By Hetfield
hetfield222@hotmail.com
 
 

Date: Mon, 31 Jan 2000

Spoilers: Everything up to Redux II.

Disclaimer: I don't own them. I didn't invent them. I have
borrowed them without permission and for no profit.

Rating: Oh, maybe PG13 for bad language. A fair bit of it.

Feedback: This is my first effort, so yes please.

Classification: MS UST, MT, Bill Scully POV

Summary: Set immediately after Redux II. A distraught
gunman disrupts Scully's discharge from hospital.
 

~~~

Sisters
By Hetfield
 

I'm sitting right next to the guy and I have no idea what
to say. I mean just three days ago I called him one sorry
son of a bitch. And I hurt him -- not with the name, but the
other things I said. I blamed him for Melissa's death and I
said Dana's would be his fault too. And I said the quest he
had been on for his whole life was meaningless. I called
him selfish. I haven't let myself think about which of
those things I really meant, but one thing's for sure -- I
meant to hurt him and I did.

Now he sitting there in the bed with an IV leading into
his arm, his head wrapped in a bandage and a glazed look in
his eyes and somehow I've pulled Mulder-sitting duty. Could
be the drugs, could be the concussion but I don't think
friend Fox could even tell me his own name right now.

So maybe I don't have to talk to him right away. Maybe now
would be a good opportunity to decide which of those things
I said I really meant and exactly how I feel about my baby
sister's partner. Because, thank God, it looks like she's
going to be around for quite some time and, well skip the
thanks, but it looks like Mulder isn't going anywhere
either.

Besides, after seeing the fire in Dana's eyes when she
told me to sit here and not let him out of my sight, I
figure the guy's got no chance anyway.

Unless he left now.

For Greenland.

Okay, so, real feelings. Sorry Mr Mulder but I still don't
like you. That's just Scully instinct, gut feeling. I don't
want you to come to my house for dinner. You're not going
to be my poker buddy. That's OK - I suspect the feeling's
mutual. This isn't about you and I getting together for a
beer, this is about whether I can stand you being within
100 feet of my sister without wanting to rip your head off.
Gut response - no way, not a chance.

Now, let's analyze that shall we, Mr Psychologist. I can't
blame you for Dana's death because I strongly suspect that
whatever that little chip was and wherever you got it from,
it saved her life. But, would she have had the cancer if
she hadn't met you? I don't think so. So I blame you for
her suffering.

And mine.

And my mother's.

Now, my other sister. I've heard the story. I know you
didn't shoot her - I even believe Dana when she says you
would have done anything to save her. But wait, that's not
right is it? You wouldn't do anything to save her, you
wouldn't give up your hunt for little green men would you?
So I blame you for Melissa's death. But not alone - I blame
you but I also blame the men who did it, and the men who
told them to do it and.... big breath, I also blame Dana.

Bit of a shock that isn't it? I didn't realize it for a
long time. The men who killed Melissa were there to kill
Dana. She has gotten herself involved in this life where
people kill her family and all she cares about is making
sure you are okay and your quest goes on. So it's her fault
but it also comes back to you again, doesn't it?

Wait, sounds like little Sis is on her way back, with
company. Oh and isn't that interesting - for the last ten
minutes I might as well have been a chair for all the
attention Mulder has paid me but now we hear Dana's voice
and all of a sudden Mulder can't take his eyes off the door.

The door to the room opens and instantly Dana's eyes go
straight to Mulder's. And Mulder's, slightly glazed,
slightly unfocused go to hers. And she SMILES. And Mulder
gives her this kind of ridiculous goofy grin back.

"Mulder," Dana says, "how you doing partner?" She takes
his hand but his eyes never leave her face.

"Scully," he says, and the word slurs a little.

Then Dana's boss and two other agents come into the room,
then my mom and all of a sudden the room is really crowded.

"Mulder." Skinner nods at his agent and I'd have known he
was ex-marines just from that one barked word. This is a
man I understand. Bet he hates Mulder too.

Mulder's eyes track over to Skinner but if he recognizes
him it doesn't show. His eyes slip back to Dana's almost
immediately. Hers never left his.

"Agent Scully can we talk?" Skinner gestures to the two
agents with him and a far corner of the room.

Finally my sister looks at me. "Keep an eye on him would
you Bill?"

Sourly, I nod. She's only going to a corner of the room
for christ's sake. And Mulder's eyes track her. Every. Step.
Of. The. Way. He's got this look on his face now, like he's
trying to figure out what the hell is going on but just
can't make his brain function.

Good luck pal. They don't call them mind-altering
substances for nothing. That little exchange was
interesting thought wasn't it? My sister has been out of
her hospital bed for a grand total of 5 hours and she's
already ignoring her health and looking out for his.

Although, he did just save her life - twice if you count
the chip in her neck.

God, I just thought of something. He just saved my life
too.

I don't care. You're a loser Mulder. Your life sucks and
you've dragged Dana down with you. To hell with logic.
She's my baby sister and you've ruined her life - now leave
us the hell alone!

That sounds ungrateful even in my own head. So I need to
clarify. Over the last 5 hours Mulder has been the perfect
FBI Agent. Hell, who am I kidding, the guy went well beyond
the call of duty - he's a hero and yes, goddammit, he saved
my life. It's just he's not ... well, just not a hero I
want to be part of my family.

Oh, for crying out loud, I'm trying to avoid thinking
about the last 5 hours and every thought leads back to it.
Maybe if I face it, it will get it out of my head once and
for all.
 
 
 
 

Mulder came into my sister's room about 7am this morning.
