By Linda Phillips
rn500@usa.net
 

DATE: Fri,  6 Mar 1998
RATING: R
SPOILERS: Redux, ReduxII
CLASSIFICATION: S / R / A
KEYWORDS: MSR
SUMMARY: An evil from the past uses Scully for Mulder-
bait, and Mulder goes off the deep end over the suffering he's
caused her. Can he ever let go of the past long enough to see
what's right in front of him? A veritable Angst-O-Rama!
DISCLAIMER: X-Files and it's characters belong to 1013
Productions, Chris Carter, and Fox Television. No
infringement intended.
 

~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^

Days of Future Past
By Linda Phillips
 

About 3 a.m.

        Sirens.

        "Thank God" Scully let out in a murmured breath. She
looked down at Mulder, his upper body cradled in her arms,
and blood, so much blood... his eyes were shut, his face pasty
white. His breaths were coming in short gasps, with a catch in
the rhythm before letting out each gulp of air, a second in time
that felt like it stretched to infinity.

        catch...exhale
        catch...exhale
        catch...exhale

        Silence.

        "Mulder!"

        catch...exhale

        <oh God, hurry
        oh God, hurry... >

         The mantra repeated itself relentlessly in her mind.
He was so heavy. Scully's body ached with the weight of
holding him up. But she knew that he would breathe easier
like this than lying flat on the cold concrete. Her left arm was
beneath his neck, his lower back lying against her kneeling
legs. Her injured right arm was across his chest, her blood
soaked hand struggling to stay put on the sucking wound over
his left ribcage. Suddenly, Mulder opened his eyes.

        "Hurts...Scully..."

        "I know. Hang on, hang on, the ambulance is coming.
Hang on Mulder."

        He reached one hand up and grabbed tight onto her
arm that lay on his chest, and Scully let out a moan of pain.
His eyes widened, focused on hers, panicky, the way she had
seen patients get when they couldn't get enough air into their
lungs.

        <He's afraid.> She felt tears sting her eyes.

        <don't cry don't cry don't cry>

        She spoke evenly and firmly, belying her own
escalating fear.

        "Mulder, listen to me. It's gonna be okay. The bullet
went through your lung, that's why you're having a hard time
catching your breath." She took a deep breath to steady her
voice.. <Calm, calm...>  "We can fix that, okay? You're gonna
be alright."

        Scully's eyes left his for a brief moment as she
watched the pool of blood that had been gathering under him
break through its self made barrier. It began to trickle in a
slow, narrow stream toward the center of the room.

        catch...exhale....

        catch...exhale...

        <oh God, hurry....>

        *********************
5 hours earlier...

        He was having a hard time staying quiet. Every time
he thought his plan through, he wanted to chuckle. Hand over
his mouth, he watched through the crack he'd left in the door.
It was cramped in the closet, and his legs were starting to
ache. He shifted his weight just a bit.

         <Ahh, that's better.>

        His heart jumped as he saw her go into the bathroom.
This was perfect! He could see right into the bathroom from
here. And right on time too. This chick was nothing if not
predictable, he thought, as his vigil over the last few days had
proved.  10 p.m., bathroom light on.  10:45 p.m., bathroom
light off.
 
        He watched as she started her bath water. As the tub
filled, she looked in the mirror and brushed her hair.

        Such lovely hair it was too.

        Her back turned to him, she unzipped her slacks. He
licked his lips as she pushed them down over her hips,
dropping them to the floor. An ache rose in his groin as she
leaned over to pick them up, and he got a view of that lovely
satin covered ass.

        <Stay with it, Buddy. You gotta be ready. Don't get
distracted.>

        It was almost time. His adrenaline pumping, he
slowly, silently pulled up to a crouch, poised like a wound
spring. Knife in a steel grip. Eyes clear and wide open. Ready.

        She started to unbutton her blouse.

         One button.

        Two.

        Go.

        He barely caught the look on her face as she spun
around. But he didn't need to see it. It was a look he knew all
too well. The look he lived for.

        Fear.

        In a split second of time, he was at her, throwing her
back against  the wall with a loud thud. His forearm came up
against her throat with just enough pressure to make her gasp
a little. The other hand brought the glinting metal up to her
cheek. Her eyes huge with alarm, she didn't say a word. He
leaned a little harder into her neck,  until she choked and
gulped for air. He smiled at her.

        "Agent Scully, I presume?"

        The look in her eyes turned from fear to anger. He let
the pressure off enough for her to speak.

        "What do you want?" her voice  hoarse, but strong.

        "Oh what a little spitfire! I love redheads!" The man's
face was inches from hers. She could smell his breath, rank
and sour. "What do I want?" he continued. "Well, you'll find
out soon enough. Soon enough."

        "How did you get in here?"  Scully's eyes darted
around the room, taking in any possibilities of escape. <Keep
him talking...keep him talking...>.

        "Your super was only too happy to give me the key to
your apartment, after I...gave him a little motivation." He
noticed her eyes brighten with hope. "But he won't be calling
the cops for you. He's sort of...dead." He smiled again, a cruel
twist of his lips that made a chill run up Scully's spine.  "Agent
Scully, you can stop looking around for a way to save
yourself. You're not getting away from me."  He brought the
knife up near her right eye, resting the tip against the tender
flesh next to it. A little pressure...just a little...and a drop of
blood welled and spilled down her cheek. Scully didn't move a
muscle, didn't flinch with the pain.

        "My, the stories about you are true aren't they!" His
eyes gleamed. "You're something else! If the circumstances
were different, I might take the time to find out...a little more
about you."  Scully kept her eyes firmly on his as he slowly
dropped the arm that had been against her throat, the hand
crawling down her chest and stopping to rest between her
breasts.

        "What do you want from me?"  Pushing down her
panic, Scully was trying to memorize everything she could
about his face. Light blue eyes, blond hair, balding, front
bottom tooth missing. Small scar on right cheek. Acne scars.
About 8 inches taller than she.

        <Bastard. No fear, show him no fear...>

        His hand lightly touched her right breast, caressing it,
and Scully felt the bile rising in her throat. He matched her
stare as his hand continued on it's travels, down her
abdomen, finally reaching around to her buttocks. He gave
her a squeeze and let out a little sigh.

        "Oh, my. Well, as fine a specimen as you are, I am
on a rather tight schedule, doctor. So, I'm afraid there won't
be any hanky panky."  He leaned in closer to her. Scully
turned away as she felt a wet tongue slide up the side of her
face.  "Not right now anyway," he whispered into her ear. He
brought the knife to her throat. Suddenly his voice was deadly
serious. "Put your pants on babe. We've got things to do."
Scully slowly leaned over to retrieve her slacks off the towel
rack where she had left them, the knife tight at her throat all
the time. One leg, two. Zip.

        With his free hand, the man grabbed her roughly by
the arm and pulled it up behind her back until she let out a
soft moan. He pushed her toward the bedroom, and Scully felt
the panic rise as she tried to decide how hard she would fight
him. They stopped near the head of the bed, and she closed
her eyes for a moment, anticipating his next move. He
suddenly turned her toward the bed and pushed her forward,
pinning her arms behind her as she lay face down.

        <Oh God Oh God Oh God...>

        Over the pounding in her ears, Scully heard the quiet
squeak of the drawer in her bedside table as it opened. She
knew immediately what he was after. Her gun.

        She hoped he couldn't hear her voice trembling.
"Look, you don't have to..."

        "Shut up!"  And she felt her arms being yanked back
until she was standing upright. He again anchored her left arm
behind her back, and this time she felt the blunt hardness of a
gun barrel in her ribs. They maneuvered  to the living room,
and over to her desk. He motioned to the telephone.

        "Push the speaker button."

        With her  free hand she did as he said.

        "Now dial Mulder's number. And I have it memorized,
so if I see you push one wrong button, well, let's just say you
won't be happy with your new face." His eyes were steely, the
eyes of a madman.  She hesitated for a moment, and he
showed a fraction of the savagery that Scully could tell lurked
just beneath the surface.  "Don't fuck with me Scully! You
don't know me, but when you do, you'll see that I'm not known
for my patience!"

        "Ok, Ok, I'm dialing."

        Scully dialed the familiar number with a trembling
hand. <God, don't let him be home.>

        "Good girl. Now don't speak until I say so, you got
that?"  She nodded.

        One ring. Two. Three. Scully closed her eyes and
prayed.

        "Mulder."

        <Oh shit.>

        She couldn't see the smile spread over the face of the
man standing behind her, couldn't see his eyes light up.

        "Hello? Is anybody there?"

        "What's the matter Mulder, don't you have caller ID?"
the man snarled.

        "Who is this?"

        "Why, it's an old friend of yours Agent Mulder." His
voice dripped with venom. " An old, old friend. I've been away
for a while. But you'll recognize me when you see me."

        On the other end of the line, something in the man's
voice made Mulder snap to attention. He'd had his share of
crank calls before, but his number was unpublished, and this
was obviously someone who had access to information about
him. He couldn't place the voice, but somewhere in his
unconscious mind an alarm button went off. He cursed
himself for the hundredth time for never having that caller ID
installed. Something told him that he'd better play along for
now.

        "And why will I be seeing you?" Mulder asked.

        "Because I have something you want. And if you'd
like to get it back, you'll have to come and get it personally."

        <Damn!> Mulder's mind was racing now, trying to find
the voice in the myriad of connections that was running
through his mind. He kept his voice calm.

        "Look, friend. I'm not in the mood to play games."

        The man's voice was a hiss on the other end of the
line. "Neither am I, Mulder. Neither am I."  What Mulder heard
next made him go numb.

        A small moan. Then her voice. "Mulder..."

        "Scully?" Mulder fought his escalating alarm. "Alright,
what the fuck's going on? Who are you and what do want?"

        "Think back, Mulder. Your first big case. I'm so
disappointed that you don't recognize my voice! I  *made*
you, Agent Mulder! Put you on the fast track!"

        Mulder was suddenly nauseous.

        "Jackson?"

        "Finally! I knew you could do it, Mulder."

        <Oh Jesus!> Mulder ran his hand over his now
perspiring face, willed himself to think.

        "Jackson, it's me you want to settle the score with.
Leave her out of it!" He was scrambling now, grasping for
straws. Mulder knew damn well that Jackson wouldn't let her
go.

        "Oh, I don't think so, Agent Mulder. I've already
invited her to our little soiree. It wouldn't be nice of me to
leave her behind now, would it?"

        "Alright, alright! Just tell me what you want!"

        Buddy Jackson smiled. He had Mulder by the balls,
and they both knew it. Oh, this was going to be sweet! "Listen
carefully. You wait twenty minutes. Then you leave your place
and go to 156 South Drummond Street. And be alone, 'cause
I'll be watching. If you're not, she gets a facelift. You
understand me, Mulder? One wrong move..."

