she'd been... I can't say. She wasn't horrified, or indignant. But she wasn't exactly welcoming, either. Confusion and disbelief seemed to be the main components of her reaction.

At least she wasn't angry, I kept telling myself. But, really, I think I'd have preferred some anger to this... blankness. It felt like she was cutting me off, and that had never happened before.

I went through what had been drained from the spontaneous combustion pool. Sludge. Grease, bone chips. What you'd have if you'd tossed a hastily creamated body into a pool, more or less. We found her wedding ring and a delicate chain necklace intact, when they should have been either smelted or vaporized by a fire of that magnitude.

Mulder was overjoyed. I don't mean her was grinning or laughing, or anything unseemly. No, he displayed proper dignity at all times. But he was practically vibrating with excitement. He drove a couple of the witnesses a few steps closer to the loony bin with his questions.

I wanted to go home at lunch, but I didn't. I wanted to call and check on her, but I didn't do that, either. She needed her rest, and she needed time to think. I wasn't sure she could do both at once. It might be days before she really responded to my declaration. I determined not to push it. I wasn't just going to let it pass, mind you. Now that I'd said it, things had to move to a different level. If she had been pretending, she could no longer pretend that she didn't know. And I didn't have to pretend indifference anymore, when I was aching to touch, kiss, hold... have..

That morning I'd stopped at her place of business and informed the manager that Free was taking the next three days off. When the bitch started to protest, I'd shown her my ID, informed her that I was Free's physician, and mentioned civil suits. Under my careful eye, she called Free and told her to take the next few days off. She was careful not to sound phony, or begrudging. I could tell from her tone that Free was bewildered by this turn of events, but happy with it. I was really going to have to get Free to give up this peice of shit excuse for employment. There was no reason for her to work. Not when she had me.

I got home around dusk. The house was dim and quiet. She was curled up on the couch, this time with her pillow and bedclothes, watching an old movie. 'Rebecca', I think. She replies to my tentative greetings quietly, her voice a little less hoarse than it was. The cough syrup is on the table before her. She's been taking the doses regularly. That means she still hasn't slept as much as she needs.

"Did you eat?"

"Yes, doctor. Lunch and supper."

I check the pitchers. The water is gone, there's a little juice left. I take them and the sticky glasses into the kitchen, put them in the sink. I'm being careful not to say anything significant.

I check the wastebasket. Yes, there's another soup can there, and an apple core. Good, she's eating. And there's something else.

I pull it out and examine it closely, picking out details. The thick marks of the felt tip pen. Circles, slashes. Coldness seeps into me slowly as I stare. I put it quietly back into the basket. I brace my hands on the counter, lower my head between my arms, and breath slowly and carefully.

I can actually feel my sanity slipping away.

I hear her call from the living room. "Dana, can I use your bath salts again? I want a really good, long, hot soak. I think that would help."

When I speak, I do not scream. My voice is perfectly normal, almost placid. Somehow this frightens me even more. "Of course, Free. But wait a minute, won't you? I need to give you another round of medicine."

"Okay."

First I pour the rest of the juice into a glass. I go to my bedroom, and I don't look at her closely as I pass. I get the little bottle out of my dresser drawer and shake out a blue capsule. After a moment, I shake out another, then cap and replace it.

Back in the kitchen, I break open both of the capsules, sifting the white powder into the orange juice. The drug itself is white, they package it in blue capsules. I don't know why. So many things seem purposeless when you can't see the whole picture. I stir carefully, then add ice cubes. I test the taste with my tongue. It should pass. Her sense of taste will be dulled from the medication and loss of smell caused by stuffiness.

In the living room I feed her antihistimines, decongestant, strong cough syrup, and finally the orange juice. By that time, she's grateful for something that will take away the nasty taste. She pauses after a few swallows, and I say gently, "Drink it all, Free. You need it." I watch as she obediently turns up the glass, her throat working as she swallows. I resist the temptation to reach out and touch the soft pulse of the muscles. I'm glad to see that there is no sediment in the glass. She got it all.

She gets up and shuffles toward the bathroom. I say, "Don't lock the door." She glances back at me. "Not with all that medicine in you. If you lose your balance, and slip, I need to be able to get to you." She nods silently, and continues down the hallway.

I go in my room, strip, and wrap myself in a robe. Then I sit on my bed and listen. The water finishes running. There are soft splashes. I hear her singing, soft and hoarse. "Listen to the rhythm of the fallin' rain. Tellin' me just what a fool I been. I wish that it would go and let me cry in pain, and let me be alone again."

