There's No Place Like Home

By Brandon D. Ray
publius@avalon.net


DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT:  Anywhere and everywhere, so long as my name
stays on it and no money changes hands.

FEEDBACK:  Go ahead; knock yourself out.

Ephemeral: *FEEDBACK*publius@avalon.net

SPOILER STATEMENT:  Never Again; Leonard Betts (a little); Triangle
(maybe)

RATING:  PG-13, for language (the "f" word, among others)

CONTENT STATEMENT:  M/S UST; should be safe for Shippers and Noromos
alike.  Also, if you like "Never Again" you probably WILL NOT like
this story. This one has a bit of a bite to it, friends; you have been
warned.

CLASSIFICATION:  VAH

SUMMARY:  Post-ep for "Never Again".

DEDICATION:  For Stacey.  She knows why.... ;)  And many thanks to
Shannon O'Connor, for helping me parse the aforementioned "f" word and
work in the "c" word....

DISCLAIMER:  In my dreams...


There's No Place Like Home

by Brandon D. Ray


The first thing Dana Scully became aware of was the pain.  Not an
acute, localized pain, but a dull ache that permeated her body,
distracting her and making it difficult to think.

The second thing she became aware of was the fuzzy, unfocused feeling
that told her she was on narcotics.  She wondered woozily how much
more she would be hurting if it weren't for the medications, but
before long the thought had drifted away.

The third thing she became aware of was a presence in the room:  She
heard the sounds of someone breathing, and every few minutes papers
crinkled, as if a page had been turned in a book or magazine.  And
then she heard a sharp, snapping sound that could only be a sunflower
seed being cracked open, and she smiled.  Mulder.

She opened her eyes, and sure enough, there he was, sitting at her
bedside reading what she quickly identified as the latest edition of
the Lone Gunman.  Her smile widened at the familiar, cozy image, and
for just a moment she basked in the opportunity to observe him without
his knowledge.  It was not something she got to do very often, which
made her treasure such moments all the more.

Something must have alerted him that she was awake, because he
suddenly looked up from the tabloid and locked eyes with her.

It occurred to Scully to wonder how she'd gotten injured in the first
place.  She tried to concentrate, but the painkillers which were no
doubt dripping down that tube and into her arm were making it next to
impossible.  She'd been on a case...a case in another city...on her
own...Philadelphia....

Then suddenly everything came flooding back.  She remembered it all:
The horrible fight with Mulder; the burning resentment as she pursued
a will-o'-the-wisp while he went chasing off to Graceland; the grungy,
rundown tattoo parlor; the cheap hustler who took her out and got her
drunk....

She felt a chill race down her spine.  Jesus.  Had she actually gone
back to his apartment with him?  Had she actually slept with him?
Dear God, what had she done?

She realized that her eyes had drifted shut, and now she forced them
open again.  Mulder was looking down at her, but in place of the anger
and disdain she expected to see there was nothing but caring and
concern in his eyes.

"Scully?  Are you okay?"

She tried to find something to say; even "I'm fine" would do as a
placekeeper, at least for the moment.  But all she could think of was
to ask about the man she had slept with, and who had subsequently
tried to stuff her into an incinerator.  She knew it wasn't the best
possible topic to take up with her partner, but it was all her
drug-fogged brain could focus on at the moment.  Besides, she
rationalized, if she had at least made an arrest that would be SOME
justification for her bizarre behavior.

"M-mulder?  Did they...did you...did I...catch him?"

Mulder's lips compressed and he shook his head.  "No.  No, he got
away.  I'm sorry, Scully.  I was so worried about you that I didn't
manage to get the license number.  I'm sorry," he repeated, reaching
out and taking one of her hands in both of his.

"License number?"

He didn't seem to hear her.  "God, I'm sorry, Scully.  The whole thing
was my fault.  If I hadn't been so self-absorbed we never would have
had that terrible fight, and you wouldn't have wound up running in
front of that car...."  His voice trailed off, and he visibly
swallowed.  "I'm sorry."

"Mulder, what are you talking about?"  Scully had thought she was
confused before, but now she was doubly so.  "Are you saying I was hit
by a car?"  She shook her head, and a name came floating up out of the
darkness.  "What about...what about Ed Jerse?"

Now it was Mulder's turn to look puzzled.  "Ed Jerse?"  Then he seemed
to make the connection.  "You mean Dr. Jerse?"

Scully felt her eyes widen.  "DOCTOR Jerse?"

"Yeah," Mulder said.  "Dr. Edward Jerse.  He's the resident in charge
of your case.  Nice guy, too.  Nice family -- his wife, Betty, and
their little girl, Jodie, were here this morning."  His lips
compressed again.  "Actually, he's your SECOND doctor.  The first one
-- an asshole named Morgan -- turned out to be a Consortium mole.
Luckily Byers caught him with a background check, but not before he'd
pumped you full of hallucinogens."  His face softened and he squeezed
her hand gently.  "It was touch and go for awhile."