        "Alright!"

        "Good. I'll be waiting."

        Jackson jerked his head toward the phone, motioning
for Scully to push the off button. As she leaned toward the
phone, she quickly whispered, "Mulder, don't..."

        Jackson pulled up on the arm behind her back. Scully
bit her lip but couldn't keep a groan from escaping. It was the
last sound Mulder heard before the line went dead. He
slammed the phone down and struggled to keep from tearing
it out of the wall.

        <Jesus, Jesus, Jesus....>

        He looked at the clock. 9:32. Twenty minutes. Mulder
grabbed his weapon, holstered it. He strode quickly into his
bedroom and yanked open a drawer in a little used dresser.
Rummaging through with his hand, a relieved sigh escaped as
he found what he was looking for. Pulling up the leg of his
sweats, he strapped on a leg holster and tucked the small gun
into it.

        Pacing...

        <Think, Mulder, think!>
 
        9:39.

        Jackson. His first major case as a profiler, it had been
almost seven years since Mulder had last set eyes on Edward
"Buddy" Jackson as the man was being led off to prison. But
Mulder would never forget the way Jackson looked at him
across the courtroom. His eyes were piercing, and his mouth
turned up in a sneer. Mulder knew the man wanted a piece of
him. And as with most psychopaths, Jackson had felt no
remorse for his heinous crimes, and he blamed Mulder for the
fact that he would spend the rest of his contemptible life
locked up.

        Mulder's skin suddenly went cold, his arms covered in
gooseflesh. He had no doubt that Jackson would do exactly
as he threatened, and more. Jackson was a man with no
conscience, as his previous misdeeds had proven. The crime
scene photos flashed through Mulder's mind. An entire family
wiped out,  father, mother, two young daughters. But not
before the two girls had been tortured and sexually assaulted.
And that case was only the last in a spree of viciousness that
had lasted for over 2 years. The man was a monster.

        9:43.

        Jackson was supposed to spend the rest of his life in
prison, rot there, die there. The world was safe from one more
maniac. But obviously something had gone terribly wrong.
And now he was back, to take his revenge against Mulder.

        And, once again, Scully was being used to get to him.

        Drummond Street. Mulder tried to picture that part of
town, remembering it as a run down section of buildings,
mostly a vacant industrial area. A perfect hiding place. It was
closer to Scully's apartment than to Mulder's, Scully and
Jackson would be there in no time, waiting for him.

        9:47.

        "Fuck!"

        <Hang on, Scully> was Mulder's last thought before
he ran out the door.

        **********

        The lantern sat just to the right of Scully, the small
flame casting a dim glow around her still form. Her shadow
loomed off to the left, and she stared into it, trying to form
some kind of plan. But Jackson had orchestrated this well,
and at first glance he seemed to have covered all of his
bases. For him to have planned this so calculatingly, he
obviously had help from the outside. From his conversation
on the phone with Mulder, Scully had been able to put
together a little about what had brought Jackson to her
apartment that night. He had it in for Mulder, and she was to
be the bait. She had said prayer after silent prayer as they
waited, hoping Mulder would think with his head instead of his
heart and not rush in to rescue her.

        But she already knew which would prevail.

        Jackson had said little on the way here. He just sat
next to her in her car as she drove, gun shoved in her side,
eyes wide and watchful as he told her which way to turn. She
had quickly disposed of her idea to crash the car when he
refused to let her put on her seat belt.

        "You think I'm an idiot, Scully?" he'd snorted. "You
just drive like a good little girl and maybe you'll come out of
this alive."

        So she did, hoping along the way that someone would
notice her panic stricken face through the car window. But, of
course, no one did. Any passer by that gave a quick glance in
their direction probably took them for a romantic couple who
couldn't sit close enough together. The thought made her
want to vomit.

        Scully's heart sank as they pulled up in front of the
hulking shell of a building. The entire area was dark with
broken street lamps and the skeletons of decaying brick
structures. There would be no one to notice them here, and if
she dared to scream, the sound would dissipate into the night
unheeded.

        So Scully sat on the cold floor, legs drawn up, a pair
of old handcuffs around her wrists, waiting, her mind
frantically trying to come up with a plan. She wouldn't be able
to make any verbal appeals to Jackson, she was already
painfully aware that he was not going to respond to that. The
best she could hope for was that he would make a mistake
somehow, lose his focus for a moment, and she and Mulder
would have to be ready to act on it if they could.

        She turned her head just slightly to the right, enough
to see the glint of the gun trained on her from several feet
away. Jackson stood back behind some abandoned
machinery, a quiet ghostly shadow, waiting to meet his old
enemy.

        Scully drew in a sharp breath as she heard a noise. It
was deathly silent in the old building, the slightest sound sent
echoes glancing off the high ceiling and walls. There was no
way Mulder would be able to sneak in. Slow footsteps
sounded on the metal stairway that Scully had also climbed to
reach here. They stopped just short of the top. She heard
Mulder's voice call out.

        "Alright, Jackson, I'm here. Now what do you want?

        Jackson spoke from the shadows, eerily calm. "Come
and join us Mulder. Don't keep me waiting."

        "Where's Scully?"

        "She's right here, at the end of my gun. Say
something, Doctor."

        Scully swallowed hard, her mouth a desert of sand.
"Mulder, don't..."

        "That's enough! Now get in here, Mulder. We've got
unfinished business."

        Mulder's voice was an angry boom from the darkness.
"You send her out here, Jackson, and you can have me free
and clear!"

        Jackson laughed. "You're a regular knight in shining
armor, aren't you Mulder? She's not going anywhere, and you
know it. Now get your ass up here!"

        Silence rang out from the stairway where Mulder
waited. Scully listened for any sound, but all she heard was
the roar of her own heartbeat in her ears. After what was
surely only a minute, but seemed like a hundred, Jackson
growled out an order.

        "Stand up, Scully."

        For a split second as she rose, Scully's spirit lifted.
<He's gonna let me go!> Then she turned to face him, and
saw the look in his eyes as he moved forward just enough so
that she could make out his face. The gun was straight out in
front of him, steadied in both hands, as his thumb slowly
pulled back the hammer. It was pointing right between her
eyes.

        "Mulder, I have your pretty partner in front of me,
bravely standing like a good soldier awaiting her fate. If you
are not in this room in five seconds, I will start with her left
arm, and work clockwise until she is a quadriplegic. Scully, tell
him I mean it."

        An image of Donnie Pfaster flashed before her eyes,
and Scully knew she was once again staring at pure evil. She
stood silent, bracing her trembling knees for what was to
come.

        Jackson's face contorted as he spat out his order
again. "Tell him, you bitch!"

        "Wait!"

        Scully closed her eyes at the sound of Mulder's voice,
then opened them and willed herself to watch Jackson for a
chance to run. Jackson turned his head a bit toward the
sounds of Mulder's footsteps entering the room, still keeping
the gun on Scully in his peripheral vision. Jackson motioned
for her to sit back down, and her knees buckled as she
lowered herself. She squinted her eyes to make out Mulder's
figure as he entered across the room, his gun drawn. His eyes
immediately settled on her face, the blood dried in a trail from
the small cut near her eye. Even in the dimness she could see
the line of his jaw tighten at the sight. Jackson remained in
the shadow of the machinery, out of Mulder's view.

        "Are you alright?" Mulder asked quickly. She nodded.

        Jackson's voice echoed out from the darkness. "Put
your gun down, Mulder."

        Scully met Mulder's eyes, silently pleading with him
not to do it. Mulder swung his gun in the direction of Jackson's
voice.

        "I said, put it down."

        "Not until you let her go."

        A flash, a crack like thunder...

        ...Mulder's voice... "No!"...

        ... then the burn. Scully looked down at where she felt
the fire, surprised to see blood welling from a spot halfway
between the shoulder and elbow of her right arm. She looked
back up at Mulder as he ran toward her, her mind
momentarily foggy. Her mouth opened to speak, but no words
would form. Before Mulder could reach her, Jackson stepped
out from his hiding place with the gun now squarely aimed at
his nemesis. Mulder skidded to a stop, gun at his side, his
eyes flaming.

        "I told you to put down your gun, didn't I? This is your
fault, Mulder."

        Mulder slowly leaned down and placed his gun on the
floor.

        "Now, kick it over here."

        Mulder did as instructed. Jackson reached down,
grabbed the gun and pocketed it. Scully made a soft noise,
and Mulder turned his attention back to her.

        "For God's sake, Jackson, let me go to her!"

        Jackson curled up his lip and snorted. "Yeah, why not.
Lemme see one last lover's embrace."

        In one stride Mulder closed the last few feet between
them and knelt down. He looked in her eyes, and was relieved
to see them clear again. He gingerly touched the arm, his
fingers coming away wet with her blood. Scully held her hand
tightly over the wound to slow the bleeding, her other hand
locked close in the cuffs.

        "I'm alright, Mulder. I think it just went through the
tissue - I can move it, I don't think the bone's broken."

        Mulder looked intently into Scully's eyes. She was
calmed by it, and recognized the expression. It said 'I am
going to get us out of here.'  She believed him.

        Mulder turned away from her and stood to face
Jackson again. When Mulder spoke, his tone was menacing.

        "There's no way you will get away with this."

        A slow smile spread across Jackson's face. "Mulder, I
am  *not*  going back to prison. They'll have to kill me first.
So you see, I have nothing to lose." He paused for a moment,
the smile vanishing.  "I may die today. But not before I see
you suffer."

        "Fine. But let her go. She's done nothing to you."

        Jackson cocked an eyebrow at Mulder. "Not yet. I
don't think I'm quite done with her. She's a juicy little peach - I
may just have to take a bite."

        Mulder's vision blurred and he felt rage boil up in him
like he'd never felt before. His mind was spinning. He forced
himself to breathe slowly, every exhalation a dagger aimed at
Jackson's heart. He coerced his voice to speak.

        "At least let me help her lie down over there." Mulder
jerked his head toward a row of boxes a few yards away. "Let
her get off the cold floor. She's going to go into shock."

        Jackson hesitated a moment before he consented.
"Yeah, fine. Hurry up."

        Mulder turned back to Scully and knelt down in front
of her. He locked on her eyes once again, and she held onto
them. Mulder gently pulled her hands away from the wound
and brought them down. Scully winced at the movement but
kept her eyes on his. He held her hands between his own and
spoke slowly.

        "It'll be okay, Scully."

        He guided her hands to brush against his pant leg
near the ankle, and instantly she knew.

        "It'll be okay," he whispered again.

