Author:  Kronos
E-Mail Address:  kronos1@adelphia.net

Rating:  R
Category:  SA
Spoilers:  Takes place directly after Grotesque
Keywords:  Mulder/Scully UST, Mulder/Scully/Skinner Friendship

Summary:  Scully and Skinner watch helplessly as Mulder fights the
perceived darkness within himself, following the events of Patterson's
capture.  They strive to lead him from the darkness, even as he attempts
to sink deeper within it.

Disclaimer:  The X-Files characters herein belong to 1013 Productions
and Fox Broadcasting.  Usage is made without authorization but with
utmost respect.

Archive: Please archive at Gossamer.  Anywhere else appropriate with
notice to author and name left attached.

Author Notes: This was written as something of an experiment in POV.
It is also the first short story I've ever written, as my first three
fanfic efforts ('The Abyss Looks Back', 'And Then There Was One' and
'And Chaos Shall Reign') were all novel length. I would appreciate
hearing from you as to whether I should ever try another one!
Feedback is greatly appreciated and avidly anticipated.

Acknowledgements:  A big thanks to Julie for beta reading on a very
tight schedule!
 

*******************************************
Fragile Fortress
by Kronos
(clb@eng.buffalo.edu)
*******************************************
 

He lay there on the wet concrete.  Injured.  Perhaps dying.  But inside he
was already dead and consigned to a Hell of his own making -- the monster
he chased, turning into that which he could not escape, claiming the soul
he could not protect.  Could not shelter from evil's grasping claws.  So
that the battle waged against the dark fears and imaginings of his
self-consciousness, destroyed him.

This she knew.  This Scully understood.

She applied pressure to the wound in Patterson's chest, even as her
thoughts flew to her partner.  So alike to this man under her hand was he.
And so very different, as well.  For Patterson had no one but himself to
turn to in the dark hours of night when the demons demanded their due.
But Mulder was not alone, staring into the abyss.  Had no need to face the
shadows reaching ever closer by himself.  She was there to help keep back
the fear.  To ward off the evil that attempted to overtake him.  She was
there, and she needed to make sure he knew it.

The man under her hands was still now, unconscious, felled by a bullet
from Mulder's own weapon.  And by God's grace, Patterson would survive,
but only to live in that Hell on earth called 'insanity.' She turned her
gaze away from the former ISU chief, even while her hands remained to
provide the pressure so necessary to staunch the flow of blood, and looked
towards the man who now sat slumped against the wall.  Withdrawn, aloof.
A solitary figure whose very image suggested defeat.

She yearned to go to him.  To wrap her arms around the slumped shoulders
so that he might know by touch that which she feared to tell him with
words.  That he could always trust her, even when he might not trust
himself.  That she would never hurt him or allow him to be hurt.  That she
was there to bring light to the dark place in which he was lost.  The dark
place in which he now inhabited.  She yearned to tell him she was there.

But Patterson's blood flowed still without slowing and she could not
withdraw, even though the man beneath her hands was already dead to her,
while the one sitting mute ten feet away required a rebirth of faith that
she could possibly help provide.

Her voice shook as she called his name softly in the still night,
"Mulder."  But the darkness that had claimed Patterson in the end was
toying with her partner even now, unwilling to let go its voracious grip.
Insinuating itself in his thoughts and dreams.  He sat unmoving.

"Mulder.  Please say something.  Talk to me."

And still he sat, back against the wall, legs bent and pulled almost to
his chest, but splayed so that the arms rested on them loosely, with hands
hanging down between.  His head was dropped so low that she couldn't see
his face.  Couldn't even tell if he was awake.  Whether he was aware. Of
either his surroundings or of her.

She swallowed the fear that clenched at her, tearing at her confidence and
risking her sanity.  It wasn't Patterson for whom she felt such
apprehension.  It was her partner.  And she was terrified that he would be
lost to her if she could not reach him soon.

She glanced once more at the man lying unconscious next to her and
considered leaving him to his God and the fates.  But she'd taken an oath
and it seared her very soul.  She was a doctor first.  She couldn't leave
him.  But her gaze turned again to the man by the wall who sat still as
stone.  Unmoving.  Quiet as death.  And she cringed internally as that
thought took root.  Latched on to her psyche and wouldn't let go.  Why
wasn't he moving?  Why wouldn't he answer?  Could he have been injured in
the struggle?

And her voice was even more anxious as she repeated the word that had
always reached him in the past.  The single name spoken now with trembling
voice and increasing alarm.  Spoken in a barely audible whisper.
"Mulder."

