by Parrot
jmccaw@clear.net.nz

rated PG
category STAR (I've always wanted to put that)  It's a story, a small
X-File, loads of angst (and Mulder torture) and romance.

Archive please do

[ARCHIVIST'S NOTE:  There is a section marked "mature" by the author
near the end of the story.]

Date: Thu, 11 Jan 2001

Disclaimer:  I am sharing a story that I wrote that uses characters
that someone else thought up.  You all know that, no problem
In this story I also touch on a real murder case that happened in New
Zealand a few years ago.  My story is fiction, my characters are
fiction, but some things resemble what happened.  I believe the police
did get the right man and the bodies are probably in the sea.

Summary.  Mulder convinces Scully to take a holiday in New Zealand.
Can they stay away from cases and keep out of trouble?  Don't be
silly.

Notes:  This story was written before I saw any of season seven (I
still haven't seen it TVNZ doesn't seem to be planning on showing it
any time soon either and it's July already.)  I don't know how Scully
gets Mulder out of hospital after biogenisis.  I am assuming she does
and that his recovery will take a while.  If my story doesn't add up
with what you know, sorry.  Just go with it. Finally, I am a kiwi,
that's a New Zealander to you, and the first rule of writting is to
write what you know.  Hence I brought them to NZ.  We write English
not American but I've tried to keep to Americanisms if I know them.
Espec for Mulder and Scully.

This is a long story.  I had it all in my head when I started writing
and had no idea how much writing it actually was.  I have nearly
finished the whole thing put have decided to start posting the parts
anyway.  There will be alot of author's notes appearing after the
final section is posted. Oh you'll figure out what "Utu" means by the
end of it. Start reading.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Utu

Wellington High Court
New Zealand
Court Room One
Wed  14 July  1999
Judge Pita McIlhenney presiding

The courtroom was packed for the verdict.  After three long months of
claims and counterclaims, scientific evidence and raw emotion the
arguments had been
rounded up and presented, either slanted for or against the accused.
The  judge, a tall, distinguished Maori man, had advised the jury to
ignore  their natural "gut instincts" and to concentrate only on the
facts  presented.  Whether they had or not would be a secret that
would remain  forever in the jury room.  Now, after a surprisingly
short one and a half  days of deliberation the jury was back.

Jury foreperson Gillian Cashel stood self consciously in front of the
microphone.  The eyes of everyone in the country were upon her.  TV
cameras focused on her.  The judge, the rest of the jury, the families
of  the murdered children;  the lawyers and their minions, the public
that had  squeezed in until it was standing room only, the family of
the accused,  even the accused who had avoided looking at the jury for
the entire trial,  all were looking at her, awaiting her words.  Only
one man wasn't, a man  in an ill fitting borrowed jacket and new for
the occasion shoes.  He had  eyes only for his lover, but Gillian
didn't notice him.

'On the charge of the murder of Benjamin Daniel Dales, do you find the
accused, Simon Peter Lewis, guilty or not guilty?'  Judge McIlhenney's
voice was dark and deep, much like it's owner.

Gillian cleared her throat and prayed she wouldn't squeak.  She
straightened and turned her eyes to Lewis.  'Guilty,'  she said.

'And on the charge of the murder of Angela Kathryn Burke, do you find
the accused, Simon Peter Lewis, guilty or not guilty?'

'Guilty your honour.'

The crowd let out its collective breath, Gillian sagged and sat down.
It  would be so good to go home tonight and start to try to forget
this.

The Burke and Dales families were smiling through their tears.  Lewis
and his family looked completely shocked, they had never believed they
would get a conviction.  The police officers that had been involved
were  giving surreptitious high fives and trying to squash their
smiles.  The man  in the borrowed jacket ducked his head to hide his
tears and started  fighting his way from the room.  No one noticed him
go, not even the  senior police officer he bumped into as the judge
pounded his gavel for  order.
 
 

J Edgar Hoover Building
Washington
Mon Nov 1st
11.15 am

Scully's gamut of emotions was just about to rise from "mild concern"
to  "worry".   She checked her watch again.  Okay, she'd leave it till
lunchtime and if he still wasn't here then she'd hit "very worried"
and  start instigating MSR, Mulder Search and Rescue.

She'd spoken to him on the phone last night and he'd sounded fine.
He'd  even said, "See you at work in the morning."   Maybe if he
hadn't said  that she wouldn't be quite so worried, okay, concerned,
but even so,  11.30 and no Mulder.   It wasn't right.  But she
couldn't quite bring  herself to get too worked up, him not being here
was odd, but the MAD,  Mulder Alert Device in her head wasn't ringing
and she'd learnt long ago  to listen for that.

 Then she heard the elevator descending and hurriedly grabbed the
nearest file and pretended to be reading.  Mulder bounced into the
office  in such a state of sheer energised excitement that Scully
dropped her  pretence and stared at him.  What the hell was up?  She
hadn't seen him  like this in years.  A little pang followed the
thought.

'Mulder?' she asked cautiously.

'Scully,' he beamed.  He threw a plastic shopping bag on his desk.
'How  much vacation time have you got?'

 'About the same as you I imagine.  Since we never take vacations,
it's  probably got up to six months by now.'

'Nearly twelve weeks actually.'

'Okaay.  Am I guessing you want to go on holiday?'

 'Yep.'   He grinned and she couldn't help herself, she smiled back.

 'Where?'

