By Sally Bahnsen
rbahnsen@optusnet.com.au
Date: 30 Dec 2001
Summary: Set early in season one. This is a fill-in-the-
gap for Fallen Angel story, covering the time between
Mulder being escorted from the warehouse by Colonel
Henderson and the night/morning before the hearing. This
is very much an MT/SC story.
Spoiler: Hmm, a rather big one for Fallen Angel.
Rating: PG 13
Category: Angst, UST, MT, SC.
Archive: Anywhere you like, but please let me know.
Disclaimer: I don't own them, CC and 1013 do. If they
were mine, I would have taken better care of them and
definitely wouldn't have let the tall good looking one get
away!
Thanks to my usual team of suspects-- Ten, Judie, Peg and
Suzanne. And a special thanks to Deb <who has probably
forgotten she was even involved in this it's taken me so
long to fix it and post it--g> who helped me out for the
first time on this one. Thank you guys!!
Feedback: is very much appreciated and always answered.
Unless my 'puter goes Phfft.
rbahnsen@optusnet.com.au
My web page is:-
I REPEAT, THIS IS SET EARLY IN SEASON ONE.
***********************
Angel in the Wings
Part one
***********************
Dockside, Lake Michigan, WI
6:30pm
Mulder sat alone, propped against one of the corrugated
iron walls close to the ruined door of the warehouse.
Scully circled her partner like a hungry wolf sizing up
its prey. Except Scully wasn't about to spring forth and
attack the man sitting on the ground. Well, not in the
literal sense anyway. She was more concerned with summing
up his physical well-being, not how much fight he had left
in him or how much resistance he would put up. That she
would have to deal with later.
"Mulder, can you stand?" He showed no sign he'd even
heard her question let alone having any intention of
answering it.
She didn't need his answer though, nor her medical degree
to determine what she already knew.
The fact that Mulder had been supported between two of
Colonel Henderson's men as he was 'escorted' from the scene
of Max Fenig's disappearance, coupled with the obvious limp
marring his usual self-assured swagger, was enough evidence
for Scully to suspect that something wasn't right with her
partner. When he was finally dumped unceremoniously onto
the ground outside the warehouse with little more
consideration than you'd give a bag of trash, and then made
no effort to rise, no attempt at retaliation and no smart
ass remark to Colonel Henderson as he was read the riot act
about interfering in a military operation-- Scully knew
that everything was not sunshine and roses in Mulderland.
But what finally nailed it for her was when Mulder barely
raised an eyebrow as Henderson took great delight in
casting doubt on not only Mulder's parentage but his future
with the FBI as well.
"Mulder?" The military trucks rumbled past, their heavy
wheels vibrating through the concrete and wood surrounding
the docks. A few remaining soldiers obeyed hastily given
orders as they completed the final mop-up after the
explosion. Scully wondered whether Mulder was even aware
she beside him. Slowly though, he lifted his head and
looked at her.
"They took him, Scully." The words slid quietly from his
lips, low and husky, swelling with emotion.
"You mean, Max? Who took him, Mulder? I didn't see him
come out of the building with Henderson's men. Are you
sure he..."
"Not the military!" A fire blazed in his eyes, burned its
way into his words. The emotion that shook his voice was
raw, yet bolstered with conviction. "Max was abducted.
They came for him, and there was nothing I could do to stop
it." His growing guilt doused the fire, reducing it to
nothing more than a dying ember.
"Are you saying *aliens* took Max?" Scully knew Mulder
didn't need to hear the doubt in her voice, see the
disbelief written across her face, but this was as far as
her patience extended. She pinched the bridge of her nose
and let her chin drop to her chest. Her assignment hadn't
been to arrive in Wisconsin and chase aliens. She hadn't
been sent here to treat burn victims with injuries so
horrible it was akin to something out of a nuclear war
zone. Her orders had been clear and concise: get Mulder
back to DC immediately or risk having the X files shut
down. Permanently. "Mulder..." She paused, reluctant
to
voice her thoughts. "I can't... No. I won't believe..."
"Scully! I saw it. I was there. You can deny it to
yourself, and you can try a thousand different ways to
attribute the circumstances of Max's disappearance to
whatever science you like. You can parcel it up in a nice
neat box and slot it away in which ever comfortable little
hidey-hole makes you feel safe, but you'll be wrong. Max
Fenig was abducted by aliens. I know it, the military knows
it."
"If that's true, Mulder, then there's not a damn thing we
can do about it." Scully paused, pursing her lips briefly
before continuing. "But we *can* do something about
keeping our jobs. I'll call the bureau and reschedule our
meeting with Section Chief McGrath, then I'll rebook us on
a flight out of here tonight."
"That's it? You're just going to leave?" Mulder stared
at Scully, his eyes narrowed and jaw slack.
"No. *We're* going to leave. Both of us." She heaved
a
sigh, unwilling to meet his eyes. She knew what she'd see;
the same intense gaze that convinced her to stay in
Townsend in the first place. The same gaze that begged for
help--when was that? two days ago?--when all her senses
were screaming at her to return to DC the minute he was
released from the military compound.
Mulder remained silent, making no attempt to rise. He
tipped his head back against the wall and stared intently
at his partner. His left knee was drawn up to his chest,
the right leg stretched out in front of him.
"Can you get up, Mulder? Did you hurt yourself?" She
suspected the answer was no to the first question and yes
to the second, but was he going to admit to either one the
first time she asked? No. That's not how it worked. They
had a game to play, certain levels that had to be worked
through before the obvious could no longer be denied. It
was a stupid game, but the rules were set and neither of
them had the courage to stray from them.
Mulder released his gaze from Scully's face, the intensity
dissolving into disgust. He lowered his head so his chin
rested on his chest. When he spoke, the words were soft
and muffled within the folds of his leather jacket. "I'm
fine."
Crap. But she was too tired and too frustrated to push
him on it.
"Let's go then." Scully turned on her heel to head back
to the car. She heard Mulder mumble something under his
breath, heard the rustle of clothing and the scrape of his
boots on the ground, indicating he was getting to his feet.
Good. No more arguing.
What she didn't hear was the sound of his footsteps
following behind her. A shiver ran along her spine and a
prickling sensation stung the back of her neck. Scully
turned quickly and...dammit! Where the *hell* did he go?
xXx
Mulder watched his partner turn and walk away then pushed
himself wearily to his feet. He swayed slightly as the
blood drained from his head and pooled somewhere near his
toes forcing him to shuffle when he walked as if his legs
were tethered with chains.
He was so sick of the bullshit constantly dished out by
the government, tired of being snookered at every turn.
Max was gone, he knew that but he had to check one last
time. Make sure. As much as he respected Scully's
scientific view on things, welcomed her ideas, appreciated
the way she made him stop and consider that maybe
scientific reasoning was the more likely answer to some of
the paranormal questions he asked, this time he knew he was
right. Max was abducted by aliens, he would bet his
career, and his life on that fact.
Mulder limped painfully back to where the man had hovered
in the air as if suspended from wires. He closed his eyes,
reliving the last few seconds before Max disappeared. For
a second the sight of Max quivering up above him had
reminded Mulder of a giant marionette, one whose strings
were controlled by a cruel, invisible puppeteer. Then
before he'd had a chance to fully process what he was
seeing Max vanished in a flash of brilliant white light.
Regardless of what the Military said, of what Scully chose
to believe, he had no doubt about Max's fate.
Mulder rolled his shoulders, trying to ease muscles wound
tight with stress. His head ached and his ankle throbbed.
And there, in his injuries, lay at least some of the proof
he needed. No earthly being, no human predator, was
capable of exerting the force required to fling a grown man
30 feet through the air. Initially Mulder had thought he'd
been hit with a bolt of electricity. He remembered the
sensation of flying, having no control over his body. And
he had no trouble recollecting the jarring impact as his
body crashed into old shipping crates, wooden pallets and
rusted metal drums. Mulder had felt his ankle go as soon
as he hit the ground, felt the unmistakable agony as
ligaments tore, stretched beyond their normal range of
movement. At the time he'd done his best to ignore the
pain and push it to the side, a more pressing need to find
Max Fenig uppermost in his mind.
Now that the excitement was over, the adrenaline drained
from his blood stream, his ankle screamed for some much
needed attention. In fact his whole body was pleading with
him to take a break. Later, he told himself. Later he'd
have plenty of time to succumb to his exhaustion, but now
he had to try and find Max while there might still be a
chance.
"Max!" Mulder's voice echoed off the walls, bounced back
at him, empty and hollow.
"MAX!" Nothing. He stared down at the black baseball cap
still clutched in his hand. He traced a finger over the
initials embroidered across the front. NICAP. Another
intrepid soul in search of the truth. Yeah, Mulder
thought, the truth. The ever elusive, god damned truth.
Would this ultimately be his fate, too? Whisked away in a
beam of light? Would this be him next time he got too
close? When the government tired of their cat and mouse
game and simply removed him from the playing field so they
could play by rules they'd created for themselves. Rules
that no one seemed to have to answer to or be accountable
for. Damn them! He wouldn't lie down. Not this time,
not
ever! And he'd tell Section Chief McGrath exactly what
happened here. He'd expose this for the cover-up he was
certain it was.
xXx
"Mulder!"
Empty silence roared back at Scully, taunting her. Scaring
her.
The blood stood still in her veins. Fear pounded in her
chest where her heart should have been. The little
scientific voice of reason, the one especially reserved for
field trips with Mulder whispered quietly and calmly in her
ear, reassuring her that Mulder was safe and hadn't met the
same fate as Max Fenig. But the other voice, the one that
seemed to have developed an overinflated sense of
importance since she started work on the X files told her
to get her ass into gear and find her partner *now*!
"Mulder!" She heard the panic rise in her voice. The
echo of her feet hitting the dock reverberated in direct
competition with the thud of her heart.
When she rounded the ruined door of the warehouse her nose
wrinkled in disgust as the acrid smell of charred wood and
smouldering rubber filled her nostrils. A soft swirl of
residual smoke hung in the air and stung her eyes as she
searched for Mulder in the gloomy darkness.
Scully pulled her weapon from its holster, comforted by
the weight of it nestled in the palm of her hand.