Already Dana was looking better and feeling stronger and I
was too damned happy to have my sister back to let him ruin
the mood. Besides, he had a suit on and it was pretty
obvious he'd be going off to work soon.

The minute he walked into the room my sister's eyes lit up
and she smiled. I mean I've seen her smile before - this
room has been nothing but smiles all round for 2 days now,
ever since we discovered Dana's cancer was in remission,
but this was different. It started slow and tender and
ended up all teeth. Blinding. I swear I thought her eyes
would light up the whole room.

And damn me if the schmuck didn't smile back. It dropped
years off him. Suddenly he looked like a senior showing up
for a date, wearing his daddy's suit.

"Scully," he said and it took me a minute to realize he
wasn't talking to me, probably didn't even know I was in
the room.

"Mulder," my sister replied and reached out for his hand.
And that was it. It looked to me like neither one of them
was going to say another word for the whole day.

So many scathing comments leapt into my head that it took
me a minute to sort through them for the best. I mean
opportunities like that don't pop up every day.

Before I opened my mouth, Mom walked in and saved Dana. Or
was it that she saved me from myself? Whatever.

Anyway, Mom walked in and it was smiles all round again.

"Dana", said Mom, then, "Bill. Fox." I listened really
hard for the difference between how she said my name and
how she said his. And do you know what - I didn't hear
anything, not a damned note of difference.

I glared at Mulder. *You are not my fucking brother* I
told him with that look.

And what do you know - that talking without words thing he
and my sister do - I guess I can do it too, because Mulder
understood me just fine. He gulped audibly, and leapt to
his feet.

"Mrs. Scully," he said, then turned back to look at my
sister.

I followed his gaze .. and froze. I didn't need to be a
mind reader to understand the look Dana was giving me, I'd
learnt what it meant over 32 years of hard experience. It
was the I-am-going-to-kill-you-Bill-Scully look. And boy
was it effective. This time I gulped.

Luckily for me, Mulder was speaking and my sister's
attention was distracted. "Scully, I have to go. I've got
an eight o'clock with Skinner. I'll drop by your house
tonight, make sure the discharge goes alright." He gave
another small smile, obviously pleased with the idea of
Dana coming home from the hospital.

"Thanks Mulder. I'd like that." She gave him a smaller
version of this morning's smile and the idiot melted. In
the corner, Mom had this knowing smile on her face.

And it was all too fucking much.

I growled.

I don't think I've ever growled before but that was
definitely the sound that came out of my throat.

Mulder shot up so abruptly you would think someone had
zapped him with a cattle prod, and he dropped Dana's hand
like a hotcake. "I ... uh ... goodbye," he managed and moved
towards the door.

It opened before he got there, slammed violently back
against the wall and this is where everything started to go
totally to hell because in stumbled a young nurse,
propelled by a scruffy guy wearing a camouflage jacket and
waving a semi automatic pistol.

There was this really surreal moment where everyone stood
absolutely still, like we were all posing for some kind of
Hollywood action photo... I was completely aware of
everything going on in the ward. I saw that the young nurse
was in fact a candy striper, no older than sixteen if she
was a day. She was terrified. I saw Mulder had halted his
move towards the door and already his right hand was moving
towards his gun. Beside him my sister was pulling herself
up in her bed and Mom had her hands raised to her mouth as
if she were pantomiming a definition of shock.

My heart dumped adrenaline into my system with an almost
audible thump ... and suddenly the door to the room slammed
closed, the gunmen grabbed the candy striper again and
pulled her back against him and things were back to
happening too damned fast to follow.

"Just stay where you are and shut up or I'll kill everyone
in the room," the gunman said and given the sweat running
down his face and the panic that oozed from him I didn't
doubt it. I cast a frantic glance at Mulder praying he
wasn't going to turn this into a shoot out and was glad to
see he had dropped his hand and pulled his suit coat closed
to cover his gun.

From outside the room there came the sound of frantic
footsteps but the gunman screamed, "I will kill everyone in
this room if anyone so much as touches that door. Keep out
of this corridor!"

There was a sudden drop in the noise level and after a
moment or two there was silence.

I became aware of the choking sobs of the candy striper
and my own harsh breathing.

"You three, on the floor in the corner," said the gunman
with a wave of his weapon.

I moved over near Mom and we slid to the floor. A moment
later Mulder joined us. "I don't believe this. I don't
fucking believe this," Mulder was muttering. "Of all the
fucking rooms in this whole funking hospital ... I don't
believe it."

His muttering cut off abruptly when the phone next to
Dana's bed rang - I jumped about a foot at the sound.

The gunman grabbed the candy striper around the neck with
his gun arm and used the other to snatch up the phone.

"What!" He listened for a moment, his harsh breathing
growing quicker. Obviously he wasn't pleased by what he
heard. "Don't talk to me about surrendering. Give me Nicky
and let me leave or I will kill the people in this room."
He slammed the phone down and began to pace across the room
and back, dragging the poor girl with him as he went. It
was obvious he was getting more and more agitated with each
pass and the fear I had felt ever since he burst into the
room blossomed until I could barely breathe. I was
paralyzed by the fear that Mom and Dana and I were all
about to die.

I racked my brain for something to do. Something heroic
but not stupid. I came up empty. We aren't trained to deal
with psychos in the navy - all our targets are acquired
from miles away.

Suddenly, I saw Dana start to push herself up in the bed
and I thought I would hyperventilate. No matter how many
times I tell myself that this is what Dana is trained to
do, I can't stop the instinctual panic that starts every
time I think of my baby sister in danger.

Then I notice that Mulder is moving too. I feel him tense
beside me, readying himself to climb to his feet. It was
knowledge of this move that I know has triggered Dana's.