She knew the word had been transported across the distance by the gentle
breeze when the slumped form moved.  Moved without a word, raised his
arms, elbows still propped on knees, and covered his face with his hands.
The message was clear.  Leave me alone.  I am alone.

The emergency vehicles could be heard down below -- thin, wavering sirens
echoing through the quiet.  Soon, now.  They would be here and she could
go to him.  Except she knew he didn't want her.  Didn't want anyone.  She
turned her head back towards the way they'd come, filled with relief when
the door burst open.  Police officers were rushing through the open door,
taking up positions until the area was determined to be secure.

The emergency personnel were being waved through now and then she
recognized a familiar figure amidst the mass of rushing bodies.  It was
Skinner, striding towards them, tall and confident.  But as he got closer,
the worry on his face was clear.  The tension apparent.

The paramedics had pushed her away and she stood now, unsure of where to
go, what to do.  Her hands were covered in blood.  She held them in front
of her, palms up, the blood appearing black in the dark of night.  And she
couldn't stop imagining whose blood it so easily could have been.  And
just then, the rain started to fall once more and the drops struck at her
angrily.  Even nature conspired against them tonight.

She dropped her hands finally, so that they hung loosely at her side.
They felt disconnected, as if they weren't even a part of her.  And the
water ran down her face.  Ran down her hands so that rivulets of blood
fell from her fingers to the pebbled surface of the roof.

She pulled her eyes up again and saw that her boss had stopped in front of
her.  She watched as he glanced down at Patterson's sprawled form, almost
hidden now behind the huddle of paramedics, and then saw his gaze slide
past her.  She knew what he was seeing.  The image was ingrained in her
mind's eye.  He turned to her then, full on, and his stare was piercing.
He wanted answers.  Wanted a reassurance that she couldn't give.

"Agent Scully, I know you're both tired and want to get home, but could
you give me a brief report, please?"

She swallowed past the tightness that gripped her throat and attempted to
reclaim the professionalism that was her security.  She nodded to him and
replied, "Yes, sir.  Agent Nemhauser had left a message on my home machine
asking that I call him at his cell number.  When I called the number,
Agent Mulder answered.  Agent Mulder had come to the warehouse to ...
check on something for which he had an unresolved question."

She glanced back at the still frozen form and swallowed again, feeling
uneasy, even though her words were not truly a lie.  The rain was falling
much harder now and she pulled her coat close in an attempt to keep the
water out and whatever warmth she still had in.  She was cold, but feared
it was a coldness that she'd be unable to shed.  And she caught sight of
her hands again, saw the blood on her hands, and wiped them against her
coat.  She needed to get the blood off her hands.

She looked up at her boss once again to find him waiting for her.
Patient.  Understanding.  But, worried.  And she had to fight the tears
that threatened to spill.  She stood straighter and gripped her hands in
front of her and then proceeded in her summary as if she had not even
paused.

"Evidently when he heard the ringing, he found a suit jacket with the cell
phone.  He didn't know at the time who it belonged to.  I left to meet him
at the warehouse.  When I arrived, I found Agent Mulder holding his weapon
on Chief Patterson.  I ..."

Her voice almost failed her so that she had to pause and find the strength
to admit to her own actions. She pulled her arms tight around her chest
before continuing. "I drew my weapon and demanded that Agent Mulder drop
his.  And when he did, Patterson ran, clearly seeking to evade us.  Agent
Mulder and I pursued him to the roof.  We went in opposite directions.  I
heard a shot ..."

And again her voice cracked as she remembered the shot.  Remembered
turning and seeing only a body falling over the very wall against which
her partner now sat.  She'd thought it was him.  She'd thought he was
dead.  But then he was there, weapon in hand, leaning over the wall to
ensure Patterson was down and would stay down.

Once again, she'd almost forgotten that Skinner stood there, expecting the
rest of her report.  His words cut through her recollections, and she
realized then that she'd turned away from him and was facing the wall.
Facing her partner.

"Agent Scully.  Scully."

She turned back to him.  Released the strangled hold she had on her own
ribs, and raised one hand to push the wet hair out of her face.  "I'm
sorry, sir.  I heard a shot and saw a body fall down from the upper level
there.  It was Patterson.  He'd attacked Agent Mulder, who was forced to
defend himself."

She once again raised her head, chin jutting out stiffly, daring him to
question or attempt to contradict her words.  But he merely nodded, then
leaned to the right so he could look at his other agent more closely.  She
could see the concern there, as well as a hint of fear.  And she realized
that he did understand after all.  Understood what the case had done to
her partner, and to her.

His voice was soft and low when he spoke, as if afraid they would be
carried across the distance to the man slumped in dejection some ten feet
away.  "Scully, how's Mulder doing?"