"Mulder?" Her voice sounded flat, swallowed up in the
vastness of the room surrounding her. Why the hell didn't
he answer?
And then she saw him; his body held stiff and tense as he
stood silhouetted against a stray shaft of light that had
wrestled its way through a crack in one of the walls. His
back was to her, both arms hanging limp by his sides. So
still.
Scully blew a soft puff of air from her lips and thought
about returning her gun to its holster until the memory of
a third person roaming in the warehouse earlier with Mulder
and Max made her think better of it.
She approached Mulder from behind, concerned at his lack
of movement, confused by the way he stared at the roof.
What was he looking at?
"Mulder." She called his name quietly, carefully, not
wanting to scare him. He remained silent and unresponsive.
"Mulder, what are you doing?" She was beside him now,
gently touching his arm. Despite her warnings he jumped,
startled as if roused from a deep sleep.
"This is the place, Scully. Right up there." She
followed his raised arm which pointed to a space above
their heads. "He just hung there, caught in a beam of
light." Mulder turned his head to look at her. The sadness
etched in his face struck her hard, sucking the breath from
her lungs as if she'd been punched in the stomach.
"I said I'd protect him. I promised he'd be safe." A
sharp snort followed his words. "Why should this time be
any different?" He slowly shook his head, "Where do I get
off thinking I could stop it from happening? This thing,
this force, it picked me up, Scully, and threw me across
the warehouse as if I was nothing more than a rag doll."
Conviction and anger flashed in his eyes as he rounded on
her, not giving her a chance to answer him.
She couldn't hide the doubt in her eyes, was too slow to
disguise her disbelief. She knew something had happened
here and right now she was at a loss to explain exactly
what. But aliens? No. There had to be a more plausable
answer.
"Don't question me on this, Scully. Max was abducted. The
military, the government, they're going to cover this up
under god knows what pretence, hiding the truth behind
sanctioned lies. And Max becomes nothing more than another
missing person's statistic. Just like that."
"Mulder. It doesn't have to be that way. We have the X
files. They are the means by which we can stop this, but
if we don't get back to DC.... You know they're just
looking for an excuse to shut us down." She tugged on his
sleeve. "Let's go. Let's face McGrath and his inquiry.
We
can save our jobs then go through official channels, get a
302 signed and come back to investigate what really
happened to Max with the bureau resources behind us."
A momentary flicker of hope shone in his eyes, a slight
lift of his lips as if Scully's suggestion held promise.
And then he nodded. Scully waited for him to move first,
not entirely convinced he wouldn't bail out on her again.
His initial steps were awkward, hesitant and he almost
stumbled as he slid past her. In Scully's opinion his face
looked too pale, even in the dim light of the warehouse.
Maybe now was the time to quit the game, lay the cards on
the table.
"You're hurt, Mulder."
He continued to push past, giving her concern only cursory
acknowledgement. "I'm fine."
xXx
As much as Mulder appreciated Scully's concern, at this
point in time he didn't feel as if he had the right to
expect it. Not yet anyway. Not so soon after losing
another human being to the hands of unidentified enemies.
He knew what lay in store for Max. He had dozens of case
files dealing with alien abduction. None of the victims'
testimonies were recounted in a positive light. Painful
tests, indescribable terror. Mulder imagined Max's fear,
his pain. The more he thought about it, the harder it
became for him to concentrate on anything else. His head
ached with the effort. He needed to clear his mind, try
and shake the nagging pain behind his eyes if he was to
have any hope of formulating a valid argument to take to
the hearing tomorrow. He knew he wasn't capable of driving
all the way to Green Bay, not in this condition. And to
top it off, the further he walked, the more it felt as if
his ankle was being squeezed in a vice. The thought of
having to operate the accelerator or the brake and maintain
any control over the car made him sick to his stomach.
Mulder dug in his pocket, feeling for the keys as he moved
towards the warehouse exit.
xXx
Despite Mulder's evasiveness, it was obvious to Scully as
she stood watching him, that he was favouring his right
foot. The earlier limp was more pronounced now as he tried
to keep the weight off his injured leg.
He turned briefly and spoke to her over his shoulder,
"What are you waiting for, Scully, don't we have a plane to
catch?"
She followed him back to the car, quietly observing him
from behind. Apparently Mulder wasn't ready to give the
game up yet. Scully wondered if she was overreacting.
Maybe his injury *was* only minor. And she almost had
herself convinced until Mulder unlocked the car doors,
handed her the keys without explanation and moved to the
passenger side. He may not be admitting it verbally, but
for Mulder to choose not to drive was proof enough for
Scully that her original suspicions were right. He was
hurting badly and just too pig headed to admit it.
"Mulder..."
"Time's a wasting, Scully."
Damn him! What the hell was his problem? She watched her
partner squeeze himself awkwardly into the passenger space.
xXx
Mulder sank down into the bucket seat, sighing as the
soft, plush padding wrapped itself around him, cushioning
his battered body. He reached down and adjusted the seat to
accommadote his long legs. But it was a mistake to slide
the chair back so carelessly. A sharp stab of pain shot
through his ankle when the uncontrolled movement jolted his
foot. Sweat broke out on his forehead, pooled under his
arms. He pursed his lips tightly together to prevent
himself from crying out. He didn't need Scully fussing
over him again. All he wanted was to go home to the
sanctuary of his apartment, collapse on his couch and for a
few short hours, forget the horrors of a world ruled by a
government hell bent on conspiracies and cover-ups. A
world he had no say in, no control over, yet one in which
he found himself to be a principal player.
xXx
Scully saw Mulder's lips compress into a thin line as the
sudden backward movement jerked his seat. Fine. Sit there
and suffer, Mulder. She was tired of his macho games, let
him come to her if he needed help, she'd be damned if she
was going to keep chasing him.
Sighing loudly, Scully pulled out her cell phone and put a
call through to the airline, then another to the FBI before
joining Mulder in the car. He had his head tipped back
against the headrest, a fine spattering of perspiration
glistened on his forehead, and while his eyes were closed,
his expression was anything but relaxed.
Scully caught herself just in time, again on the verge of
opening her mouth to ask if he was okay. Had she forgotten
her own promise so soon? What was it about the man sitting
beside her that made her want to protect him almost to the
point of smothering? It went deeper than the doctor in
her, she knew that. How did Mulder manage to bring out
both the best and the worst in her? How was it that he
could almost always convince her to go against her better
judgement? Ninety per cent of the time persuading her to
do things his way? It required no great act of genius to
figure it out. She knew exactly why he had this hold over
her. It was that damn bottom lip, those soulful eyes, the
way he looked at her: full of hope, expectation and trust.
As if by refusing him she would be committing the greatest
act of betrayal since Judas ratted on Jesus. Damn him!
"Scully? What did they say?"
Scully had almost forgotten Mulder was sitting beside her
and she jumped when the sound of his voice pulled her away
from her thoughts.
"The meeting with McGrath's been rescheduled for tomorrow
morning at ten." Scully leant down and worked the driver's
seat forward so she could reach the pedals.
"Did you get us on a flight?"
"Yeah. Nine o'clock tonight."
"We better hit the road then. We've got at least a two
hour drive ahead of us." Mulder rolled his head to the
side so he could see her better. As he turned, the pale
evening light caught his face, highlighting the unnatural
pallor to his skin. He didn't look well, and contrary to
her earlier thoughts--that she might be overreacting--now
Scully wondered if maybe it wasn't only his leg that was
bothering him but something more serious. Had he hit his
head when he was thrown through the air? Was she seeing
the early signs of concussion?
"Mulder..." It was out before she could stop herself.
"Scully, if it will put your mind at ease, I twisted my
ankle back in the warehouse and it throbs a little. My
head is aching in sympathy and that's why I asked you to
drive. Other than that, I'm fine, really."
It was all the explanation she was likely to get from him
and she knew she ought to be grateful for that much.
"Maybe I should examine you before we leave. Just to..."
"Scully. Two hours. Let's go." He settled back in
the
seat, turned his head towards the window and closed his eyes.
Yeah, two hours, Scully thought, and no company.
Roadside Gas Station, Lena
Route 41
7.21pm ****************************
The car bumped and shook when the road surface switched
from smooth asphalt to the rutted, uneven concrete driveway
of a gas station. Mulder stirred as Scully pulled the car
to a halt outside the roadhouse. He stretched his legs
awkwardly in the confined space under the glove compartment
and attempted to sit up straight in his seat. Scully turned
to look at him when she heard him gasp, then saw him grab
at his lower leg.
"You okay?"
Mulder smiled sheepishly and moved his hand from where it
had been wrapped around his shin. "I'm thirsty. I could
use a soda."
"Diet Coke?" Scully asked, watching him suspiciously.
"Regular. I need a sugar fix." He smiled again.
"I'll be right back." Scully climbed out of the car and
headed into the diner, leaving Mulder to deal with his pain
in whatever way he saw fit when she wasn't there to worry.
xXx
Mulder let himself flop back in his seat. He closed his
eyes and took in some long slow breaths, glad of the brief
respite from Scully's eagle eye. He loved the fact that
she cared about him, but after so many years of flying solo-
-not only in his professional life but in his personal one
as well--sharing his pain or suffering, whether it be
physical or emotional with another person didn't come easy
to him. Sometimes he wondered if it ever would. Before
Scully, the only time anyone bothered to question his
health was when he had run himself so far into the ground
that his body had simply refused to function in any normal
capacity. He'd eventually collapse through sheer
exhaustion, slipping into a sleep so deep that not even
Bill Patterson's constant threats and harassment could coax
him back to consciousness. Mulder was the main man, the
star profiler and in most cases the victim's last dying
hope. The team needed him to be available 24 hours a day,
seven days a week. As far as Patterson was concerned there
wasn't time for the luxury of giving into the body's most
basic needs. But, thankfully, those days were over.
Relegated to a past that at times Mulder barely believed he
had lived through. Now, he had a real partner, someone to
watch his back, look out for him. Scully had proven
herself time and again. He knew she was there for him,
but he still had trouble getting used to the idea,
accepting her 'no-strings-attached' style of loyalty. When
sick or hurt he still preferred to slink off on his own and
lick his wounds in private.