 He grabbed a handful of brochures from his bag, fumbled for the right
one and found the page he wanted.  He handed it over with a flourish.
'Here.'

 She took the brochure expecting palm trees and hula girls and was
puzzled by what she saw.  The brochure was open on a full-page
photograph of what looked like somewhere in Alaska.  Taken from a boat
there was a blue, blue sea with fishing boats, but beyond the coast
line  dramatic mountains rose to the sky.  She read the name,
Kaikoura.  She  couldn't even say it.  The colour wasn't right for
Alaska somehow.   'Mulder, where is this?'

'New Zealand.  Isn t it beautiful?  Whales come in just off shore and
you  can swim with them.  It's dramatic isn't it?'   He rushed on
before she  could say anything else, leaning over her shoulder and
turning pages.

'The whole country is fabulous,'  allowing her a brief glimpse of
forests,  golden beaches and mountains.  'We could hire a car and...'
he tailed off.   'It's quite small.'   He watched her nervously.
'President Clinton went  there for that APEC conference, he liked it.'
  She was chewing her  fingers, this didn't look good.  'It's in the
Pacific.  Beside Australia.'

'I know where it is,' she said.  She turned that hard blue stare on
him.   'Why?'  She could already guess.  It was the other side of the
world and  thousands of miles from the shitty happenings in their
lives here.

'Because it's beautiful and I've always wanted to go there.'

Good answer but she wasn't ready to let him away with it yet.  Her
eyebrow raised.  'There are plenty of beautiful places much closer to
home.  You'll have to do better than that.'

'It's summer there.  It would be warm.'

 'So's Florida.'   She relented a little and smiled at him.  This
happy  mood was so rare, she didn't want to squash it.  'Fess up
Mulder.  What's  the real attraction?'

'Mulder?'

He heaved a sigh.  'It's the whales.  There are ocean currents moving
up  from Antarctica full of krill and phytoplankton.  The whales
follow them.   They go right up the coast of the South Island and come
right in close by  this Kay place here,' he indicated the first
picture he'd shown her.  Good,  she thought, he can't say it either.
'Every twenty three years or so there  is a real build up of whales,
three times as many as usual.  No one knows  why.'   He glanced up to
see how she was taking this.  'I'd really like to  see it.'

'Uh huh.  That's this year then?'

'Yes.'

'You've never been interested in whales before.'

 'I am too.  I'm interested in lots of things.  You don't know
everything  about me.'

The little boy ploy.  'No, but I can read you quite well.'

He looked down at his desk and fiddled with his pencils.  He took a
deep breath and let the words flow out as if they didn't belong to
him.  'UFOs  have been observed over Kay whatsit at about twenty three
year  intervals.'

He'd broken three pencils before he dared look up.  Scully had a huge
grin on her face.  When she saw him looking at her she snorted.  Then
she  burst out laughing.  'Mulder you are priceless.'   Her belly
laughs died to  hiccoughs.   'Whales and UFOs.'   She sniggered.  'You
want me to go  half way around the world to look at whales.  Whales
that may or may  not be communicating with UFOs.'   She snorted again.
 'On vacation.   With you?'

She looked back at him and what she saw in his eyes nearly broke her
heart.  'Please,' he said.

'Mulder.'   Oh God.  What do I do now?  She stared at his stricken
face.   Why was this suddenly so important?  Why did he suddenly want
to go  away when he never took vacations?  More importantly, what did
she  want?  Did flying half way around the world with Mulder sound
like a  good idea?  'I'd love to Mulder,' she said slowly.  'Really.'

'But?'

'I can't afford it.  It would cost thousands, just for the air fare.'

'That's alright.  I've got some money.  I can pay for you.'

Mulder's mysterious money.  We're going to have to go into that some
time.  'I can't let you do that.  Mulder you can't spend your money on
me.'

'Why not.  It's my money.  I can do what I want with it.  You're my
friend, I want you to come.  Don't worry, it won't leave me broke.'

We are definitely going to have to explore that subject later.  He
looked  so apprehensive.  He really does want this she realised.  She
glanced at  the brochure, the implications rattling around in her
mind.  So what, she  suddenly thought.  We're friends, Mulder doesn't
really have any other friends and he wants me to go on this crazy
trip with him.  She looked up  and smiled.  'Okay.  I'd like that.
Thank you.'   She was rewarded by a  one hundred watt smile.  The sort
of smile that came so rarely she was never quite sure that she hadn't
only imagined that he actually could  smile like that.  This really
was important to him.  'But Mulder.  I pay  half of everything else.
Okay?'

He swallowed and nodded.  'Yeah.'

'Oh, and Mulder, I'll choose the accommodation.'

He sniffed and looked up his eyes shining, a great smile settling
across  his face.  'Scully that's great.  It'll be so good.  I
promise.'   He swept  over and lifted her from her chair, enveloping
her in a massive hug.  'Oh  Scully!'  He buried his nose in her hair.
'that's great.  It'll be great.  Oh  god, Scully.'   He danced them in
a little jig before he realised what he  was doing.  Embarrassed he
let her go, hanging his head.  'Sorry.'

 She positioned herself under his nose so he had to see her and smiled
up.    ' It will be lovely Mulder.  When can we go?'