        She glanced over Mulder's shoulder at Jackson. He
was about five feet away, his attention and gun still on
Mulder. She would have one chance. If she blew it, they were
both dead. Her hands slid up under Mulder's pant leg and
wrapped around the handle of the gun. She and Mulder
locked eyes one more time. He pretended to struggle a bit to
help her up, then she felt him put a little upward pressure on
her forearms. She went up to a crouch, then snapped her
arms up over Mulder's right shoulder and fired.

        Scully felt Mulder suddenly lean forward as she
emptied the clip into Jackson's midsection. The madman's
expression changed to one of surprise as his gun dropped and
fell to the floor with a clatter, and for a moment he swayed on
his feet. Then Buddy Jackson crumpled to the floor and was
silent. In a matter of a few seconds, their nightmare was over.

        Or so Scully thought.

        Mulder slumped past her right shoulder and fell
forward on his hands. As if in slow motion, Scully watched him
drop slowly to the floor, his face coming to rest against the
concrete. She reached to him.

        "Mulder?"

        No response. She heard his breathing, short raggedy
gasps.

        "Oh my God... Mulder!"

        Her mind screaming against the pain in her arm, she
pulled him onto his back. His eyes were open, and he stared
vacantly at the ceiling. Even in the dull light, she could see a
stain spreading across the left side of his sweatshirt. For a
moment she simply stared at the budding dark bloom, her
mouth open, her mind a blank.

        <Help... get help...>

        Jesus, where would she find help in this God-forsaken
place? Then, hoping against hope, she patted Mulder down. A
relieved rush of air left her lungs as her hand felt the familiar
rectangular bulk of his cell phone, clipped on the inside of the
waist of his sweatpants. Quickly, Scully removed it and dialed
911. It took a few moments for her to describe the area where
they were, the address she'd heard hours ago long lost to her
frazzled mind. Then, tossing the phone aside, she hurried
over to where Jackson lay. Blindly, she stuck her hand in one
of his pockets and groped to the bottom of it. Nothing.

        "Shit shit shit!"

        Another pocket, and her hand came out with a wad of
cash. She threw it aside and, grunting, rolled him over to
check his back pockets.

        Finally- the keys! She twisted her hands awkwardly to
get at the lock of one cuff and swung it free, then the other.
Mulder groaned, and she rushed back and leaned over him.
He was still conscious, his eyes blinking repeatedly. He
looked confused, as if he'd awakened in a strange place and
was trying to make sense of how he'd arrived. Tears welled in
Scully's eyes, and she blinked them back, not wanting to
frighten him. Instinctively, she converted to doctor-mode,
pulling up Mulder's shirt and assessing his wound. He was
struggling to fill his lungs, and she quickly saw why. The bullet
had torn through his lung, and with each breath he took, air
was rushing into the normally vacuous non-space between the
lung and the pleura,  effectively causing the lung to collapse.
She carefully pulled his upper body up to rest across her
knees, cradling him in her arms as best she could while trying
to keep her hand over the wound. He closed his eyes, and she
focused on his breathing, her own catching in her throat with
each of his. He would not die this way, not on a dirty cement
floor in the middle of a cold night. No! She would not let him
die. She would not.

        "Mulder..." She struggled to keep her voice even.
"Stay with me. Stay with me."

        Were those sirens she heard wailing far in the
distance? Or her own pleading cries?

        "Stay with me, Mulder...stay with me..."

        *************************************

        "I want to see Agent Mulder."

        "Are you his wife?" the clerk at the desk asked, not
looking up from her paperwork.

        "No," Scully said, then silently berated herself.

        The young woman looked up at Scully. "I'm sorry,
ma'am. He's still in recovery. You're not allowed back there."

        Scully closed her eyes  for a moment and took a deep
breath, blowing it out between pursed lips. After 4 hours in the
emergency room, x-rays, blood work, cleaning and dressing
the wound on her arm, giving statements to the police, all the
while worried and trying to find out about Mulder's condition,
she was in no mood for this.

        "Look, I'm a doctor. I'm also Agent Mulder's partner. I
need to see him."

        "Ma'am, I'm sorry, I told you...Hey! You can't go back
there! Hey!"

        Scully strode purposefully past the woman at the desk
and pushed open one of  the double doors that said 'No
Admittance'. Turning left, she followed the voices that she
heard until she found the post-surgical recovery area. Several
faces turned to look at her, and suddenly she realized what a
fright she must look. She ran her hand through tangled hair
and looked down at her clothes. Not only was she the only
person standing who was not dressed in green scrubs, but her
sweater and jeans were stained with dried blood. As she
looked up again, a woman approached her.

        "Can I help you?" The gray haired woman's eyes were
full of concern.

        "I'm Agent Scully with the FBI. I'm also a medical
doctor. Agent Mulder is my partner. I'd like to see him,
please."

        The woman looked at her a moment, then nodded.
"Sure. Come this way." She led Scully down to the end of a
row of stretchers where a figure lay swathed in blankets, tubes
and monitors surrounding him. Scully slowed to a stop a few
feet away.

        "Oh, Mulder..." It came out in a sad breath.

        "Agent Scully?"

        She turned with a start as a tall dark haired man in
surgical scrubs approached her. He carried a chart in his
hands and was flipping through it as he walked.

        "Yes, I'm Dana Scully."

        "I'm Dr. McIntyre. Dr. Warren and I did the surgery on
your partner." He motioned for her to step away from Mulder's
bedside, and she followed him a few yards away to a small
desk. He pulled a chair out for Scully, then sat down across
from her. Dr. McIntyre leaned back in the chair and folded his
arms over his chest as he let out a sigh.

        "Well, removing the bullet was a fairly straightforward
procedure. As I'm sure you knew, it punctured his left lower
lobe and also broke a rib. But he had already lost an awful lot
of blood, and we had difficulty keeping him stabilized during
the surgery..."

        Scully sat completely still, her face impassive as she
listened to technical details of the surgery. But in her lap, she
squeezed her hands together tightly to stop the trembling.
Scenes flashed in her mind; Jackson going down and Mulder
falling, blood everywhere, and Mulder's face as she held him,
so frightened.

        "...Agent Scully, are you okay?"

        She blinked a few times and took a deep breath.
"Yes, yes I'm fine."

        "Well then, umm, as I was saying, we had to give him
several units of blood, and his pressure is still somewhat
unstable, but I think he'll be alright. I'm admitting him to the
ICU from here."

        "Yes...yes, that's good," Scully said absently, her eyes
focused over the doctor's shoulder on Mulder's still figure on
the stretcher.

        'I think he'll be alright...'

        They were the only words she really heard.

        Her shoulders slumped, and her eyes closed for a
moment. Suddenly she was exhausted. She opened her eyes
and forced herself to look at Dr. McIntyre, giving  him an
appreciative smile. "Thank you, so much." They both stood,
he to turn his attention to other patients and she to return to
Mulder's side. A nurse was at his bedside, checking monitors
and IV's, then slipping her stethoscope beneath the sheet to
listen to Mulder's chest. When she finished, Scully reached
out to the nurse.

        "May I?"

        The nurse looked at her a little oddly, then smiled and
handed Scully the stethoscope. Scully slipped the earpieces
on and pulled the sheet back just a bit. Mulder's heartbeat was
strong and regular, a repetitive reassurance that, once again,
they had cheated that dark angel that so often stalked them. A
wave of relief washed over her, and for a moment she felt her
knees go soft. Leaning against the stretcher, she took the
stethoscope off and gave it back to the nurse. Scully studied
Mulder's pale face for a moment, and her hand reached up
tentatively to touch his cheek where a smudge of blood
remained. She bent and kissed him gently on the forehead,
then turned again to the nurse nearby.

        "I'm going to go home and get cleaned up. If he
wakes up, tell him I'll be right back, ok?"

        "I will. Drive carefully."

        Scully smiled weakly and walked away. She made it
to the parking lot before she remembered that she had come
here in an ambulance and her car was somewhere in the
bowels of the city, or by now perhaps towed to the police
station for evidence. Walking back in to the ER desk, she
asked them to call a cab for her.

        An hour and fifteen minutes later Scully opened the
door to Mulder's apartment, after explaining to the super
some bare details of what had happened. She couldn't bear
the thought of going home right now, such as it was. By now
there likely  was a yellow police tape across her door, and with
the knowledge that monster had been lurking there and that
investigators had by this time completely invaded her privacy,
it made her nauseous to even think of returning. Scully went
directly to the shower and turned it on, letting the water
become hot and steamy. She dropped her bloody clothes to
the floor and hoped that she would be able to find something
in Mulder's closet that she could wear. Stepping into the
shower, she let the water drench her, over her hair and face,
and she clenched her teeth as it soaked the dressing on her
arm and stung the wounded flesh beneath. The water swirled
pink around her feet as Mulder's blood mingled with her own
and was washed away. Every muscle in her body ached,
every nerve screamed out for rest. But she had to hurry and
get back to the hospital, she didn't want Mulder to wake up
with no one there. She washed her hair and soaped her body,
scrubbing and scrubbing until her skin was an angry pink and
tears began to burn her eyes, tears that bled like an open vein
and would not be stopped. She dropped the soap and leaned
her face against the cool tile as she wept and her body
shuddered and trembled, and a cry escaped her in a voice
that she did not recognize as her own.

        **********************

        There were faces, and voices. They would ebb and
flow like a swirling sea, and Mulder sometimes wondered if he
were drowning. Darkness would overtake him, and the pain
would ease. Then he would reach and claw and struggle to
the surface, and the light hurt his eyes, and sometimes he
would see faces he didn't know and it frightened him. The
panic set in, and he felt his heart racing. He tried to cry out,
"Where am I?", but he could never hear his own voice. Then
he felt a warm hand touch his head, and heard a soothing
voice he recognized, and he would sleep again.

        Then one time he broke the surface, and he stayed.

        Mulder blinked his eyes several times, taking in his
surroundings. He quickly realized he was in a hospital room.
He took a deep breath, and the stabbing pain in the left side
of his chest suddenly brought the memories rushing back. His
hand fell against something on his bed, and he looked down
to see Scully leaning on the mattress, asleep, her head
resting on her folded arms. His movements woke her, and for
a moment she looked into his eyes and said nothing. Then a
slow smile started to spread across her lips, and she moved
closer to the head of the bed. Mulder's hand went up
instinctively and lay against her cheek, his fingers feeling the
planes of her face as he tried to discern what was real and
what was part of the nightmare that he'd been in. A soft laugh
escaped her, and she covered his hand with her own.

        "Yes, it's me Mulder."

        "Are you..." He tried to speak but discovered his
throat was sore and horribly dry. Scully reached for a small
cup and brought the straw to his lips.

        "Here, have a drink... just a sip."

        Mulder drank the heavenly water and cleared his
throat. Then he looked at her again as he spoke.

        "Are you alright?" His voice was raspy and hoarse.

        "Yes, I'm fine. It barely got me, they just bandaged
me up and sent me on my way with antibiotics. I didn't put on
quite the show that you did."

