Fall of the Axe

By Vickie Moseley  
vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com


Summary:  FITB for IWTB (fill in the blank for I
Want To Believe -- Skinner hug to last scene)
Category:  Flikfic, MSR, MT
Rating:  everyone
Disclaimer:  Wow, it's been so long since anyone
noticed!  No copyright infringement intended.
Author's notes:  Ah, such gapping holes.  So many
loose threads lying around.  This was the winter of
our discontent made glorious summer by the god of
the Surf.  In short, yeah, I liked it.  
Dedicated to Sally and Lisa for beta services and
everybody over at Mulder's Refuge -- point those
pokey sticks at someone else for a while, now,
people.

Fall of the Axe

Walter Skinner tried hard not to think of all the
blood running down the face of his friend and
former agent.  He listened to the wind and the
barking dogs and strained to hear the sirens he knew
would be on the way.  The moment he and Scully
had arrived at the 'facility' -- little more than shacks
and old trailers hammered together -- he'd called for
backup, and at Scully's insistence, an ambulance.  
Now he just prayed the vehicles would hurry.

Mulder started to shiver violently in his arms and
Skinner tightened his hold.  Finally, off in the
distance, in that unearthly way that sound travels in
the winter, he could hear the multitude of sirens
approaching down the snow-packed county road.  
He relaxed a little.  

Until Mulder's shivers progressed to flailing.

"Oh shit," Skinner cursed, recognizing the signs of a
full out seizure.  His first instinct was to yell out to
Scully, but it would be a race whether she got there
first or the ambulance arrived.  Then he heard her
footsteps crunching behind him in the snow.

"I have the girl stabilized until the EMTs get here --
I hear them -- "  She stopped abruptly when she saw
what was happening.  Taking Skinner's shoulder,
she moved him aside to help her partner to lie flat.  
The jerking motions didn't abate and she chanced a
quick glance over at their former superior.

"How long?" she shorthanded.

"About half a minute before you came out," Skinner
informed her, rising to his feet.  "I hear the
ambulance.  I'll go lead them here."

"They'll need another one, but I don't know if either
the girl or Mulder can wait that long," Scully bit
out.  

"I'll show them where to go," Skinner offered.

"Bring back blankets!" Scully called after him.  
"Oh, Mulder," she sighed, wiping the blood matted
hair back from the cut above his eye.  The
convulsions had lessened to weak tremors and she
gently pried open each eye.  Concussion was an
easy diagnosis, but did it include a skull fracture or
bleed?  Only imaging would tell.  She fought back
tears and tried to find the righteous indignation that
had fueled her since they'd arrived on the scene.  All
she could manage was a deep shuddering fear for
her partner's life.  

"Please God, don't do this to us," she prayed.  "Not
after the last things we said.  Please."

A hand landed on her shoulder and she jerked.  It
wasn't the hand of God, or even the hand of death --
it was Skinner back and accompanied by a young
EMT.  The young woman knelt down next to
Mulder and started to assess his condition.  "He was
in a car accident earlier, a roll over.  It's possible
he's been drugged as well -- acepromazine."

The EMT looked up at her, perplexed.  "That's an --
"

"Animal tranq, yes, I know.  Treat him as if he'd
been given any sedative."

"It just makes it that much harder to assess the head
injury," the young woman clucked.

"He just had a seizure, it lasted approximately a
minute and a half," Scully added.

The EMT showed her concern by chewing on her
lip.  "He's gonna need immediate transport.  I'll get
the gurney," she said, covering the patient with a
woolen blanket.

"There's an injured girl in that shack -- she's had her
throat cut.  I stitched her up but she's going to need
immediate transport as well," Scully called over her
shoulder as the EMT trotted away.

"We only have one ambulance," the EMT said
regretfully.

"But we have an SUV," Scully said forcefully.  She
turned to the EMT.  "Take Ms. Cunningham in the
ambulance."  She looked up at Skinner, who was
already pulling his keys out of his pocket.  "Sir, pull
your car around -- we'll get Mulder to the hospital
ourselves."

"I'm on it, Scully," Skinner replied, more than
happy to have something to do besides stand and
watch.

She tucked the blankets around Mulder tenderly.  
"It's going to be all right, Mulder.  I'm here.  I'm
here and we'll get you to the hospital and everything
will be fine."