 
Washington DC
Mon 6th Dec
7.32am

Mulder sat in the back of the cab staring into the cold greyness of
the  early morning.  One more time he ran over the list but he
couldn't find  anything he'd forgotten.  He patted his pocket,
passport, wallet, check;  patted the bag he had for carry on luggage,
yep, he would not check  inside it again.  All the same he opened it
and peered in, magazines,  sunflower seeds, sweets for Scully,
indigestion things, eye drops, book,  toothbrush and razor, little
box.  Oh God.  What if she's changed her mind?  Did I turn the iron
off?  Yes, I'm sure I did.  She was having  lunch with her mother
yesterday.  What if she's got the guilts over not  being with her
family for Christmas?  Oh please Lord, Fox Mulder  prayed to the god
he didn't believe in, let it be alright.

 Mon 6th Dec
7.32

Scully paced by the door.  He was late.  He should have been here
fifteen  minutes ago.  The cab must have been late.  She knew leaving
their cars in the garage at work was a dumb idea, even if it had
seemed a good one  at the time.  Oh God she was so nervous.

Mulder was just so excited about this, he'd been on such a high since
she  had agreed to come.  It was such a daft idea she still couldn't
work out  exactly why she had said yes.  She didn't like the thought
of him spending all that money on her, but his logic there was
flawless, it was his money and he wanted to.  It was so nice to see
him happy.  It had been so long since he'd smiled.  God the last time
she could remember had been when he'd tried to teach her to play
baseball.  And that was what?  Nearly a year ago?  No it couldn't be,
that was in the summer.  It certainly felt like that long.  God knows
it was probably the last time  she'd really smiled as well.  Except of
course when he'd finally woken up  after that brainstorm or whatever
the hell that had been.

Christ, even three months later she couldn't think of that.  Think
about  the holiday.  Where was he?

It would be nice to spend a few weeks in the sun.  It would be very
nice to not have to be watching their backs, watching their steps and
even watching their words.  Hell, for once they would have a chance
to be who they really were.

So Mulder could go stand on a mountain top and gaze at UFOs.  Scully
had done a little research of her own and she couldn't find any
evidence  of these particular sightings ever being more than an
interesting light  show.  She didn't think Mulder could get into too
much trouble there.   And as for the whale angle?  Well he could spend
a happy few days talking to whoever had come up with the theory, but
his inability to converse in whistles or whatever whales did would
probably render too much investigation difficult.  So what would she
be doing while Mulder was doing this?  That was easy, absolutely
anything she wanted.

She knew the accommodation would be nice and she fully intended to
relax and enjoy herself.

So what will you and Mulder do in the evenings a little voice niggled,
when there's no case to discuss and he's worn out the topic of whales?
  Well that would probably be the greatest challenge.  We may just
have to kill each other.  Now that was another plus with New Zealand,
they  couldn't carry their weapons.

She sighed.  Even now she still wasn't sure this was a good idea.  But
just  remember, she told herself, every time you've tried to go on
holiday on your own you've hated it.  You can't wait to get back to
work.  And be honest, it's not the work that's really calling is it.
This trip is it.  This trip is the chance to sort this out once and
for all.  Alone.  Together.  No holds  barred.

It had hit her two days ago that they were really going.  Not just
that she and Mulder were going away but that she and Mulder were
going away -  together - overseas - for a whole month - on vacation.
This wasn't just  any old trip.

Panic set in.  Unflappable Special Agent Dana Scully had panicked.

She had rung her mother who had been marvellous.  They had spent the
weekend shopping, after all, a special wardrobe was called for.  If in
doubt, shop.  It worked for her.  She eyed the suitcase on the floor,
mentally inventorying the contents.  Yes, it would do fine.  What to
wear on the flight had been a special problem.  It was a very long
trip.  First they had to fly to LA, bad enough on it's own, but then
it was another eleven hours to Christchurch New Zealand.  That's an
awful long time to  be over the sea the nervous flier in her noted.
Jeeze Mulder, when you  choose to go somewhere, you really go
somewhere.

In the end she'd chosen stretch jeans, tapered to show off her legs
and  comfortable enough to sit in for a full 24 hours.  She had a
white tee shirt  because it would be warm on the plane, and the
crowning glory: a  beautiful, soft, sky blue, woollen jacket.  She had
tried it on with her  mother beside her and known it was hers.  The
fit was perfect, the drape  superb but it was the colour that was
special.  Not only did the colour do something wonderful to her
complexion, it was an exact match for her eyes.  It was very
expensive and she had let her mother buy it for her because they both
understood it was a gift of love.  Mulder would love it.

 It was her mother that had brought home to her the importance of
that.  It  was as they had hugged farewell yesterday and wished each
other happy  holidays.  As her mother left she had turned to her
daughter and caught  her hand.  'When he asks you,' she said.  'You
will say yes, won't you.'    Dana had just gaped and smiling fondly
her mother had driven away.

 She thought about that now and was so overcome with nerves that she
had to go back to the bathroom, again.  And so when the taxi did toot,
she  wasn't quite ready and Mulder was standing nervously at the door
about to knock when she opened it.  He stood there taking in casual
but beautiful Scully and he beamed.  He reached for her case and took
her hand.  It was all going to be alright.

 
Christchurch Central Police Station
New Zealand
Wed 8th Dec
5.40pm

Detective Inspector Rod Stuart heaved a great sigh, tugged at a tuft
of  hair over his ear and brought his pen back to the page in front of
him with  such a frenzy of bad feeling he nearly tore a hole in it.
He glanced at his  watch again and then out the window, taking in the
cloudless blue sky that was all he could see from this angle.  He had
originally seen it as a blessing to have finally reached a rank that
conferred among other privileges, an office with a window.  However,
in the two years that he'd  sat here, he'd often found it, more of a
torture than a pleasure.  At least  hidden in the bowels of the
building, the passing of time had seemed less  distracting, less
disturbing.