Right now though, Mulder needed to stretch his legs. Maybe
the change in position would help to relieve the ache in
his foot. Sprains were such a pain in the ass. Especially
after the injury cooled down. From now on he knew it would
only get worse. Images of standing one-legged in the
shower like a lopsided crane played through his mind;
attempting to carry food or drink while balancing on
crutches, the pain that accompanied a badly timed moment of
forgetfulness or carelessness when he would inadvertently
step off on his injured foot. How the hell was he going to
work effectively while anchored to a pair of crutches like
a prisoner shackled to a ball and chain. And then of course
there was Scully. He'd be lucky if she would let him out
of his apartment at all once the hearing was over. Shit!
He didn't have time to be injured, he was in the middle of
a case!
Mulder yanked on the handle nestled near the armrest and
shouldered the car door open with enough force so that it
shook on its hinges threatening to slam back and hit him.
Carefully, he eased himself out of the car, making sure he
kept his right foot from making contact with the ground.
Being upright suddenly lost some of its appeal when his
vision started to blur and the pounding in his ankle
increased. Desperately he clutched at the car door with
one hand and the roof with the other. Without Scully there
to monitor his every move, he allowed himself a moment of
indulgence and released a long drawn-out groan. Oh God,
this sucked big time. Struggling to maintain some control
over his equilibrium he squeezed his eyes shut to block out
the dizziness and rested his head on the elbow of his right
arm.
It was going to be a long trip home.
xXx
Inside the roadhouse, Scully made a quick trip to the
bathroom before grabbing Mulder's coke and a coffee for
herself. On her way to the counter she passed the pharmacy
section. Her trip to Wisconsin had been so hastily
organised that she'd barely had time to throw some clothes
into an overnight bag. The need to include a first aid kit
in her packing had totally slipped her mind. She didn't
even have the obligatory Tylenol which she'd become
accustomed to carrying in her pocket not long after
starting work with Mulder. She'd discovered the necessity
of having painkillers on hand after their first case
together. Strangely enough it hadn't been for Mulder on
that occasion, but for her. Scully recalled how she'd
stuggled to write up her initial report for Blevins,
determined to show that she and her partner had been
investigating something their superiors would find credible
and not have it read like an excerpt from a Stephen King
novel. That was when she was first struck down with what
she'd affectionately come to refer to as a 'Mulder-
headache'. Of course Scully was immune to those now, she'd
quickly learned that trying to make sense of some of the
cases they investigated was a useless exercise. These days
she tended to only need the headache pills for those
special times when Mulder's never ending search for truth,
justice and the paranormal way became overly enthusiastic
and obsessive.
Although Tylenol was something Scully rarely needed for
herself these days, it was almost a mandatory requirement
to have them on hand for her accident-prone partner. In
fact it had barely taken her anytime at all before she'd
made the transition from carrying a simple packet of
painkillers to making sure there was a well-equipped first
aid kit available when they were out in the field. Even
though Scully knew damn well that to get any kind of
medication down Mulder's throat all but required five point
restraints and a naso gastric tube, there were those rare
occassions where he'd learned that pain relief was better
than pain endurance and he would casually ask if she had
anything on her. Scully figured today would be one of those
times. Eventually he would quit pretending he was fine and
accept her offer of help. And as always, she would be
there when he needed her.
Scully perused the shelves containing various over-the-
counter drugs. She finally decided on the Extra-strength
version of Tylenol. If Mulder resorted to asking for
painkillers then she knew he would have to be in a bad way.
By the time Scully returned to the car she could see that
Mulder had exited. He didn't see her at first and was
leaning against the door frame, left elbow perched on the
roof of the rental and right one draped over the door. She
took a few seconds to look him over. He was still a little
too pale for her liking, the pasty tone of his skin
accentuating the two-day old bruise on his cheek. Her eyes
travelled down to his injured right foot, which she noted
was held gingerly above the ground, most of his weight
resting on the left one. The way the cuff of his jeans met
the top of his boot made it impossible to gauge whether
there was swelling.
Scully handed Mulder his soda. He removed the straw then
the plastic lid and took a long swig. Guess he really was
thirsty and not just hedging after all, she thought to
herself.
"Mulder, sit down and let me take a look at your ankle."
Scully nodded at his foot and he immediately adjusted
himself so the toes were resting on the ground, giving a
little hop as he put some weight on it.
"No need, Scully. I know what's wrong and you looking at
it won't change anything." He glanced at his watch. "What
time did you say our plane was leaving?"
Nice side step partner. Change the subject and maybe
you'll be left alone. Scully wasn't in the mood for
playing pushy doctor to his uncooperative patient so she
let it slide for now. When he was ready to admit there was
a problem, she'd be there. In the meantime she was more
than willing to concentrate on getting them back to DC so
they could sort this mess out with Blevins and McGrath once
and for all. "Nine o'clock, Mulder. Let's get going." xXx
Mulder lifted his knee then stretched it out again. It
didn't matter where he rested his foot, there was no place
that offered any kind of relief from the pain. Everytime
he changed position in the seat it only served to jar his
ankle and make it worse. He checked his watch. How much
longer would it be before they arrived at the airport and
he would be released from the confined hell of the too-
small rental car?
xXx
About 10 miles out from the airport, Mulder's constant
restless movements--shifting and rearranging himself in the
seat--were just about sending Scully to the nut house.
Every now and then he would snake a hand down between his
leg and the car door, surreptitiously cupping his ankle to
gently rub it.
"I have some Tylenol if you need it," she offered without
taking her eyes from the road.
"What?" He lifted his head sharply.
"If your foot's bothering you that much, I have some
Tylenol."
"I'm fine..."
"Don't even go there, Mulder!" She snapped back. "You're
not fine. I *have* painkillers so why the hell won't you
take them?" She regretted her tone the moment the words
were out of her mouth.
"I don't need painkillers." His answer was terse,
squeezed out through teeth locked tight together.
"Mulder, I don't understand you. Your ankle is obviously
giving you trouble, why not just take something to relieve
it."
Mulder heaved a deep sigh, brought both hands to his face
and scrubbed at his eyes. "I know you're only trying to
help, but I..." He turned to look at her, appearing to
struggle with what he needed to say. "I have my reasons,
Scully, let's just leave it at that."
Scully glanced across at her partner. What reasons could
he possibly have? She couldn't quite read the expression
on his face. She thought she saw guilt, but there was
something more. Was this connected with what happened to
his sister? What else had he suffered in his pursuit for
the truth? She wanted to ask him, wanted him to open up to
her, but now wasn't the time. If she pushed too hard he'd
clam up tight. It had to be on his terms, when he was ready.
Instead, Scully decided to offer him reassurance,
friendship. She smiled, and lightly touched his hand, just
to let him know she was there for him.
His shoulders lost their rigid set and his face relaxed
into a smile. The moment of tension eased and Scully
turned her attention back to the road as Mulder settled low
in his seat and closed his eyes again.
Austin Straubel International Airport
Green Bay WI.
8.31pm *************************************
Scully chewed on her lip as she watched her partner
struggle with the door. Mulder's movements were slow and
calculated as he pushed the car door open. She sensed his
apprehension but remained silent, quietly observing him as
he carefully manoeuvred his injured foot through the
opening. She was torn between wanting to jump to his aid
and being mindful of his need for privacy. It both annoyed
and saddened her that Mulder felt he couldn't confide in
her, reach out for help. Scully came to a decision as she
stepped out of the car. If he wasn't going to ask for
help, fine. That didn't mean she couldn't be of assistance
in a more subtle way.
She went to the trunk and pulled out their overnight bags
along with Mulder's brief case and Laptop. Scully had
earlier decided to drop Mulder and their bags outside the
terminal and then return the Taurus to the rental agency,
which was a further 100 yards down the road. At least that
way he wouldn't have to walk as far.
xXx
Mulder was just glad to be here and relieved to finally be
free of the confines of the car. He paused, hesitant to
stand, remembering the increased pain standing upright had
caused him at the roadhouse. He sat with his hands braced
against the edge of the door frame. He hated being
injured. He hated having to depend on others for help.
He
hated operating at less than 100%. Heaving a frustrated
sigh he took a deep breath and hauled himself to his feet,
unable to stifle a groan as his right foot accidentally
made contact with the ground.
xXx
Scully heard Mulder grunt as he pulled himself the rest of
the way out of the car. She glanced up and saw him leaning
heavily against the door frame, his right foot held off the
ground again and his eyes shut tight. Damn him. She
slammed the lid of the trunk and went to his side.
"Can you make it inside?"
Mulder lifted his head and snapped his eyes open at the
sound of her voice. Scully was amazed at the sudden change
in his posture as he pulled himself to attention. She
couldn't help noticing that the earlier greyish tinge to
his skin had become positively chalky now.
"Come inside and sit with our bags while I take the car
back to the rental agency." She kept her voice steady,
even, not wanting to sound like she was intruding. Mulder
looked terrible and regardless of his insistence that he
was fine, she refused to accept his denials any longer.
To her surprise he smiled at her, a lopsided grin that
spoke of weariness and relief. Scully got the impression
that he was glad she had taken charge and was directing him
where to go.
"Wait here, I'll get a luggage cart." She didn't want to
be weighed down by their bags, wanted her hands free in
case Mulder should stumble and need her help.
Mulder nodded and slumped back against the car, right foot
still hovering off the ground.
"Excuse me ma'am, you can't leave your vehicle here. This
is a drop off point only." Scully turned at the sound of a
man's voice and came face to face with one of the airport
security officers.
No, not now. She didn't need this. They had less than 30
minutes to catch their flight and God knows how Mulder was
ever going to make it to the gate in that time. She pulled
out her badge in one swift motion and flashed it at the
uniformed man.
"I'm Special Agent Scully with the FBI and I can assure
you that I will only be leaving the car here for a minute
or two while I find a cart for our bags."
"I'm sorry, but you can't..." Was this man hard of
hearing or just plain stupid?
"Look, I don't have time to argue with you. My partner is
injured and I have no intention of making him walk from the
parking lot to the terminal. Again, I assure you that the
car will be gone in a few minutes."
"I wouldn't mess with her if I were you." Both sets of
eyes turned to stare at Mulder, still leaning against the
car, an amused glint in his eye. He gave a little shrug.