        "Sorry," he croaked.

        "Oh, sure. You're always trying to get attention."

        Mulder's mouth started to turn up in a weak smile,
when he suddenly remembered. His eyes grew wide as he
turned to Scully.

        "Jackson?"

        "He's dead, Mulder. It's over."

        Mulder closed his eyes and let out a sigh. "What day
is this?" he asked.

        "It's Wednesday. You've been pretty much out of it for
the past 3 days. Your lung was punctured, and they removed
the bullet in surgery and put a chest tube in. That's why it's
still hurting so much. But you're gonna be ok."

        He opened his eyes and looked at her again. "You've
been here the whole time, haven't you? I remember..."

        Scully just smiled. She looked so tired, he thought.
Dark shadows were smudged beneath her eyes, and her
normal peaches and cream skin was drawn and pale.

        "Scully, you go home and get some sleep."

        "I'm fine, Mulder."

        "Please? I'll just worry about you if you stay."

        "And I'll worry about you if I go."

        Mulder closed his eyes again. His eyelids were so
heavy, he was having a hard time keeping them open. He
reached his hand out, and she took it in hers.

        "Scully, listen to me..." his voice trailing off in a
whisper as a drugged slumber overtook him again.

        "I am, Mulder," she whispered. "I am."

        *********************

        Time drifted, and Mulder drifted with it, in and out of
hours and days. When he opened his eyes, Scully was usually
there. His mother was often there too, and she would lean
over him and stroke his hair like she had when he was a little
boy. Then he would float away again, back through memories
and images that were as far away as he could remember, and
as close as yesterday. Samantha, and friends from school,
and making snowmen and ice castles. Then time would jump,
and he would see Scully looking at him with frightened eyes
and he  heard the gunshot and he was sure that she was
dead...

        And then he would awaken, heart pounding, and he
would turn his head and see her there reading a book or
napping in the chair. Once he was so relieved he started to
cry, much to his embarrassment. Scully was asleep and
hadn't seen the terror in his eyes. But he felt it. He felt it every
time he looked at her, mingled with relief and gratitude.

        As the days wore on, Mulder regained his strength
and was recuperating at a quick pace. Soon he tired of the
hospital food and the odor and sounds of sick people, and he
informed the doctor in no uncertain terms that he was ready to
go home. The chest tube had been out for several days, and
he was doing well.  And he hoped that maybe, once he got
home, the nightmares would fade. So he was discharged with
a prescription for pain pills and strict orders to rest.

        Scully drove him home, and when he walked in he
was surprised to find the floor free of dirty clothes and old
newspapers. There was fresh fruit on the table, and if he'd
opened the refrigerator door he would have found milk, juices,
and some fresh sliced ham. The cupboard was stocked with
canned goods, and there were even clean dishes to eat on.
Mulder turned to her in amazement.

        "Scully..!?"

        Scully shrugged. "Well I couldn't very well let you
come home to dirty underwear and 3 month old bread."

        "Wow, thanks. You shouldn't have, you're supposed
to be resting."

        Scully waved a hand at him. "I'm fine, Mulder. It's
practically healed. Stop worrying so much."

        Yeah, right, he thought. Stop worrying so much. If she
only knew how much he wanted to. But the image of her on
the floor in that dark building, handcuffed, completely at the
mercy of that animal... it was all he thought about. The scenes
invaded his nights as well as his days. And always, with the
reminder thudding in the back of his head that it was all
because of him.

        One more thing to add to the list.

         He'd had a lot of time in the hospital to think, or
maybe a better phrase  would be to stew, about this latest
disaster. It felt like a weight on him, and as he dragged it
along it was getting heavier and heavier. When he looked in
Scully's eyes the deep blue sea enveloped him, and he
couldn't imagine not seeing them every day. But now when
they were apart, those same eyes haunted him.

        "Mulder?"

        He turned to her. "Hmm?"

        Scully tilted her head a bit, studying him. "You ok?"

        "Uhh... yeah, yeah, I'm fine." He turned away again.
Scully moved into the kitchen and called to him over her
shoulder.

        "Why don't you sit down and I'll make you something
to eat?"

        "Umm, no, Scully," she heard him reply. His voice
sounded strained. "I think I'm just going to take a pain pill and
go to sleep for a while. Why don't you go home and get some
rest, too."

        Scully backed out of the kitchen to see Mulder
standing at the window, his back to her.

        "Mulder, are you sure you're alright?"

        "Yeah, I'm just tired." He didn't turn around.

        "Well... ok. If you need anything, you'll call me, right?"

        "I will."

        "Alright, well, I'll check on you later." She picked up
her coat and went to the door. Her hand on the doorknob, she
paused and turned back once more.

        "Bye Mulder."

        "Thanks, Scully."

        She watched him for another moment before opening
the door and walking out. In the hallway, she leaned against
the door and sighed. Something was wrong. He'd been acting
strange for several days now. Then she shook her head. No,
she was overreacting. He was just tired , that's all. He'd been
through a lot, and he needed some uninterrupted rest, not the
kind you get in the hospital. With one more backward glance
at the door, she walked away.

        Inside the apartment, Mulder heard Scully's footsteps
retreat slowly down the hall. He turned and went to the
kitchen. Actually, he  *was*  kind of hungry. On the table was
a plate of homemade cookies covered in plastic wrap, a note
taped to the top. He pulled it off and unfolded it.

        'Fox-
        Here's a little something to make you feel better. Get
well soon.
                        Love,
                        Maggie Scully'

        Mulder sighed and sat down at the table. Peeling the
wrap back from the plate, he pulled out a large chocolate chip
cookie and took a big bite. He closed his eyes as an
appreciative "mmmmm" escaped.

        <I am such a dog>, he thought. Here he was, chowing
down on cookies that were a gift from a woman he respected
and admired and cared about immensely. A mother who's
heart had been broken too many times to count, mostly by his
foolish actions. A woman who had already suffered so much
because of him. A woman who's face he couldn't have borne
to look at if her daughter had succumbed to the crossfire that
had yet again caught her in the middle. His throat was tight as
he tried to swallow.

        What was wrong with this picture?

        ********************************

        Scully stared at the phone for a moment before
setting it down in it's base. Mulder wasn't home. Or just wasn't
answering. Again. She glanced at the clock. 10:26 p.m. Kind
of odd for him to be out and about at this time of night unless
he was working on a case. Which he wasn't, to her
knowledge. He wasn't due back in the office for another week.

        She had been calling him regularly since his release
from the hospital nearly 2 weeks ago. At first it was just out of
concern, to check on him and see if he needed anything.
Later, when she was back at work, it was to ask his opinion on
different aspects of cases that she was working on. But
something wasn't quite right. The first few times, he seemed
happy to hear her voice. But soon she felt a... distance.
Something between them that hadn't been there before. He
would come up with excuses to end her phone calls quickly.
When she would stop by his apartment, he seemed reluctant
to let her in, and when she did come in, he often wouldn't look
her in the eye. Then he just stopped answering the phone
altogether. She left messages, he didn't call back.

        Something was slipping between her fingers, and she
had no idea how to hold on to it.

         Scully had tried to get back into a routine. She went
to the office every morning since she'd received her medical
release to return to work. She had a couple of cases active
right now, and she had thought that it would be easier to work
without Mulder's constant interruptions and his papers
scattered everywhere. At first she had worked diligently in the
silence, but soon enough the utter stillness felt like a weight
threatening to crush her. Then she would hurry outside and
walk the mall, until she came to a familiar small bench that
overlooked the reflecting pool. She'd spent quite a bit of time
there in the last few days, remembering, and trying to figure
out how to keep her grasp on something that she couldn't
quite define.

        A hot bath. That would soothe her nerves. Scully went
into the bathroom and turned on the water, heating it until
steam came wafting up from the tub. Add a few drops of
fragrant oil, and she was ready to soak off the worries of the
day. She slid in and closed her eyes, letting the water come
up to her chin, barely aware of the soft music playing in the
background.

        It had been only in the past week or so that she had
been able to relax in her own bathtub again, and she forbade
herself to give in to the anxiety that still presented itself every
time she walked into her apartment. She refused to be a
prisoner to fear. As she knew all too well, life was made up of
an allotted number of days and the unthinkable could happen
anytime. She tried to greet each new day as a gift, and she
would not be cowed by the some mutant of the human race.

        But she couldn't completely free her mind of the
pictures that followed her. The image of Mulder in her arms,
the look in his eyes,  would come to her at unexpected
moments. Like now. A shudder ran through her, even as her
skin was flushed pink by the hot water. This was a time when
she wished that she were able to express herself more freely
to Mulder. She missed him terribly, and it was so often on the
tip of her tongue to tell him that. But the words just wouldn't
come. Even as she felt him pulling away from her, she wanted
so much to say... something. Anything. The right thing,
whatever that was. But instead the emotions stuck in her
throat, just as they always had. To tell him how she really felt
would be to expose her most intimate self. More than any
psychotic killer, it was what she feared the most.

        ************************

        "Mulder?"

        Scully stood in front of him, her hands cuffed, her
eyes wide.

        "Mulder, help me!"

        He looked down at his feet and tried to move them,
but they were frozen in place, like trying to lift them from
cement. His heart was racing and he looked up at Scully with
panic-stricken eyes.

        "I can't move!" he called to her. He saw the glint of
metal from a gun and shouted, "Run! Scully, run!" But she just
stood there, pleading with him.

        "Mulder, help me!"

        A gunshot, and again, and again... Scully's body
twitched with each shot he heard, until finally she collapsed.

        "Oh, God! Oh, God Oh God..."

        Mulder's own cries woke him, and he bolted upright
on the sofa. His heartbeat was throbbing in his ears, his face
wet with sweat. He took a deep breath, ignoring the stab of
pain it brought to do so. How fucking long was this going to go
on? Night after night, he was afraid to close his eyes for fear
of what sadistic tricks his mind was waiting to play on him.

        He went to the kitchen sink and splashed cold water
on his face, then slurped some from cupped hands. His hands
gripped the edge of the counter, and he leaned his forehead
down against them as he waited for his heart to slow to a
normal rhythm.

        It had been over four weeks since the shooting. Scully
had been back to work for a while now. She had investigated
a couple of cases on her own, as well as doing some of the
mundane but necessary tasks that he himself was always so
quick to overlook. She was doing a fine job taking care of
things without him, from the sound of it. He would have liked
to tell her that. He would have liked to tell her a lot of things.
But, more and more, he was becoming convinced that he
needed to tell her something that he dreaded.