She couldn't answer.  What could she say?  Her partner was lost in a sea
of self-doubt and pain.  Anything she might say would cast doubt on his
ability to function as a Field Agent.  She couldn't allow such comments to
appear in his jacket.

And then her boss added, "Off the record."

Her entire body trembled now, matching the waver in her voice. She decided
to trust him.  To tell him the truth. "Sir, I don't know.  He won't speak
to me.  He hasn't moved since ..."

She couldn't go on.  Couldn't finish the thought that refused to leave
her.  '... since he shot his old mentor and boss.' Mulder might not have
liked Patterson.  Might have hated the man even.  But he'd learned from
him and respected his ability.  She looked up at Skinner, hoping that
perhaps he would know what to do.  He reached his left hand out and
gripped her shoulder briefly.  Leaned down slightly and said, "Let me see
if he'll talk to me.  I think it's time you were both out of the rain."

He walked past her then and knelt down by the man slumped against the
wall.  She could see that he spoke to her partner.  Spoke for a good
minute at least.  Then he raised a hand to Mulder's own.  Pulled her
partner's left hand away from his face.  But Mulder's head was still
dropped down and she couldn't see him.  Couldn't tell whether he was aware
of his boss kneeling next to him, speaking softly.

Skinner turned to her then, evidently not even aware that he still gripped
his agent's hand in his, and gestured her over, silently.  She moved to
her partner's other side and sank down, oblivious of the puddles at her
knees.  And even now, she couldn't tell whether her partner knew she was
there.  Whether he knew Skinner was there.

She felt helpless, unequal to the challenge.  And she was tired.  So very
tired.  The rain had slackened but still fell persistently, and it chilled
her.  She wanted to be home, in bed.  She wanted to be warm and dry.  She
wanted her partner back.  Wanted him to look at her and tell her
everything was all right.  But still he sat, allowing no one to breach his
walls.

And the tears that slipped down her cheeks mixed with the rain that fell
from the sky.  She dragged her gaze back to her boss to see him watching
her, the concern evident.  She could tell that his fear had grown as well.

Her boss' voice was low and intent as he said, "Scully, I think we need to
get him somewhere warm and dry."

She nodded and for the first time, risked touching her partner.  She put
her right hand up to his face and took hold of his hand.  The hand he'd
attempted to hide behind when Skinner had taken the other.  She pulled it
away, trying her best to ignore the resistance her partner offered, even
as she whispered once again, "Mulder."  And he said nothing, but closed
his eyes even tighter.  She allowed herself to reach her left hand to his
forehead then, with the pretext of checking for a temperature.  She'd
wanted only to reassure him.  To let him know that she was there.  But she
was shocked at the coolness.  The clamminess.  And realized finally that
he was in shock, his body rebelling against the exhaustion, the
deprivation, the trauma of the past hour and days.  She allowed the
gesture to turn into a caress, then smoothed the hair back away from his
forehead.  She turned to her boss and said, as if it would explain her own
actions, "He's in shock."

And as she once more looked back to her partner, she became consumed with
anger over the events that had brought them down this path.  That had
forced him to shoot the man he'd worked with for three long years.  Cursed
Patterson for not being strong enough to resist the madness that had
descended upon him. She leaned close to her partner and whispered gently,
"I'm here, Mulder.  You're not alone."  And once more ran her hand over
his forehead, then allowed it to linger briefly on his head, before
dropping it to rest on his shoulder.

She didn't care if Skinner heard.  Didn't care who might hear.  She only
cared that her partner heard.  But still, he made no reply.  No
acknowledgment of her presence.  And the rain continued to fall.

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

The night is dark and the journey has been long.  A journey into evil that
could not be shared, for fear that the monster without would tarnish the
innocence of those I wish to hold within a cocoon of protection.  The
journey started not mere days ago, but years.  It started the day I first
sought to understand the monsters by thinking as they did.  It began the
day I joined the ISU and did not end when I left.  It has continued, even
as I have continued on a path in which justice is sought for victims of
the evil.  But achieving that justice must often be paid for in the coin
called sanity.

The burden has been heavy.  Too heavy for Patterson.  Will it prove to be
too heavy for me?  And if I falter in carrying this burden, will I
endanger those very ones whom I wished to protect?

I have looked into the face of madness and it was my own.  It is within
me, as it was within Patterson.  But will it consume me as it did him?  Do
I have control over this monster that seeks to twist my will to its
bidding?  That seeks even now to tear away from the few restraints I can
yet apply.

Scully, I am afraid.  I'm afraid that the abyss has beckoned and the
monster within has harkened to the call.  Has crept out of the shadows to
which it had been consigned to wreak havoc.  And I am powerless to stop
it.

