I keep finding old half-finished fics in random places, so here's a throwback to S1.

He was on fire.

Her breath was hot against his neck, feathering across his skin, her body pressed so close against his that he was barely aware of anything else. Though he'd hated himself for it, he'd already dreamed of this very feeling, of her hands clutching him tightly, her skin burning beneath his touch, small moans escaping her lips.

But this was no dream.

This was a nightmare.

Her normally perfect skin was flushed, covered in a sheen of sweat, strands of hair clinging to her forehead and neck. He could feel the tremors rolling through her, couldn't be sure whether the constant, uncontrollable shaking was coming from her or himself. Judging by the dryness of his mouth and the rapid beat of his heart, it was probably both.

When he'd found her... shit. He didn't want to think about it, didn't want to think about the immediate, instinctive way she'd burrowed into him as he'd carefully lifted her from the floor of the cabin, didn't want to think about the mumbled words she'd breathed against his skin. He'd been barely able to distinguish what she was saying— was too focused on getting her safely to the car to really listen— but the sound of her calling out her husband's name still echoed in his head, fuelling his self-hatred until nothing existed within him but desperate fear for her survival and disgust at his own.

He hadn't realised he'd tightened his hold on her until she whimpered softly against his neck, the small sound drawing him out of himself, and instantly he loosened his grip, murmuring apologies and reassurances that he didn't really expect her to hear.

Only somehow she must have, because she immediately pressed closer, her fingers clenching in his shirt as she breathed his name, the soft sound hitting him so hard he almost faltered, shock and arousal breaking through his normally iron control.

He recovered fast, though, his stride steadying once more as he made soothing noises, the memory of her lips against his skin burning into his mind like a brand— tormenting him with everything he really shouldn't want but did, desperately and inescapably. Forcing the thoughts out of his head, he focused on getting the car door open, bending awkwardly to place her in the passenger seat and then gritting his teeth when she clung tighter, his name slipping once more from her lips. Keeping his touch gentle, he ignored the shaking in his hands as he carefully pried her arms from around his neck, his words slow and clear as he explained to her what he was doing. Her brow furrowed, but she didn't fight him, her body growing limp once more as she sank into the seat.

Clipping the belt around her as best he could, he carefully shut the door and hurried to the other side, checking her over the moment he was back in his own seat, his fingers coming to rest over the pulse at her neck as he watched her chest for movement. She stirred at his touch, her features creasing into another faint frown as tiny, distressed noises escaped her throat, one hand moving restlessly as if reaching for him.

Gently shushing her, he stroked his fingers briefly against her cheek before starting the car, his hand automatically finding hers once he'd shifted into gear, the action coming far more naturally than it should. Then, focusing on the road, he swiftly got them out of there, his hand staying in her loose grip throughout the entire journey, unsure whether the contact was for her reassurance or his own.

When he screeched to a halt out front of the clinic and carefully pulled her from the car, she was like a rag doll in his arms, slipping further and further from consciousness. People scattered from his path as he strode inside, his demands for the nurse, antibiotics, and a bed hurriedly obeyed. His stride never slowed until he reached the empty bedside that a wide-eyed Nurse Adams directed him to, his body tense but movements gentle as he lay Julia down, his fingers covering the pulse at her wrist for a tense, silent moment before he at last turned away, reaching for the equipment that was already being prepared for him.

The antibiotics were hooked up and running within minutes, the comforting rhythm of a heart monitor slowly lessening the tension within him as he hovered over her bed, hands tight on the rail as he watched her. Nurse Adams lingered briefly, offering to find him food or somewhere to rest, but he simply shook his head and murmured a quiet thanks without ever shifting his gaze from the bed, never seeing the look of understanding and sympathy that crossed her features before she turned and slipped quietly from the room.

And then they were alone, only the beep of the heart monitor and Julia's gentle breathing joining the sound of his unsteady heartbeat in his ears. Minutes passed, gradually stretching into hours; when he couldn't bear to stand still any longer, he began to pace, and when he finally tired of that, he dropped into the chair beside her bed, his hand already reaching out and closing around hers before conscious thought could intercede. Once he was holding her, though, he couldn't bring himself to let go— so instead he simply shifted his chair a little, angling his body more toward her, his fingers curling just a little tighter around hers as he settled in to wait.

He was staring unseeingly at the wall, lost in his thoughts— thoughts of her, always of her— when he felt her shift, his eyes immediately fixing on her face, his body tensing.

"Julia?" he murmured cautiously, torn between the need to be near her and the heavy feeling in his gut that told him this was the last place in the world he had any right to be.

At his voice, she stirred, her body angling towards him as if drawn by a magnet. Holding his breath, he watched her face as he carefully began to draw his hand from hers, intending to silently slip away before she woke— only to be halted by the feeling of her limp fingers tightening around his, clinging to him like he was all she had.

And he suddenly realised that in a way, he was. As long as the dome stayed down and the town remained in crisis— a time when normal societal rules would collapse and people would only be looking out for their own— she had no one to turn to, no one to trust.

Except him.

In that moment, the last of his defences finally fell away, his mind no longer resisting the feeling that had been simmering within him since the moment he'd met her. As he watched her slowly sink back into a deep sleep, he made a silent vow, the one promise he was determined to never break.

He wasn't going to let anything happen to her. He was going to make sure she got through this— for Peter, for himself, but most of all for her.

Gripping her hand just a little tighter, he shifted his chair slightly, ensuring he had a clear view of both her and the doorway before settling back in to keep watch over her, his body and mind already completely focused on his new mission.

Julia was the priority now, his purpose and his redemption, his chance to do some good in a world that had seen far too many of his sins. She was everything, and no matter how long the dome stayed over them, he was going to make sure she survived it, make sure that one day she would be free.

Whatever the cost.

Thanks for reading, and feel free to review :)