She heard Skinner's car pull up to the door of the
barn.  For the first time, she looked around.  
Mulder's would be killer was still lying on the
ground, groggy, but he was obviously coming
around.  As Skinner got out of the driver's side, she
pointed to the Russian.  "Sir, call someone over to
secure the suspect," she directed.

He turned and yelled to some of the many agents
and police officers now milling about the scene.  In
a moment, the suspect was cuffed and being
escorted to one of the squad cars.  After a thought,
Skinner tapped a couple of the agents to help him
get Mulder into the back of the car.  Scully hurried
around the car so that she could sit in the back,
Mulder's head on her lap.  He was breathing
shallowly, but his pulse was strong.  He still wasn't
responsive, but with the strong possibility that he
was sedated, that wasn't really her major concern.

"Scully, where am I going?" Skinner asked as he
pulled out onto the county road.  "Richmond?"

"No, that's at least an hour away.  My hospital is
only about 30 minutes from here.  Let's get him
over there," she said with more confidence than she
was feeling.  "Just take this road to the first stop
sign, turn right and follow that road into town.  
There are signs for the hospital.

Her hospital.  Well, at least the place she worked.  
She'd never really felt that much at home there,
regardless of what she'd told Mulder earlier in the
day.  Had their argument really only been hours
ago?  It seemed like forever since she'd seen him,
she'd been so frantic to find him.

With nothing but time on her hands, she turned on
the dome light in the back and checked Mulder over
for other injuries.  When she pulled up the sleeve of
his parka, she hissed.  His hand and forearm had
been bitten repeatedly, some of the bites were deep
and bleeding now that she'd pulled the cloth away
from them.  She took the edge of one of the blankets
covering him and held it against the wounds,
wishing she'd grabbed some gauze from the
ambulance.

"How's he doing, Scully?" Skinner asked, watching
her in the rearview mirror.

"He's still not responding, but it's the bleeding that
has me worried.  If you can pick up the pace, sir, I'd
appreciate it."

She felt the car surge forward.  After a few
moments, Skinner spoke up again.  "You know, you
don't have to call me 'sir' anymore, Scully," he said
gruffly.

She allowed a brief smile to play on her lips.  
"Sorry, Walter.  Old habit."

"Well, it's about time to put that one to rest," he
muttered.  "I'm not that old."

She caught his eyes in the mirror and gave him
another smile.  "Of course not."  She looked down
at her partner and felt tears prick at her lids.  "Thank
you, Walter -- for tonight."

He looked back again but she wouldn't meet his
eyes this time.  "Scully, you know you can always
call me.  I might not have been the best friend
through the years -- "

"You've more than made up for it in the last few,"
she interjected.

"Well, I hope I can help more now that you're both
out in the open," he said with finality.  

She could only nod and focus on her partner.

Even on snow-packed road, they made good time.  
Scully sighed in relief as they pulled up to the
emergency entrance.  She'd called ahead when they
were just a few miles out of town when reception
for her cell phone was better.  Fortunately, the ER
physician was a friend, John Murphy.  'Murf' as he
was known to one and all, was a kind man who had
a wife and six kids that he was always telling tall
tales about in the doctor's lounge.  He would help
her but more importantly, he was one of the few
people on staff who knew about Mulder and he
would be discrete.

Murf was standing at the double doors, flanked by
two ER nurses and a big, burly orderly Scully had
seen before -- all people she could trust.  Skinner
pulled the car to a stop and Murf yanked open the
door, directing the orderly to help him move the
patient.  The two men had Mulder on the gurney
and were disappearing through the doors before
Scully could get out of the car.  At the guard's
pointed look at the SUV as it blocked the
emergency room drive, Scully stuck her head back
in and told Skinner where to park and how to find
her when he got inside.

The ER was a tight ship -- Murf's staff was efficient
and quick.  The minute Scully walked through the
double doors, one of the triage nurses was on her.  
"Dr. Scully, do you have a history on the patient?"

Scully swallowed.  "Yes, I can give you that
information in the examination room," she said.  
She was pretty sure once she told them all she knew
about Mulder's previous medical conditions they
would either lock her up in the psych ward or toss
her out the door.  Chances were good Murf would
order her to the lounge anyway, since he knew her
connection to the patient.  

"So, this is Mulder," Murf greeted her as she
walked in.  The two nurses were busy hooking her
partner up to heart monitors and IVs.

"Yes," she said still unwilling to divulge any
additional information unless asked.