The security officer summed up the situation, taking in
Mulder's disheveled appearance and the way he was
favouring his right leg. "You know the airport have
wheelchairs you can borrow, I'm sure it wouldn't be any
trouble to arrange one for..."
"No! No. I'll be fine." And to prove he was as good
as
his word, Mulder pushed himself away from the car and
tentatively put his right foot all the way to the ground.
Scully didn't think it was possible but he paled even more,
the blood literally drained from his face before their very
eyes. He stayed upright though. The man was a fighter,
Scully had to give him that. He took another couple of
limping steps towards Scully and the security officer, his
face set in a mask of concentration. "See, nothing to
worry about."
Yeah, right partner. And it's perfectly natural for your
face to match the colour of the pavement and a river of
perspiration to be streaming down your cheeks on a cool
November evening.
"Wait there." Scully was accustomed to throwing her
weight around when it came to Mulder's welfare. Hell,
she'd successfully pulled off a rescue mission of mammoth
proportions on their second case together, hauling Mulder's
ass out of another military compound and taking on one of
their security officers single-handed. After that, dealing
with officious individuals puffed up with their own self-
importance was no challenge at all.
Scully didn't waste another moment of her time with
airport security, deciding instead to let Mulder deal with
the man. She had a luggage cart to track down.
xXx
The security officer gave Mulder the critical eye.
Checking the agent out from head to toe. He then asked in
a rather dubious tone, "Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yeah, my partner's a doctor. Trust me, nothing escapes
her notice and she is itching to get her hands on me."
Mulder smiled at the man, making sure reassurance oozed
from every pore.
The man stared back. Unconvinced.
"Seriously, I'll be fine. She really will take good care
of me." Mulder wanted this man to leave. He wasn't in the
mood for making nice with the locals. He had just about
reached the limit of good manners when the man seemed to
come to a decision. He nodded to Mulder and moved on his
way. xXx
A little while later Scully was back with the cart. She
loaded their belongings and gave the cart to Mulder so he'd
have something to lean on as they made their way inside the
building. She helped get him seated and for once, was
pleased to note he accepted the situation without
complaint. Scully returned the car to the rental agency,
booked their overnight bags through the baggage section,
and collected their boarding passes. She and Mulder made
their way to Gate 6B for their flight back to DC. Scully
checked her watch. Providing the plane was on time, they
had about 8 minutes till their boarding call.
Mulder was finding it pretty slow going and for the first
time in their partnership, Scully had to slow her pace so
he could keep up with her. Knowing how the man hated to
have attention drawn to himself, Scully wasn't surprised
he'd refused to ride in a wheelchair. She had to smile.
Investigating the weird and unexplained was not the right
career move for someone who detested the limelight as much
as Mulder did.
By the time they were both seated in the boarding lounge,
Mulder was sweating profusely. He leaned forward, rested
his elbows on his knees and dropped his head into his
hands. Scully stole a glance at him, slipped her hand into
her pocket and fingered the packet of Tylenol hidden there.
Just ask me Mulder, is that so hard? All you have to do is
say the word and pain relief is yours. She willed him to
ask the question but he continued to sit in silence, head
buried in his hands and breathing shallowly.
***************
Flight AA432
Somewhere over the East Coast
10.35pm
Scully ran her eyes over Mulder's fingers. Long, sensual,
elegant. Yet strong and masculine. They'd often held her
mesmerized. Distracted her to the point where she would
completely lose the plot when he was talking to her. She
loved the way he twirled them through the air to emphasize
a point, stroked his bottom lip as he sat deep in thought,
became animated as his frustration grew when she didn't
quite see things the way he did.
One soft, smooth hand hung limp over the arm rest. Mulder
slept, blissfully unaware of his partner's fixated-like
inspection of his fingers. What would he think if he knew
she had studied every hair on the back of his hands, every
perfectly rounded, meticulously trimmed finger nail? Knew
that she was intrigued by the little half moons nestled
against the cuticle where the nails slid under the skin?
There was a time when she felt guilty about her 'in-flight
observations', but as the habit became more practiced, and
she became more adept at avoiding being caught in the act,
the guilt lessened until eventually it faded into obscurity.
She stared in unadulterated appreciation as his fingers
twitched and flexed in sleep. Twitched, flexed, opened,
closed, jerked. Clenched into a fist. Wrenched open, then
pulled into a tight fist again. Scully dragged her eyes
from Mulder's hands and studied his face. She'd been glad
when he'd fallen asleep. She knew he was uncomfortable
stuffed into the restricted space of economy class seating.
He'd drifted off about 30 minutes ago, finally putting an
end to his constant fidgety movements. But now, she could
see his expression had changed from a state of relaxed
slumber to one of fitful restlessness. His brow creased
into a frown, lines stood out around his eyes like contours
on a map.
Scully sat forward in her seat when she heard a quiet
groan. She watched as Mulder clutched at his thigh. He
attempted to stretch his right leg under the seat in front,
gasped sharply and groaned again.
xXx
Mulder was in that place between sleep and wakefulness. A
place where discomfort was usually the only thing that kept
the sleep of the dead at bay. Grateful didn't even begin
to describe how he'd felt when he'd eventually made it onto
the plane, found his seat and was finally able to take the
weight off his foot. He'd been overjoyed on discovering
the near-empty plane and deliriously relieved that he
wouldn't have to share the seating.
When he'd first sat down, the pain had receded
significantly. Now, though, Mulder was finding it
impossible to settle into a comfortable position. The
relentless throb in his foot was pushing him beyond the
edge of his tolerance where he teetered just short of
begging for something to kill the pain. Again he tried
to
stretch his leg, but in doing so he jarred his foot,
pulling on already over-taxed ligaments. The pain that
shot through his ankle was pure agony. He folded over and
grabbed his leg.
"Mulder, are you okay?" Scully asked as she reached
across the aisle and gently touched his arm.
Mulder pushed his head against the seat in front as his
other hand joined the first, both wrapped protectively
around his injured foot. "Oh God, Scully."
"Mulder..."
He sat up and regarded his partner through pain-filled
eyes. "Scully, do you have anything?"
"Hang on." Scully pulled the Tylenol from her pocket and
hit the call button for the flight attendant. With her
left hand she clicked the seat belt free to give her better
access to her partner.
"What...are you...doing?" Another throbbing wave of pain
swept through his foot. "Arh, shit." He bent over
and
clutched his ankle again.
Before she could answer, the flight attendant arrived.
"Ma'am, can I help you?"
Scully looked up into the concerned face of a female
flight attendant. "Could you get me a glass of water,
please?"
"Is he all right?" The flight attendant fixed her eyes
squarely on Mulder.
"I think so. At least he should be after I give him
something for the pain."
"Is he sick?"
"Sprained ankle. I hope."
The flight attendant didn't look entirely convinced, but
had the sense not to waste time arguing. "Okay, I'll be
back in a second." And she left.
"Can you scoot over by the window?" Scully leant across
Mulder's body and raised the armrests.
Mulder twisted slowly in his seat, doing his best to keep
his foot steady as he moved towards the window and leaned
his back against the plane's fuselage.
"Scully..."
"Lift your foot up here, Mulder." Scully grabbed the
airline pillow from her seat, reached over again and
snagged the one Mulder had been using. Gently, she helped
him raise his foot so it was propped on the pillows she'd
piled up against the arm rest. She started to loosen the
laces on his boot when she felt a hand on hers.
"Scully...relax, this isn't a medical emergency." Mulder
smiled, it seemed a genuine enough smile but she could
clearly see the effort it took him to not end it in a
grimace.
"Shutup, Mulder, and let me be the best judge of that."
Carefully she eased the boot from his foot and pushed the
cuff of his jeans up. "Oh, Mulder." The outside of his
ankle looked like someone had shoved a tennis ball down the
side of his sock. "We need to stop this from swelling
further."
Mulder raised himself up to get a look at the offending
injury. "Shit," he gasped, and slumped back against the
window.
"Here you go, ma'am." The flight attendant returned and
handed Scully the water. "Ooh, that looks nasty," she
commented, screwing her face up in sympathy. "Did you
fall, sir?"
Mulder gave a short sharp laugh, "Yeah, kind of."
"I'll get some ice and a first aid kit." And she was gone
before either of them could answer her. Scully found it a
welcome relief not to have to explain to the woman what she
needed to treat her partner.
Scully popped 3 Tylenol from the pack and handed them to
Mulder with the glass of water.
"Three, Scully?" He asked, rolling the pills around in the
palm of his hand.
"Trust me, you're going to need them if the look of this
is anything to go by." She paused and caught his eyes with
her own, "Mulder, why didn't you say something earlier.
This should have had ice on it right away."
He shrugged, swallowed the pills and said, "You know how
it is."
No. No she didn't. But that wasn't true. She did know
how it was with Mulder, she just didn't understand it.
"I'm going to remove your sock."
"You might want to pull down one of those oxygen masks
before you do. My socks are about ready to stand up on
their own." Although his tone was light, the furrow in his
brow reminded her of the pain he was in.
"I'm sure we'll survive." She smiled at him. "Tell me if
I'm hurting you too much." Scully gently moved the top of
his sock down around his ankle. She heard her partner gasp
as she manoeuvred it over the worst of the swollen area.
"Sorry."
"Mm. It's okay." His words came quick, strained.
xXx
Mulder knew Scully was trying to be gentle. Just as he
knew it was taking every ounce of self discipline he had
not to leap off the seat and make a desperate escape
through the emergency exit. It didn't matter that she was
doing her best to keep his foot still while she slowly
worked the sock off. Every little movement sent the
damaged ligaments into a frenzy of protest. Mulder could
feel his fingers digging into the cloth seat, his jaw
tightening and his teeth pressing together. Even though he
tried, he wasn't able to stop himself flinching when his
ankle twisted slightly as Scully pulled the sock from
around the injury.
xXx
"Excuse me ma'am." The flight attendant had returned.
Scully was tired of thinking of her as 'the flight
attendant'. If this woman was going to be assisting with
Mulder's care, Scully wanted to be able to call her by
name. She stole a quick glance at the name badge pinned to
her airline uniform. Maria.
"I have some ice and a first aid kit. Would you like me
to take a look at your friend, I'm first aid trained."
Maria offered.