The look he exchanged with her then was nothing like the
ridiculous grins they had exchanged earlier. It was serious
and grim and somehow an entire conversation.

At the time all I thought was - this is what they look
like when they are on a case together. Hard and competent
and professional. But looking back on it now, I think I
know what they said.

Something like *Don't Mulder* from my sister.

And from Mulder, *I'm armed, I'm healthy, I'm mobile and I
have experience at this. You know I have to do this.*

And after a long moment, grudging acceptance from my
sister. Oh, and *Be careful* or something equivalent.

As soon as the gunman saw Mulder on his feet he freaked
and started screaming. "Siddown. Siddown. Siddown, man or
I'll kill you. I'll kill you all."

My lips and mouth were so dry I couldn't swallow. I was
sure the guy was going to gun down Mulder and with
horrified fascination my eyes were drawn to his finger,
already tightening on the trigger.

"Sir, that young lady can hardly breathe. Please just let
her sit on the floor. No one can hurt you in here. You are
in control."

The candy striper was staring at Mulder with wide,
terrified eyes but Mulder never let his gaze stray from the
gunman. His voice was smooth cognac. Calmness personified.

I tried to imagine what he was seeing. Our captor was
young, about 24 or 25. He looked to be Italian or maybe
Greek, well built, with curly black hair and a heavy shadow
beard on his chin. His jacket was stained with sweat and he
reeked of it, rivulets running down his face and neck.

His crazed eyes were fixed firmly on Mulder now, as was
the barrel of the Uzi. I recognized the gun from training.
God knows where he had gotten it or how he had managed to
bring it into the hospital. It occurred to me that Mulder
was either very brave . or a fool.

"Shuddup," the gunman said, "shuddup, right now."

"Sir, she can hardly breathe. You'll kill her. The police
won't deal with you if you kill her." Mulder's voice was
reason itself. Level, controlled, soft. "You have the gun.
No one can hurt you in here. Just let her sit down. She's
just a kid."

"All right! All right! Just shut up." He tossed the candy
striper away from him. "Siddown against the wall and don't
move."
 

The young girl dropped, sobbing with relief.

"Are you all right?" Mulder called to her.

She nodded to him, clutching her arms tightly around her
middle and rocking slightly.

"What's your name?"

"S..Sandy," the girl sobbed.

"OK Sandy, just take nice slow breaths and you'll be just
fine," Mulder directed. I couldn't stop staring. This was a
Mulder I had never seen before. He was even making me feel
a little bit relaxed. I glanced up at my sister and she
must have seen my astonishment because she raised her
eyebrows and gave me a Mona Lisa smile.

Mulder watched Sandy until she had her breathing under
control and then turned back to the gunman. "Thank you. May
I ask you something else Sir?"

"I ain't sir to you, pretty boy."

"I don't know your name."

The gunman snorted with irritation. "Emilio David Garcia
is the name of the man who is going to shoot your ass if
you don't shut the fuck up!" Garcia's voice was a shout by
the end and Mulder must have read the threat in it because
he fell silent.
 
 

Suddenly the phone rang again. Garcia stepped forward and
grabbed it.

My sister took advantage of his momentary distraction to
mouth some encouragement to her partner. "Good work," she
said and Mulder's mouth turned up slightly at the corners.

And then Garcia was gesturing at Mulder. "Yo, pretty boy,
they want proof you're alive. C'mon and talk."

Mulder edged past me and around the bed to take the phone
from Garcia. Just as he reached for it Garcia jammed the
gun hard against his throat. Mulder winced, but didn't make
a sound. "You be real careful what you say or I'll blow you
away man, I mean it."

Mulder nodded and reached again for the phone. His hand
was rock steady. I had no idea he could be this cool.

"Hello?" He listened to whoever was on the phone. Almost
involuntarily his eyes went to Dana's. She nodded slightly.

Suddenly it occurred to me that by this stage the police
would know exactly who was in the room with the gunman. I
wondered if it was Dana's boss on the other end of the
phone.

"We're all fine," Mulder said. Then, "no." And more
forcefully, "NO!"

After a moment more of listening, he nodded. "Okay."

Garcia grabbed the phone from Mulder's hand. I kind of
sympathized. The one -conversation had been driving me
crazy too.
 
 

As Garcia started to talk I saw Mulder's hand move towards
his side and I knew he was thinking of taking Garcia out.
But the gunman's movements were frenetic and whatever they
were saying on the phone he was making him even more upset.
His finger still rested directly on the trigger of the Uzi
and I feared that even if Mulder shot him, his reflex
clenching on the trigger could turn the room into a
bloodbath. Mulder must have come to the same conclusion
because he relaxed his hand again.

"You let me and Nicky out of here and into a car and all
these people live. Otherwise next time you call there won't
be nobody to answer the phone!" Garcia slammed the handset
down and paced to the other side of the room.

"Who's Nicky, Emilio?" That oh-so calm voice from Mulder
again.

"What?" Garcia swung so quickly and violently I was sure
we were all going to die. I heard Mom gasp beside me and
grabbed for her hand.

Mulder took a step. Away from Dana and Mom and I, away
from the bed. He was careful not to move closer to Garcia.
I think it was a way of making sure Garcia focused on him.
Maybe Mulder thought he had gone too far and wanted to make
sure no one else got shot. I don't know. If he thought he
was going to die there was no sign of it in his expression,
which remained outwardly calm throughout.

"Who's Nicky that you're willing to kill for her, Emilio?"

"HIM! Nicky is a him! He is my son."

