4. Dilirium

As the day progresses, you're visited by a number of different staff members. Each one seemingly tasked to inquire about or complete some menial objective. Eventually, the last person for the evening makes their departure. It's relatively late into the night. The moon outside the one small window is still large enough to provide a decent amount of light. You can't help being reminded of that evening. Of both evenings. However, your mind is more focused on the recent event. The pounding in your head continues, as do thoughts of that night. Including questions about the mysterious stranger who pulled you from the wreckage. It hadn't occurred to you to ask one of the nurses about them. After all, you had already been told that a good Samaritan who drove by the wreck some hours later is the one who called the ambulance.

These thoughts continue to swirl around your head as you start to feel the effects of the painkillers you've been given. The room begins to spin lightly as your eyelids grow heavy. Breathing out deeply, you find your previous worries slipping away. You can feel your face burning up, as your on again, off again fever returns. Shifting in bed slightly, your eyes momentarily flutter open. You think you can make out the silhouette of a figure standing in the doorframe ahead. Before you can get a better look, your eyelids sink closed for a final time. Slipping into unconsciousness is surprisingly effortless. Perhaps it's the high fever or the cocktail of **** you've been given. Regardless, you quickly find yourself in a state of subconsciousness.

In your dreams you find yourself in a strange room. It's somewhat similar to the one your physical form is currently residing in, yet different enough to peak your interest. Sitting up in bed, you find yourself no longer injured. As your fingers brush aside the soft material covering you, you can't help noticing how realistic the sensation is. Glancing around, you find that in place of the many machines are rows of bookcases. The names of the material lining its shelves are just barely indistinguishable. Absent-mindedly running your other hand along your arm, you notice you're dressed in some type of old fashion nightgown. Dismissing this thought for now, you continue looking around. You're still investigating your surroundings when the sound of a doorknob turning catches your attention. This confuses you as you don't recall having seen any doors. Somewhat hesitantly, you turn your head towards the source of the noise. Your eyes widen in surprise as you see a door sized opening has appeared in the middle of one of the walls.

In the center of the opening stands a large, cloaked figure. You find yourself frozen in place as the figure begins to approach. Initially, they appear to be impossibly tall. However, upon arrival at the side of your bed you see, while they're still quite towering, it's more reasonable. You're unable to make out any features as the hood of the cloak casts a large shadow across their face.

"What do you want?" You breathe out nervously.

There's a long pause, before the figure slowly lifts a hand, pointing a finger directly at your chest. You quickly shirk away upon seeing this gesture. The figure before you turns to move closer. Once again, you find yourself pinned between an unwanted approach and no escape. In a similar fashion to the Doctor, the figure reaches out to touch your face. Their hand, however, is radiating heat. Meanwhile, your own body has become unexpectedly cold. Shivering slightly, you can't help instinctively leaning into the warmth. The surprisingly gentle touch continues for a moment as it follows the Doctor's path. The side of your face where the hand once was now feels warm and reawakened.

"You're the person who saved me." You mumble, the words feeling heavy and difficult to get out.

The figure's hand moves back up to your face. A further sense of calm envelopes you as an index finger gently brushes against your lips. The warmth continues spreading throughout your body with each passing second. After a few moments, you breathe in sharply as slightly uncomfortable heat begins to center in your lower frame. Followed by the return of the dull ache in your head. Wincing slightly, you pull away from the figure but the feeling doesn't pass. The heat continues to build, causing beads of sweat to form along your brow. Groaning in discomfort, you begin clawing at the collar of the nightgown you're wearing. You feel your anxiety grow as slippery fingers desperately work to unfasten its buttons. The figure stands motionless, its unseen face turned down towards you.

Finally, the buttons loosen and with it the stiff collar. Breathing out, you're met with the soothing feeling of cool air against your searing skin. The relief, however, is only temporary. Even after throwing the bedding aside you're still miserably warm. It's also becoming increasingly difficult to think as the pounding in your head steadily grows. Unable to stand it any further, you use what little strength is left to rise from the bed. Unsteadily, you fall into the figures arms. Strugglingly to remain upright, your hands grips at the rough material of the dark cloak.

"Please," You beg, your voice growing hoarse once more. "I don't understand what's happening."

One of the figure's hands brushes along the side of your arm. Their touch is now unbearable, causing you to quickly pull away. Gasping, you stumble back onto the bed, glancing down at your arm you see a path of scalding red where their hand once lay. An uneasy feeling begins growing in the pit of your stomach. Perhaps this figure is not as benevolent as you had assumed.

"It's just a dream." Your speech sounds slurred and somewhat unconvinced.

"Is it?" The words you hear don't appear to come from the figure.

Rather from deep within your thoughts, though the voice is unrecognizable. Seeming to be a miss-match of several voices. Whimpering slightly, one of your hands runs up the side of your tender face. Despite a gnawing feeling of doubt, you can't accept that this is anything less than a **** fueled fever dream.

"It is." You repeat with slightly more conviction, as your chest rises and falls heavily.

The air is becoming suffocatingly thick and almost humid. Beads of sweat continue to run down the sides of your face and along your back. Somewhat absentmindedly, you begin unfastening a few more buttons. Your other hand moves down along your neck before gently grazing the top of your slick bosom. Of course this is a dream, after all everything can be explained away. The heat is a real life symptom of your fever. The figure a mere a phantom of your doubt surrounding your mysterious rescuer. The room and oddly old fashion decor are clearly just typical dream nonsense.

"Wake up." You begin repeating in your mind as the feelings of discomfort build. "It's just a dream, wake up."

You continue sitting there for what feels like an eternity. So long, you momentarily forget about the adjoining presence in the room. When the figure steps forward sometime later, you visibly startle. Glancing up at the hooded form, you notice a small sense of dread and doubt creep back in. Your body stiffens reflexively when a hand reaches down towards you. Fingers painful blister against your chin as your face is raised up towards them.

"If you wish to wake up." The voices in your head echo. "Then do so. Or perhaps you're wishing for something else."

"Such as?"

The voices do not answer back, leaving you with even more questions. Before any can be asked the figure's hand slips down to your neck. Inhaling sharply, your eyes widen as the grip around it begins to tighten.

"What are you doing?" You demand, finding yourself unable to pull away. "Let me go!"

The figure continues to remain silent, instead using their **** to push you down against the bed. Air is expelled from your lungs as the figure's large frame moves over and pins you down. Gasping, you can feel yourself slowly suffocating from the pressure and heat. You feel the figure's body shift before something sharp sinks into the side of your neck. Screaming out in pain, you're filled with enough adrenaline to sit up.