        The thought of going back to work with her, of
continuing on the way things had been, had suddenly seemed
incredibly selfish. The notion had been growing in his mind
since his early days in the hospital. It started as a fleeting
thought, which he dismissed immediately as he had every
time in the past that his conscience started to weigh on him
about his place in her life. But, as time had gone on, it
germinated into a truth he could not deny any longer. Every
day he would think about how much he missed her, and he
would picture her, her smooth creamy skin and beautiful
mouth, her small strong hands, her eyes - oh, those eyes. If
he closed his own eyes sometimes he could even imagine
that he smelled her perfume. And Mulder would convince
himself that they could go on the way they were, for the
thought of separating from her was as unimaginable as cutting
off his own arm. Then night would come, and he would wake
in terror, and he would look at his face in the mirror and know
that for once in his life he needed to put someone else ahead
of his own self-indulgence.

        But, God, it was going to kill him to do it.

        How, how, how would he ever make her understand?
How could he ever make her realize that watching her suffer
because of him was tearing him apart? How would he be able
to send her away when she was the most important thing in
the world to him? Somehow, he had to. It could not go on like
this.

        She would listen. And beneath her denial, she would
understand.

        But she would never accept it.

        He had to make a break, for his own sake, and
especially for hers. This last incident was enough to finally
make a crack in his own shell of denial. Everything before,
somehow he'd been able to convince himself that they were in
it together. That the threats she faced belonged to both of
them. But he could find no such excuse now. She had been
used simply to get to him. Just like all the other times. The
fact that he loved her with all his heart just made him that
much more dangerous to her, and he knew the love he so
longed to give her would  only wind up hurting her in the end.
Maybe even killing her. His presence in her life had only
caused her heartache, and he just couldn't do it anymore.

        ***********************************

        At the knock on the door, Assistant Director Skinner
looked up from the work on his desk.

        "Come in," he called.

        The door opened, and Mulder peered inside. "I'm
sorry for barging in like this, sir, but your secretary wasn't at
her desk..."

        Skinner rose and walked toward the door. "No, no,
come in Agent Mulder. I'm glad to see you looking so well. I
wasn't expecting you back until next week."

        Mulder entered the office and shut the door behind
him. He stood near the door, silent, his hands clenching and
unclenching at his sides. Skinner picked up on the tension.

        "Sit down, Agent Mulder," he said, motioning to the
chairs in front of his desk. Mulder did so, his hands gripping
the armrests now, leaving damp fingerprints in the black
leather. Skinner walked in front of his desk and leaned back
against it.

        "What did you need to see me about?"  the Assistant
Director asked, removing his glasses and placing them on the
desk. Mulder looked straight ahead and pressed his lips
together. Skinner waited. Finally Mulder spoke.

        "I need to speak to you... off the record..."

        **************************************

        A knock. Mulder looked toward the door, chose to
ignore it. Knocking again, louder this time. Then a jangle of
keys, and Mulder braced himself for what he'd known was
coming for several days.

        Scully didn't seem surprised to find him home.
Instead, she strode angrily toward the sofa where he sat, and
threw a folded sheet of paper on his lap.

        "I'd ask you what the hell this is all about, but I guess
if you wanted me to know, you would have told me already,"
she spat, her voice on the edge of fury.

        Mulder didn't look at her. He picked up the paper and
unfolded it, silently reading the first few lines.

        '...you have been reassigned to the Violent Crimes
Section, effective immediately...'

        Mulder sighed and folded the paper again.

        "Look at me, you bastard!"

        Slowly, he raised his eyes to hers. At first flinty with
anger, Scully's eyes suddenly softened with the pain of  her
perceived betrayal.

        "Mulder..." her voice was choked. She stopped, took a
deep breath, steadied herself. "Just tell me why?"

        "I think you know why."

        "Damn you! Don't play games with me! I want to hear
what you have to say, I think I deserve that much!"

        Mulder sighed again, and pressed the palms of his
hands to his eyes. "You deserve a lot more than that, Scully."
He uncovered his eyes, stood and turned to face her. "I can't
do it anymore, Scully. I can't do it!" His voice was a plea. He
turned away and walked a few feet toward the window.

        Scully straightened her spine, closed her eyes. She
would approach this calmly, reasonably, she thought. She
would make him see that this was not the answer. "Mulder...
talk to me. Please."

        "I never told you this, Scully, but..." His voice went
hoarse with emotion. He continued in a near whisper. "I found
my sister."

        "What?!"

        "She's been nearby all along. Cancer Man... he had
her, raised her as his own, at least that's the story they gave
me. She doesn't want to see me, she doesn't want me in her
life."  He turned to Scully, hands outstretched, his eyes
pleading her understanding. "All along... she was here... so
close... and now I found her, and for what? What I've lived my
life for, everything, the searching, the pain... for this?" He
went to her, took her hands in his. His eyes burned with
unshed tears, remaining dry as a desert. "While I was lying in
the hospital, I couldn't stop thinking about it, her, and.. I don't
know, everything. I've been willing to give everything up for
this... crusade of mine. My father, my mind, you..."

        Scully shook her head in confusion. "Mulder... what..."

        "Scully, look at yourself! You've been through hell,
because of this, because of me. Everything that's happened is
because of me! I can't do this anymore - I don't want to know
the truth anymore, Scully! It won't change anything, I can't
take back the years that were stolen from my family... I can't
change what's happened to you... it'll only cause more pain,
don't you see?"

        Scully pulled her hands away from him and took a
step back. She was stunned, seared to the bone. She couldn't
take her eyes off the man before her, this man she thought
she knew so well, now seemingly a stranger. Her mind
refused to stop spinning, and the words tumbled out without
rhyme or reason.

        "Your sister... you didn't tell me? You didn't... I
thought you trusted me... "

        Mulder brushed at his eyes with the back of his hand.
He moved toward her, but she backed away again.

        "Scully... please..."

        "What about me, Mulder?" Her voice rose an octave,
rage starting to push against the ache in her heart. "What
about me? What if  *I*  still want to know the truth? This isn't
just about you, damn it! But you always seem to forget that,
don't you?"

        Mulder stood silently, his head down, hands clenched
at his sides. He spoke again, quietly, slowly.

        "I'm trying to do what's best for both of us, Scully."

        "How dare you? How dare you presume to make
decisions for me like this? Like I'm some interchangeable
sidekick, 'If she doesn't fit in slot A, we'll just put her in slot
B'!"  She choked back her tears, and her voice trembled. "I
thought... we had... Is that all I've been to you, Mulder?"

        He looked up, and the agony in her eyes nearly
brought down his resolve.

        "God, Scully, no... God, no..." He reached his hand
out and touched her arm, and she flinched as if she'd been
burned. Then she did something that tore through him like
another bullet. She wiped her face with her hands, and stood
ramrod straight, facing him like a soldier at attention. Her
voice was barely a whisper, but steady as a rock. She looked
at him, blinking to stop the tears.

        "Then I guess this is good-bye,  Mulder. You won't
have to worry about watching my back anymore. You can go
on alone." Scully turned toward the door, stopped, and turned
back. "But I guess that's what you've always wanted, isn't it?"

        Mulder lowered his head, refusing to give anything
away with his eyes. Refusing to give, and refusing to take.

        That was the way she left him.

        *******************************

        Scully pulled the blanket tighter around herself and
leaned her head back in the big overstuffed chair. The light
from the television flickered across her face, as an unwatched
movie provided background noise for her numb mind. She
had been sitting here for hours trying to make sense of what
had happened tonight. But, try as she might to find reason
and logic in Mulder's actions, her thoughts were
overshadowed by base emotion.

        He didn't want her anymore.

        Oh, her mind gave her all the right arguments. His
finely tuned sense of guilt had pushed him to do this. He was
punishing himself. The Mulder Self-Loathing technique in high
gear. But it always came back to this.

        He hadn't trusted her.

        He didn't need her.

        He didn't want her anymore.

        Silently, the tears started again. Here in her safe
haven, Scully let them fall where they would. She'd never felt
so completely betrayed; by Mulder, by her own obviously
misplaced loyalties, and by her own foolish heart. She had so
stupidly let herself love this man, not realizing it until it was
too late.  She had thought she was a part of him, and he of
her. Without words, they knew each other so well.

        At least, she'd thought they did.

        She was as angry at herself as she was at him. She
had let this happen, let herself care for him too much. She
had stayed when every intelligent nerve in her body had told
her to run. Once again, she had fallen into her old habits;
always the pleaser, dutiful daughter, helpful friend, strong
shoulder. She had let herself be taken in by those hazel eyes
that silently pleaded with her not to leave. Hell, she had
welcomed it. It felt so good to have someone to care for. And
this is where it left her. Battered, bruised, and dropped on her
ass.

        Damn him. Damn him to hell.

        ***************************************

        Mulder shifted restlessly on the barstool. This was not
a place he was comfortable in, never had been. But tonight, it
was preferable to sitting in his apartment. Here, the noise, the
crowd, the lights, all worked to keep his senses occupied by
something other than a small red haired woman. And what
little awareness there was left, he was well on his way to
drowning out with the brown bottles steadily collecting in front
of him.

        He tipped up the newly opened brew and slugged
back a long swallow, keeping his eyes straight ahead. The
long mirror behind the bartender did nothing to help his mood.
Try as he might to avoid his own reflection, he was drawn
back to it again and again, and each time a small wave of
revulsion ran through him at what he saw.

        Mulder tipped his head back again, and this time
when he brought his gaze down he saw another reflection
seated next to him, her eyes holding his.

        "You look like you could use a friend." Her voice was
strong enough to be heard over the din behind them, but soft
at the edges. Large brown eyes stared at him in the mirror.
Mulder dropped his gaze to the droplets of moisture on the
counter in front of him.

        "I'm afraid I wouldn't be very good company," he said.

        The woman was silent for a moment. He turned to
face her. Her hair was long and dark, framing tanned skin and
an aquiline nose, the wide eyes almost startling in their
intensity.

        "Well, do you mind if I sit here anyway?"

        Mulder smiled. "No, of course not."

        The woman ordered a drink and turned to face the
bar. Mulder felt her steal a few glances his way. Finally he
turned to her again.

        "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound like such a jerk."

        She smiled slightly, and nodded. "That's OK. I know
someone mending a broken heart when I see it. I didn't mean
to intrude."

        "Yeah, I wouldn't want someone to break up my pity
party."

        She looked down and laughed understandingly, then
met his eyes again. "My name's Julie. I'll just sit here and
stand guard in case somebody tries to make you laugh or
something."

        Mulder offered his hand, and she took it in her own.
"Fox Mulder."

        "Interesting name."

        "Yeah, I guess my mother thought so."

        They sat quietly for a few moments, sipping their
drinks. Julie was turned to watch the action on the floor, while
Mulder continued his assessment in the mirror. He ordered
another beer, and took a long drink. Julie was turned half
away, but he could see much of her reflection. Her hair looked
soft and curled a little around her shoulders. Her features
were sharp, angular, but attractive in a classic way. She
suddenly turned and caught him watching her. He didn't look
away. She held his eyes in the mirror.