I watched as Mulder took a second to process that. He
nodded and said softly, "He's sick isn't he, Emilio?" And
this time it was too much and Garcia pounced at Mulder and
slammed the butt of the gun into his temple.

Mulder dropped like a rock.

Dana reacted instantly, pushing back the sheets and
struggling out of bed. But she got tangled in her IV line.

Garcia bent over Mulder ... and I saw his eyes widen as he
saw the gun. He reached to Mulder's waist and drew it out.
Then reached back in for Mulder's identification.

"FBI!" he screamed at Mulder's unconscious form.
"Goddamned, motherfucking, asshole FBI."

I still feel sick when I think about what happened next.
He kicked out at Mulder, catching him squarely in the ribs.
Unconscious, Mulder couldn't even brace for the blow. The
sound of boot connecting with flesh was thoroughly vile,
something I will never forget.

Once more and a third time Garcia slammed his boot into
Mulder's chest before a whirlwind in the form of my sister
landed on his back.

I'd been so stunned by what was happening to Mulder I'd
stopped watching Dana. What the hell was she doing? She had
no chance of overpowering Garcia. Her attack seemed to
bring Garcia to his senses, which I guess had been the aim.
Direct his rage away from Mulder, force him to remember
everyone else in the room. Garcia dropped the Uzi and using
both hands grabbed Dana and flung her hard, headfirst into
the wall.

By this time both Mom and I were on our feet, but Garcia
bent and grabbed the Uzi. "Don't," he said, low and
threatening, and I knew we had no chance.

I looked over to Dana. She was picking herself up off the
floor, a trickle of blood running from her nose. She seemed
dazed. I moved towards her, involuntarily. I've never been
able to stand seeing my little sister hurt.

"Sit down," Garcia ordered, the gun pointing steadily at
my midriff. I dropped to the floor and beside me Mom did
the same. "You too," the gunman waved at Dana.

She shook her head. "I need to see if he's okay."

"Sit down or I will kill you and then I will kill him,"
Garcia was all control now.

Reluctantly, Dana dropped to the floor beside Mom and I.

There was a long moment of silence then. I saw the young
candy striper, Sandy, once more with her arms clutched
around her knees, white faced with shock. At her feet
Mulder lay where he had fallen. His back was to me, but I
could see his torso rise and fall and surprised myself by
feeling glad he was alive.

When I looked at my sister, she was absently holding her
arm, where she had ripped out the IV line, but I doubt she
even knew she was doing it. Every ounce of her attention
was on her unconscious partner. I knew there was nothing
Dana wanted more in the whole world at that moment than to
go to Mulder's side.

I don't know how long we all sat like statues as Garcia
paced and jerked and muttered about traitors and pigs and
FBI. It felt like an eternity. More than likely it was
about an hour. In that whole time Mulder never moved.

Inevitably it was the ringing of the phone that broke the
silence. Garcia picked it up. "Where's Nicky?" He listened
for a moment. "No more delay. I know about your FBI spy ...
... yeah he's alive... No he's not in any condition to come
to the phone. I want Nicky ...what? Fine!" Garcia dropped
the handset onto the bed and moved towards Mulder. Beside
me I felt Dana tense. I grabbed hold of her arm. She glared
at me and I just shrugged. Two days ago I was told you
weren't going to die of cancer after all, Sis, I'm hardly
going to let you get shot by some madman. Let friend Mulder
take care of himself.

Garcia knelt and grabbed Mulder by the shoulder and shook.
Mulder groaned and curled himself into a ball. Garcia shook
harder. The only response was an incoherent mutter from
Mulder.

Undeterred, Garcia simply grabbed a handful of hair and
dragged him to his feet. It must have hurt like hell
because Mulder came to about halfway up and scrambled
desperately to get his legs under him.

That's when I got my first look at him. Dammit, the guy
looked like death. He was pale as a ghost except for the
left side of his face, which was streaked with blood. The
wound on his temple was a messy knot of hair and blood. His
eyes were wide and unfocused.

He got his feet under him but couldn't seem to balance. He
staggered, and Dana gave a small whimper of distress,
trying to pull free of my grip. I cast a glance down at her
and saw she was almost as pale as he was, unshed tears
glistening in her eyes. Oh, Sis, when did it get this
serious?

Garcia grabbed hold of Mulder's upper arm and he finally
stood still, swaying slightly. "Hey, FBI, the pigs outside
want to talk to you."

Garcia dragged Mulder towards the phone. Losing his
precarious balance again, Mulder stumbled after Garcia.
Picking up the phone, Garcia thrust it into Mulder's hand.
Mulder just stared at it. His eyes were glassy and
unfocused and I'm not sure he even knew where he was.

Suddenly, Dana slipped out of my grasp and was up and at
Mulder's side before I could move.

"Let me help him," she said to Garcia. Then, without
waiting for a response, she turned to her partner.

"Mulder," she said, using one hand to gently cup his right
cheek.

Ever so slowly he focused on her. "Scully?" He sounded
bewildered. I had a sudden horrifying fear of brain damage.

"That's right partner, we're at the hospital, remember?"

"Hospital?"

I saw the worry in my sister's face but she continued to
talk to Mulder in the same soothing tone. "That's right,
you were talking to Mr. Garcia."

I saw the look in Mulder's eyes as it all came crashing
back to him. He jerked out of Scully's hands and swung his
head around, looking for Garcia. The movement must have
upset his balance because his face went an alarming shade
of green. He slammed his eyes shut and reached out
desperately for something to stabilize himself against.

And found my sister.

"Looks like another concussion, Mulder," she said and the
sadness in her voice made me shiver. "Just take it slowly."