Detective Inspector Rod Stuart looked nothing like his famous near
namesake.  He did however bear a totally unknown resemblance to a
certain Walter Skinner, Assistant Director of the FBI.  Both men
shared  the same height and build.  They were similar in age, and
unfortunately,  they had near identical patterns of baldness.  This
made Stuart's  frustrated tugging at his hair a particularly dicey
form of stress release.

Another glance at his watch and he shoved his chair back from his desk
with explosive fury.  He picked up the files remaining on his desk and
shoved them into his briefcase.  He'd deal to them tonight.  No fuck,
he  took them back out and dropped them on the desk.  What the hell
difference was it going to make if he didn't see them until tomorrow.
Rod found it astounding that in the middle of the investigation into a
child's murder he should have to give estimates as to the number of
overtime man hours required and a budget for the operation.  Stuff it!
   He gave a wry laugh.  No way he was taking that home.  With rank
comes something.  He was going to be on time for his kids if it killed
him.

He wrenched his tie off and shoved it in his pocket and grabbed his
jacket  from the back of the chair.  Turning to the door he was
stopped by a  sound, a most irritating sound.  The phone rang.

'Fuck!'   He was held, stuck like a rabbit caught in a spotlight for
at least  three rings, as he debated picking it up. Oh shit.  He
snatched it up and  sank onto the desk.  'Stuart,' he barked.

'Boss, it's Bob.'

 Fuck, Stuart sagged.  He was definitely going to be late now.
Detective  Constable Bob Hamilton couldn't string two thoughts
together without  coming up with a novel.  'Bob.  You want me to tell
your wife and kids you're going to be late for the Scout Barbecue.
Right?'

'No.' The man sounded surprised.   Well actually yes.  Could you?  I
hadn't thought of that.'

Oh God, Stuart sighed.  'What do you want Bob?'   Rod Stuart counted
having Bob Hamilton living practically next door to him as one of the
misfortunes of his life.  They saw way too much of each other, both
having children in the same classes at school and in the same scout
group.

'I've got a surprise for you,' Hamilton told him.

'Bob.  I'm late.  I promised Davy I'd be there this time.'   He should
have known better than to protest.

'Bluey and I're at the hospital.'

Oh good.  Fatal I hope.

'We're waiting to see if any of the victims from the incident on the
LA  flight are up to making statements yet.  You know about that don't
you  Rod?'

Stuart racked his brains but couldn't honestly remember what it was
about.  He did remember some flap at the airport this morning but
nothing had sunk in.  'Ah...'   God.  Get to the point.

'It's been all over the news boss.'

'I've been a little preoccupied with my own news worthy case,'  he
snapped.  'If you haven't noticed.'

'Exactly,' Bob exclaimed.  'That's why I'm ringing.'

Stuart yanked at his hair and watched a single cloud blank out the
sun.   'Tell me,' he sighed, 'what you are talking about.'

'Well this morning, half way between LA and here this Jap guy decided
to off his wife.  He took to her with a pocket knife.  Not a little
swiss  army job but a great big hunting thing, you know the sort?
Blade about  six inches long.  The staff and some Yank tourists
managed to grab him  and subdue him.  Quite a few people got hurt.'

 Hell, Rod's brain was quite active enough to imaging a packed
aircraft  with a nutter going berserk with a knife.  There wasn't
exactly much  room to run and dodge in economy class.  'Air New
Zealand?'  Stuart  asked.  How the hell had the guy got a knife on
board anyway?

'Yep.'

'Shit.  A right international incident.  How come no one's brought it
to me yet?'

'I dunno.  Cashel's on it.  No one's died yet.  I guess he thinks
you've got enough to do.'

Well that was true but someone should have made him aware of it.  'Why
are you ringing Bob?'

'Well boss, you remember that course you went on in Australia last
year?'   Hamilton sounded excited.  'The one where you were doing
stuff  on profiling?  Remember how you told us about this case in the
States where you were given the same information as the investigators
and you  had to try to work it out yourselves.'

'Fuck Bob.  Of course I remember.'   I was the one there.  And it
wasn't  like that anyway.  They'd been given exercises based on real
cases solved by effective profiling.

'Do you remember telling us about a case in Oklahoma and how you
thought the FBI profiler was amazing.'

 'Yeah.'   You had to let Bob run on or you never got to the end of
the tale.

'What was his name?  It was something a bit odd wasn't it?'

Stuart thought but he couldn't quite come up with it.  He knew he'd
wake  up in the night and remember.

 Hamilton was nearly cackling with glee.  'It was Mulder wasn't it?
Fox  Mulder?'

'Right.  So...?' Although he'd already worked out the answer.

'He's here boss.  He's here.  He's the Yank that stopped the Jap from
taking his wife's face off.  He's on vacation.'

A grin spread across the inspector's face but he struggled to keep his
voice even.  'Is that right.'

'Yep, I've checked boss.  He's FBI alright.'

'It could be someone else, that case was at least ten years ago.'

'With a name like that?'

'Right.'   God, what luck.  'How is he?  Is he alright?'

