By Wylfcynne
Wylfcynne@aol.com

DISTRIBUTION: After the Fact, All-XFiles, Believe
the Truth, Beyond the Sea, Crystalship, Cutting
Room Floor, Further X-Plorations, Gossamer,
MulderInJeopardy, MulderTorture, XFC; anyone
else, please ask; that way I'll know where it all
goes, so I can visit. 20030223

SPOILERS: post-ep for Redux2

RATING: PG

CLASSIFICATION: post-ep, MA, SA, MSR, UST

SUMMARY: "My headache's back," she whispered.
"I got dizzy in the shower and almost fell."

DISCLAIMER: They certainly aren't mine; if they
were, they'd be having more fun, and I wouldn't
have to save up for a vacation! Mulder, Scully,
Skinner and the rest belong to FOX Networks and
1013; I'm just borrowing them for a little fun and
games. I promise I'll bring them back on time and
unharmed, and they won't remember a thing.

FEEDBACK: The Wylf howls at the moon for
feedback!

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This could not have been
done without the constant inspiration from my
friends on the lists, especially my beta-goddess
Frohike51.  The rest of you know who you are!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Happy Birthday, Agent Scully!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Reprieve by Wylfcynne
 

Wednesday, 11:15am

Down in his basement office, Fox Mulder relaxed in
his seat and put his feet up on the desk. Life was
back to normal. Scully was back at work
something he had not dared to dream could ever
happen. Her cancer was gone; the doctors,
including Scully, called it remission, and he knew
they were correct, but he called it GONE.

Blevins was gone, too, but that did not make Mulder
happy; Chief Blevins's suicide simply meant that
the rot had infiltrated farther than he had dreamed.

Not that he believed that Blevins had committed
suicide.

But he did not want to think about Blevins, or
Cancerman, or anything about the Conspiracy. He
closed his eyes, and flicked back through his
photographic memory to review again, for the
umpteenth time, hearing the news.

~~~
"Mulder, it worked."

She was sitting up in bed smiling at him, her eyes
sparkling as he had not seen for weeks. There was
even color in her cheeks. He was frozen, unable to
dare hope.

"We did a PET scan half an hour ago. The tumor's
shrunk by half. My headache's gone and my blood
count's up. The chip worked. You did it."

=The chip worked?!= His knees gave out and he
landed beside her bed, his face buried against the
mattress, fighting desperately not to burst into
tears. Her fingers stroked through his hair, and he
shivered in reaction to her delicate touch.

"You saved me, Mulder. You did it." Her fingers slid
around his skull, along his jaw, under his chin.
Gentle pressure lifted his face, and he blinked at
her, still trembling, still trying to maintain his
composure. Her hands urged him closer and he
could only obey. When she could get both hands
on him, she pulled him closer and kissed him hard.

When she let go of him he was as breathless as
she was, staring at her, as stunned as if she had
started suddenly speaking in tongues. He
swallowed hard, fighting down a surge of arousal
that was totally inappropriate for the time, place and
circumstances.

"S- Scully...?"

"Do I stutter, Mulder? Or wasn't I perfectly clear?"

His mouth opened once, twice, fighting to articulate
what was roiling around in his head, but he couldn't
do it. Instead, he let her pull him closer, moved to
sit on the bed beside her, wrapped his arms
around her and sobbed helplessly into her hair.

When he finally did manage to pull himself away,
ashamed of his loss of control, he found his shirt
was wet and her face as tear-streaked as his own
when she looked up.  She was not shy at all, but as
bold as a hungry cat, and that startled him all over
again.

"I have my life back, Mulder. I'm not wasting
another moment of it. Do you understand what I'm
saying to you?"

~~~

Mulder shifted in his chair. He had understood her
perfectly; he had just been utterly surprised. That
had been the beginning. He had been lost from the
first touch of her lips.

=Who am I kidding? I was lost the first time I saw
her...=

It had actually taken him several days to get up the
nerve to ask her if this was just a reaction to her
reprieve, was it just gratitude? Her response had
been very clear, calmly explained in her inimitable
scientist's voice, although her facade of calm had
been belied by the sparkle in her eyes and the way
they tracked down over his body.

"No, Mulder," he remembered her words precisely,
"this isn't just gratitude. I know I can't use sex to
pay you back for saving my life, and you wouldn't
accept it. I know you too well. I know that you love
me; you know that I love you. We've always been
able to rationalize reasons why we shouldn't
consummate this relationship. None of them matter,
anymore, Mulder; not to me."