But Garcia had grown tired of waiting and pushed between
Dana and Mulder with the phone.

"Talk to them, fibbie. Tell them if Nicky isn't here in one
hour they can order the flag to drape over your coffin."

Mulder took the phone, still leaning heavily against Dana.
"Mulder...... yes sir, I'm fine .... she's fine .....
Everyone is fine .....no, I .... Mr. Garcia says he will
kill me if Nicky isn't here in one hour." There was a long
period during which Mulder listened and didn't say
anything. I tried to read his face but the man could have
won poker tournaments it was so expressionless. Finally, he
spoke again. "I don't recommend that..."

Incensed, Garcia leapt forward and struck Mulder again.
The gun met flesh just below his eye on the cheekbone. With
a grunt Mulder dropped to his knees. Only a frantic grab by
Dana stopped him from thumping against the wall. But Garcia
wasn't finished. He shoved Dana away, grabbed Mulder by the
collar and shook him. "Tell them to bring Nicky."

Mulder clamped his lips together and shut his eyes. He
looked like he was about to toss his cookies any second.

Enough was enough. I didn't even know I'd moved until I
heard Mom hiss, "Bill!" beside me.

"Let him go, for crying out loud. He's obviously got a
concussion and you shaking him isn't going to make it any
better." The words had felt brave and necessary when I said
them but the reaction I got was totally unexpected.

Everyone in the room froze. Mom was staring at me from the
floor, her arm still grasping the leg of my pants. Sandy,
the candy striper, was wide eyed. Scully and Garcia were
both gaping at me and even Mulder swung his head to look at
me out of glazed eyes.

I felt the bizarre urge to pat my head and see if I'd
suddenly sprouted horns.

"Shut up! Shut up! Everyone shut the hell up." Garcia
started to pace again. He picked up the phone receiver and
shouted, "You bring me Nicky!" then slammed the phone down
and ripped the cord out of the wall. Both Mulder and my
sister grimaced at that.

"Get over in the corner. Get. Now." Garcia was waving his
gun wildly, and I felt my bravado disappear as if it had
never been, replaced by a wave of fear and bile.

I dropped to the floor and watched as Dana led Mulder over
next to Mom and I. He more or less collapsed to the floor
when she let go the grip on his arm.

"Get over there. Move!" Garcia was yelling at the
terrified young candy striper but she sat as if paralyzed.
Roughly he grabbed her arm and deliberately flung her
across the room at Mulder and Dana.

She landed on top of them in a tangle of arms and legs.
Mulder let out an "oompf" and lost all the color in his
face. I guess one of Sandy's feet had accidentally caught
him in the ribs where Garcia's feet had made such
deliberate impact earlier.

Dana helped the girl into a sitting position and passed
her over to Mom who started to talk to her soothingly. Good
old Mom. Give her someone hurt or in need and she's in her
element.

After her cursory check of Sandy, my sister turned her
attention to her partner.

"Mulder, are you all right?" If the situation hadn't been
so damn tense I would have laughed. The guy's as white as a
ghost, with blood running down his cheek from Garcia's
latest attack, a bloody lump on his temple, his eyes
dilated and barely focusing and his arms tightly wrapped
around ribs either broken or pretty damn sore. So what the
hell kind of question is *are you all right?*

Mulder must have agreed with me. Either that or he was too
out of it to hear her, because he didn't respond.

Dana moved closer and gently cupped his uninjured cheek.
"Hey partner, I need you with me here."

Ever so slowly, and with obvious effort, Mulder focused
his eyes on Dana's face.

And panicked.

"Nooooooo." It was a low moan, full of pain like I had
never imagined. I thought he must be dying. Internal
injuries or something.

"Nononononono." Mulder was rocking and clutching his arms
tightly around himself.

Dana lost it a little too. I could see she had no more
idea what was going on with her partner than I did.

"Mulder?" her voice quivered a little. "Mulder please.
Tell me what's wrong. Please talk to me."

In answer Mulder unwrapped one of his arms from around his
waist and slowly, shakily touched the blood, which had
dried between Dana's nose and lip. Oh God. He thought it
was the cancer again.

Dana's hand followed Mulder's to her lip and she must have
realized what Mulder was thinking as well. Her eyes filled
with tears. "Mulder, no. It's not that. Garcia threw me
against the wall. It's just a nosebleed Mulder, not the
cancer."

Mulder stared into her face for a long minute before he
accepted her words. The tension bled out of him and he sat
back and let her examine him.

Finally she sat back and announced, "Well, you have
another concussion and some wicked bruising but I don't
think he broke any ribs. You know the drill. No sleeping
until we can assess how serious it is."

Mulder nodded distractedly, but he wasn't really listening
to her - hadn't been since she started her examination of
him. He was watching Garcia as the man paced and muttered
to himself on the other side of the room. He had a deeply
thoughtful look on his face and was chewing softly on his
lower lip.

It was obviously a posture Dana recognized because she
shook her head. "No, Mulder. Let the experts handle this.
That's what hostage negotiators and SWAT are trained for."

Mulder gave up his study of Garcia and turned to her.
"Scully, they have no access to this room. You know that
they panic when the UNSUB cuts off communication. We're on
the third floor at the end of a corridor. The only way they
can come in is by the door. They probably have no idea of
the layout. If they can see or hear what's going on, they
must know that any attack is going to put all of the
hostages at risk. This room is too small to risk stray
bullets."

It was weird how analytical and emotionless he was.
Speaking about the UNSUB and the hostages as if they didn't
include himself or Dana or the rest of us.

"Mulder, what about the child? I know they won't hand him
over, but they can negotiate, try to get Garcia out in the
corridor, let him talk to the boy by phone, something."