        "So, tell me, Fox Mulder, what's a solitary guy like you
doing in a place like this?"

        He turned to her. "Oh, I thought it would be a good
place to ponder the mysteries of life." She chuckled, and
Mulder smiled back at her.

        "Well, have you had any fascinating new insights
yet?"

        He thought for a minute before responding. "Well, I
always thought The Fonz said it best. 'Ya live fast, ya die
young, ya leave a good lookin' corpse.'"

        This time her laugh was infectious, and he had to
admit to himself that it felt damn good.

        "Can I buy you a drink, Julie?"

        She moved a little closer to him.

        "You certainly can, Fox."

        *******************************

        Three hours later, they were pulling up in front of his
apartment in Julie's car.

        "Thanks for the ride," Mulder said. "You can probably
tell, I don't drink much."

        "No!" Julie smiled again. He chuckled. Reaching for
the door handle, he turned to her.

        "Thanks again."

        "Aren't you even going to invite me in for coffee? You
could use some." Her eyes were clear and bright, and her
words cut through the fog in Mulder's mind.

        "Julie..."

        "Look, Fox. I'm not asking for anything more. I'm
lonely. You're lonely. Nothing more than that."

        "It's not that simple."

        Julie leaned over in her seat, her face inches away
from his. "Tonight, it can be." Her breath was warm and sweet
on his face. She leaned in a little further, grazed his cheek
with her mouth. "Let it be simple tonight, Fox."

        As if possessed, his arms went around her and he
kissed her long and hard. When he pulled away, he just
looked at her.

        "Yes," she whispered. "Yes, I'm sure."

        They barely made it to the sofa before clothing was
being tossed to the floor. Mulder pulled her onto him and held
her face in his hands as he probed her pliant mouth. Julie
finally pulled back and looked into his eyes.

        "Slow down, Fox. Slow down." Her hands caressed
his face, and he closed his eyes. "There's no rush. We've got
all night." She kissed him gently, on the forehead, cheeks,
and finally a soft brush on his mouth. He moved his hands
more slowly, touched her everywhere. She was tall and long,
her tanned skin so different, so unlike...

        <No! Not tonight... not tonight...>

        Julie's hand brushed across the freshly scarred wound
on his chest. She looked at him.

        "Wow. What happened?"

        "Occupational hazard."

        The look on his face told her not to ask for details.
She gently ran her fingers across the irregular tissue. "Does it
still hurt?"

        He looked away for a moment. Did it still hurt? He
couldn't imagine that the pain would ever cease. It throbbed to
his very essence, an ache that would never be soothed.

        "No. I'm fine."

        Julie leaned over him and kissed the scar, and Mulder
drew in a sharp breath. She kept her face close to his belly,
and left a trail of kisses across his abdomen, up the center of
his chest,  nuzzling into his neck. She reached down into her
purse that had dropped next to the sofa, and pulled out a
condom. Sitting back for a moment, she opened it as Mulder
reached for it. She pulled her hand back.

        "Ah, ah, ah... " she said, teasing. "I'll do it."

        "I like a woman who's prepared for anything." She just
smiled and he caught his breath as she touched his swollen
member.

        Mulder's fingers found Julie's tender center, and she
moaned and arched into him. He brought her to a shuddering
peak, then quickly turned so that he was above her, and
entered her hard and thrusting. Her nails dug into him, and
she whispered to him, urging him on. He closed his eyes and
felt her warmth, her softness. With each surge of his body into
hers, her name filled his mind and soul, her breath became
his...

        <Scully...
 
        Scully...

        Scully...>

        **********************************

        Mulder woke with a start, lifting his head to look
around the dark living room. It took him a moment to collect
his thoughts, and remember what had happened earlier in the
evening. His head was spinning and he felt nauseous,
whether from the beer or from self-disgust he wasn't quite
sure. Julie was gone, he vaguely recalled the loss of her
warmth in his arms as she got up and dressed. She had come
back to sit beside him as he lay on the sofa, and she leaned
down and gave him a soft kiss. His hands had gone up and
clasped her arms, holding her there, but they both knew it was
want and not need that drove him. She'd pulled back and
smiled sadly, and he thought he'd seen a glimmer of wetness
in her eyes as she told him goodbye. And then she was gone,
leaving him to feel like the dirtball that he was.

        "You've sunk to a new low this time, Mulder," he said
out loud, and leaned back with his arm across his eyes. Then
he thought, <Screw it! It's not like she didn't know up front.>
But it wasn't quite convincing. He sighed, and suddenly his
stomach was reminding him what an idiot he'd been. He
bolted upright and ran to the bathroom, barely making it for a
fitting end to this miserable night.

        **************************************

        Scully unlocked the door and walked into the office
for what she knew would be the last time. It was Friday
morning, and she'd come in early to avoid running into
anyone. She didn't want to have to explain why she was
leaving with her pitifully small accumulation of things from the
office in a box. On Monday she would be unpacking the box
in another office, one with a desk with her name on it for a
change.

        She sighed as she set the empty box down on a chair,
the one she usually sat in across the desk from Mulder. She
shook her head, and closed her eyes tightly as tears
threatened again. She still couldn't believe that it was going to
end like this. And the worst part was, there was not a damn
thing she could do about it. No way to fight it. Oh, she'd
considered it of course. At first, she was so angry that she was
ready to march into Skinner's office and ask him why the hell
he was letting Mulder dictate to him this way? But, obviously,
Mulder had done a bang up job of convincing Skinner that he
could no longer work with her, and she'd be damned if she
would beg to stay. And since the X-Files had always been
Mulder's baby, well, what else could Skinner have done? Her
heart ached anew as she repeated the thought that had rang
in her mind since last night.

        She was expendable. Replaceable.

        God, that hurt.

        As Scully gathered up her meager belongings in the
office, she couldn't stop the tears. Damn it to hell! Crying was
for babies, for weaklings...

        She dropped into Mulder's chair, cradled her head on
the desk, and sobbed.

        ************************************

        Mulder thought he heard a light knock on his door,
and turned toward it, straining to hear. Again,  *tap-tap*, just
barely audible. It was late, and he wasn't expecting anyone.
He took a deep breath and steeled himself, thinking that
Scully was about to give him hell again. He walked to the door
and peered through the peephole, the breath catching in his
throat.

        Samantha.

        Mulder opened the door without a word. She stood in
the hall, twisting the strap of her purse between her hands.
She leaned a bit to the side, her eyes darting around the
interior of his apartment, then  looking up at him.

        "Are you alone?" she asked. He nodded. "May I come
in?"

        "Yes," he answered, finally able to force a word from
his stunned mind. He backed away from the door, and
Samantha stepped in hesitantly. She glanced around, not
meeting his eyes, and Mulder didn't speak for fear that one
errant sound would send her scurrying back out into the night.
So many questions were on the tip of his tongue! But her
expression told him that this was not the time. She seemed to
have something to say. He waited.

        "I have a friend, a very good friend, who works at the
hospital you were in." Her words came in short bursts, as if
she needed to get them out quickly or they may never come
out at all. "She's the only person I've confided in, she knows
about you... she called me when she saw that you'd been
admitted."  Samantha walked to the window and looked out to
the street below. "I haven't stopped thinking about you, Fox,"
she continued quietly. "I wanted to know that  you were
alright, but I was afraid to go to the hospital - I didn't want to
see... anyone..." She breathed deeply before beginning again.
"I called my friend every day, to check on you..." She turned
to face him, her eyes glistening. "I guess we're still connected
somehow... aren't we?"

        Mulder nodded, a hint of a smile on his lips.

        "You live here alone?"

        He nodded again, and followed Samantha's eyes as
she looked around. "Good help's so hard to find, you know,"
Mulder quipped.  She smiled, and seemed to relax.

        "You always could make me laugh, Fox." She looked
back at him again. "You've never married?"

        "No."

        "Why not?"

        He tried to think of a way to answer, and finally just
shrugged and turned up his palms.

        Samantha turned away to the window again, her gaze
cast across the landscape outside, over distance and through
time. Her voice was quiet. "I can't imagine what it was like for
you, wondering all those years... did you... did you really look
for me?"

        "I never  *stopped*  looking for you, Samantha."

        She turned her head just slightly toward him, and
Mulder could see a tear travel down her cheek and over the
curve of her lips. "Somehow, I always knew that, Fox."  And
she smiled. Mulder walked up behind her and stopped a few
feet  away.

        "Samantha...", Mulder said, an edge of urgency in his
voice.

        Samantha shook her head and put her hands up,
palms facing him. "No, Fox... please, not yet." She squeezed
her eyes tight for a moment, then opened her eyes and faced
him. "I'm not ready. I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..."  He stepped
closer and took her hands in his. She didn't pull away, but
there may as well have been an ocean between them.

        "I won't push you, Sam."

        She bit her lower lip, and dropped her gaze again. "I
needed to see you, to see for myself... that you were alright."

        Mulder leaned his head down until he captured her
eyes with his.

        "I'm fine. I am, really."

        Her expression became earnest, pleading. "Promise
me something, Fox."

        "If I can."

        "Stop looking back. I can see it in your eyes. You
can't stay there anymore... don't let your life pass you by while
you try to get back something that can't be... nothing can
change what's in the past, Fox. All we can hope for is to go on
from here. Promise me you'll try."

        "What about you?"

        She dropped his hands and looked away. "I'm trying...
there's so much to absorb, so much... I think the worst part is,
somehow I always knew there was more. I would imagine that
you and mom and dad were still out there, searching for me,
but I was always told that was a common fantasy for orphaned
children." She turned to him again, a hint of a smile on her
sad face. "But somewhere inside, I just knew..."

        Samantha reached into her purse and pulled out a
small envelope. She carefully removed a photo, and handed it
to Mulder.

        "These are my kids. Two boys, age six and nine."  A
smile slowly spread over Mulder's face as he looked into
familiar eyes. His nephews! Samantha pointed to the younger
boy. "I always thought he looked like you," she said.

        He'd noticed that right away. "Yeah, he does, doesn't
he?" he said, looking up at her again.

        "I have them to hang onto, Fox. I know that, no matter
what, they're the most important things in my life. Whatever I
find out about my past ...our past ...this-" she pointed again to
the photo, "-is what matters to me now. Do you understand
what I'm saying? They're real." Tears glistened in her eyes
again. "I hug them and I look into their eyes and I know that
the shadows from the past can't hurt me anymore."

        Mulder nodded slowly. He handed the picture back to
Samantha, but she shook her head. "No, you keep it Fox. I'll
bring them to see you - soon. I promise,"  she said as she
smiled through her tears.