=Neither of us really understood that we were in
love until we faced her death. Neither of us could
discuss such an admission then. We were in too
much pain: she was dying, I was dreading that
finality... So we both kept quiet. But the nightmare's
over; she's back, her whole life's before her, and
she wants to spend it with me!=

She had been back on duty for two weeks, still
restrained from field status pending her doctor's
approval. She was still underweight and her stamina
had not yet been completely recouped. However, it
was obvious to them all that significant progress
was being made, ground steadily regained.

It would not be long, now.

Today, Mulder had not yet seen her; she had been
asked to do an autopsy at Quantico this morning
and they had a date to meet for lunch. He glanced
at the clock and decided he had best get moving or
he would be late reaching the restaurant. He
dropped his feet to the floor and stood up out of
the rickety swivel chair with the ease of long
practice.

The phone on his desk rang. He reached for it
languidly; nothing mattered so much as meeting his
partner for lunch. "Mulder."

"Mulder...?"

"Scully?" Her tone sent a drench of icy adrenaline
through him. "What's wrong?"

"I... I need you here. Now."

"What's. Wrong."

The next sound he heard terrified him. It was a
stifled sob. "My headache's back," she whispered.
"I got dizzy in the shower and almost fell."

"I'm on my way. Stay there." He waited for her to
reply. "Scully. Answer me."

"I'll be here." Her voice was faint and he could hear
her terror.

***

The drive to Quantico went by in a blur; he could
never afterward recall a single moment of it. His
mind was raging against the injustice of it all. They
had had only weeks since her reprieve; they had
not yet even had the chance to consummate the
newly-acknowledged level of their relationship.
Time, her recovery and her menstrual cycle, erratic
and unpredictable since her abduction, had
conspired against them up till now. They had
planned it for this weekend, a long, slow and sweet
seduction.

The rage helped him keep the fear under control,
but he could feel it boiling, surging against the
restraints he kept on it. He knew that if he
surrendered to it he would be of no use to her or to
himself. He could keep himself together for her.

He had to.

***

FBI Laboratories, Quantico VA 12:11pm

Mulder left his car illegally parked at the front doors,
went charging into the morgue area, knowing where
he would find her: in the conference room where
the pathologists held briefings.

"Scully--?" For a moment he could not see her.
Then he spotted her. She was curled up in the
corner, her back against the wall and her face
buried against her thighs, her arms wrapped around
her head. He was beside her in a heartbeat.
"Scully, I'm here. Scully..."

She uncurled in a sudden burst of frantic energy
and flung herself at him, wrapping herself around
him, sobbing hysterically.

He settled down on the floor, rocking her, hands
stroking her hair and down her back, and he found
himself crying, too. There were no words that could
make this better. They sat in the shadows and
drenched one another with their terror and their
tears.

***

He did not know how long it took, but eventually
they both had to stop. They were too exhausted to
continue. As she wilted against him, Mulder let
himself relax against the wall for a moment. Then
he freed one hand, wiped the tears off his face,
fished out his handkerchief and gave it to her. She
sat up, although she stayed in his lap, and wiped
her eyes and nose. Then she wilted against him
again.

"I can't do it all again, Mulder..." she whispered. "I
can't go through all that again..."

"Don't give up, Scully. C'mon, I called your doctor
from the car. He's waiting for us."

She shuddered and clung to him. He stood up with
her in his arms and she did not even notice that
burst of testosterone. She buried her face in his
chest and let him carry her out of the conference
room.

He had not taken three steps down the corridor
when a voice stopped him.

"Oh, my God! Agent Scully?!"

Mulder turned. It was Agent Norma Taliaferro, the
Quantico morgue supervisor.

 Norma took one look at Mulder's face and knew
that whatever was wrong, it was serious. "Agent
Mulder. Can I help?"

Mulder was about to put her off, to insist that he
could handle it, when he had a brainstorm. "Her
doctor's waiting for us. Could you drive?"

"Yes."

"Thanks. My car's right outside the door."

Norma just nodded. Mulder turned and headed that
way.  He heard Norma use her cell phone to call
her second-in-command and let him know where
she was going. Then she hurried ahead of them,
held the door for Mulder so he could swing Scully
through it without banging her head on the frame.

"I left the keys in it," he told Norma when she
looked up at him. She went to the driver's side,
opened the car, and pushed the button on the
armrest to open the other doors, then pulled the left
rear open for Mulder. He slid in carefully, setting
Scully down first, then moving her --as she clung to
him relentlessly --over far enough that he could sit
beside her. He fastened her seat belt around her
as Norma was adjusting the seat forward and fixing
the mirrors so she could use them.