Mulder looked furtively at Garcia. The gunman was still
wrapped up in his own little world. The next time Mulder
spoke his voice was barely audible, a breath of air. "Nicky
is dead."

I STARED. Was he crazy. How could he be so calm? This guy
was going to kill us all. Getting that kid to him was the
only hope we had left. How could Mulder just sit there?

Suddenly, Dana was there. "Just take deep breaths, Bill.
Take it easy." Mortified, I realized I was on the edge of a
panic attack. Dana waited until I had my breathing back
under control before she turned back to Mulder.

He had his eyes closed, head tilted back against the wall.
Thanks for the concern, man, I thought uncharitably. In the
glare of the hospital fluorescents he looked ghostly pale.
Suddenly, I saw that Dana, too, looked pale and tired. She
had been on her deathbed a mere 48 hours earlier.

"Hey," Dana said softly, but he didn't move. Gently, she
ran her knuckles down the side of his face. "You still with
us, Mulder?"

He opened his eyes and just drank her in. Her own eyes
were brimming. I felt a flush rise to my cheeks, as if I
was interrupting an incredibly private moment.

Frustrated at once again being the odd one out, I cleared
my throat loudly. To my satisfaction, they both jumped.
Mulder quickly got back to business.

"That was Skinner on the phone before. Nicky had leukemia.
He died this morning." There was real sorrow in his voice,
sorrow for a child he had never met.

"The only way we're all going to get out of here is if
Garcia surrenders. Scully, I know I'm not a hostage
negotiator. God knows, I know that. But now he's ripped out
the phone connection I'm the best chance we have."

"You're out of your mind," I said. The black circles under
Dana's eyes and my mortification at my earlier panic attack
made me more vehement than I might otherwise have been.

"What is it, Mulder? What's your problem? You're not going
to be satisfied until you've killed every member of my
family? Well, hell, go for it, buddy, three in one stroke
this time! Damn it, I was right - you are a sorry son of a
bitch."

Okay, I went too far. It wasn't the time or the place.
Hearing Mom's and Dana's simultaneous gasps just confirmed
what I already knew. I'd just fucked up - big time.

I didn't want to look at Mulder. Didn't need to. I knew
what his face would look like - it would look like it had
the last time I called him a sorry son of a bitch - like a
puppy who has been kicked in the head, knows it must be his
fault, but can't figure out for the life of him what he did
to deserve it.

I couldn't face that combination of shock, guilt and pain
right now. Nor could I face the fury I felt blazing from my
sister. So I turned, hopefully, to Mom.

Oh hell. No help there. My mom doesn't get angry very
often. With two boys, two girls and a husband away at sea I
guess you either learn tolerance or die young of an ulcer.
So when Maggie Scully did lose her temper it was always
spectacular. All of her children learned to read the signs.
If she looked ...

Okay. If she looked pretty much like she did right then it
meant run for the hills. Chin raised and jutting out. Eyes
staring at you as if they could see into your soul and were
oh so disappointed in what they saw. Mouth pursed, turning
down at the corners. Hands starting to clench.

I fought the urge to cry out *I'm sorry, Mommy>. I command
hundreds of men damn it and this woman can still reduce me
to a schoolboy with a look.

"William Scully Junior, how dare you!" she hissed. "You
have no right..."

Now see, the thing is, I knew she was right but people
telling me I'm wrong always makes me feel contrary. Dana's
the same. And Charlie. It's a Scully thing. So I blame
genetics for what I said next.

"Look he just said he's no negotiator for crying out loud.
He didn't save Melissa, he didn't stop Dana getting
abducted, what makes you think he won't fuck this up and
get the whole lot of us killed."

Mom opened her mouth to speak, but before she uttered a
sound Dana cut in. I flinched in anticipation of the
attack. But there was no fire in my sister's voice when she
spoke. Instead there was an icy coldness that was somehow
much, much worse.

"Bill," she said, "just shut the fuck up. You have no idea
what you are talking about."

And then she dismissed me, as if I was some lowlife who
had wandered across her path.

She turned to Mulder who had his head between his hands
and refused to meet her eyes. She started to talk to him
softly but I didn't hear what she said because Maggie
Scully hadn't finished with me yet.

"Bill Scully, we are all scared and tense right now but
that is no excuse for what you just said. Not only was it
unjustified but it was malicious and cruel. I am ashamed of
you."

And then SHE dismissed me, turning back to Sandy.

Damn it, how the hell did I become the bad guy in this
drama?

"If Nicky isn't here in 40 minutes, I'm going to kill you,
fibbie." I wasn't the only one who jumped this time. We
were all so caught up in the Scully family drama we'd all
but forgotten Garcia was there.

Mulder turned to Dana and gently ran his hand down the
side of her face. Their eyes met ... and I gave in. The
last time I had seen anyone look at me like that was Tara
the day I proposed. So much for my strategy for getting
Mulder out of Dana's life before it was too late. I could
see from that look it was already way, way too late.

Mulder didn't speak. After that look he didn't need to.

He climbed to his feet, staggering slightly, obviously
still dizzy from the blow to the head.

Garcia lifted the gun so it pointed directly at Mulder,
but didn't otherwise move. Obviously he had decided Mulder
was no threat.

"Tell me about Nicky, Emilio." Sick and bleeding, Mulder
still managed to get that tone back into his voice - the
one that said, trust me, I'm totally in control. I can help
you here.

"What the fuck you care for, pig?"

Mulder shrugged carelessly. "Just figured you might want
to talk about him. You look pretty young - I figure he
can't be more than nine or ten."