"How did he, uh, what the hell was done to him?"
Murf asked, half rhetorically.

"He was in a car accident -- a roll over -- that he
walked away from, but then he was assaulted by a .
. . "  She stopped.  She had seen the dog's body
when they pulled up.  The two-headed dog's body.  
"Two," she corrected herself, "two dogs and then he
was possibly tranquilized using acepromazine."

"The animal tranq?  We'll look for that in the blood
work," Murf interjected while doing his own
examination of the patient.  He'd just found the bites
and was directing the nurse to clean the wounds and
bring him a suture kit.  

"Yes.  After that, he was dragged through the snow.  
He had a seizure about 10 minutes after we found
him, but none since.  It lasted about a minute and a
half.  He was unresponsive during the half hour ride
here."

"Alrighty then," Murf said affably.  "So, he's been
run through the wringer and hung out to dry."

"In a nutshell, yes."

"Well, Casey, let's call down to CT and get some
pictures," he said to the nurse assisting him.  "The
seizure could be a sign of something nasty going on
under all that hair.  I detect more than one goose
egg on the back of his head and this lac is swelling
up too.  We might have to call in a neurosurgeon --
one for big people, of course," he said with a wink
toward Scully.  She answered it with a wane smile
that faded almost as soon as it showed on her face.

"Dana, not to be nosy, but I thought you said this
guy was a writer?" Murf whispered just loud
enough for Scully to hear and not to alert the nurses.

"He is.  He wasn't always.  He . . . used to be with
the FBI," she admitted, keeping her voice low.  

"Before you two met?" Murf asked.

Scully shook her head.  "Uh, no, actually.  We . . .
we were partners . . . a long time ago."

"Dr. Scully, we need that history now, if you don't
mind," the nurse Scully remembered named Laura
said from the computer desk off to the side.

"Yes, of course," Scully said stepping over, thankful
to avoid any further questions from Dr. Murphy.  
"You know, it might be faster if I just type it in,"
Scully suggested, anxious to be doing something.

"The 64 thousand dollar question, Dana -- has
Mulder here had other head injuries that I should
know about," Murf asked from next to the gurney.

Scully swallowed.  "Yes," she said, taking a deep
breath.  "Nothing within the last six years, though."

"Serious injuries?" Murf pushed, picking up on her
hesitancy.  

She licked her upper lip.  "Yes.  He's had a number
of concussions, two surgeries, one involving
removal of something -- we're still not sure -- "

"Huh?" Murf interrupted.  

"I wasn't there and there were no records.  It was . . .
experimental might be the best description.  Illegal
is another.  When he was returned there seemed to
be no long term adverse affects at first, but then
later he suffered from . . . massive degeneration of
the duramatter."

Murf looked over at her, shaking his head in denial.  
"Dana, if he had a tumor removed . . . "

"It wasn't a tumor and what happened afterwards I
still have very little information on.  But suffice it to
say that a year and a half later, he was cured."

"Do I want to ask how?" Murf joked.

"No, and it has little impact on his treatment now.  
The short answer to the question is yes, he has had
other head trauma.  He responds to Mannitol and
traditional treatment for swelling if it comes to that.  
He'll be slow to wake up, but once awake he'll want
to leave right away -- he's a horrible patient."

Murf smiled and shrugged.  "Well, if you vouch for
him and he's responding to treatment I see no reason
to antagonize the nurses," he joked.  "We'll send
him home with you."

The phone rang and Casey picked it up.  "They're
ready for him down in CT," she said.  In a moment,
they were preparing Mulder for transport, detaching
the heart monitor leads and raising the side rails on
the gurney.  Scully grabbed one side and helped
push the gurney through the exam room door.  Murf
caught her sleeve and she spun to a stop.

"Dana, I know you want to go with him but I have a
few more questions."  

She watched the gurney as it turned and was gone
from view.  "They'll take good care of him, I
promise," Murf assured her.  "Please?  It will just
take a minute and by that time they'll have him back
here."

He leaned against the desk and looked over at her,
his expression telling her that he was seeing her for
the first time.  "The surgeries he's had in the past --
"

"They were a long time ago," she answered.  
Closing her eyes she let a sigh escape.  "Over ten
years ago for the first one."

"Tell me about it.  Did it happen because of a blow
to the head?"