She started the car and turned on the heat
full-blast. "Agent Mulder? Where are we going?"

"Trinity Hospital."

"All right. You two relax."

Mulder settled back after fastening his own seat
belt, not expecting to be able to relax. Scully was
holding onto him as if drowning. She was no longer
crying, but her breathing was erratic. As the car
went past the gate and onto the parkway, and
Norma waved at the Marine guards, Scully began to
cough.

***

The drive took nearly an hour. Mulder was shocked
that he survived it without any screaming or hysteria
from Scully or himself. Scully coughed a lot during
the trip; she used his handkerchief repeatedly to
wipe her nose, but kept it folded and her eyes
closed so that she could not see the blood. He
made no attempt to check; he didn't want to see
the blood, either.

Norma drove the car up the emergency entrance
ramp and parked in front of the emergency doors.
Mulder unbuckled his seat belt and Scully's, and
got out of the car. He leaned back in to take hold of
Scully's wrists and pull her out gently. She stood,
swaying, avoiding his eyes.

Mulder closed the door behind her.

"I'll park the car somewhere and bring you the keys,
Mulder--" Norma spoke gently.

He glanced at her and shook his head. "You can
take the car back to Quantico, Norma.  I'm not
leaving here without her and we can call a cab.
Thanks for the ride."

"You're welcome, Mulder. I'll call Skinner for you,
so he'll know where to find you."

"Thanks; I never thought of that."

"See you."

"Bye, Norma."

Scully's voice was a whisper. "Thank you, Norma."

The Taurus pulled smoothly away. "Good luck,"
Norma waved out the window.

Scully flinched, and clutched at her partner.
"Mulder..."

He hugged her gently. "Don't give up, Scully. Never
give up. You won't be alone. I won't let you be
alone."

It took her a moment to get herself back under
control, but then she squared her shoulders,
straightened her back, and fought not to tremble.
Her grip on Mulder's hand did not loosen, however.
"Ready?" he asked softly.

"As ready as I'll ever be," she sighed.

Together they walked inside.

***

Trinity Hospital 1:45pm

Dr Flambert looked grim, but his tone was gentle.
"What symptoms have you experienced, Dana?"

"I have a screaming headache that came on very
suddenly. It's not a migraine: no aura, and it's
centered, not on one side or the other. My vision is
currently unaffected, but after the autopsy I
suffered a transient vertigo episode; I didn't fall, but
it was close."

He nodded thoughtfully. "All right. I've scheduled
you for the PET scanner; you're on in about 40
minutes. In the meantime, let's draw some blood
and get started on a CBC. You two stay here." With
a compassionate glance at Mulder, he turned and
left.

It was only a few moments when one of his nurses
came in with the kit. She was fast and efficient, and
she did not engage in empty chatter; these were all
contributing reasons to why she was one of Scully's
favorite nurses. She drew four vials of blood in no
time, labeled them and used a rubber band to keep
them together.

"I'll run these down to the lab myself, Dana," she
promised. "We'll have prelims in no time."

"Thanks, Francesca." Scully's voice was faint.

Scully's panic had passed. Now, waiting was too
much and she let go of Mulder to pace the tiny
treatment room.   Seated in the single chair in the
corner, hunched over with his elbows on his knees
and his head down, Mulder refrained from watching
her and felt guilty about it.

=I should treasure every moment we have, every
glimpse of her...=

But her pacing was getting on his nerves, and he
suddenly realized why some of his repetitive
behaviors made her crazy when she could not
escape his proximity.

He never even thought about it consciously; he
simply could not ask anything of her now, not even
something so simple as would she stop. If this was
what she needed, he would have to put up with it.
Whatever she needed, if it was within his power, it
would be hers.

Even if what she needed was a target.

She turned on him suddenly. "What was I
thinking?!" she nearly screamed. "A computer chip
as a cure for cancer?! Could there be anything
more pseudo-scientific, more infantile? Stupid,
childish, pinning all my hopes on what is essentially
magical thinking?! How could you do this to me?!"

She attacked him physically, then, childishly, fists
pounding on his head, on his shoulders, as she
continued to rant. He just hunched over a little lower
and took it. Part of his mind, the professional
analyst, sat up in its ivory tower and observed that
this was simply a necessary catharsis, not
necessarily how she was really thinking.

His psyche, wounded nearly to death as a child and
barely healed, broke open and bled.