I have looked into the face of madness and it was my own.

You pull at my hands.  You speak in your kind voices.  You try to make me
let down my defenses, but I can not, for the demons crash even now against
the fortress of my mind, yearning to break free of my tenuous hold.  I
must keep the demons at bay, even as I must keep you away.  You do not
understand.  Scully, you don't understand.  I am alone.  I must be alone,
for I have looked into the face of madness and it was my own.

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

Skinner was frightened.  He'd seen Scully scared for her partner before.
Had seen her worried about his health during various injuries.  Had seen
her angry over what she perceived to be her partner ditching her.  But
he'd never seen her like this.  And having learned more about the details
of this case and Mulder's own history with the ISU over the last several
days, he could fully understand why. Damn Patterson anyway for convincing
him to bring Mulder in without telling the man who requested him.  He
never would have allowed the assignment if he had better appreciated the
manipulation of which Patterson was capable.  But now it was too late and
he was frightened for his agent.  For both of them.

Right now, though, it was obvious that Mulder needed to be dry and warm.
He looked at Scully, hoping to catch her attention, which had been focused
solely on her partner.  "Scully, let's get him up and out of here."

He saw her jerk, as if surprised to find he was there, and then nodded to
him quickly.  He leaned close to Mulder once more and spoke softly,
gently, as if to a small child, "Mulder, you need to get up off the ground
now.  We're done here and we can leave.  Come on and help us."  He nodded
to Scully and they each pulled at Mulder's arms.  He was relieved that the
man seemed to rouse enough to help them, pushing with his legs so that
they eventually got him upright.

But still his agent's eyes remained tightly closed and now the shivering
under his hand became apparent.  Mulder's entire body shook, as did even
the trembling breaths that puffed into the night air.  And he grew even
more concerned for the man.

"That's good, Mulder.  Come on now.  Walk with us.  We'll get you out of
here."  And it seemed that the younger man tried, but started to sag after
only a couple steps.  He quickly grabbed his agent around the waist with
his own right arm and pulled Mulder's left arm over his shoulder.  With
Scully on her partner's other side and Mulder assisting somewhat, they
were able to make it across the roof and into the access stairwell.

He wasn't at all convinced that his agent shouldn't be in a hospital right
now, but knew that Scully would have been insisting on it, had it been
warranted.  He'd trust her for now.  Trust that she knew what was best for
her partner.

He looked over at the man again, his glance brief since navigating the
tight stairwell was awkward, and swallowed hard.  He'd never seen Mulder
so ... fragile.  Weak.  Unsure.  And he was frightened by it.

He spoke again to the younger man, somewhat surprised by Scully's silence.
"That's it, Mulder.  We're almost there.  I know that was tiring, but
we're almost to the elevator now.  Then it'll be a bit easier."

He was tired himself, and could only begin to imagine the exhaustion his
agents must be feeling.  Especially Mulder.  If all reports he'd gotten
were true, the younger man had not slept the entire case.  Had probably
not even eaten.  Had been pushing himself to solve the case, not only for
the sake of justice, but also because he'd been challenged.  By Patterson.
Jesus Christ, if he had only understood the dynamics of that relationship
a little better, he'd never have allowed the assignment.  He was partly
responsible for this mess.  He knew it.

The opening doors of the elevator came none too soon.  The entire trip
down, he stared at his agent's face, even as Scully was doing now.  Mulder
seemed to be engaged in an internal battle that caused his features to
twist, as if in pain or fear. And the trembling he'd felt under his arm
had not stopped.  If anything, despite being out of the rain finally, it
had grown worse.  "Okay, Mulder, my car's right out here.  Let's get you
in it and you'll be dry and warm soon."

Scully didn't object to his suggestion -- merely continued to support her
partner the best she could.  But he could tell she gripped Mulder tightly,
letting him know in her own way that she was there for him.

Skinner sighed in relief when they made it to the car.  He had to maneuver
the younger man around slightly so he could free his right hand and
retrieve his keys from his pocket.  He opened the back driver's side door
and helped get Mulder settled, even as Scully slipped in next to her
partner from the other side.

He closed the door carefully, making sure that Mulder was clear, then
paused with his hands still on the door.  He could see his agent through
the window and even as he watched, Mulder turned his body and head towards
the side window, away from his partner.  Wrapped his arms around his body
and twisted around even more.  Then disengaged his right arm and moved his
hand to cover his face.  The message was clear.  Leave me alone.  I am
alone.

Skinner moved finally to the driver's door and opened it, but before
getting in, removed his coat.  He got in then and turned back to Scully,
even as he pushed his coat over the seat towards her.  "Scully?"