 'Well , umm.  No not really.  He's in intensive care.  His arm got
slashed  up quite badly and he nearly bled to death before they got
here.'

'Shit.'   Poor bastard.  Rod wondered how he'd react in a similar
situation.  Could he watch someone attack people with a knife?  Of
course not.  He knew he couldn't just sit there, but playing Good
Samaritan didn't pay these days.  'Is he going to be okay?'

'They're not saying anything much yet.  I don't know.'

 'Is anyone with him?'

'There's a woman, I think she's his wife.  She's got a different name
though.'   Stuart could hear pages fluttering.  'A Miss Scully.  Guess
what boss, she's FBI too.'

'Okay Bob.  Thanks for letting me know.  Make sure they're being
looked after won't you.'

'Sure.  You want me to go see her?'

'No!'   Stuart's voice raised in alarm.  'She's just spent hours
watching  and wondering if he'll bleed to death, the last thing she
needs is to talk to  you.'   It would never occur to Bob to take
offence.   'No,' he pondered.   ' I'll drop in and see them in the
morning.  Okay.  Don't you go near them.  Got it?'

'Yes boss.  Uh..?'

'I'll tell Janine where you are.  Now if I don't get to this bloody
barbecue my kids will never talk to me again.'

 'Boss?'

'What?'

'Merry Christmas.'

Stuart smiled.  Fox Mulder huh, not a bad present.  'Yeah Bob.
Thanks.'    He sobered as he collected his things.  If he survives.

 
Christchurch Arts Centre
Thurs 9th
11.15

Rod Stuart strolled down the street enjoying the fresh air and
prolonging  the walk.  It was only two blocks from the Central Police
Station to the  hospital and he wanted to drag this out as long as
possible.  He focused  on the people sitting under the umbrellas in
the cafes, enjoying the  outdoors but staying out of the sun.  The
temperature had already started  to climb and the day promised to be a
scorcher.

He watched the tram rumble past and amused himself by repeating the
commentary he knew the driver would be giving to the tourists.  But it
wasn't working.  His mind kept leaping back to the words on the piece
of  paper in his pocket and he felt a terrible sense of dread.

Time out, he told himself.  Think of something else, but the only
other "else"  that came to mind was how familiar this walk was.  He'd
walked this way during breaks for nearly four months.  Two years ago
seemed like yesterday.  He knew the route so well he knew it would
take him  only four minutes from office to hospital if he didn't have
to stop to cross  the roads and as long as ten minutes if he had to
stop at all three streets he had to cross.  Today was somewhere in
between.

Then he was there.  He entered the lobby and the familiar hospital
smell  caused his stomach to knot.  He wondered at the wisdom of this
visit.

He was distracted by the sight of a large crowd of news mongers
apparently camped out by the coffee machine and realised that there
was  considerable media interest in this case.  As far as he was
aware, none of  the major participants in the drama had yet spoken to
the media.   Passengers on the flight had described screams and rivers
of blood, but  the airline had forbidden its staff to talk and the
injured passengers were guarded by a phalanx of hospital staff.  He
headed for the lift and saw the  newspaper headline by the book shop.
"Heroism at 33,000 Feet".  Yes  the media must be hanging out for
interviews

Rod's finger automatically stabbed the button for the right floor.

He nodded to the constable who was guarding the entrance to the ICU
ward and was gratified to see the man leap to his feet as he
recognised his senior officer.  The sights and sounds of the unit
assaulted him and for a moment he was frozen, flashes of his small
son, still and broken on the bed, all he could see.  A hand on his
shoulder made him jump and he turned as a familiar voice spoke his
name.

'Alison.'   Some good memories did come from this place.  His smile
was genuine.  'How are you?  Good to see you.'

The attractive blond in green hospital scrubs smiled back.  'I'm
great.   You're looking good too.'   She put her head to one side.  'A
little tired  though?'

'I've got a bit of a rough case at the moment.'

 'The kid that went missing from the Santa Parade?'

 Rod nodded and made a face.  'You still work here then?'

 'Strange as it seems to you.  I actually like working here.  Oh, and
look,'  she held out her left hand.  'I finally got married.'

 'That's great.'   He searched for a name.  'Barry wasn't it?'

'Brian.'   She beamed.  'A year ago now.  How's Davy?  I haven't
forgotten him.  He was a real fighter.'

A pang of memory struck Rod but he shook it off.  'He's great.  He's
doing really well.  If you didn't know, you'd never guess.  He's doing
well at school too at last.  He's got these real high tech hearing
aids and  he hasn't looked back.  Here,'  he dug in his wallet and
pulled out a  photograph.  'This was the boys, last Christmas at the
Sounds.  Davy's  grown another six inches since then.'

She examined the photo and touched it gently.  'That's neat.  It is so
good  to catch up with our successes.  Would you mind, could I show
this  around?'

'No, that's fine.'

She straightened.  'Now you must be here on business are you?  None of
the airline passengers are able to speak yet and Miss Scully and Miss
Smith already gave statements.  Or was there someone else you needed
to  see?'

'It's not really business,' he admitted.  'I came to see Fox Mulder.
I've  heard of him, I admire his work.  I just thought, well, they're
alone here  in a strange country.  I just thought I' d drop by and see
if there was any  thing I could do to help.'

'You and half the country,' she sighed.  'The hospital has been
inundated  with gifts and pledges of this that and the other.'

'Oh, I'm sorry,' Rod said.  It had never occurred to him that his
visit  might be an imposition.