Scully smiled her thanks at the woman standing beside her,
"It's okay, I'm a doctor. I don't think there's a lot more
that can be done apart from icing the injury and keeping
him as comfortable as possible until we land."
Maria handed the first aid kit to Scully. "You'll find
everything you need in here. If not, we have a larger one
at the front of the plane."
xXx
Mulder watched on in silence, quietly observing the
exchange between the two women. He always found it
fascinating when Scully shrugged off her FBI personna and
became Dr Scully. It was like flicking a switch. She slid
into the role with ease. As usual her manner was cool,
calm and composed, taking a step back from their personal
friendship and viewing the situation with an air of
detachment. Always the professional, Mulder thought with
affection. He wondered whether Scully ever regretted her
decision to join the FBI instead of pursuing a career in
medicine. He sometimes felt her medical qualifications
would be better utilised in a busy emergency room, rather
than in the cold, sterile environment of an autopsy bay.
He'd like to ask her, but what if she said yes? What if
she did regret choosing law enforcement, or worse still,
resented being partnered with him?
"Do you think it's broken?" Maria asked.
"It's almost impossible to tell without an X-Ray. There's
a lot of swelling which is usually associated with ligament
or tendon damage and the fact that he has been able to bear
weight on it is a good sign. Still...he has been in severe
pain, which seems to have gotten worse rather than easing
off...I guess we won't know for sure till we stop by the
emergency room."
If there was one thing Mulder detested more than being
made a fuss of when he was injured--more than being the
focus of his partner's and whoever she could coerce into
assisting in her sometimes over zealous medical
ministrations--it was being talked about as if he wasn't
there. As if he was some kind of apparition that bore no
ability to see, hear or think.
Mulder cleared his throat.
"Scully. My ankle is *not* broken. It's a sprain.
It's
not the first time I've had one and probably won't be the
last. I don't need to stop by the emergency room, and I
don't need an X-ray. I'll be fine by morning."
There was a certain look Scully got on her face when
Mulder was in mid debate over a particularly wild theory.
He wasn't sure if it was a conscious effort on Scully's
part or merely a reflex reaction when her mind was forced
to process data it regarded as complete and utter bullshit.
Mulder saw the same look on her face now. Just before she
turned to Maria and offered her a broad smile.
"Thank you for your help, I think we'll be fine now."
Maria nodded and said, "Just give me a call if you need
anything. We're not busy so please don't hesitate."
Scully nodded and watched Maria return to her duties at
the front of the plane before turning her attention back to
her partner.
Mulder braced himself for the onslaught. Usually, right
about now, Scully would begin expounding the virtues of
science versus the absolute lunacy of whatever it was
Mulder was trying to convince her of. Some how he doubted
that the words about to come out of her mouth now would
bear any resemblance to science.
To his surprise, she didn't even speak. Scully laid the
icepack wrapped in cloth gently against his swollen ankle,
the sudden cold and pressure on his injury made him gasp.
Still she kept her attention focused solely on his foot.
The silence was more than he could stand.
"Scully? Did you hear me? I said..."
"I heard you."
"And you agree?"
Scully looked up to meet Mulder's gaze. Did she want to
get into another argument with him? Was it worth it? Her
gut instinct told her Mulder should have his ankle X-rayed
tonight, but it was so late and she knew he was probably
right. It was more than likely a sprain, albeit a bad one.
She felt fairly certain that given proper care and
attention, he could avoid a trip to the ER. She also knew
that if there was no improvement, no reduction in swelling
or pain by morning, then she could and would take Mulder
straight to the nearest hospital. Reluctantly she
conceded. "I agree. We'll get you home, continue with
treatment and if you are no better by morning, then we hit
the ER. Okay?"
She took his grin as a yes.
Fifteen minutes later, Scully had the ice taken away and
Mulder's foot securely wrapped in an Ace bandage. "How
does it feel, not too tight?"
Mulder tentatively wriggled his toes and said, "It feels
fine. Thanks."
"When we start to land, try and get your shoe back on,
it'll be easier to walk. If it's too tight loosen the
laces." She paused for a second, thinking. "I don't
suppose I could talk you into using a wheelchair?"
The look he gave her told Scully in no uncertain terms
exactly where she could stick the wheelchair. She sighed
before answering, "I didn't think so."
End of part one
<bahnsen@alphalink.com.au>
***********************************************************
Reply To: bahnsen@alphalink.com.au
An Angel in the Wings Part two
By Sally Bahnsen
<bahnsen@alphalink.com.au>
Disclaimers in part one
************************
Dulles International Airport Washington D.C.
11:39 pm
The first step was the worst. Mulder knew his ankle would
stiffen up during the flight and after a long period of
inactivity. Even though he'd had sprains before, he wasn't
quite prepared for the agonising pain that engulfed his foot
when he tried to walk. Each time he put his foot to the
ground, no matter how careful he was, it felt as if he was
living through a nightmare that sent his stomach churning
and a distant roar humming through his ears. As they made
their way through the terminal he could sense Scully
hovering by his side, wanting to help him but unsure what to
do.
Being so adamant about refusing a wheelchair was beginning
to feel like a big mistake. Mulder wondered if maybe he
hadn't been a little hasty in rejecting Scully's suggestion.
The thought of sitting down and taking the weight off his
ankle seemed like a really good idea right about now. But
pride was a hard thing to swallow, so instead, he continued
his slow painful walk towards the baggage claim area,
relying on frequent stops to catch his breath and the solid
cement wall to keep him upright while he paused to rest.
xXx
Scully took a deep breath, held it then let it out slowly.
It was no use. The lump of lead in her stomach remained,
growing heavier each time she had to slow her pace so Mulder
could keep up with her. She'd offered him more painkillers
just before the plane landed, but he'd steadfastly refused.
"Mulder? Can you make it a little further? Let's try and
get to the seat over there, then you can rest more
comfortably for awhile." Scully didn't like the vacant
expression in her partner's eyes or the way he had his
bottom lip pulled firmly under his top teeth. "Come on,
I'll give you a hand." She looped her left arm through his
right, trying to offer him some kind of support. Mulder
nodded his head once, a short sharp movement, and gritted
his teeth as he pushed himself away from the wall.
xXx
He hated being injured. The pain, the inconvenience, but
most of all, he found it almost unbearably embarrassing.
Even though it was late, there were still plenty of people
milling around the terminal. Mulder felt as if all eyes
were on him, following his every move. He just wanted to
get out of there, back to the privacy of his apartment where
he could suffer in peace. Moan and groan to his heart's
content where no-one would hear him or look at him or wonder
what was wrong with him. But more than anything, he needed
to get horizontal, take the weight off his foot.
"Here, sit down." Scully helped ease Mulder into the chair.
He leant forward and wrapped his hand around his ankle,
bending down and allowing his head to drop into the crook of
his left arm which rested across his knees. He couldn't
care less now what people thought of him. It wasn't like he
was ever going to see them again. Gradually he became aware
of a light pressure on his back. A hand moving in slow
circles across his shoulders. He lifted his head and looked
up at his partner. Scully smiled at him, a small nod of
encouragement, reassurance. And he realised then how glad
he was that she was there, helping him. How much he'd come
to rely on her. It amazed him actually, the way she had
burrowed her way into his heart in such a short time, had
become an intrinsic, necessary part of his life. Mulder
pulled himself straighter in the chair and put his hand on
Scully's arm, gave it a gentle squeeze and said, "I'm okay.
Let's get this show on the road, I've just about had enough
of airports for one day."
"Do you think you can make it the rest of the way? When we
get to the baggage area, I can get you a cart to lean on."
Mulder nodded and pushed himself shakily to his feet, using
the toes of his right foot to help balance him. "Let's go."
xXx
By the time they reached the baggage area, Mulder looked as
if he was ready to drop. Scully sat him in one of the few
airport chairs lining the wall and waited for their bags to
roll down the chute onto the carousel.
While she stood waiting, Scully kept a watchful eye on her
partner. She wondered who had taken care of him before she
came along, and then figured that he probably just did what
he tried to do with her. Shrug off his injuries and get on
with the job. Or maybe his mother had come and watched over
him, made sure he ate well, wiped his brow and soothed him
with gentle words. He didn't talk about his mom very often.
Scully knew there'd been a rift in the family. He'd told her
as much on their first case together. Her thoughts turned
to Mulder's father. Was he proud of his son? She knew how
desperately she sought approval from her own father,
especially given his concerns about her joining the FBI.
But it was different for a guy. Why wouldn't Mulder's
father be proud of him? He'd done well for himself in the
bureau. Top of his class at Quantico, been responsible for
writing the profile which eventually led to the arrest of a
notorious serial killer. He'd been the golden boy in the
VCS, of course his parents would be proud of him.
A few minutes later, Scully had their bags loaded onto a
luggage cart and headed back to Mulder. He sat with his
head against the wall, eyes closed, both hands absently
rubbing at his right leg, just above the knee.
"Hey."
Mulder lifted his head from the wall and stared up at
Scully, his brow creased in concentration.
"Ready to go?"
"Mm. Yeah. Sorry, I guess I dozed off." He scrubbed
at
his face roughly, trying to clear the fuzziness in his head,
then braced his hands on either side of the seat and pushed
himself to his feet. He stumbled slightly as he shifted his
weight to his left leg.
"Here Mulder, take the cart, you can lean on it till we get
out front. I'll bring the car around and pick you up."
He nodded quickly and gripped the handle of the cart, glad
to finally have something to help him walk.
xXx
Route 495
12.45am
Mulder had never been so grateful in his life to feel the
soft cushions of a car seat underneath his butt. The
Tylenol he'd had on the plane had barely taken the edge off
his pain and now the throbbing in his ankle was back with a
vengeance. It didn't take Einstein to figure out that
traipsing around the airport hadn't done him any favours. He
felt as if his heart had slipped from his chest and landed
in his foot, pounding an agonizing rhythm right through his
ankle. He couldn't quite remember feeling so lousy with a
sprain before. Maybe Scully was right, maybe he had broken
something this time.