Ever since his mother's gasp of horror when his
sister was discovered to be missing, Mulder's
emotional responses had always defaulted to guilt.
This was no exception. He wrapped his arms
around his body and bent before her, making no
attempt to defend himself against either her
accusations or her fists.

=Is it all my fault? Was I deluded? Did I, in turn,
delude her? God, Scully, I'm so sorry; this is all my
fault...= "...I'msorryI'msorryI'm..."

Scully froze, suddenly realizing what she was
doing, suddenly conscious of what he was saying.

=What th'--?!=

All her rage vanished in the overwhelming need to
take care of her partner. He was rocking back and
forth, his eyes screwed shut and his voice an
agonized moan as the words continued to repeat.

"Mulder, no--"

She reached for him with gentle hands and he
cringed.

Scully swallowed hard. He would accept her
accusations, her castigation, even physical assault,
but he could not allow himself to accept her
comfort or forgiveness.

Her rage resurfaced, aimed, as usual, at those
nameless, faceless Old White Men who sat back in
their smoke-filled room and calmly made decisions
that required other people to bleed, suffer and die.

=This is unacceptable!=  She reached for him with
both hands, setting her hands along his jaw on
either side and forcing him to look at her as she
had that first time in the hospital.

"Mulder, look at me."

He was shaking, but he obeyed. "Sc- Scully, I--"

"It's not your fault it didn't work, Mulder," she said
firmly. "I'm sorry: I should never have blamed you,
not for a moment. It's not your fault."

"I believed them; I convinced you..."

"Why wouldn't we believe, Mulder? The plan made
sense. You know I'm not that easy to convince."

He snorted and straightened a little, regaining more
control. They stared into one another's eyes for a
long moment, and then she moved that one step
closer, pulled his head against her body in a hug.
He wrapped his arms around her, felt her bend
over him and rest her cheek on top of his head.

They clung to one another in silence, listening to
one another breathe, until they heard the door
open. They did not spring apart as if ashamed; they
weren't. They just let go. Then Scully leaned down
and kissed him lightly, before turning to face the
nurse.

The nurse was pushing a wheelchair in. "Time to go
down for your scan, Miss Scully."

"I don't need that." Mulder had to smile at the frosty
tone of her voice; Scully was still fighting.

The nurse shrugged. "Policy. Luxuriate in it."

Mulder stood up, took the wheelchair from the
nurse and brought it to Scully. "Your chariot awaits,
my lady."

Chuckling, she surrendered and sat down. Mulder
wheeled her around and gestured at the nurse to
lead.

***

The PET scan was a routine they had all been
through before. Mulder waited, forcing himself not
to pace, and then pushed the wheelchair back to
the examination room while Scully sat in it and said
nothing at all.

Waiting was getting to him; waiting for verdict in
court had never been this nerve-wracking.

=That's because it was never me who was on trial,=
he reminded himself with a shudder.

Scully stood up out of the wheelchair, came to
stand in front of him where he sat.  When he would
have stood up out of the chair to offer it to her, she
put her hands on his shoulders to stop him.

"Just hold me, Mulder," she whispered.

He wrapped his arms around her, set his face
against her body, felt her hands in his hair as he
listened to her heart beat.

Neither of them spoke.  What was there left to say?

***

Afterward, neither Mulder nor Scully could say how
long it took Dr Flambert to come in with the test
results. When he did, Mulder felt Scully jerk in his
arms and let her go so she could face the news.
She did not leave the circle of her partner's arms,
but stayed where she was to face the doctor.

Mulder did not dare rise to his feet; he had the
distinct feeling that his knees would betray him
when Dr Flambert said the awful words.

=This way I can catch her when she collapses. I've
got your back, partner...=

He had not felt this fragile before, but he knew that
was because there had been so much else going
on. Now there were no distractions: nothing but the
horror of failure and inevitability...

"Dana, your white cell count is somewhat elevated,
but the other results all fit inside normal ranges.
Even the elevated number isn't outrageous. But the
PET films show the real answer." So saying, he slid
a pair of films up onto the lightboard on the wall by
the door.

Drawn by her need to know, Scully took a couple of
steps forward so she could see the films more
closely. Mulder let his arms fall away from her but
did not get up.  Even from where he sat he could
see that this film did not match the last ones taken
before the doctor had finally employed the
microchip: there was no solid blazing white chunk
of cancer in the middle of her skull. He found
himself trying to see Scully's face as she went
closer and closer to the films, comparing them to
one another, even lifting a hand to trace the location
of the original tumor with a finger.

Finally she turned to Dr Flambert. "What am I
missing, here?"