She took it, obviously grateful and he watched her drape it over the
shuddering man in the back, tucking it in gently around him.  He saw
Mulder jerk as her hand brushed against him and the man seemed to shrink
away even further.  He didn't understand what was happening here and it
frightened him.  He turned to Scully again and saw that she was looking at
him.  And his heart almost broke at her pain She didn't understand either
and it was tearing her apart.

He cleared his throat and asked, "Where to?"

She seemed to process several possibilities before saying in a quivering
voice, "My apartment's closest.  Could you take us there, please?"

He merely nodded and turned back to the front, quickly starting the car.
He turned the heat on full blast, made sure the road was clear, and took
off, but not before looking into the rearview mirror to check on his
agents one last time.

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

I have looked into the face of madness and it was my own.  I am almost
paralyzed by fear.  It has taken me in its grip and will not release me.
I am consumed with the knowledge that the evil that men seek to destroy
can devour them if they are not vigilant against its power. It devoured
Patterson and creeps even now towards me.  I'm afraid, Scully.  For I know
that if Patterson could be overcome by the dark forces that destroy men's
minds and souls, then no one is impervious.  No one is safe.

I feel your touch.  I know that you and Skinner are worried.  But I am
powerless to reassure you.  You should be afraid of me, Scully.  I hear
your soft voice.  It is like a light in the darkness and I want more than
anything to go to it.  Give myself in to it.  But I can't.  I hope that
you can understand, Scully.  I must keep you away for I do not trust
myself.  Can not.  For I have looked into the face of madness and it was
my own.

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

She didn't know what to do.  Whether to force her presence on him,
invading his carefully defined space, or leave him alone.  The tears ran
down her face to drop on her hands.  But the tears were not important.
Nothing was important except getting through to the man huddled in the far
corner of the seat.  He needed to know he was not alone in the darkness
that was pursuing him.  She was there.

She reached her left hand out to touch him, to touch his shoulder.  But he
jerked away from her again, turned another degree towards the window.  The
message was clear.  Leave me alone.  I am alone.

She allowed her hand to drop down to the seat, palm down.  It rested
there, as if no longer a part of her body, having failed in its mission.
She could do nothing.  She was powerless to help him.  He did not want her
to help.  He did not want her.

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

God, Scully, I'm tired.  I can't think clearly.  Can't concentrate
anymore.  I'm so tired.  I don't know if I have the strength to open my
eyes, let alone battle against the monster that's calling to me.  I know
its power.  I understand its need, for I have felt it within me.

I'm cold, Scully.  So very cold.  Any warmth that might have been in me
has been stolen away, leaving me empty and shivering in its absence.  I
fear I will never be warm again.

Scully, I hope you can understand.  It is not you whose trust I doubt.  It
is me.  I know that I can not be trusted, for the monsters are breaching
the fortress even now.  I have looked into the face of madness and it was
my own.  Forgive me, Scully.

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

Skinner wiped at the sweat on his forehead, knowing implicitly that it was
there only partly as a result of the heat that blasted out the car's
vents.  The relief was almost palpable as he pulled up in front of
Scully's apartment building and came to a stop.  He turned to look back at
his agents and paused before speaking.

Scully had tears running down her cheeks and she didn't even seem to be
aware of it.  She sat watching her partner, left hand on the seat,
stretched towards Mulder's leg but not quite touching him.  He licked his
lips nervously and said, "Scully, we're there."

He turned back to the front and opened his door then.  Dragged himself out
tiredly and moved to where Mulder sat.  The man was partly leaning against
the door, but he had no other option but to open it.  He pulled it open
slowly, relieved to see that his agent had moved back to compensate.  But
still Mulder made no move to exit the car.  And as far as Skinner could
tell, the man had not once opened his eyes.

He bent down and took off the coat that had been draped over his agent.
Threw it on the seat.  Then took Mulder's left arm in his and said,
"Mulder, we're almost there now.  Help me get you out of the car and
inside.  Then you'll be warm.  Come on, now."

It was apparent as his agent practically spilled out of the car that the
shaking had not abated.  There was little he could do for the man right
now.  They had to get him inside and out of the rain as quickly as
possible.  Skinner was once more in the same position he had been, on
Mulder's left, gripping his agent firmly around the waist, while pulling
the limp arm around his own shoulders.  He saw that Scully had closed the
doors and was once more on Mulder's other side.  And he felt the man tense
as Scully took his arm.

He again felt the need to reassure his agent and spoke once more,
soothingly, soft and low.  "You're doing good.  We're close.  We have a
few steps now, Mulder.  Can you see them here?"