And he felt cold. No matter how high he turned up the heat,
he couldn't get warm. Suddenly Mulder felt ashamed of
himself. Max was out there somewhere, having God only knows
what kind of tests performed on him and here he was
suffering meltdown over a twisted ankle. It was good that
he was in pain, it was right that he should suffer. Because
of him Max had been abducted, because of him Samantha had
been taken, because of him his mother and father had
divorced. And the list went on. How dare he gripe about
his pain? He sunk further down in his seat, wrapped his
arms around his chest and tried unsuccessfully to still the
shivering that wracked his body.
xXx
Scully knew she should be tired. Exhausted in fact. She'd
barely had any sleep the night before, had worked long hours
beside Dr Oppenheim trying to save Colonel Henderson's men.
But her concern for her partner kept her alert, pumping a
steady supply of adrenaline into her blood stream. Mulder
had again refused the pain killers she'd offered him as they
pulled away from the airport. Instead, he had turned up the
heat in the car, slumped against the passenger side door and
wrapped his arms around his body. She was worried about him.
The little doctor voice in her head nagged at her like an
aching tooth. Telling her to take her partner to the
hospital, but she'd promised to hold off until morning. She
was getting dizzy switching her gaze between the road and
her partner. In the end she decided to stick to the
original plan. He would probably benefit more from rest
than a long wait in the emergency room.
42 Hegel Place
Arlington
1:15am
Scully leant over and shook Mulder's arm. "Hey, we're here.
Wake up." Mulder turned in his seat and stretched his arms
over his head, easing the kinks out of his neck. He looked
around, slightly bewildered.
"What time is it?"
"A quarter after one. Come on, let's get you inside."
Scully climbed from the car and went around to help him. At
least he was willing to accept her assistance now. She
slipped his right arm over her shoulder, allowing him to
transfer some of his weight to her. The height difference
made it awkward and ungainly, and quite frankly she wasn't
sure just how much help she was really being but she felt
better to be doing at least *something* constructive.
As they approached the steps leading to the building's
entrance, Mulder pulled his arm from around Scully and used
the banister to lean on while he made his way up the few
concrete stairs. Scully went ahead to open the door,
waiting as Mulder limped gingerly past her.
Inside the elevator Mulder leaned with his back against the
wall, taking up what was becoming a familiar pose; head
tilted back, eyes closed, right foot hovering those few
inches off the ground. He looked exhausted. Scully
wondered how he was even managing to stay upright. She'd
witnessed a slow deterioration in both his physical and
mental condition since Max had disappeared. Some of it
could be attributed to the pain, the sheer fatigue he was
suffering, but she suspected that what had happened to Max
was a bigger factor in his poor mental state than his injury
was. She chewed on her lip, studying her partner closely,
wishing the cure to Mulder's self recrimination was as easy
to prescribe as the treatment for his physical injury.
The elevator dinged it's arrival on the fourth floor and the
doors opened automatically. Mulder didn't move, he remained
propped against the wall. Scully took a step towards him
just as he started to list dangerously to the side.
"Mulder!" She hadn't meant to call out quite so loud.
Certainly hadn't meant to startle him the way she did.
He
snapped to attention slamming both feet hard against the
ground to keep from falling. xXx
"SHIT!" Mulder bent over, clutched his right shin and
raised his foot off the floor. "Shit. Shit!" He groaned,
eyes clenched tightly shut as wave after wave of pure agony
shot through his ankle and up his leg.
Somewhere in his peripheral consciousness he was aware of
Scully sliding her hand under his arm, preventing him from
collapsing all the way to the ground. Mulder could hear her
talking to him, but the buzzing noise in his head, filling
his ears and his thoughts, made it impossible to decipher
the words. He needed a minute. If he could just let Scully
know he needed some time to work through the pain then he
might be okay. But all his attention was focused on making
his lungs work and convincing his stomach to stay where it
was instead of trying to climb up his throat. Gradually the
roaring in his ears lessened, the agony in his ankle reduced
to a more managable level and with a little effort he
thought he might be able to concentrate on what Scully was
actually saying to him.
"...orry, Mulder. "I'm sorry."
Slowly, Mulder pushed himself up, breathing heavily and
giving his head a quick shake.
"Mulder?"
"I'm all right. I'm okay." He could hear the huskiness in
his voice and the words felt thick on his tongue.
"Can you make it to your apartment?"
"Mm. Yeah." He rummaged in his pocket and found his keys.
"Here, you go ahead. Open the door. I'll be along
in a
second."
Scully gave him a doubtful look.
"Really. I'll be there."
"Humor me, Mulder, and come out into the hallway first. I
don't want to spend the rest of the night trying to catch a
runaway elevator with my unconscious partner trapped
inside."
She had a point. Carefully he hopped out of the lift not
even allowing the tips of the toes on his right foot to
touch the ground. Scully gave him one last look before
leaving to open his door.
Mulder hurt all over. His ankle throbbed mercilessly, his
head pounded, the muscles in his shoulders were bunched so
tight that he wondered if he would be able to turn his head
the next day. And he had no idea how he would ever be able
to formulate any kind of argument to defend himself or fight
for his job when he had to face the OPR in the morning.
xXx
Scully fumbled with the bunch of keys, her actions clumsy in
her haste to open the door. Finally she inserted the right
one, turned the lock and pushed the door open. The
apartment was dark, smelled musty. She flicked the light
switch on then made her way inside. She cleared a path for
Mulder, turning more lights on as she went. Satisfied that
her partner would be able to make it to the couch without
tripping or crashing into any badly placed furniture, Scully
returned to the hallway to see if he needed any help.
xXx
Mulder had thought the short distance from the elevator to
his apartment would prove little challenge for him. He
figured he'd just use the wall as support and maybe hop the
rest of the way. That was the plan. Except everytime he
went to take off, his apartment building had mistakenly
taken on the role of a carnival carousel, turning itself in
dizzying circles, undulating up and down as Mulder fought to
keep his stomach contents from decorating the wall, floor
and probably himself. By the time Scully returned he'd
barely made any progress at all.
"Mulder!"
Mulder lifted his head from where it was resting against the
cool plaster wall, squinting in an effort to clear his
vision. He could just make out Scully hurrying towards him.
Thank god. No more games. He was now ready to accept any
help she could give him.
Scully gently pulled at his arm.
"Mulder, here. Put your arm around me." Scully wrapped his
right arm around her shoulders. "Let me help you."
He did. Gladly.
"Try and keep the weight off your ankle, Mulder. Hop if you
have to, I've got you." Mulder almost found the strength to
smile at her suggestion. Although he admired Scully's grit
and determination, he really didn't think that she'd be able
to do much more than go down with him should he start to
topple towards the ground. Still, he appreciated the gesture
and did his best to do as she asked.
Finally, they reached the door of his apartment. Untangling
his arm from Scully, Mulder gritted his teeth and hopped the
rest of the way to his couch.
Relief washed over him in a soothing wave as soon as he sat
down. Leather had never felt so good. Now if he could just
get his ankle to stop aching and the nausea to settle down,
he'd be a happy man.
"Lie back and lift your foot up. I've got some cushions to
put under it."
At the sound of his partner's voice, Mulder forced his eyes
open and willed his body to comply with her instructions.
But he needn't have worried. Once again Scully was there,
helping him, easing him onto his back and helping him lift
his leg up. A strange feeling came over him. A feeling
he
vaguely remembered experiencing some time in his past. It
had been a long while since another person had cared for him
like this.
xXx
Scully gently slipped Mulder's shoe off and eased his sock
over the bandage. She could clearly see the ugly bulge at
the side of his ankle through the covering.
"We need to get some more ice on this. I'll be right back."
She gave Mulder's knee a light squeeze before disappearing
into the kitchen.
To Scully's surprise she found the kitchen was in pretty
good shape. In contrast to the disaster-zone he called a
living room, in here, the counters were clean and the floor
space uncluttered. Of course the fact that he rarely
cooked a meal for himself probably had a lot to do with it.
She pulled the freezer door open and expertly navigated her
hand around a frozen clump of...well...what might've once
been something edible in another life time. She pried the
icy mound loose with her fingers and found 3 plastic ice
trays lodged at the back. Pulling hard, she loosened them
from where they'd become stuck against the wall of the
freezer and set them on the sink. A couple of hard taps
against the side of the counter separated the trays.
While she searched the kitchen for a plastic bag and cloth,
Scully wondered about Mulder's personal life outside of the
office. She knew he didn't socialise with their colleagues.
Was there anyone he shared beer and pizza with at the end of
the day? She doubted it, he was too obsessed with his work.
Mulder's idea of a good time was to lock himself in his
office, forage through a bunch of case files and spend long
hours hunched over his computer researching the weird and
unexplained.
Did he ever date? She didn't think so. At least he never
mentioned it. Scully was surprised by the sudden ache in
her chest at the thought of Mulder sharing himself with
another woman. She paused, stared at the icepack now
securely wrapped in a terry cloth hand towel. Was she
jealous? Over Mulder? Scully snorted quietly and shrugged
the feeling off. He was her partner, her friend, it wasn't
unusual to feel a little territorial about someone you
worked closely with. Was it? Scully scooped up the ice
pack and filled a glass with water before returning to the
living room.
xXx
Mulder draped his arm across his forehead and tried to
concentrate on anything but the persistent throb in his
ankle. He attempted to distract himself with thoughts of
Max. Where was he? Could he still be alive? And would
the
OPR see things his way tomorrow and sign off on a 302 so he
could finish his investigation?
"Mulder?" Scully's voice was quiet, almost a whisper.
Mulder felt her cool hand wrap around his wrist. "Hey,
you
awake?"
"Mmm, yeah." He rubbed at his eyes, now sore and gritty
with fatigue.
xXx
"I've got the ice, but before I put it on your ankle, I need
to take the bandage off." Carefully she raised his leg,
slid the cushion out from underneath and sat down, resting
his foot across her lap as she unwound the wrapping. When
the bandage came loose and his injury was exposed, Scully
could clearly see the bruise forming. A deep shade of blue
ringed the outside of his ankle, reached across the top of
his foot then snaked down with spindly purple fingers into
his heel.
"Do you have any ibuprofen? Tomorrow I'd like you to start
taking something to help reduce the inflammation." Scully
laid the icepack across his swollen ankle, careful not to
put too much pressure on it. Even so, Mulder flinched as
the ice made contact with his skin.