"He's FIVE, man," Emilio spat out and as if a dam had been
released he started to talk about his little kid. Told
Mulder what he looked like, when he was born, his first
words, his first steps, how his name was Nicola but
everyone called him Nicky. He talked about his christening
and his first birthday party.

On and on, words full of love. Mulder's face seemed to
reflect genuine compassion, but all I could think was that
the boy was dead and this man was going to freak when he
found out and how the hell was Mulder going to get us out
of this!

Garcia then talked about his split with his wife, the
court order that forced him to stay away from his boy, the
new boyfriend trying to become "Daddy" to Nicky.

All this time, Mulder gently led the conversation, deftly
steering onto a new topic when Garcia became agitated or
upset. It was obviously draining him. He was shaking all
over and sweat ran down his face, mixing with the blood to
form small rivers.

He was gnawing on his lip, trying to decide how to phrase
the next question. "He sounds like a beautiful son, Emilio.
I'm sorry he got sick."

Shit! I held my breath. Last time Mulder asked about the
kid's health he'd been pistol-whipped. Beside me Dana
tensed, ready to leap to Mulder's aid if Garcia flipped
out. I got ready to tackle her to prevent that.

But Garcia was calm, almost resigned. "No you're not. You
don't give a damn. You just want to get out of here." He
looked at his watch. "If they don't bring me Nicky in the
next eight minutes, I'm going to shoot you FBI."

"Emilio, they aren't going to let Nicky come here. If you
shoot me they will come in with guns blazing and no one
will walk out of here alive. Emilio, listen." Mulder took a
step and staggered, closed his eyes and swayed slightly. He
looked terrible. I've had a concussion and I know he must
have been hurting like a son of a bitch. I remember my head
pounding so bad I could hardly think and the whole damn
world tilting and twisting all around me making me dizzy
and nauseous. I admitted to myself I couldn't have tried to
talk to a psychotic gunman with my head like that. At the
time I hadn't been able to talk at all - just moan.

Mulder had grown whiter and whiter as the conversation
went on and now looked like he should be lying a bed
somewhere on some pretty hefty medication. Reaching for the
wall Mulder leaned into it. This support seemed to allow
him to master the dizziness and after a moment he opened
his eyes and started to talk again. "Emilio, you need to
put the gun down and surrender. They won't deal with you
while you're armed."

"No." Garcia was adamant. He jerked the gun towards Mulder.

"All right," Mulder put in quickly. "Emilio, why don't you
just let Sandy go. Let her go free. They can see you want
this to end well, a sign of good faith. And she's just a
kid. Her dad's probably worried about her somewhere."

Garcia was starting to waver. I could see it in his face.
The first sign of hesitation. "If I let her go, will they
bring Nicky to me?"

Now Mulder hesitated and I realized in this whole
conversation he had never once lied to Garcia, never had he
indicated Garcia would see the boy.
 

"I think this is all going to end badly ... soon, unless
you give them some sign of good faith," Mulder said.

"All right! All right!" Garcia gestured at Sandy. "Get up."

My mom gave the girl a brief hug, for reassurance and she
rose to her feet, hope suddenly warring with fear in her
eyes.

Garcia stepped close to her and she would have backed away
fi Mulder hadn't laid a hand on her arm. "It's okay," he
said and I could see she believed him. Grudgingly I
admitted to myself that I would have believed him too. He
seemed quite good at this psychology stuff.

"Tell them I let you go to prove I'm negotiating in good
faith," Garcia was telling Sandy. "Tell them if Nicky isn't
here in ten minutes, fibbie here..." Garcia trailed off at
the sudden sound of pounding footsteps in the corridor.
Mulder recognized the sounds at the same time as Dana and
they exchanged horrified looks.

"Get down!" Dana yelled to me while dragging mom to the
ground and covering mom's body with her own. I dived into
the corner and tried to cover both of them.

I saw Mulder drop and then realize Sandy was still
standing, rooted to the spot in the middle of the floor.
With a curse he launched to his feet and grabbed her,
swinging her down and covering her with his body, as Garcia
opened up with the Uzi.

Mulder shouted and slumped bonelessly on top of Sandy. The
sound was almost lost in a cacophony of other noises. The
sound of the Uzi was deafening but only lasted a second or
two before the door burst open and figures in black stormed
the room. Shots rang out and I watched, stunned, as Garcia
dropped in front of me a neat hole in his head and a look
of surprise on his face.

The whole thing was over as suddenly and inexplicably as
it had begun. The sound of the shots in the tiny room had
been staggering after the tense stand off of the last five
hours and it was only Dana wiggling under me that made me
move.

"Mulder!"

She pushed me away as if I was an inanimate object and I'm
sure she didn't even know it was me she moved.

So many people had crowded into the tiny room I lost sight
of her amongst a sea of black legs. I helped mom to her
feet and we tried to push through the sea of men to where a
circle had formed around my sister and her partner.

My mind used the time to show me a picture of the way
Mulder might look after half a dozen close range rounds
from an Uzi had shredded him up. So, when the FBI behemoths
finally moved to reveal Mulder sitting on the floor holding
his right arm tightly, but otherwise whole, it was almost
anticlimactic.

Mulder obviously thought so too, because he pushed Dana
away saying, "Relax Scully, it's just a flesh wound. Won't
even need stitches."

"Thank you for the opinion, Doctor Mulder," my sister
said, in that prissy superior tone I have always found as
annoying as hell. To give Mulder credit, the guy offered
his arm up to her inspection with nothing more than a pout
and a quick long suffering glance towards the ceiling.