        "Thank you," Mulder said. He felt like crying himself.

        "Well, I should go." She suddenly clutched her purse
to her side, and the moment they'd shared disappeared. "Be
patient with me, Fox. I do want to know you again. Just... be
patient."  He nodded silently. Samantha walked to the door
with her head down, then hesitated before she stepped out of
his life again. She turned back to him.

        "Please remember what I said - don't keep looking
back. There's more happiness ahead than behind us." Then
she opened the door and was gone.

        Mulder dropped into a chair feeling dazed. The photo
was still clutched in his hand, and he brought it closer to study
it. Samantha was in the center, leaning down to put an arm
around each of her two sons who were dressed in soccer
uniforms. She was smiling broadly, as was the six year old
who flashed a lopsided grin that was missing front teeth. The
older boy looked down shyly. Mulder couldn't help but smile at
the resemblance that he saw in the younger boy. Suddenly he
realized that he'd forgotten to ask their names. He turned the
picture over hoping to find them written on the back, but it was
blank. He turned it back again, unable to tear his eyes away
from the happy family before him. He was glad for her, and so
very sad for himself. She'd been able to go on with her life,
because she didn't know any better. But she'd said that she
knew, somehow, that there was more than what had been told
to her. Yet she went ahead, she lived, and loved, and seemed
to have a life that he thought he'd never have. <She made the
choice,> he thought. <She made a choice to go on.> Was it
really that simple? His fingers traced the outline of the young
boy's face, his own face, and his eyes stung. He sat there for
a long time as the silent tears fell.

        ********************************************

        Scully rubbed her eyes as she leaned back from the
stack of files on her desk. Her eyes were burning from lack of
sleep and reading so much fine print. It was going to take time
for her to catch up to speed on all the cases that her division
was working on, and her head was already pounding at the
thought. It was only 10:45 a.m. on her first day and already
she was itching to get away from this desk and DO
something. Her reverie was broken by a phone ringing, and it
was a moment before she realized that it was coming from
the phone on her own desk. She picked it up.

        "Scully."

        "Agent Scully, sorry to bother you. This is Assistant
Director Skinner."

        She immediately perked up. "What can I do for you,
sir?"

        "Uhh, well, I was wondering if you'd spoken to Agent
Mulder today?"

        "No. Why?" Scully immediately knocked her forehead
with her fist. She didn't want to know why. It wasn't her
problem anymore. But old habits die hard.

        "He was supposed to be back at work this morning,"
Skinner continued. As much as he tried to hide it, she could
hear the concern in his voice. "He hasn't shown up, and I've
been unable to contact him. I just thought perhaps you
knew..."

        "No, sir, I haven't heard from him since... umm, have
you called his mother?"

        "Yes, she hasn't heard from him." He paused. "Well,
I'm sorry to bother you. I'll let you get back to work."

        She chewed her lip as she hung up the phone. <Don't
even think about it!> she told herself. <Whatever he's up to,
he's on his own.> She put her glasses on and went back to the
file in front of her. After reading the same paragraph six
times, she sighed and threw her glasses down on the desk.
Leaning back in her chair, she fought with herself for several
minutes before standing up with a disgusted huff and grabbing
her jacket. On the way out she told the secretary that she had
an emergency she had to tend to.

        "Oh, nothing too serious, I hope."

        Scully  squinted at the nameplate and saw that the
young lady's name was Lisa.

        "Thank you, Lisa," Scully said with a smile that looked
more like a grimace. "I hope so, too."

        *****************************

        As she pulled up in front of Mulder's apartment, Scully
was in the middle of reminding herself how stupid she was.
She turned off the ignition, but made no move to get out of
the car. Her hands gripped the wheel and she stared straight
ahead.

        <What the hell am I doing?> Scully asked herself for
the hundredth time. <This is ridiculous! He doesn't want me in
his life. I don't care what happens to him.> She sighed and
leaned back. <Then why am I here?>

        "Fine," she said aloud as she opened the door. "I'll
see if he's ok, then I'm going back to work." She slammed the
car door hard. "This is so ridiculous!"

        By the time she got to Mulder's door, she was
steaming. She banged on the door. No answer. Banged
harder. A door down the hall opened and a gray haired
woman leaned her head out the door and gave Scully a
disapproving look. Scully reached for her keys and opened
the door.

        She called his name. No reply. Scully closed the door
and looked around. Nothing looked amiss. It was the same as
it had always been, clothes scattered on the floor, books,
magazines and newspapers strewn over the sofa and table.
She walked from room to room, unsure of what she was
looking for. The bathroom counter was clear of his toiletries,
so he must have packed a bag. She wandered into his
bedroom, and opened the top drawer of his dresser where she
knew he usually kept his weapon. It was still there.

        Back in the living room, she turned on the computer
and checked his e-mail, but there was nothing that would lend
her any clues. She opened the desk drawer, and there it was.
A photo of a woman who looked exactly like the one Mulder
had  traded for herself on a bridge long ago. It was Samantha.

        She picked it up and examined it more closely. The
woman was smiling, her arms around two little boys, the
younger one reminding her so much of Mulder it was, well,
spooky. Did Samantha give this to him? Why would she do
that if she indeed wanted no part in Mulder's life, as he had
said? Scully was convinced that this had something to do with
Mulder's disappearance. But should she intrude? Would he
want her too? Something serious must have happened to
cause him to take off like this. She didn't like the thoughts that
were going through her mind.

        "Oh, Mulder," she sighed. Everything in her heart told
her to go and find him. But pride was holding her in the chair
like a vise. The same pride that had held her tongue so many
times, made her swallow the caring words that she had so
often wanted to say.

        "Dammit to hell," she said quietly and closed her
eyes. Something was wrong, and she wanted to rush in and
fix it. Again. <But what if I don't?>, a small voice said. <What
if I go back to work and ignore the whole thing? Tomorrow I
will wake up and do it again, and the next day and the next. A
stable, quiet life. No surprises. No heartache.>

        Scully sighed again. She thought her heart would
crack under the weight of the loneliness she felt. There really
was no question to answer. She needed to take this chance.

        ******************************

Quonochontaug

 
        The water was as gray as the cloudy sky. Whitecaps
dotted the rough surface as gusts of air tried to whip the
unwilling lake into a liquid frenzy. Spring was many weeks
away and the trees remained barren, their fleshless skeletons
reaching and twisting in the strong March wind. There was a
storm coming, Mulder could feel it. The atmosphere was as
turbulent as the emotions inside of him.

        He walked aimlessly through the yard, looking down
at his feet and shuffling dead leaves and twigs as he went.
Shoving his hands deep in his pockets, his mind traveled a
long and circuitous path, back to summer days and fireflies
and innocent stars in the night sky. Why did the recall of his
life always seem to begin and end here? He was so tired of it,
so tired of looking back in sorrow and regret. Samantha had
been right, so very, very right. It was time to turn his head and
his heart forward to life as he could make it now. It was past
time. He laughed derisively at himself. Typical. A day late and
a dollar short. And now he had pushed away the best thing
that had ever happened to him.

        Mulder stopped and perched on the edge of a
weathered adirondack chair and leaned forward, elbows on
his knees. He watched the water furl and slap against the
shore line, his face stinging from the cold. He'd always been
fascinated by the feeling of an approaching storm. Something
about the electricity in the air, the apprehension of discovering
what was coming. He'd spent many hours here as a kid doing
just this same thing. It was fun then. Now it seemed so terribly
lonely.

        He could still feel her with him, and would sometimes
turn and expect to see her standing there before he
remembered. He wondered how long that feeling would last.

        He hoped always.

        It didn't matter what happened in the future, her mark
was on him forever. He closed his eyes and smiled gently.

        Suddenly his eyelids snapped open. Slowly, he turned
back toward the house. A flash of red hair made him catch his
breath.

        Scully walked toward him slowly, hesitantly, eyes cast
down. Her hair whipped wildly in the wind. He waited, frozen
to the chair, unsure of what to do. She stopped a few yards
away and looked at him for a moment before speaking.

        "I tried, Mulder..." Her eyes welled up and she
pressed  trembling fingertips against her lips for a moment to
keep the dam from breaking. "I really tried."  A tear escaped
and was blown away. She attempted a watery smile as she
shrugged her shoulders and her hands opened to him. "I
couldn't do it..."

        Mulder felt his own eyes burn with sudden salty tears,
and he blinked to keep Scully in focus. He opened his mouth,
but there were no words. His hand stretched out and, with a
sob, she came to him.

        Her arms went round his neck, and Mulder nestled
against her soft sweater as she pulled him close. His arms
circled her waist and Scully lay her cheek on the crown of his
dark hair, stroking it gently and wetting it with her tears.

        "I can't leave you, Mulder... I can't..."

        He lay his cheek against the soft wool and listened in
awe as his life beat within her. Around them the storm
approached with a howling pitch, but Mulder only heard the
soft rhythm of her heart as it pulsed against him. He tightened
his arms around her.  Scully gently placed her hands on his
face and turned it up to look in his eyes.

        "I'm so sorry..." Mulder began.

        She shook her head and interrupted him. "No. No
more."

        The rain started then, a few small drops that quickly
turned into a downpour. Mulder stood up, grabbing Scully by
the hand as they made a dash for the house. They were
laughing as they ran through the door. Scully took off her coat
and shook the water off, then turned to see Mulder staring at
her.

        "What?" she said, smiling. "You've seen me looking
worse."

        "I've never seen you look better," he replied in a low
voice. "I can't believe you came looking for me. How did you
know where I was?"

        "I found the picture," Scully said quietly. Mulder
nodded. "I don't know how I knew," she went on, "but
something told me to come here. I didn't know if I should..."

        "But you did." His eyes never left hers. "You knew...
that I needed you.  Why did I ever think distance could
change that?"

        Scully looked away and hung her coat on the coat
tree. The moment broken, Mulder removed his jacket and
moved to the fireplace. "Did Skinner call you?" he asked over
his shoulder.

        "Yeah."

        Mulder nodded as he stirred the embers and stacked
new wood on top. "I was going to call him. I just... I don't
know. I suppose he's pretty pissed."

        "He sounded more concerned than anything."  Scully
looked around, remembering when she was here last, chasing
a confused and psychically wounded Mulder. A shudder
passed through her. Mulder looked back at the same moment.

        "Sorry it's so cold. The fire will be going in a
minute. The heat here is from LP gas, and the tank hasn't
been filled in years. My mother keeps the water on, and the
electricity, with some kind of gadget on the pipes so they don't
freeze up." He stood up and brushed his hands off on his
jeans. "I don't know why she doesn't just sell the place. She
refuses to come here."

        "Sometimes it's hard to part with memories, even
when they're painful."

        Mulder looked into Scully's knowing eyes, and
nodded. He felt suddenly awkward, unsure of where to go
from here. He searched for a benign subject to put between
them.