She snorted, but with more frustration than humor.  
She remembered the time so well, though she hadn't
thought about it for six years or more.  It was when
she was battling her cancer.  That he would go out
and do something so reckless while she had to focus
on her own disease --

"Dana?" Murf asked, reminding her that she wasn't
alone in her trip down memory lane.

"No, it wasn't due to a head trauma, exactly.  Eleven
years ago he, uh, he underwent a procedure to
recapture repressed memories.  A . . . quack, for
lack of a more suitable word, drilled a hole in his
cranium to stimulate the electrical impulses of the
brain."

"Did you say . . . ?"

"Yes, Mulder actually does have a hole in his head,"
she nodded with a rueful smile.  "Two, in fact, but
the second one wasn't his fault."

"So the surgery you're speaking of, the first one,
was this hole being drilled?"

"No.  The drill nicked a tiny artery.  The surgery
was to repair the nick and evacuate the blood clot
that had formed," she said, drawing in a breath.  It
was so easy to get angry with him all over again and
she -- they -- couldn't afford that.

Murf swallowed and continued a bit hesitantly.  
"And the second surgery?"

"Was nine years ago.  Mulder was experiencing
extreme and traumatic hyperactivity in his temporal
lobe.  It manifested itself in severe pain and violent
outbursts.  He also . . . claimed to be able to hear
people's thoughts around him.  The doctors -- I --
was at a loss how to treat him.  His mother handed
him over to some men -- a consortium -- that
performed a highly risky and totally unsanctioned
operation on him.  They removed something, there
is some evidence that it might have been a tumor of
some sort but nothing had shown up on the PET
scans.  I found him after the operation.  He was in
pretty bad shape for a few days but then when he
woke up, his brain activity was at normal levels."  
The whole time she'd been speaking she had been
examining the floor tiles with her eyes.  Now, she
allowed her gaze to meet her friend's, issuing a
quiet challenge.

"Now I understand why the two of you are
squirreled away in the wilds of rural Virginia,"
Murf said with a smile.  

She nodded.

"Well, you say nothing has happened recently, at
least the last six years.  How has his general health
been?"

She allowed a brief smile.  "Good.  Great, in fact.  
He's been running about five miles a day, his weight
it good."  She bit her upper lip as a particularly fond
memory surfaced.  "He's aging -- better than
gracefully," she admitted shyly.

"No allergies I should know about?"  Murf had
pulled up a chair at the computer desk and was
typing in his exam notes.

"No, no allergies.  He had a nasty cold around
Thanksgiving, but that's been the extent of it for the
last couple of years."  

She remembered her heart breaking as he shoved
her out the door to go to her mother's for
Thanksgiving.  He was coughing and wheezing and
the last thing she wanted to do was leave him for 48
hours, especially when it meant the waking hours
would be spent listening to her brother praise her
for finally seeing the light and 'dumping that loser'
to go back to medicine.  Only her mother knew of
Mulder's continued existence in her life.

"We'll take a look at the film when it comes back
and see where we are.  I'm ordering the lab to do a
quick check for acepromazine, just to make sure
that's what's keeping him down.  Why don't you
grab a cup of coffee -- you look beat," Murf
suggested, still typing in orders.

She headed out the door and toward the ER staff
lounge when she remembered Skinner.  Filling two
cups with coffee, she made her way to the waiting
room.  It wasn't terribly crowded and she found him
in a corner, reading an ancient copy of Discover
Magazine.

"Coffee, Walter?" she asked, handing him the
styrofoam cup.  

He smiled up in gratitude and sipped as she sat in
the chair across from him.  "You remembered," he
said, saluting her with the cup.

"One sweetner, no cream.  Not that hard to
remember," she said with a shrug.  She'd learned
how he took his coffee after Mulder's abduction.  
The Assistant Director would come by her
apartment from time to time, just to check on her,
she was certain, but he would always have a good
excuse.  She appreciated the company and the
effort.

"How's he doing?" Skinner asked, breaking into her
thoughts.

"They just took him down to X-ray.  He's still not
awake, but he's in good hands."  She leaned back
and sighed, closing her eyes.  "I have to let them
know up stairs that I'm down here," she muttered,
half to herself to keep awake.  

"So, you like this life?" Skinner asked, relaxing
back now that the news was positive.

She opened her eyes and regarded him with a half
smile.  "As opposed to midnight flights to Cheney,
Texas and liver-eating mutants?" she asked.  "Let's
just say it has it's own rewards."