"No, uh-uh. Don't keep pain killers in my apartment."
"You don't...Why not?" The question was out before she'd
even had a chance to think about it. Her curiosity about
Mulder's reluctance to seek pain relief had been nagging at
her all evening, but she'd planned to time and phrase her
question a little more tactfully.
"It's a long story. Just let it go."
"Well, I've got some time on my hands at the moment. This
ice has to stay on for fifteen minutes. And if I've gotta
sit here with your foot propped on my lap, the least you can
do is keep me entertained." She smiled at him even though
she doubted he could see her from under his arm.
Mulder lowered the arm from across his eyes and stared at
his partner in silence.
"Come on Mulder, it can't be that bad."
"You don't know the half of it, Scully." The arm fell back
across his forehead, but in that fleeting moment while he'd
been looking at her, Scully had seen a wealth of pain in his
expression. She gently tugged at the other arm resting on
his chest, and covered Mulder's hand with one of hers.
xXx
Mulder felt an odd, dull ache where his heart was beating.
He was pretty good at keeping his emotions in check most of
the time, hell when he thought about it, he'd become an
expert at it over the past 20 years. What was it about
Scully and the way she spoke to him, looked at him, that had
stiff, neglected feelings staggering to the surface again?
Reluctantly, he let his arm slide from his face, but kept
his eyes closed. He drew in a deep breath and let the words
spill out as he exhaled.
"I think I told you that after Samantha disappeared, things
didn't go exactly smoothly in our household. The upshot of
it is that neither of my parents coped well. Dad lost
himself in his work during the day and in a whisky bottle at
night. Mom, slept a lot the first few weeks after we lost
Sam."
He paused, licked his lips before continuing on in a low,
even monotone. "Eventually, she started to spend more time
awake." Mulder snorted a bitter, humourless laugh. "Maybe
awake isn't the right word. She was out of bed, but by no
means awake, at least not in the way most people think of
wakefulness. At first she was careful about how she popped
her pills. She tried to hide it from me, and always had an
excuse if I caught her swallowing 3 or 4 of them down in one
go. But, over time she stopped caring whether I saw her
or
not. The 3 or 4 turned into 5 or 6. In the mornings she'd
pour a juice for me and one for herself and swallow the
pills in lieu of breakfast. Then she'd smile at me. "They
help me cope, Fox. You understand, don't you?" Yeah, I
understood all right. I understood that my mother floated
around the house all day, barely aware of her surroundings,
and at night my father shut himself in the study and drank
himself into oblivion."
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, suddenly
realising that Scully's hold on his hand was no longer
gentle but had tightened into a strong, hard grip, as if by
tightening her hold she could somehow tether him to the here
and now and not lose him to the past. "But that's not what
you asked, is it Scully?"
"Mulder...I'm
"No. It's okay. I've come this far, I might as well
finish. Sometime later, I'm not exactly sure when, I got
sick. I don't even remember what was wrong with me. I do
know that I had a raging fever and the worst headache I've
ever had in my life. And while I was usually able to take
care of myself, this time I was too far gone. I'm not sure
why mom didn't get a doctor or take me to the hospital.
Perhaps in her drug addled haze she didn't realise how sick
I was, perhaps she'd had enough of doctors herself. There
were a lot of medical people of one type or another in our
home after Samantha was taken.
"Anyway, whatever her reasons, she decided the best way to
make me feel better was to use the method that made her feel
better. She dosed me up with pills. From what I've been
told, she started out giving me Tylenol, but when I didn't
respond she decided to experiment with the help her own
private pharmaceutical supply. I believe Demerol featured
pretty heavily in the equation. Apparently after a day or
two it got to a point where she couldn't rouse me. On some
level of her consciousness it must have registered that
something was very wrong. She called Dad at work, not an
action she would normally take lightly. He came home, found
me unconscious in my bed and called an ambulance. My mother
told the doctors what she'd done."
Mulder paused, sighing deeply before continuing. "She
wasn't trying to hurt me, Scully. She thought she was
helping. There was no point pumping my stomach, most of the
medication had been absorbed into my body. It was just a
matter of waiting for the drugs to leave my system. As you
can imagine there was an investigation: psychiatrists for my
mother, psychologists for me. Anyway, to cut a long story
short, it was not long after my little hospital adventure
that my parents divorced.
"My father is a hard man to please and my mother had failed
him. He didn't see the part he'd played in her downfall at
all: locking himself away at night, having nothing to do
with us. In my father's mind he had a loser for a son, and
a nutcase for a wife. I've seen the effects of medication,
Scully. And to put it mildly, I prefer to stay off them as
much as I can."
Mulder squirmed on the couch. "Um, Scully. Is time up yet?
It's kinda starting to hurt." He nodded towards the icepack
on his ankle.
"Oh. Sorry." She checked her watch. "Couple more minutes
should do it. Mulder, there's a big difference between
taking pain medication in prescribed doses and what your mom
did to help her cope with emotional problems. You're not
your mother, Mulder. There's no reason to think that what
happened to her will happen to you."
"Yeah. But what if I'm like my father? Both my parents
abused substances to help them deal with their problems.
What if I'm genetically predisposed to drug or alcohol
dependency? My mom sought professional help after I got
sick, she recovered. I feel sorry for what she went
through, and on some level I understand, but I can't forgive
my father. He wasn't there for us, Scully. I know he
blames me for losing Sam. But he had no right to take it
out on my mother."
"Mulder! He had no right to take it out on you either.
You're not to blame for what happened to your sister."
Scully pulled herself up a little straighter, only
remembering she had Mulder's ankle cradled in her lap when
she heard him gasp. Lost in her own anger and shock at what
her partner had suffered as a child, she'd moved quickly,
forgetting to steady his foot.
"I was in charge when Samantha was taken. It *was* my
fault."
"You were a child. Bad things happen every day in this
world, Mulder, you know that. And while it's easier to cope
if the blame can be attributed directly to someone or
something, sometimes there simply isn't a cut and dried
explanation. Your father had no right to make you feel as
if it was your fault either directly or indirectly. He was
wrong."
"But I'm not a child now, Scully, and look what happened to
Max. I couldn't stop him from being abducted, and this time
I *knew* they were coming after him. It's getting a little
hard to explain it all away with coincidence, don't you
think?"
"It has nothing to do with coincidence. You've dedicated
your life to finding your sister, to discovering the truth
behind her disappearance. And in doing so, you are going to
be in situations where you come face to face with other
victims of unexplained phenomena. It stands to reason that
during your investigations you will sometimes be in the same
proximity as the victims when the phenomena occurs. Just
because you are there doesn't mean you're to blame."
"Scully, can you take the ice off now? It is *really*
starting to hurt." He pushed himself up into a sitting
position and leant forward so he could reach the ice pack.
"Mulder, sit back. Let me take care of it." Scully removed
the ice and supported his leg as she slipped off the couch,
repositioning his foot on the cushions. She moved over to
sit on the coffee table where she could roll up the bandage
in preparation to rebind Mulder's ankle. She noticed her
partner's restless movements, his hand constantly kneading
his leg just above the knee.
"You're in pain, Mulder. As a doctor, I can assure you that
taking painkillers as per the recommended dosage will not
cause you to become dependent on them." Scully dug into her
pocket and pulled out the Tylenol. She popped three of the
capsules from the blister pack and handed them to Mulder
along with the glass of water she'd brought from the kitchen
earlier. "Take them. It will serve no good purpose to
anyone if you spend the rest of the night in pain. And
besides, you need to get some sleep if you have any chance
of convincing the OPR that you have a legitimate reason to
continue investigating what happened to Max."
Tentatively Mulder reached out his hand and took the pills
from Scully. He stared at them for a few seconds, debating
with himself whether or not to take them. Old habits were
hard to shake, and he'd already taken 3 on the plane. Then,
almost as if his foot sensed his hesitation it upped the
ante and throbbed harder. Scully was right, there was no
way he'd be able to sleep tonight unless he did something to
ease the pain. He threw the pills back and swallowed them
with the water. "Thanks, Scully."
She stared back at him and gave him a smile, "You're
welcome."
Mulder leaned back against the arm rest, studying his
partner intently. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Why are you still here?"
Scully checked her watch. God, look at the time! 2:am.
Mulder was right, they'd never be able to get up in the
morning. She started to pick up the ice pack, readying
herself to take it back to the kitchen. "I'm sorry, Mulder,
I knew it was late, but I didn't realise *how* late. I'll
get going and..." She stopped speaking when Mulder snagged
her wrist, stilling her hand from packing up the things on
the coffee table. He pulled her towards the couch so she
was sitting by his hips.
"I don't mean here. Tonight. I mean why haven't you gone
running to Blevins begging for reassignment? They've tried
to partner me with other agents before, Scully, and none of
them have lasted more than two weeks."
Scully looked long and hard at the man before her. She felt
a little annoyed that he had to ask, but at the same time
pleased that she'd outlasted all other attempts by the FBI
to set Mulder up with a partner. Why had she stayed? She'd
asked herself the same question earlier in their
partnership. She certainly hadn't achieved what she'd
originally set out to do: emancipate Mulder from his
paranormal shackles. In fact, if anything it was Mulder who
had set her free from the rigid confines of her own
scientific boundaries, opened the door to a whole different
dimension of investigational possibilities. Allowed her to
bend the rules of science, search beyond what she'd always
held sacred, and question the unyielding beliefs that had
been drummed into her throughout her studies. This freedom
had also allowed her to use her knowledge to help solve
their cases, to prove to Mulder that there is a place for
conventional science in his world of paranormal
implausibilities. But more than that she liked her partner.
Mulder wasn't just a work colleague, he was her friend. She
enjoyed their intellectual sparring matches, she enjoyed
being challenged and meeting that challenge head on.
"Scully?"
"You're asking me why I'm still with the X files?"
Mulder nodded, not taking his eyes from his partner.
"Because I want to be. Because we do good work together.
Where else in the Bureau would I have the opportunity to
investigate space craft built from alien technology,
computers with their own intelligence, a killer worm with a
really bad temper, werewolves, beast women...well, maybe I
could encounter the odd beastwoman or two during the red
light sales in Walmart...Mulder, I love my work with you,
there's no place I'd rather be." As an after thought she
added, "Why? Were you planning on getting rid of me?"