        "Coffee?" he asked, picking up a large thermos.

        Scully arched her brow. "I don't know... did you make
it?"

        Mulder chuckled. "No, you're safe. I got it at the Stop
& Save."

        "In that case, sure."

        He unscrewed the cap that doubled as a cup, and
poured the steaming brew. Scully walked toward him and
accepted it.

        "Hope you don't mind sharing my cup," Mulder went
on, filling the silence with mindless conversation. "There are
some dishes and stuff here, but they're packed away, and
God only knows what condition they're in..."

        Scully placed her hand on his arm. "It's ok, Mulder."
Her eyes told him she was referring to more than the coffee.
She dropped her hand and her gaze, and turned toward the
growing fire, sipping the coffee. The flames jumped orange
and yellow, and she held her unoccupied hand toward the fire
to warm it. Mulder watched her from a few steps away. It was
getting dark outside, and the firelight danced across her face,
the flames reflected in her eyes.

        "Scully..."

        She turned to face him, but didn't speak.

        "I don't know what to say... " he went on.

        "You and I both value the truth, Mulder," she said
quietly. "Why don't you start with that."

        Mulder sighed and leaned his head back for a
moment. "Oh, Scully... the truth." He looked at her again, and
reached out to touch her face, his thumb running softly across
her cheekbone. "The truth is, when I saw Jackson shoot you,
something in me just cracked. It haunted me, night and day.
What could have happened. What's happened before. All the
pain it's caused you, being with me. I know what I did hurt
you, but at least it would be the last time. I finally realized
what a selfish jerk I am, keeping you with me."

        "You don't  *keep*  me with you, Mulder. I stay
because I want to."

        "I know. And you'll never know how many times I've
thanked God for that. But I just couldn't bear it any more,
watching you suffer. You deserve so much more."

        Scully set the coffee cup down on the mantle, then
pressed her palms together, fingertips against her lips. After a
moment, she spoke.

        "Mulder, I've lived my life a certain way, planned out,
goals met and checked off,  all my ducks in a row," she said,
looking up at him. "Until I met you. How do I make you
understand... I'm not sure I do myself... " She hesitated, then
went on. "I've never blamed you, not for a minute. Those
people, they've used both of us, hurt both of us..."

        "But it was to get at me, Scully! That's what's been
behind it from the beginning, you know that as well as I do!"
Mulder's eyes flashed. Scully reached out and caught his
hands in her own, calming him with a gentle touch.

        "Mulder," she looked down a moment and bit her lip.
"I know what you're trying to tell me. I understand. But what
we have... had... " she took a deep breath, "I know with
certainty that I will never have that again." Scully looked up
into his eyes, eyes in pain that gave away nothing else. "Tell
me you don't feel the same way."

        Mulder dropped her hands and turned away. But
Scully wasn't ready to give up, not after she'd opened her
heart like this. She grabbed his arm with a determined grip.

        "Tell me, Mulder." She was on the verge of tears, but
held them back and kept her voice even. She would not beg.
But she had to know. "Tell me you don't feel the same way.
Look in my eyes and tell me to go. I will walk out that door
and never come back."

        Mulder moved just slightly toward her, and she
tightened her hand on his arm. His hand came up and gently
pulled hers away, holding it as he turned to her. His other
hand brushed her wet hair back, and his eyes traveled over
the contours of her face as if memorizing every rise and fall.
As he framed her face with both his strong hands, he closed
his eyes and leaned his forehead against hers. Scully held his
wrists tight.

        "I want to be here," she whispered. "I  *choose*  to be
here..."

        Finally he spoke, his voice rough with emotion.

        "Stay with me, Scully... stay with me.."

        He met her lips gently, hesitantly, as a man in the
desert tastes his first drops of sweet water. They felt soft and
warm, just as he had known they would. He drank deeper, and
she responded, caressing his face with her fingertips. Was
this really happening? So often a dream - but now she was
here, she was real, touching him, wanting him. Mulder's heart
was pounding in his ears, every nerve on fire. He pulled back
just enough to break their kiss.

        "Scully..." He didn't know where to begin. Words were
so inadequate to express what he was feeling. She leaned
against him, her smooth cheek against his stubbled one, and
her hand held his face tenderly against hers.

        "Tell me, Mulder... ", her breath warm on his face. "I
need to hear you say it."

        "I love you..." He pressed  her small body against
him, and she went soft in his arms. It was a moment before he
realized that she was weeping.

        "Oh... Scully, what is it?" Mulder tried to pull back and
look at her, but Scully wrapped her arms tighter around his
neck.

        "Just hold me, Mulder," she said, her teary voice
muffled against him. He pulled her closer and kissed the top
of her head, smoothing her hair back with his hand. They
stood that way a long time. The fire crackled and threw
shadows across the room as the light became dimmer with
the setting sun. Finally Mulder loosened his hold on her.

        "I have to put some more wood on the fire. Don't
forget where we were," and he winked at Scully. She smiled,
and stepped back from their embrace. Mulder bent down in a
squat in front of the fireplace and carefully lay several more
logs on the fire. Scully came close and perched next to him,
her thigh touching his. She felt the need to maintain physical
contact with him, the feel of him next to her a reassurance
that this was not an illusion. As he placed the wood on the
fire, Scully studied his hands. The long fingers and clean skin
were deceiving, she thought. They spoke only of an
academic, and not of a man who had dug his hands into
unimaginable horrors, a man whose strong hands had fought
with devils and won. Hands that could soothe her like no
other.

         Satisfied with his work, Mulder stood and walked
away. Scully watched him as he took the dust cover off of the
sofa then pulled several throw pillows down and leaned them
against it. He unzipped a large suitcase he'd packed and
removed some blankets, arranging them on the floor in front
of the pillows, then sat down and leaned back against them.
Finally, he looked over and put his hand out to her. Scully
rose and went to him, catching his hand as she sat down.

        "Wow," she said. "This feels suspiciously like
something regular people would do."

        Mulder chuckled and pulled her into his arms, locking
his hands around her. She was surprised at how easy this felt.
She lay her head against his chest, and listened to the
calming sound of his breathing as she watched the flames
dance. Outside, the wind was a high pitched moan and the
cold rain rattled on the windows. But nothing could reach her
here. She felt safe. Scully absently stroked the soft flannel of
Mulder's sleeve. She wanted to stay here forever.

        "I love you, Mulder."

        She felt him sigh, and he held her closer.

        "Pinch me, Scully."

        She smiled against him. When he spoke again, his
voice was husky.

        "You know how sometimes things happen, and
somehow you're aware that it's a life-changing moment? That
nothing will ever be quite the same?" he said.

        "Mm-hmm."

        "That happened to me the day you disappeared. I felt
like a part of me had been torn away," he continued, his voice
subdued. Scully listened intently, but did not interrupt.

        "I went to Skyland Mountain with two things on my
mind. The first was to find you. And if I couldn't... then I was
going to find a way to get them to take me too."

        Scully sat up and looked at him.

        "Oh, Mulder..."

        "I was lost, Scully. The thought of going on without
you... it was too much to even imagine. I wouldn't accept the
possibility that you might be dead. I refused to even consider
it."

        She held his hand and waited as he looked down and
gathered his thoughts.

        "But more than that," he looked at her again, and she
knew that he was trying to tell her something more than what
was in his words, "I could  *feel*  you... somehow, I knew you
were alive. It was the only thing that kept me going. I'd lay in
bed at night and feel your cross around my neck... I don't
know. But everything changed for me then. I loved you so
much."

        "You wore my cross?" Scully felt tears prick the back
of her eyelids.

        "I never took it off until you came back to me."

        Scully just stared at Mulder, and in some ways she
felt as if she were seeing him for the first time. Her heart was
so full of love for him, so full of  *him*, it seemed ready to
burst from her ribcage. For the first time that she could
remember, she was truly speechless.

        So she didn't talk.

        She leaned in to him and kissed him carefully,
tenderly, hoping he would feel in this kiss all the words she
couldn't say. He closed his eyes and let her lead him where
she would. Scully turned and straddled Mulder's legs, facing
him. Her fingers glided over the curves of his face, and her
lips planted light kisses on his nose, his forehead, his closed
eyelids. He held perfectly still, inhaling her sweet scent and
surrendering himself to the sensuous nearness of her. His
body responded almost immediately, and he had to will
himself to go slow, let her show him where she wanted this to
go. He didn't have to wait long.

        Scully sat back on Mulder's legs, and he opened his
eyes at the loss of her touch. She was watching him, her eyes
holding his, smoldering green emeralds that silently asked his
reassurance.

        "You're so beautiful, Scully. Do you know how many
times I've wanted to tell you that?"

        She gave him a little self-deprecating smile, but her
eyes showed her appreciation. Then her expression turned a
bit shy, and she pulled her sweater over her head. With eyes
down, she unbuttoned her shirt, and only when she'd undone
the last button did she look up at him again. Mulder brought
his hands up and drew them down the tender flesh on either
side of her neck, causing her to draw in a sharp breath and
close her eyes. His hands continued along her shoulders,
pulling the cotton shirt away as he went, down over her arms
and onto the floor. Her satin bra shone in the firelight, her
smooth skin pale and silky in contrast.

        "Open your eyes, Scully."

        She did, and he locked on them and drew them in as
he leaned forward and unsnapped the bra clasp behind her.
He kept his eyes on hers as it fell away. Mulder quickly
shrugged out of his own shirt, pulling off two buttons as he
went. He sat forward and brought her to him,  holding his
breath as their skin touched. Their lips met, with passion this
time, electricity pulsing between them. He kissed her deeply,
crushing her to him, and she responded with pliant lips that
fueled the fire in his groin.

        "God, Scully.." he gasped, pulling back. "Let me look
at you. I want to see you."

        Scully looked at him, his beautiful face so open to
her, so trusting. She wanted him to have this. She stood up
and stepped back a few paces, then pulled her jeans down
over her slender hips and pushed them away. The last vestige
of her modesty slipped off with her satin bikinis. She stood
before him and she felt strong, and fearless, and so very, very
loved.

        Mulder's eyes were fierce with hunger, and he held
his hands up to her. She knelt down in front of him with tears
in her eyes and offered herself, everything she was, with the
joy of knowing that he would accept her flawed self, and she
would accept his, completely and without hesitation.

        Outside, the rain streaked down with icy fingers, and
the cold wind whipped against itself in fury. But through that
dark frigid night, a light shone. A fire danced and sparked
through a window in a small cottage, and inside a woman and
a man found the missing pieces of their hearts, their souls
warmed at last by a joy thought lost. A future was redeemed,
a past put in it's place, and a will to go on was reborn.

~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^

End

Comments to Linda at rn500@ozline.net