After a minute she relaxed, "OK Mulder, you're right. This
should be fine with some antiseptic and a bandage. But
DON'T do this to me again, OK?"

Mulder looked like he was going to say something smart-ass
in reply but whatever he saw in my sister's face made him
change his mind. Instead, he used his good arm to cup her
chin and pull her close, then he planted a soft kiss on her
forehead.

They exchanged words then but I couldn't hear them past
the steam coming out of my ears.

Bastard! My sister! In front of a room full of agents!
Suddenly, I decided some blood and a few spilled internal
organs might look good on Fox Mulder and I knew just the
man for the job.

Good ol' mom grabbed me by the bicep before I'd taken two
steps. My anger was nothing next to hers. I saw by the look
on her face I was not forgiven yet and her fingers dug into
my arm like a vise. Reluctantly, I subsided.

"What the hell kind of operation do you call this?" Dana
was suddenly on her feet. There wasn't a man under six foot
in that room and yet they all fell silent and all but
shuffled their feet in the face of my five foot nothing
sister.

"You could have killed everyone in this damned room. Damn
it, he was about to let one hostage go."

"Scully.." I saw Mulder look up at Scully, trying to get
her attention; watched with no small satisfaction as his
face turned green. One of the SWAT guys spoke over the top
of him.

"We had no intel. Once he pulled out the phone, we had
nothing to go on but his last word that he'd start shooting
in one hour. We waited as long as we could."

"And it didn't occur to you to try to get picture, sound,
anything in here before the big offensive." I knew my
sister was over reacting. The adrenaline of the last few
hours, her fear for her partner, needed an outlet and the
FBI guys were a convenient target. But I could see the SWAT
guy getting angry and it looked like this could get nasty,
fast.

"There wasn't time." the SWAT guy choked off in mid
sentence, staring in surprise as Mulder, obviously sick of
being ignored, hauled himself to his feet by the simple
expedient of grabbing the SWAT guy by the belt and pulling.

Almost immediately he started to slump and grabbed out
wildly, ending up leaning all his weight on the
flabbergasted SWAT guy's shoulder.

Christ Mulder, only you.

"Scully, he's right," Mulder said ignoring the stares he
was getting from everyone else in the room. "There was no
way this was going to end well. We could have got Sandy
out, maybe your mom, but eventually Garcia was going to
lose it. No question."

At this, his strength seemed to leave him and he crashed
to his knees.

My sister was once again all Florence Nightingale. "Mulder
are you okay?"

He looked at her, eyes unfocussed, pale as hell, and said,
"No. I feel like shit. I'm going to sleep now," and
promptly passed out.

I thought my sister would lose it then, but she just gave
a sigh and turned to the SWAT guy. "I... I'm sorry, I guess
I'm a little tense right now. Could you possibly help me
get him to the bed."

They moved Mulder to the bed. My sister refused to talk to
anyone until he had been examined and hooked up to an IV.
She'd guessed wrong on the ribs - he'd cracked two. When
they had been wrapped and the CAT scan came back clear and
it was agreed Mulder had a "mild" concussion, she finally
let herself be dragged off for a debriefing and here I am
somehow stuck with babysitting duty.
 
 
 
 

Mulder loves my sister, there's no doubt whatsoever in my
mind about that. And my sister, whether she admits it or
not, loves Mulder. But that doesn't answer my question
about whether he's good for her. And it sure as hell
doesn't mean I like him any better. I won't let him kill my
sister and I won't let him drag her into his insanity.

I mean.. aliens, little green guys from outer space for
crying out loud! Nothing that's happened in the last five
hours makes me think I want this guy to be with my sister.

Oops, looks like Skinner's finished up. He and the
entourage are going. Mom too. She kisses Dana AND Mulder
goodbye. And gets a goofy grin in return.

"Come on Bill, let's go." She just takes it for granted
Dana won't be coming with us.

About five steps from the front entrance I realize I've
left my coat hanging over the chair. Damn you Mulder,
everything is a hassle around you isn't it?

I run back up the stairs and I'm about to charge into the
room when I hear low voices and - dammit, - I don't want to
eavesdrop but I can't help myself.

"How are you feeling?" I hear my sister ask.

"Okay. Numb. Kinda buzzed actually," Mulder says, and he
sounds it.

I can hear the smile in Dana's voice. "It's just the
painkillers. Don't complain Mulder. You need them at the
moment." Which is typical Dana, because the poor SOB hadn't
complained at all.

"Scully ... I haven't had a chance to say it before... I'm
glad you're OK. I couldn't ... I didn't want you to die."

"I'm glad too. And I'm glad you're OK. You did good today
partner." There was a long silence and I was about to knock
when Dana spoke again.

"You know you never told me what happened, how you got the
chip."

I leaned forward. This I wanted to hear. But their
conversation might have been in Greek for all I understood.

"Our cigarette smoking friend offered me a deal."

"Ha!" That could be a dictionary definition of derision.

"Yeah, well he was pretty persuasive Scully, He," I heard
Mulder take a huge breath, "he brought Sam to see me.
She... Scully, she said she didn't want to see me. I tried
to tell her he was a liar, he was lying to her, but she
didn't.. she wouldn't listen. She left."

I hear the pain in his voice. This hurts him more than
anything Garcia did today. I know he is crying. Even out in
the hall it brings a lump to my throat, and the
realization, the punch in the gut realization, that maybe
for Fox Mulder it isn't about little green men after all.
Maybe it is about exactly the same thing it's about for
me.... it's about his sister.

I turn back towards the stairs. I guess I don't need my
coat after all - it's not that cold. And hell, who wants to
be the bad guy all the time anyway?
 
 

END.