"NO! Hell no! Could you imagine my medical bills if you
weren't my partner?"
"Well, the thought had occurred to me once or twice."
"What thought?"
"That maybe the plan wasn't for me to debunk your work at
all, but rather to save the Bureau on hospital expenses."
"Scully!"
"You've gotta admit, Mulder, I've certainly managed to keep
my finger on the medical pulse since being teamed up with
you."
"Scully, will you do me a favour?"
"Hmmm. Maybe." She smiled at him.
"Open the top drawer of my desk."
"This isn't where the jack-in-the-box jumps out and says
BOO! is it?"
"Just open it."
"O-kaaay." Scully stood up and moved to Mulder's desk,
pulling the top drawer out. "What am I looking for?"
"A key. It should be under those pieces of paper on top
there."
"All right, yes, I've got it."
"That's the spare to my apartment. I want you to have it.
Just in case."
"Just in case of what, Mulder?"
"An emergency. Or in case I get called out of town
unexpectedly and I need someone to feed my fish, collect my
mail, take in the newspapers, that kind of thing."
Scully stared at the key nestled in her hand. Mulder had
never told her outright that he'd accepted her as his
partner. Or his friend. But he didn't have to. He
had
shown her in so many different ways over the past months.
But this. This was something more concrete. Proof.
That
her intuition had been right, that the time and energy she
had invested in this partnership was time and energy well
spent.
"Scully?"
She turned and smiled at him. "I'd love to, Mulder."
"It's a door key, Scully, not an engagement ring."
She laughed. She couldn't help it. "I know that."
"Well, just as long as we've got that straight." He smiled
back at her, then his expression turned serious again,
almost nervous. "Um...While I'm on a roll, there's one more
thing."
"Something else?"
"I've been meaning to ask you for awhile. Actually, ask is
probably not the right word. I've been meaning to inform
you. I've put you down as my next-of-kin."
"Mu... Why? What about your mom?"
"My mom doesn't cope with medical emergencies very well. She
hasn't since...since I got sick that time. I'd just prefer
not to have her involved if something...well, if I'm not in
a position where I can sign consent forms for myself. Look,
if you'd rather not, I understand. It's a big ask to spring
on you like this, I can take you off the form tomorrow..."
"Mulder. Don't. I'm fine with it. Flattered actually,
that you would think of me."
Mulder gave a soft chuckle. "Who else would I ask, Scully?
You're the only person I know who doesn't look at me as if I
should be permanently incarcerated in a padded cell wearing
the latest in straight-jacket fashion."
"Thanks, Mulder."
"You're thanking me?"
"Yes. I am. For trusting me enough to ask." Scully held
his gaze for a few seconds, then realised something: for the
first time since leaving Townsend she could see a different
light in his eyes. The long belaboured look of self
recrimination and self doubt had been replaced with an
expression more along the lines of relief, and if she looked
really hard she could almost imagine she saw a certain kind
of happiness there as well. Scully slipped the key into her
pocket, gently running her finger along the serrated edge
before letting it go and turning her attention back to
Mulder's medical needs. The neatly rolled bandage lay on
the coffee table. Scully picked it up and juggled it once
or twice in the palm of her hand. "Let me wrap your ankle,
then I better get out of here. We *both* need some sleep."
xXx
Mulder drew in a long breath and let it out slowly. It was
the first time he'd given any part of himself to anyone in a
very long time. So long in fact, that he almost didn't
recognise the quiet euphoric buzz that accompanied the act.
It felt as if his whole body had just sighed a huge breath
of relief, the muscles across his shoulders had loosened,
the tight bunched feeling replaced with...well...with
nothing at all. That was the point wasn't it. You didn't
notice those muscles until they started to hurt or tense up.
He hadn't been sure how Scully would react when he asked her
to be his next of kin. He'd always thought Scully
was
different, but to open himself up to her, request something
of her that required more than just partnerly duty had
scared him a little. But she'd reacted exactly as he'd
hoped, and yes, he did feel relieved, not only because she'd
agreed to his request, but also for what it symbolised. He
felt as if their friendship had been stamped with an
official seal. Been formalised. And he had to admit to
himself, it felt good. Pretty damn good.
Mulder allowed himself to relax into the soft leather
cushioning of his couch while giving himself up to Scully's
ministrations. The throb had eased a little. It was still
there, but now reduced to a dull ache rather than the
resounding bass-like pulsing of a few minutes ago. He
figured that once the painkillers fully kicked in he might
even be able to sleep. Already there was a heavy kind of
lethargy settling over his body. And something else as
well, a pressing need that he would have to attend to before
Scully left, or at least get her to help him.
Scully put the finishing touches to the bandage on Mulder's
ankle. She stood up straight and put her hands on her hips,
leaning to the left then the right attempting to ease stiff
muscles in her back. She stretched her hands above her head
then covered her mouth as she yawned. Yes, she could
definitely do with some sleep. She bent over and picked up
the ice pack and empty glass then headed into the kitchen.
She discarded the ice in the sink, put the soggy plastic bag
into the trash, filled up the ice trays and returned them to
the freezer. She then topped Mulder's glass up with water
before returning to the living room.
"Mulder! What are you doing?" What the hell was wrong
with him? He was sitting on the edge of the couch, both
feet resting on the floor, and by the look on his face, it
hadn't been a smooth transition. The ghostly pallor had
returned to his skin, and little trickles of sweat edged
down the side of his face.
"I gotta use the bathroom, Scully."
"Really, and how did you think you were going to get there?"
"I had a plan."
"I can imagine. Here, let me help you."
"I don't think so. I'm a big boy, I can use the bathroom on
my own. But you can do me a favour."
"Just for something different, huh? I'm going to start
keeping score, Mulder."
"Ha, ha. Over there, in the closet, I've got some
crutches..."
"Now why doesn't that surprise me?"
"You gonna rag on me or are you gonna help me?"
Scully put the glass of water on the coffee table and laid
the packet of Tylenol beside it. If Mulder woke up in pain
at least he wouldn't have to go far for relief. She walked
over to the closet, put her hand on the knob and pulled.
"No! Wait!" Mulder's warning cry was too late. Boxes,
files, a basketball and a broken lamp came tumbling out of
the closet and landed at Scully's feet. She managed to jump
out of the way just as a lone crutch toppled across the
other bits and pieces scattered on the floor. Hmm, I wonder
where its mate is, Scully thought to herself. And almost as
if answering her question, the other crutch fell from the
opposite side of the closet and landed across the first one,
like a giant medical crucifix.
"Is this your version of a Tupperware cupboard, Mulder?" She
asked, thinking of the various plastic gadgets and
containers that repeatedly spilled from her own over-crowded
kitchen shelves.
Mulder grimaced as he stared at the mess surrounding his
partner. "I tried to warn you."
"Well, at least we found what we were looking for." Scully
picked up the crutches, side-stepping the boxes and files.
She gently soccered the basketball out of the way with her
toe, then made her way over to Mulder. She handed him the
crutches. "I'll wait out here till you get back."
Mulder glared at her, but he really wasn't angry. After all
she'd just risked life and limb getting him the crutches so
he could go to the bathroom on his own.
A few minutes later, Mulder returned, without incident.
Scully gave him a surreptitious inspection, relieved to see
he looked as if he'd managed the task without causing
himself further injury. She helped him settle onto the
couch, propped his foot on the cushions and covered him with
the afghan blanket that had been folded over the back of his
couch. As a finishing touch, she leaned the crutches
against the wall just behind his head.
"Where's your cellphone, Mulder?"
"In my jacket pocket."
"Is it still charged?"
"I'm not sure." He pulled the phone from his pocket and
handed it to Scully. She checked the battery, and satisfied
it wasn't going to die during what was left of the night,
set it beside the water and Tylenol.
"Okay, Mulder. If the pain gets worse during the night,
you've got pain meds and water here. If it becomes
unbearable and you can't sleep, call me. All right?"
"Scully..."
"Call me."
"Okay, already."
"How's the pain now?"
"Better, actually."
She studied his face for a few seconds, looking for any
telltale signs of 'Mulderbullshit.' But, she had to admit,
he did look better, better than he had all night. "Good."
She did a quick circuit of the apartment making sure
everything was in order. "I'll be back first thing in the
morning to ice your ankle again before we leave for the
office. Do not attempt to put weight on it or walk without
the crutches. Do I make myself clear?"
"Crystal."
She softened her tone. "Mulder, it's going to be all right.
Once I explain to McGrath the circumstances of what
happened, he'll have no choice but to sign off on the 302.
Max's disappearance is unexplained. That makes it an X
File. It's *our* case."
"Yeah, maybe. But, you don't know these people, Scully.
Their whole existence is based on denial."
"Let's worry about that in the morning, right now we both
need some sleep. Can I get you anything before I go?"
"No, I'm fine."
"Okay, 'night, Mulder."
"G'night, Scully. And, thanks."
She smiled at him then slipped through the open door,
shutting it quietly behind her.
Mulder watched his partner leave. Suddenly his apartment
felt very empty. He let his gaze roam around the living
room, noting the water and pills on the coffee table, the
crutches within easy reach leaning against the wall. And he
figured that despite the crap constantly dished out to him
time and again throughout his life, somewhere along the way
he must have done something right to end up with Scully as
his partner and his friend. The dread of facing the OPR
hearing tomorrow somehow didn't seem quite so overwhelming.
Scully's optimism was contagious. Maybe this time tomorrow
they would be back in Wisconsin in an official capacity and
without Henderson blocking them at every turn, maybe they'd
even find Max.
Mulder smiled to himself. Scully truly amazed him
sometimes. Even though he knew that the mere notion of
alien abduction went against all her beliefs as a scientist,
she was still willing to back him up, to go through the
proper channels so they could return to Wisconsin together.
With his injury, he knew he was going to need her with him
more than ever. And she would be there. Despite their
differences Scully wouldn't let him down.
Mulder snuggled down on the couch, pulling the rug up to his
chin. He felt himself sink lower into the soft leather
cushions, allowed the heavy lethargy to wash over him as
sleep nipped at the edges of his consciousness. "'night,
Scully," he whispered into the silence, "see you in the
morning."
The end.
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