I close my eyes. And I imagine what it would be like if I never heard that voice again, singing. By my side, or in another room...

"The only girl I care about has gone away, lookin' for a brand new start. Little does she know that when she left that day, along with her she took my heart."

My hands go to fists on my thighs. *You can't do it, Free. I can't let you take my heart.*

The voice cracks a little, almost making the high, sweet note. "Rain please tell me, now does that seem fair? For her to steal my heart away when she don't care? I can't love another when my heart's somewhere fare away."

I get up and go to the kitchen wastebasket, then my purse. I feel the weight of the three objects, feel the contrast of the materials.

I listen as I walk down the hall to the bathroom. Her voice is faint. She's falling toward sleep, but fighting it. "Oh, listen to the falling rain." Her tone is almost conversational. "Pitter patter, pitter patter. Ooohh..."

I knock. "Free? I have a call for you. I'll bring in the cell phone, okay?"

Silence. "Just a second." There is the rattle of the shower curtain being drawn. "Okay."

I step in, and my robe sticks to me almost immediately. The room is steamy. The smell of honeysuckle is thick. This must be what a deep summer night feels and smells like back in her native state of Texas. Her left hand appears through the right hand slit near her head, making small 'gimme' motions.

I lay the first two objects on the counter, and step forward. I'm glad to see that there are several towels on the towel rack. That will save some steps. I hang one of the towels over my arm, reach out, and snap the first bracelet of my handcuffs around her left wrist.

She doesn't know what is happening. The right hand darts out to investigate the cold steel around its mate. "Dana?" It's almost a birdlike chirp as I snap the second cuff home. I take the towel and swiftly pass it around the linking chains twice. Then I haul up. There is a safety bar mounted vertically on the end wall, and I knot the towel firmly at it's base.

I pull back the shower curtain. She hangs there limply for a moment, fingers flexing. She looks perplexed. I know that it's due to the drugs in her system. Otherwise she'd be thrashing and screaming by now. She frowns, making a few experimental kicks, trying to get her feet under her while she grasps at the towel.

Her voice is a little louder, but still blurry. "What are you doing? What... why... Dana!" Her tone sharpens as she feels how thoroughly she's restrained. It starts to rise.

I drop another towel over her head, because I don't want to see her expression right now. She shakes her head, till I reach behind me, take my gun, and press it against her temple. She goes very still as I release the safety. Now her voice is tiny. "Dana?"

"Shut up, Free." I nudge a little, and her head rocks with the motion. "Do you know what this is?" A hesitation, and a slow nod. "I want you to be very still, and very quiet for the next few minutes. Can you do that?" Again the nod. "I'm going to lay this down, but it's right within reach. Remember that." Another nod, so slow that it's almost imperceptable.

I lay the gun back down. I make nooses in the ends of two more towels, and slip one over each foot. She doesn't try to kick, or avoid my hands. In a few moments I pull, dragging her toward the other end of the tub, till she's half lying in the water, her arms stretched above her head. There is another safety bar, horizontal this time, at this end of the tub. I lift her legs, and tie a foot to each end. Her head and shoulders are above the water, torso submerged, legs left dripping and spread.

I put the safety back on the gun, lay it aside, then lift the towel. Her eyes are still cloudy with the drugs, but they are wide. She stares at me, then swallows. "Can I talk?"

"Yes."

"What... what's happening? You're scaring me."

I put down the lid on the toilet and sit. I just stare at her. She shifts a little, but she doesn't have much slack to move. I study her closely, as I've wanted to for so long. The smooth, pale expanses of skin, slightly pinked by the warmth of the water. The water itself is milky with the bathsalts. All I can see beneath it is teasing shadows, the hint of form. I can make out the curves of her breasts. Farther down there is a shadow that hints at her pubis.

She is still, looking back. I see the muscles in her thighs tense in an instictive, vain effort to cross her legs.

At last I pick up the third item, and show it to her. She looks at it uncomprehendingly. I shake it open with a crackle of paper, nd I point to the boxes that are circled in magic marker, then crossed out. Apartment for rent. Apartment for rent. Room for rent.

She looks up at me, understanding building, warring with the ennui that the codeine and tranquilizer I gave her in the orange juice is inducing. She starts to shake her head.

I say quietly. "You're not leaving me, Free."