"The chance to help live people," he nodded.

"The chance to come home at night.  To sleep until
7," she sighed.  "To not worry all the time -- except
about a patient.  The chance to be normal," she
concluded.

"So you two would never consider . . . coming
home," Skinner asked hesitantly.

"We are home, Walter," she said with a shrug.  "At
our age, to go back to what we were doing . . . that
would be insane!  More insane than doing it in the
first place."

Skinner nodded, not in understanding but in
acknowledgement of her feelings.  "He did good
work, you know," he said slowly.  "You both did.  
They never would have found that young woman in
time -- "

Scully stood and walked over to the lounge door,
looking toward the treatment rooms.  "I really need
to get back there," she said abruptly.  "Look, if you
need to be at the crime scene, I can call you . . . "

"Officially, this case wasn't under my supervision,"
he said with a shrug.  "I'm pretty much here on my
own time.  If it's OK with you, I'll just wait here
until we know something."

The full impact of his words hit her harder than
she'd expected.  That he would come at a mere
phone call, of his own accord, to help them was too
much for her at that moment.  She fought to keep
the tears from choking her.

"Thank you, Walter," she murmured.  "I'll be out
again soon, to let you know.  The cafeteria is just
down that hall," she said with a wave in the
direction opposite the Emergency Department.  
"Stay away from the 'chef's surprise' but if they
have any French Toast out, grab it.  They make it
with cinnamon rolls."

He smiled at her effort.  "Thanks, I might wander
down there in a bit.  If I'm not here -- "

"I'll find you," she assured him.

She made a detour just to check her service and let
the peds floor know that she was in the hospital but
unavailable except in extreme emergencies.  Tracey,
the charge nurse, gave her a quick run-down on
Christian's condition, which relieved her greatly.  
Buoyed by good news on her patient, she walked
confidently down to Mulder's exam room.

Only to step into total chaos.  In reality it was
carefully orchestrated chaos, but chaos nonetheless.  
Murf was in the center, directing the nurses.  It took
Scully only a minute to realize they were preparing
Mulder for surgery.

"Dana, perfect timing, I was just about to have you
paged."  He stepped away from the activity to pull
her aside.  "We found a bleed," he said, walking her
to the side of the room with the view screen.  He
pointed to the film on display.  "There's something
here, looks like a previous drill site, but it's on the
side.  From the scarring -- it looks like a furrow.  
Not like what you mentioned and we found the
other drill site right above his left ocular cavity."  
He reached up and circled the area with his a pen
from his pocket.  "See what I mean?"

She closed her eyes.  "I forgot about that one.  He
was shot.  That's the graze from a bullet," she said
with dismay.

"You _forgot_ that your significant other was shot
in the head?" Murf whispered with a raised
eyebrow.

"He was my partner at the time -- not my . . . "  She
didn't complete the thought, changing the subject
slightly.  "Besides, I was . . . out of the country,"
Scully said, knowing exactly how lame that
sounded.  Out of the country, according to Mulder
about to be out of the solar system.  Ah, yeah, no
way was she going to say all that.  "When I got back
it was healed -- for the most part."

"Well, that's where our problem is located right
now.  It could have happened during the accident
and just worsened as he moved around.  But from
the looks of it, it should be easy to repair.  I've put
in a call upstairs, Jake Gleason is on call."

Scully grimaced.  "Jake?  Is there anyone else?"   
She bit her lip when she realized how petulant she'd
sounded.  "Could you call Denise Wilson?"

"Dana," Murf said, shaking his head.  "It's a simple
procedure and Jake is a good neurosurgeon -- "

"I know, I know, it's just . . . he has the bedside
manner of a grizzly bear," Scully fumed.  "And
there's no way he'll let me observe."  She shut up
when she saw Murf's eyes flash.

"As well he shouldn't.  You're much too close to
this one."  He put his hand on her shoulder.  "Dana,
this time you just have to sit by . . . and pray."  

She swallowed, her breath caught and her chest felt
like it was in a vice.  "I . . . I just want to walk him
up to the OR," she whispered.

"I think that's something we could arrange," Murf
assured her with a grin.  "Go on, before he leaves
you behind."

She hurried over and helped raise the side-rail.  
"Mind if I help push?" she asked the orderly.  

The young man gave her a smile.  "Sure, Dr. Scully.  
Just let me steer," he said affably.