'Look, don't worry,' Alison put a staying hand on his arm.  'You're
right.   And there is something you can do.'   She lowered her voice.
'Mulder's  partner Dana hasn't left his side and she's exhausted.  I
can't imagine when she must have slept last.  Apparently he suffered
a major illness earlier in the year and nearly died.  And whatever
they do for the FBI is very dangerous.  So this happening when
they're on holiday and  apparently safe.  It's all too much.  Plus,'
Alison paused for effect, 'She's actually a medical doctor so she
understands the implications of everything that has happened to him.'

 'I thought she worked for the FBI?'

 'She does.  She's a pathologist.'

 'Really.'   That might be useful in about a week's time he thought
grimly.

 Alison resorted to feminine wiles and gave a beseeching gaze from
under  her fringe.  'She's very shocked and she isn't thinking
straight.  She says  she won' t leave him but I think if someone
actually picked her up and  took her, she'd go.  She desperately needs
to sleep.  Could you try?'

Damn.  Rod was regretting this visit more by the minute.  He really
couldn't even afford the time to be here, wasn't quite sure why he
was.  It  was something to do with the note in his pocket and the
thought of what  it could mean.  This guy Mulder might just be able to
pull the rabbit out  of the hat, if he was a good as they said he
was.

'Please,' Alison pleaded.

Rod never stood a chance.  'I'll try.  But I really do need to get
back to work soon.'

'Thanks.'   A sunny smile was his reward.  'They're down in 3.  He's
my patient today.'

Thank God it wasn't Davy's place in cubicle 8 he thought as he
followed  her. 'How is he?  Is he going to be okay?'

She paused.  'I think so.  I'm picking so anyway and I've got pretty
good  at picking them over the years.'   She'd picked Davy as a
survivor too he remembered.  'He had serious injuries to his arm and
a few other cuts.  It  took plastics hours to put things back
together.  His major problems now  are all due to having had a low
blood volume for a large amount of time.   The body just can't handle
that.  If we can get his kidneys up and running  soon he'll be okay.'

Rod looked quizzical.  'Thanks for telling me.'

She laughed.  'Oh for heavens sake.  You are the one person I can
trust  not to pass information on to anyone.'   She led the way into
the cubicle.

 Rod's attention was instantly taken by the sylibant hiss of the
ventilator.   Shit, that sound still haunted his dreams.  He looked at
the man on the bed, his chest rising and falling to the rhythm of the
machine.   From his head to his toes Rod knew what all the tubes,
wires and monitors were for.  Amazing his mind told him.  You can
look at that bag of blood and know instantly that it is packed cells
and not whole blood.

The patient was lying partially on his right side, propped with
pillows.  His left arm was heavily bandaged, only the tips of yellow
betadine  stained fingers showing.  There were three drain tubes
running out from  under the bandages.

The guy looked paler than the sheets.  He looked three parts dead.
This bloke looked too young!  No, he thought.  This is the wrong guy.
 If  Mulder was profiling for VICAP in the mid 80s, he has to be at
least my  age now.  This guy doesn't look much past 30.

Then he looked at the woman who had been dosing, head on her arms on
the bed.  She lifted her golden head as Alison gently called her name,
instantly glancing up the bed to check her partner.  Alison's words to
her  sunk in and she looked up at Rod with unfocused eyes and suddenly
started to attention when she saw him.  Then her eyes focused and she
stared at him and relaxed a little.  'I'm sorry,' she murmured.  'I
thought  you were someone I knew.'

It didn't matter if this wasn't the right guy.  What mattered was that
this  woman was a fellow law enforcement officer and Alison was right,
she needed his help.

Dana Scully was also dressed in the green shift dress that all the
female staff wore in the unit, but he wouldn't mistake her for staff.
 Not at the moment.  The face she raised to him was grey and lined
from fatigue and worry, her hair dirty and dishevelled although still
a bright spot in the  room.  Rod was used to dealing with people in
stress and this woman's look was classic.

Alison introduced them using Rod's full title and he watched as the
American woman did something amazing.  She straightened and from
somewhere found a mask of professionalism that wrapped around her and
settled on her face.  She held out her hand and shook his, colleague
to  colleague, her eyes meeting his.  This, Rod thought, is one tough
lady.

'Inspector.  I'm sorry.  I don't think there is anything I can do for
you.   I've already given my statement yesterday and I really don't
think I have  anything more to add.'

She has a beautiful voice, Rod thought irreverently.  Like treacle
with just  enough accent to be interesting.  'I'm sorry,' he said
feeling embarrassed,  'this isn't an official visit.'

She raised a quizzical eyebrow.

'My office was made aware of your plight, and I just felt it would be
appropriate...' God he sounded pompous.  'To see if you needed any
help.'   He waited to see how he'd be received but he knew he'd wrong
footed it.  Thank god he hadn't blurted out about her husband not
being  who he thought he was.

'As you can see,' the woman said, 'the hospital are doing everything
they  can.' She sounded professional but looked slightly
disorientated.  'I don't really think there's anything any one else
can do.  Everyone is being very  kind.'

'What about you?'  Rod blurted out.  'Alison says you need to sleep.
Why don't you come with me and I'll take you back to your hotel.  Then
I'll organise a car to bring you back here later.'

 The mask slipped just a little.  She looked desperately at the figure
in the  bed and reached out to hold his hand.  'Thank you,' she said,
'but I'd  rather stay here.'