But the man merely clenched his eyes closed more tightly.  He didn't
understand why Mulder refused to open them.  Didn't know what was going on
inside the man's mind.  But he knew enough to be frightened.

Scully was opening the apartment door then and they managed to guide
Mulder in.  He could tell the man was ready to collapse, legs unable to
support him for much longer.  His agent seemed to remain vertical now by
sheer force of will.  Perhaps the younger man kept his eyes closed so that
every ounce of energy could be directed to the task of standing.  But he
knew that wasn't right either.  He knew that his agent was rather
directing all his energy to the struggle within himself.

He looked to Scully, wondering what would be the best course of action now
that they were inside.

She seemed to know what he was thinking, and said, "Sir, let's get him
into the bathroom.  He needs to get warm and dry."

And without even saying it, he understood what she meant.  He nodded and
said, "I'll help him.  Let's go."

They were practically dragging Mulder now, who managed only to help with
perhaps every other step.  It was awkward maneuvering him into the small
bathroom, but Skinner knew that getting his agent out of the wet clothes
that continued to suck at his body heat was of paramount importance right
now.  They lowered him to the closed toilet seat and Skinner was relieved
to see the man was able to sit on his own.  But Mulder once again dropped
his head, wrapped his left arm around his body and raised his right hand
to cover his face.

The shaking of the hand served to remind him just how important it was to
get his agent warm and dry.  He looked over to Scully, who had moved back
to the door.  The tears still fell, more slowly now, but constant in their
persistence.  She was shaking slightly as well, but he knew it wasn't only
from the cold.  Still, he said, "Scully, I'll take care of him.  You go
get changed.  Maybe make something hot to drink?"

She nodded to him and said, "I'll get some clothes for him.  I have some
sweats that should fit."  And when she left, it seemed that she was almost
relieved.

He turned back to his agent once more and gently pulled the hand away,
then started removing the soaked coat.  "Mulder, I need you to help me,
okay?  We need to get you out of these things and into the shower.  You're
freezing right now but I promise, this will help.  Come on, now."

He continued to speak softly, soothingly, knowing implicitly that his
agent needed more than to be warm in body.  That he needed the reassurance
of people who cared for him.  That he needed to know he was not alone.

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

This journey can have but one ending.  Patterson proved this to be true.
And he knew always what I had denied to admit to myself.  That he and I
were the same.  We are the same.  I can deny it no longer.  Can run from
it no longer.  He and I are the same and the monster that claimed him will
inevitably claim me as well.  One can not run from oneself. I have looked
into the face of madness and it was my own.

You both persist in your kindness, in your gentleness.  Telling me all
will be well.  But I know better than either of you.  I know that you
should not be so kind. So trusting.  You should both leave me now.  Why
won't you leave me alone?  I can not afford to let you in.  I have to
protect you.  Leave me alone.  I am alone.

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

Scully moved about the apartment, almost aimlessly, touching a picture,
straightening a pillow.  She'd found some clothes for her partner and had
then changed quickly herself.  She readied the guest room, piling a couple
more blankets on top of the already thick comforter, then moved into the
kitchen to start water for tea.  But these things only took a few minutes
and she was left now with nothing to occupy her hands.  Nothing to keep
her mind busy.  Nothing to keep her thoughts off her partner.

She kept seeing him, jerking away from her as if it her touch were painful
to him.  She could hear the shower running still and prayed it would help
to warm him.  Prayed that it was the shock that had taken him so far away
from her.  But deep down she knew this wasn't the case.  That he'd
consciously chosen to remove himself.  To isolate himself.  But she was
powerless to understand why.

She raised her right hand and wiped angrily at the tears there, but it was
as if she had no control over them.  It was as if the tears themselves
knew that a partnership was ending.  A friendship lost.  But she refused
to accept that.  This was her friend.  Her best friend.  She knew him.
And somewhere inside, she knew she had the power to understand what was
happening.  To understand what he needed.

The kettle on the stove was calling to her and she moved quickly to fill
the teapot she'd prepared.  Maybe he would drink some of it.  Maybe it
would help to warm him.  She put the kettle back on the stove and stood at
the counter, looking down at the mugs that sat there.  Two were touching,
abutting each other in such a way that it appeared they were one entity.
And as if her breath was stolen in that moment, she gasped, and fought for
air.  Fought to understand why two who had always acted as one could so
suddenly be ripped apart.  Her eyes stung and her heart pounded painfully.
She turned away from the counter abruptly to move back into the living
area.