As they walked the gurney down to the elevators,
Scully fought hard to keep the tears at bay.  
"They're just going to fix that bleed, Mulder.  It's
not that big.  And here I thought you have a hard
enough head -- more scar tissue is just going to
make it harder.  I'll never get you to give me the
remote now."

The tear that hung on her lash finally broke free,
careening down her cheek to drop silently on the
side-rail.

"We'll take good care of him, Dr. Scully," the
orderly told her gently.

She looked over at the young man and smiled.  "I
know you will."

"Just try not to worry," he smiled back.

She nodded, not able to speak.  

The elevator doors opened and they pushed the
gurney into the small space.  It was a very short ride
that seemed to take forever.  When the doors
opened, an OR nurse Scully immediately
recognized stepped forward to help negotiate the
next hallway.  "Dr. Scully, are you assisting?" she
asked.

"No, Donna, I'm . . . "  Scully's mouth moved but no
words would come out.

The orderly looked over at the nurse and smiled.  
"Next of kin," he whispered.

The nurse's eyes widened, but she remained
composed.  "I'll come out with updates," she
promised.

Without a thought, Scully leaned over and kissed
her partner tenderly next to his lips.  "I'll see you
soon," she whispered in his ear.

Her hand slid along the side-rail as she stood there,
watching as the gurney disappeared behind the
double doors of the surgical bays.

She felt totally alone.  It took her a few minutes of
standing there before she remembered Skinner, still
down in the ER waiting room.  She turned and
headed in that direction.

They settled in the surgical waiting room.  Scully
snuck into the doctor's lounge and got Skinner and
herself a cup of the premium roast coffee that one of
the surgical nurses always brought in.  She set her
cup on one of the side tables and proceeded to pace
the room.

"Scully . . . Dana, why don't you sit down?" Skinner
suggested.

She was at the far end of the room and stopped, her
back to him.  "Do you know the last thing he said to
me?" she asked, not turning around.

"Scully . . . don't do this . . . "Skinner tried to object.

"He said 'that's why we can't be together'.  Of
course, that's after I handed him his hat and showed
him the door because I was so tied up with a patient.  
A very sick little boy, it's true, but I told Mulder I
couldn't help him -- that I wasn't going to help him."  
She barked out a laugh.  "He wished me good luck.  
I don't think he heard me when I wished him luck
back."

Skinner stood and came up behind her, turning her
around to face him.  "Scully -- you did help him.  
You knew something was wrong and you went
looking for him.  You found him.  You saved his
life."

"Did I?" she whispered as the tears streaked from
her eyes.  "He's in there -- right now -- because he
had no back up.  I should have been with him, I
should have tried to find him sooner -- "

"You can stand here and second guess your actions
till the cows come home and I can tell you from
experience -- it won't change a damn thing,"
Skinner told her firmly.  "All you can do is try to
make it right -- starting right now."

She looked up in his eyes and saw the shadow of
the guilt he'd carried around all the time Mulder had
been missing, the guilt that almost overpowered him
when Mulder was returned 'dead'.  

"That's why you came so quickly," she whispered,
wiping at her cheeks.

"It's why you can always count on me -- regardless
of the situation, the time, the year . . . "

"Walter, it's not a life debt," she said sadly.

"To me it is," he replied.

"Thank you," she murmured, encircling his waist to
give him a gentle hug.

He returned the hug and then gently pushed her
away.  "Scully, you two have been together for 15
years.  Do you honestly think a few heated words
could be enough to destroy all that you've built in
each other?"

She bit her lip and looked away.  "I hope not," she
said quietly.  "I don't know what I'd do without
him."

Twenty minutes dragged on to two hours and Scully
was beginning to get seriously worried.  Just when
she was ready to storm the operating theater, the
door to the doctors' offices opened and Donna
stepped out with a smile on her face.  "Sorry, we got
bumped.  Pushed us back a half an hour, but once
we got started, it went well.  Dr. Gleason is ready to
talk to you."

That was all Scully needed to hear.  She pushed by
Donna, flashing her an apologetic smile as she
hurried down the hallway.  She knew enough about
Jake Gleason to know he was a creature of habit and
always used the consulting room in the corner of the
suite because it was the largest of the three.  She
tapped on the door and heard Gleason call her in.

"Ah, Dana, I heard this one was yours.  So, guess
that's why you always turned down my offers for
dinner, huh?"