'Dana.'   Alison put a gentle hand on her shoulder.  'You need some
sleep.  You need to eat.  And,' she wrinkled her nose, 'you need a
wash.   Mulder is quite stable, nothing is likely to happen and if it
did we would ring you straight away.'

'And I could have a car bring you back here in minutes,' Rod jumped
in.

'Go back to your hotel,' Alison continued.  'Please.  Mulder will need
you later when he wakes up.  Right now, you need to look after you.
I'll take care of him.   I promise.'

The red head shut her eyes briefly, then gave a nod.  She could see
the  sense in what Alison said.

'Good.  That's good,' Rod murmured encouragingly.  'Tell Alison which
hotel you're at so she can contact you if she has to, then pick up
your  things and we'll go.'

The mask slipped completely.  'I don't know,' she moaned in horror,
hand to her mouth.  'I haven't a clue where we're supposed to be
staying.'

Her hands flapped helplessly as she looked around for her bag.  'I've
got  it written down somewhere.'   She noticed the green scrubs.  'I
can't go  into a hotel like this,'  she panicked.  'I'd look like I
escaped from  somewhere.  I have to check in and everything.'   It all
seemed much too  hard. She was unravelling before their eyes.  'My
clothes are ruined and I  haven't got anything else.  I don't know
where our bags are.'   She was  crying out right now and Alison pulled
her into her arms.

'She's right,' Rod said awkwardly as Alison shushed and soothed.  'She
can't go to a hotel.  Give me a minute,' he dug in his pocket for his
phone.  'I'll call my wife and let her know, then I'll take her home.
She can stay with us.'

'Rod,' Alison said quietly.  'You can't use that here.  Phone from the
desk please.'   She smiled at him over the other woman's shoulder.
'Thanks.'

 I've been done, Rod thought ruefully.  She was after that all along.

 
- - - -

Ten minutes later Rod led a much calmer Scully down to the front
entrance of the hospital.  She was wearing a cardigan of Alison's over
the  green dress and carried her bloodstained clothing in a plastic
bag.  All I possess in the world she thought with a jolt of hysteria.
 The day outside was hot, but she was pleased of the cardigan.  She
felt near naked, striped  of all the usual accessories of her life.
No clothes, no gun, not even a hand bag.

 She had no idea what had happened to their carry on luggage.  As the
plane had taxied into the terminal the ambulances were already lined
up beside the airbridge.  The passport officials had come on board
with the  ambulance staff but had been shoved aside and held at bay by
the aircraft staff.  Scully, busy transferring a seriously ill Mulder
to the ambulance gurney hadn't given passports another thought.

 The patients had been offloaded from the aircraft in one of the
caterer's scissor trucks, loaded straight into the ambulances and
with the three doctors, all passengers, who had been attending to
them during the flight, whisked away.

A police car drew up at the door of the hospital, a young uniformed
officer at the wheel.  Rod guided her gently around to the passenger
seat.   She nearly resisted when he seemed to be taking her to the
wrong side of the car.  Then she remembered.  She was in New Zealand
and cars here were right hand drive.  She really was in a foreign
country.

'I'm sorry I can't take you myself,' he was apologising, 'but I really
have  to get back to work.  Paula's expecting you.  She'll look after
you.'

He settled her in and gave the officer the address.  'I'll get someone
on tracking down your luggage for you too.  I don't want you to worry
about  it.  Okay?'

'Okay?' she agreed.

Driving on the wrong side of the road completed Scully's
disorientation.   She couldn't seem to take in anything of the trip.
She was aware of a city  sliding past them, traffic lights, vehicles,
suburbia, but she couldn't take  anything in.  It could have been a
long ride or it could have been very  short.  But then they were
driving through country side and she noticed  that.

'Where are we?'  she snapped.  'Where are we going?'

'Halswell,' the officer replied confused.  'That's right isn't it?'
It was the first time his passenger had spoken and Darryl Somers was
more concerned about her than he had been when she'd seemed not to
hear him  earlier.  He had no idea why the boss had pulled him away
from traffic duty to play taxi but he was starting to suspect this
woman wasn't all there.

'16 Chatswood Terrace,' Somers said.  'Is that right?'

 Scully blinked.  Suburbia was now wrapped right around them.  'I
don't  know,' she said quietly.  'I have no idea.  It's Inspector
Stuart's house.'

Shit, Somers hadn't realised that.  Who the hell was this woman then?
Did the inspector have insanity in his family closet.

Paula Stuart came to the door when she heard the car pull up.  Somers
dived around to open the passenger door, relieved to be rid of his
charge.

He left with unseemly haste.

'Hi,' Paula smiled.

'Hi,' Scully said stupidly.

'Come in.' She held out her hand.  The silence was awkward.  'Please,
you're most welcome.  Rod was very upset to think of you in a hotel
alone.'

Scully took the offered hand and allowed herself to be led into the
house.   She blinked back tears.  She felt like a small child.  Her
brain was  completely numb, she could no longer take in anything.  Her
head was  full of cotton wool.  She was in another new place with a
new person but she couldn't react.  She couldn't think.

Paula was shocked.  The American woman was completely spaced out.
She didn't respond when spoken to, she didn't move unless led.
Worried,  she sat her down in the kitchen and tried to pull her rusty
nursing training into play.