She realized then that the shower had stopped and she waited for word from
her boss.  Waited for him to call to her.  And he did, only moments later.
They stood in the doorway of the bathroom and she had eyes only for her
partner.  Jack's old sweat pants and sweat shirt hung on his frame, making
him seem lost inside -- almost frail.  She could see that the trembling
had lessened, but hadn't left him entirely.  The Penn State emblem wavered
and undulated in rhythm to the shaking of his body, making it appear
dynamic, alive.

Her boss said, "Where to, Scully?" and she gestured quickly to the guest
bedroom down the hall.  She stayed back, waiting to see if she was needed.
It seemed that her partner was moving more easily, even though he still
kept his eyes shut with head dropped to his chest.  His right hand dragged
along the wall, as if he were sightless, and by such touch he would know
where he was and where he was going.

She watched as Skinner gently guided her partner down the hallway, then
said, "I'll get the tea."  She knew her boss would be confused by her
abrupt departure but couldn't help it.  She wanted nothing more than to go
to her partner, wrap her arms around him and tell him it would be all
right.  Everything would be okay.  But that was impossible.  He didn't
want her there.  And still, she didn't understand why.

She poured the tea into the mugs and then reached out to take one.  She
paused briefly, running her finger over the rims of the two that still sat
touching, then pulled one away.  She turned and headed back in to the
living room, went down the hall, and paused for a moment at the door to
the bedroom.

Skinner had managed to get her partner to the bed and was now pushing him
down flat.  Mulder offered no resistance and in fact, seemed completely
unaware of his surroundings.  She could hear her boss' voice speaking
continuously in a gentle murmur and even though she couldn't make out the
words, knew they were kind and reassuring.  She moved into the room
finally and set the cup down on the bedside table.  Skinner was pulling
Mulder's legs up onto the bed and trying to make her partner comfortable.
Then he pulled the covers up, shook out one of the extra blankets and
draped that over her partner as well.

She heard him say, "Everything's going to be fine now, Mulder.  Just rest
and you'll see.  When you open your eyes in the morning, everything will
be better."

When her boss stood straight and turned to her, she could see his own
fear, stark on his face.  He stared at her silently for a moment, then
reached out to her face and wiped away tears that she hadn't even known
were there.  His hand cupped her cheek for a moment and she felt the
roughness of his palm.  It offered her security as he whispered, "It'll be
all right.  Sit with him, Scully.  Talk to him for a few minutes.  He
needs to know he's not alone.  You can't let him be alone. "

He dropped his hand and she nodded to him, then watched as he left the
room slowly, shoulders somewhat stooped.  But she realized that perhaps
Skinner understood better than she had thought.  Perhaps even better than
she had.

She looked at her partner, lying there, so pale, lost under the mass of
covers.  He'd rolled onto his side, knees pulled up slightly, hands by his
head, tucked close to his chin.  And even as she watched, he moved a hand
up to cover his face.

She took a step closer to the bed and sank down on it, mere inches from
him, but not touching.  Not yet.  He once again jerked away from her, but
she didn't move.  Didn't let him chase her off so easily.  Skinner's words
were sinking in now, starting to make sense.  'You can't let him be
alone.' That's what her boss had said to her.

And in one epiphanous moment, she understood what had been happening.
What her partner had been doing.  There was only one reason that he'd pull
away from her.  Only one reason he'd insist on being left alone.  Only one
reason.  If he felt it was the best thing for her.  If he feared for her
safety.

She took a deep breath and reached her hand out to his forehead, brushing
at the still damp hair there.  Pushing it back.  She ignored the jerk now.
Ignored the seeming rejection, for she understood now the motivations
behind it.  Understood them for what they were.

"Mulder, I know you must be frightened.  And confused.  I know you must be
thinking that if it could happen to Patterson, it could happen to you.
Maybe, you're even thinking that it is happening to you."

She swallowed again and licked her lips nervously.  He heard her.  She saw
the jaw clench, the eyes scrunch even more tightly, as if he could block
her out as long as he never actually saw her.  As if seeing her would eat
at his resolve and melt away his intentions.  She reached with her other
hand and took hold of his -- the one that covered his face.  She pulled at
it gently but persistently, even as she spoke.

"Mulder, you and Patterson are not the same.  Patterson was an arrogant,
lonely man with no friends and no family.  He had no one to trust.  No one
to put his faith in when he became lost.  Unsure.  You are nothing like
him."

The tears were falling again, but she couldn't spare a hand to wipe at
them.  She continued to hold his hand tightly with her own, even as her
other rested now on his head.  She had to get through to him.

"Mulder, I'm sorry.  I'm so sorry for leaving you alone during this case.
I should have been there with you.  I shouldn't have allowed you to pursue
the killer on your own.  I understand that you were trying to protect me
from the evil, from the monster.  But you can't protect me that way.  I'm
so sorry.  But Mulder, you need to understand now that you are not alone.
You never were."