"Jake, let's please just stick to business.  How did
the surgery go?"

"Perfectly, but there was never any doubt of that."  
He pointed to the film on the view screen and
walked her through the procedure.  "See, simple and
fast.  He'll be up playing 'hide the evidence' before
you can say 'search and seizure'," he said with a
smarmy grin.  "FBI.  I have to say, Dana, I'm very
turned on.  But then I guess I'd have to stand in
line."

It never ceased to amaze her how fast the hospital
grapevine managed to work.  Scully bit her lip and
hid her clenched fist in her pocket.  "May I see
him?"

"He's in recovery.  We brought him up in the OR,
he was groggy but responded well.  I don't expect
him to wake up soon, but hey, you can sit and stare
at him all you want.  We'll give him a room on 2
west till we cut him loose to your tender mercies."  

Scully wisely chose to leave the room before she
was arrested for assault and battery.

Our Lady of Sorrows
Room 215
10:13 am

His dreams were disjointed but always seemed to
loop back to one moment -- standing in the hallway
outside Skinner's office.  He was standing there,
arguing a point and suddenly Scully just walked up
and put her arms around his neck and hugged him
hard.

"I won't let you go alone."  She said that to him then
and sent Skinner to go with him to Oregon.  It was a
long time before he came home, a long time before
he saw her again and when he did their lives had
been so different.

Was that how it was to be now?  After six long
years when they had only each other -- when he had
only her -- was he now on his own again?  

They'd had disagreements over the last years, but
they were the minor inconveniences of two
independent people spending all their free time
together.  Did she realize how much he listened for
the sound of her tires on the gravel in front of the
house?  How even when she came home tired and
grumpy from a long day of dealing with sick kids
and unfeeling bosses, he just basked in the
knowledge that she was there, with him.  She was
his lifeline, his only connection to the outside world
save what he could get from a cable modem and a
digital TV signal.  She was everything to him.

Which was why it hurt him so badly when she
turned her back on him.

Oh, a part of him could rationalize it all.  Hadn't he
been the one to tell her to 'go be a doctor' some ten
years before?  Hadn't he always known that nothing
scared her but maybe she never wanted to live in the
darkness?  Hadn't he known that one day it would
come to this -- she would leave and he would be
totally and completely alone, despite her promises
whispered in the heat of passion or the cold hours
before dawn when the nightmares refused to let him
rest?

The darkness was looking pretty darned inviting
when he considered what would happen when he
opened his eyes.  Maybe getting to him just before
that axe had fallen had only delayed the inevitable
because he knew in his very soul that he wouldn't
be alive a month without her.

He could hear her thinking.  Sleep dragged at him
and he didn't want to face her yet but her thoughts
were loud enough to wake the dead.  Slowly Mulder
forced his eyes to open.  Though blurry, she smiled
down at him tiredly.

"Hey," she said.  "How are you feeling?"

He licked dry lips and swallowed, finding his voice
in the multitude of aches and pains.  "I'm feeling . . .
"  He stopped and swallowed down the pain.  "A
strong sense of deja vu."

That merited him a brighter smile, but there was a
definite shadow in her eyes.  

"How's the girl?" he asked, wanting to delay the
inescapable discussion of dividing their lives -- who
got the dishes, who got the crop circle bedspread.  
Maybe he could sublet his office from her if he
promised to stay out of her hair?

"She'll be fine," Scully replied with a tilt of her
head.  Modesty always looked so very good on her.  
"I . . . I was able to stop the bleeding at the scene.  
She'll have to undergo some therapy, of course."

"Were there any other victims alive?" he asked,
sorting through thoughts that were now simply
banging against the sides of his brain.

"You mean besides you?" she quipped.  At his
rolled eyes she shook her head.  "No.  None alive.  
There was . . . there was a body of a woman in the
barn."

"I saw it," he cut in.

She winced but continued.  "I think it might have
been Agent Bannon's body."

"If they search that barn, they might find others. "

"Mulder, I don't want to talk about the case, all
right," she snapped and then dropped her eyes.  He
noticed a spot on her mouth where she'd been
worrying her lip.  That was never a good sign.  He
braced himself for what she would say.

After a silence that seemed to extend into eternity,
she looked up at him.  "Mulder, I was so scared."

He nodded slowly, although it only made his head
pound.  He knew how much it took for her to admit
that, but he also knew she was being totally honest
with him.  He could only return the favor.  "So was
I," he agreed.