Silence descended on the room again, and Scully tried desperately to
get her thoughts in order.  Her memories of what had happened were so
sharp and vivid, yet Mulder seemed to know nothing about them.  How
could that be?

She raised her eyes and looked at her partner again.  "Mulder?  This
car accident?  This was...this was after I got back from Philadelphia,
right?"

His brow furrowed in apparent confusion.  "Philadelphia?"  He shook
his head.  "Scully, you didn't go to Philadelphia.  That's what the
fight was about -- don't you remember?  I tried to browbeat you into
following up on a lead for me, and you wouldn't do it."  He hung his
head.  "I'm afraid I said some pretty nasty things."  And for what
seemed like the hundredth time since she'd awakened, he said, "I'm
sorry."

Scully shook her head sharply.  "No, Mulder.  No, that's not how it
happened!  I DID go to Philadelphia.  I DID followup on the lead.  It
was...it was a hoax, just as I suspected.  But then...." She let her
voice trail off; she REALLY didn't want to go into this with him.

But apparently she had no choice.  "Scully?  What do you think
happened that caused you to wind up like this?"

She sighed.  "I...I'm not sure.  I thought I knew, but --"  She looked
into his eyes again, and somehow that gave her the strength to
continue.  "I was really angry with you.  I mean, really, REALLY
angry.  I felt as if you'd been treating me as, as an underling, and I
was sick of it."

"There's more than a grain of truth in that," Mulder commented
quietly.

His admission momentarily flustered her, but somehow she was able to
shake it off, despite the drugs coursing through her veins.  "Anyway,"
she went on," I was really angry.  I wrapped up the case in a few
hours, and I wound up in this grubby little tattoo parlor.  And that's
where I met Ed Jerse."

Mulder's eyebrows shot up.  "You met Dr. Jerse in a tattoo parlor?"

"Yes!" she insisted.  "But he wasn't a doctor -- he ISN'T a doctor.
He's a telemarketer.  And he had just gotten a tattoo, and it
looked...exciting.  And we went for a few drinks, and the more I drank
the more exciting it seemed.  And I wound up getting one, too, and
then...and then...we went back to his place and ..."  She forced
herself to look her partner in the eye.  "I fucked him, Mulder.  We
didn't even make it to the bed -- I fucked him right there on the
floor."

Mulder was shaking his head.  "Scully, none of that happened.  Trust
me.  You've been right here in this bed in D.C. General for the last
three days -- ever since the fight and the accident.  It just didn't
happen."

Scully felt on the verge of tears.  "Then why do I remember it so
clearly?" she demanded.

Mulder shrugged.  "It must be the drugs," he said.  "The hallucinogens
that son of a bitch Morgan gave you.  It's the only explanation that
makes any sense."  He squeezed her hand again.  "Think about it,
Scully.  Can you REALLY see yourself doing those things?  Because *I*
sure can't.  Getting a tattoo?  Okay, maybe.  But picking up a
stranger and having a one night stand?  Get real.  That would be so
completely out of character for you that I can't even think of a good
comparison for it.  It would be as if...as if...as if Alex Krycek were
suddenly to turn over a new leaf and starting fighting for Truth,
Justice and the American way!"

That made her laugh, and that broke the tension, and for a moment or
two she and Mulder simply laughed together.  It felt good to laugh;
she hadn't laughed in much too long.  She really ought to do it more
often.

"Tell you what, Scully," her partner said as the chuckles finally died
down.  "You ever decide you DO want a tattoo, give me a holler and
we'll go get one together, okay?  We need to spend more time social
time together relaxing, anyway -- the stress is getting to both of us.

He gave her hand one more squeeze and released it, then stood up.
"And now I've got to go.  Skinner's been on my ass to finished the
paperwork from the Betts case."

Scully felt a flash of apprehension at the reference and opened her
mouth to say something to Mulder about her suspicions...but stopped.
No, she'd talk to her doctors first to find out if was true.

God, please don't let it be true....

"Besides," Mulder went on, "I want to be there when they deliver your
new desk.  And before you say anything, I know it wasn't about the
desk.  But it seems like a good place to start."

Scully felt a surge of warmth and affection at his words.  He really
was trying; he really was.  It had been such a stupid fight in the
first place; she couldn't believe she'd allowed herself to get carried
away like that.  Especially considering how much she --

"Mulder, I love you."

For just an instant Mulder's expression froze, and she thought she saw
something deep in his eyes that she'd never seen before.  But then it
was gone again so quickly she couldn't really be sure it had been
there at all, and Mulder rolled his eyes slightly and said, "Oh,
brother."  He leaned down and lightly kissed the crown of her head,
and in another moment he was gone.

But he'd be back.  She was sure of it.



Fini

--
"Love is a snowmobile racing across the tundra and then suddenly it
flips over, pinning you underneath.  At night, the ice weasels come."
-- Matt Groening, "Love is Hell"
=======================
My fanfic wants to love you, but you have to make the first move:
http:www.avalon.net/~publius/MyStories.html