She gripped his hand with both of her own now, tightly, and pulled it to
her chest as if to hold even this small part of him closer to heart. She
swallowed hard and forced a breath against the tightness that gripped her
chest.  He still hadn't moved.  Hadn't shown any sign of understanding.

"I know you're frightened.  Confused.  And you're thinking that the
monster is inside of you, ready to hurt those you ... care about.  But
don't you see, Mulder?  Don't you understand?  Those of us who care about
you won't let that happen.  You have to trust us as we trust you.  You
have to trust me, Mulder.  Please.  You're not alone.  I'm here, with you.
And I'm not leaving."

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

I have felt its hunger.  Have felt its frozen breath against my neck.  I
demanded that Mostow tell me how to find the monster and he said only that
it would find me.  That perhaps it already had.  And I feared he was
right.  For I have seen the face of madness and it was my own.

I believed that just as the grotesque image found expression in so many
ways over the years, to haunt men through all eternity, so had the monster
found expression within me.  This is what I believed.  But perhaps I saw
not what was but what might be.  One possible future if I followed the
path Patterson took.  The solitary path.

I knew not what impulses moved Mostow and Patterson to kill, but feared
that where the monster lurked, so would the impulse follow.  But I know
now that I was wrong.  Perhaps the potential for evil is born in each of
us, crouching in the shadow of every human soul, waiting to emerge.
Waiting for its chance when the fragile fortresses of our minds are
shattered, so that the monster violates our bodies and twists our wills to
do its bidding.  That it waits for our weakest moments to exert its
influence and rob us of our sanity.

And we are at our weakest when we are alone.  Scully, forgive me.  I had
thought to protect you.  To protect Skinner.  I had thought to protect you
from the dark force within me, but see that instead I had allowed it the
fertile ground in which to take root.  Scully, I am afraid.  I don't want
to be alone, trying to fight the monster by myself.  I want you by me.  I
want to rejoice in your friendship and cherish the strength of your
convictions.

I want to see you but I'm afraid to open my eyes.  I feel your touch and
it is an anchor.  I hear your words and they are a lantern, guiding my way
through the darkness.  I want to see you, Scully.

I breathe deeply and gather my tattered nerves.  I have been too long in
the dark.  It is time for me to rejoin you in the light, Scully.

My eyelids are heavy and I must concentrate to force them open.  I am so
weary.  I have been so long in the dark that the light is overwhelming and
I must close my eyes again.  I hear your soft voice, encouraging me.  I
feel your grip on my hand, coaxing me back.  I open my eyes once more and
see you there, next to me.  I am growing more comfortable with the light
now and I know it is where I belong.  Not in the shadows.  Not in the
dark.  I belong with you in the light.

I know now that which you have tried to tell me all night.  I know that I
am not alone.  You are there to help ward off the monsters that seek to
overtake me.  You won't allow it to happen.  I know that now.  And I am
filled with a hope and a reassurance that I thought I would never know
again.  I want to thank you, Scully.  Thank you, my friend.

I am so tired, Scully, and know that I'll sleep soon.  But when I close my
eyes, it won't be the darkness I see.  I'll keep this image of you in my
mind's eye to be my saving grace.  But I want to let you know that it's
all right now.  That I'll be all right.

My strength is sapped and I fear I can manage only a word.  I hope that it
will be enough.  I must force my eyes to stay open now, to resist the pull
of sleep's siren call.  It beckons to me but I fear it no longer.  Before
I release myself into slumber's waiting arms, I must thank you.  I must
tell you that you've saved me.  I must tell you that you are ...
everything.

I find your eyes with mine and grip your hands as tightly as I can.  I
feel so weak that I'm unsure how my voice will sound.  Whether it willeven
carry to your ears.  And I pray that everything I need to say and
everything I need for you to know will be clear.

My vision wavers now with unshed tears.  My voice trembles and my breath
catches as I say, "Scully."

And I see by the expression on your face that you understand.  It was
enough.  I will close my eyes and sleep now.  And tomorrow I will open
them and see your smile. I am not alone.

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

Excerpt -- Personal Notes of S. A. Fox Mulder on Case File X-252- 4389

We work in the dark.  We do what we can to battle the evil that would
otherwise destroy us.  But if a man's character is his faith, this fight
is not a choice but a calling.  Yet, sometimes the weight of this burden
causes us to falter, breaching the fragile fortress of our mind.  Allowing
the monsters without to turn within.  And we are left alone, staring into
the abyss -- into the laughing face of madness.

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

The End (feedback will be gratefully accepted and acknowledged at
kronos1@adelphia.net)