"There have been times when I thought I'd lost you.  
The other afternoon when you walked out of the
hospital -- it hurt so much."  

That brought him up short.   She had been hurt the
other day?  Hadn't she been the one to tell him she
wouldn't follow, couldn't allow the darkness in 'her'
home?  She was still speaking and he fought to
catch up with her words.  

"And I felt I was letting you go, to be free to do
what you had to do and I thought I could handle
that.  But when I couldn't find you, when I knew
something horrible was happening to you -- Mulder,
I couldn't handle that.  I couldn't.  I was so
terrified."

He started to nod but thought better of it.  Instead he
reached for her hand and she clasped it tightly.   He
was now totally confused but hopeful.  Maybe it
wasn't as desparate as he thought.

"I thought," he rasped, his throat tightening.  "I
thought I was losing you," he said finally, his chest
so tight he was afraid it would register on the heart
monitor.

She shook her head with a sad smile.  "Never gonna
happen, former G-man," she told him firmly and
gave his hand a gentle squeeze.  He felt it all the
way up his battered arm as a warmth spread through
him, thawing all the frozen places in his soul.  
"Never," she reaffirmed.  "We've been through too
much.  No one else in their right mind would take
either of us on.  And when we're apart -- well, bad
things happen.  So you're stuck with me."

"Promise?" he croaked out.  Leave it alone, his
inner voice screamed.  Don't scare her off.  But her
little speech sounded so like something he would
have said to her.  Maybe it was true, maybe as a
couple got older they really did slowly become one
individual.  One person with two hearts.  He felt his
own heart start to beat again.

The shadow faded from her eyes and all he saw
there was the love they'd shared for more years than
he wanted to count.  "I promise," she said.  She
leaned forward and rested her forehead against his.  

"Ouch," he winced when her head made contact
with a particularly painful spot.  He heard her
chuckle and she placed a kiss on the bandage above
his left eye.

"I guess I have to thank Agent Drummy," she said,
sitting back after a moment.

"What on earth for?" he breathed.

"This case managed to get you to shave that god-
awful beard," she replied with a smirk.

"Hey, it keeps my face warm in the winter.  That
house is damned drafty."

"Sure, fine whatever," she answered.

He wanted to laugh, he felt so giddy.  It was so
good to see her smile.  And the dance was one they
both knew so well.  It was his turn to lead.  "So,
when do I get out of here?"

She shook her head and rolled her eyes.  He had to
nibble his lip to keep from chuckling at her.  
"You've only been here twelve hours and you have
another surgical scar to add to your already
impressive collection," she said with false
admiration.  She sat back, crossing her arms.  "I'd
say you're here for at least a couple of days."

"You could spring me," he suggested with a hopeful
wiggle of his eyebrows that only stretched his
stitches and ended up making him wince.

"Why would I want to do that?  Here, I know
exactly where you are and what you're up to.  Plus, I
don't even have to take off work.  Looks like a 'win-
win' to me."

He sighed, too tired to debate the issue with her.  At
least they were on solid ground again and that was
more than he could have hoped for.  Besides, now
that he had a chance to see her clearly, he saw how
tired she looked, too.  She'd obviously been up all
night by his side.  "Why don't you go grab a nap in
the on-call room?"

She shook her head.  "I have a better idea," she told
him and stood up, slipping her shoes off her feet.  
"Scoot over."

"Why Doctor Scully, as you coming on to me?" he
asked with delight as he moved over to make room
and held up the blankets for her to cuddle under
them next to him.

"When we're in the same bed at least I know where
you are," she replied sternly.  Once settled with his
arms around her and her fingers entwined with his,
she sighed and closed her eyes.  "We can go home
after we both get some sleep.  If I tried to drive
now, I'd only drive us over a cliff.  Oh wait, you
already did that."

"Hardy har har," he chuffed but kissed the crown of
her head and she tilted her head up to kiss him
tenderly on the lips.  

"Go to sleep," she ordered.

"Yes, ma'am.  But what if they catch us?  The nuns
here look like they mean business."

"I have connections," she assured him.  As he was
just about to drift off to sleep, she spoke again.  
"Mulder, I don't want the darkness in my home, but
it's not a home if I'm not with you," she whispered.

He felt the tiny shards of his heart start to mend.  
"We won't let the darkness in, then."

She nodded and together, they drifted off to sleep.