Flambert nodded.  "You're not missing anything,
Dana.  Your cancer is still in remission.  You have a
sinus infection."

She froze, but her jaw dropped in shock.

Mulder found that he couldn't breathe; his lungs
were locked.

Dr Flambert chatted on, ignoring their reaction.
"The original tumor may have messed up the
normal circulation patterns through your sinuses; I
assume you're not experienced with sinus
infections?"

"N-No. I'm not." Scully fought not to stutter. She
was still staring at the PET films, trying to resolve
her fears with the reassuring information displayed
there.

"The headache is from unrelieved pressure; the
dizziness is normal when the infection progresses
to the inner ear. I'll leave scrips for an antibiotic and
a decongestant at reception. Go home, take a hot
bath, and relax. You'll be fine in a few days, a week
maybe." He looked across the room at Mulder.
"Get her out of here, Mulder. I need to see some
sick people."

Dr Flambert did not wait to see how they reacted;
he just walked out, leaving them alone.

Mulder waited until the door closed behind the
doctor. Then he stood up and walked slowly up
behind her where she stood, still staring at the
films. Slowly, gently, he lowered his hands onto her
shoulders.

She was trembling. "Scully. C'mon. Let's go home."

She turned and crumbled into his arms, sobbing,
and for the second time that day they cried
together. This time they regained their control more
quickly. It was only a few minutes before they
parted and this time they were smiling as they
wiped one another's faces dry with gentle fingers.

"C'mon, Scully," Mulder spoke softly. "Let me take
you home."

She nodded, biting her lip to keep back more tears.
"Please, Mulder. The headache really is hard to
take."

"We'll pick up your scrips and fill 'em on the way."
He steered her toward the door of the examining
room.

Scully let him guide her as she fished for his
handkerchief in her suit jacket pocket. It was only
then that she actually allowed herself to look at it.
She had imagined it blood-soaked, but it was not.
Damp from being used almost constantly on the
trip from Quantico, there was no blood at all. She
shook her head in amazement and blew her nose,
unable to hide a shudder of unease despite what
she had seen on the PET scans herself.

There was still no blood.

Mulder kept his arm around her shoulders and
walked her out, looking neither right nor left, trying
not to look like he was hurrying.

***

Mulder was going to call a cab, but found one
leaving off a passenger at the main entrance and
claimed it. The driver was delighted to get a return
fare and did not grumble at the succession of
stops: first at the drive-thru pharmacy window at the
Rite Aid down the block from Scully's apartment,
then to their favorite gourmet deli, back to the
pharmacy to pick up her medicine, and only then to
her apartment.

Scully took their purchases and headed inside.
Mulder paid the cabbie and then paused on the
sidewalk to fish out his cell phone.

"Assistant Director Skinner's office, Kim speaking,
may I help you?"

"This is Mulder; can I speak to him, Kim?"

"Certainly, Agent Mulder; he's been waiting for your
call. Agent Taliaferro did call, but she didn't have
much information. Hold a moment."

Mulder listened to the familiar set of clicks and then
the equally familiar baritone was there.

"Agent Mulder?"

"Yes, sir. Agent Scully needs a week off on sick
time; I'd like to stay with her, I guess mine can be
comp time."

Skinner blinked. That was awfully straightforward;
Mulder always tried to stay with her when she was
sick, but he had never stated his plans so plainly.

"I believe that can be arranged, Agent Mulder. I
hope Agent Scully is feeling better soon." He could
not bring himself to ask, but when Taliaferro had
called, she had described them both as
'devastated' and 'terrified.' The only thing he had
ever seen that could do that to this pair of agents
was Scully's cancer; the implication was clear.

"She will," Mulder said confidently. "She has a
sinus infection; the headache is bad and she's
been having dizzy spells. The doctor said the
infection's gotten into her inner ear. But he wrote a
couple of prescriptions and told her to take it easy."

Skinner felt a wave of relief and then realized what
an emotional roller coaster both his agents must
have endured this afternoon. Mulder sounded
rather ragged. "Certainly, Agent Mulder. I'll expect
you both back to work a week from Monday."

"Thank you, sir!" Mulder was astonished; that was
seven work days off.

"Don't worry; by the time you get back, I'm sure I'll
have something big and scaly or ectoplasmic for
you to chase down."

"Sounds like a plan, sir." Mulder could not help but
grin. "Sounds like a plan. Thanks." He turned his
phone off and then headed up the sidewalk toward
Scully's apartment.  He had wasted enough time
with indecision.  Nine days off from work could be a
vacation...

...or a honeymoon.