She checked her pulse, 80 beats a minute, that was fine; no fever,
pupils were reacting.  She seemed a little dehydrated but there
didn't appear to be any physical reason for her catatonic state.  She
just looked grey and  exhausted.

 And that, thought Paula, smoothing Dana's hair back from her
forehead, is probably the problem.

She gave Dana a glass of juice and when she drank it thirstily
followed it  with a second.   'Come on sweetheart,' Paula said.
'Let's get you to bed.'

 - - - - -

 Scully woke slowly.  She needed to wake up, she knew that, but it
took a  huge effort.  Slowly, like struggling through mud, she forced
herself to consciousness.  Dragging her eyes open she lay staring at
a strange ceiling.  Strange ceilings were nothing new but lightshades
like hot air balloons were.  Rolling her head sideways she took in
curtains of navy blue with aeroplanes printed on them and walls
covered in posters of aircraft, baby animals and a child's art work.

She had a head ache but nothing startling.  She just didn't have any
idea where she was.

There was daylight coming in between the curtains and her watch told
her  it was 12 o' clock but that didn't feel right.  Struggling to sit
up, she found her whole body ached and she gave up the effort.  She
knew there was something she needed to do but she couldn't think
what.  She hadn't been kidnapped, she was fairly certain of that, she
had no sense of being under threat.  She looked over towards the door
to see it was ajar.   Definitely not being kept prisoner then.  Maybe
if she slept some more she'd be able to work out why she was in bed
in a child's bedroom in the  middle of the day.

She dozed some more but the feeling that there was something important
that she was missing wouldn't let her sleep.  Moaning a little she sat
up  and discovered she was wearing a strange night gown.  Her scalp
felt  itchy, her hair was dirty, and she was sure she could smell
herself.   Cleanliness was something she was always careful about.
Being in bed  dirty wasn't pleasant.

Then her eye caught something just inside the door, two suitcases,
Mulder's and her own.  Gasping she remembered it all.  The packed
plane, the man with the knife and all the blood!  Mulder.  Mulder
bleeding!  God Mulder was in the hospital.  That's what she had to do.
  She had to get back to the hospital.

  But where was she?  She still didn't have the faintest idea.

 There was a bathrobe draped across the foot of the bed and feeling
like  she'd been run over by a bus she struggled into it.  How long
had she  been asleep?  It felt like days.  It also felt like she
needed weeks more.

 Scully parted the curtains to find herself looking at a trampoline in
a back garden.  There was a wooden fence smothered in roses.  It was
definitely day time, that was about all she could tell.  Opening the
door  she stepped out into a hallway.  She could hear quiet voices
somewhere in the house.

 On bare feet she padded out and found toilet and bathroom, which she
used in that order.  The dishevelled hag that stared at her from the
bathroom mirror gave her a start and she washed her face and did her
best  to pat her hair into some sort of shape.  She thought about
going back to  the bedroom and finding at least a comb, but the need
to know where she  was and what was happening to Mulder was too
strong.

 She followed the voices until she could see two people in the
kitchen.   Scully started in surprise.  The man looked like...  Then
she remembered.   She'd been dead on her feet at the hospital and a
policeman who looked  like her boss had offered to take her home.  I
must have let him, she thought with surprise.  She couldn't remember
a thing.

 The man, who looked like Skinner and whose name she couldn't
remember, had obviously just arrived home.  His wife was fussing
around  him, putting the kettle on, touching him as she moved around
the kitchen preparing a meal.

 'I'm sorry I dropped you in it like that,' the man said.  'She just
looked  so lost.'

 'No,' she smiled at him.  'You did the right thing.  She wouldn't
have coped much longer.'   The woman was tall and elegant.  Her dark
hair  hung to her shoulders in a glossy bob.  'I was a bit worried
that we might  have to get her admitted as well but I think she just
needed to sleep.'

 They're talking about me, Scully thought.  What was I doing?  I can't
remember getting here, or getting undressed.  What happened?  What did
I do?  She hung back, too embarrassed to make her presence known.

 'Oh,' the wife said.  'I swapped with Julie.  She was the only one
who could work today at short notice.  I'll have to work her Saturday
night.   Sorry.'

 No! Scully thought.  She didn't go to work because of me.  This is
terrible.

 'So you,' Inspector Stuart's wife said as she dropped a kiss on his
bald  spot, (Well that's something.  I've remembered his name.)  'will
have to take the boys to Christmas in the Park concert.'

 'I can't,' he said dropping his head.

 'Why?  What's wrong?'

 He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to her.
She  took it and read it with a puzzled look.  Sinking into a chair
she placed it  on the table and spread it out.  ' What does it mean?'

 He pulled out another piece of paper and handed her that.  'It
matches this one.  This came the week before the Santa Parade.
This,' he taped the first page, 'means,' and his words hissed with
emotion, 'that he's going to take another child.  And I'm picking it
will be from the concert.'

His wife's eyes were dark with horror.  'No Rod!  No.'

 All three people seemed frozen for a long minute.  Scully wanted to
back  away and leave them but was afraid of making a sound.  Finally
the inspector disengaged himself from his wife's grip.  'What time
are you going to wake sleeping beauty,' he asked.

 'It's alright,' Scully said stepping around the corner.  'I'm awake.
I think.'

 They smiled at her.  The inspector stood and pulled out a chair for
her.  '  I must say, you look better than when I last saw you,' his
wife said.

 Scully was concerned.  ' I must have looked pretty bad.'

 'Yes,' the woman said honestly.  'You did.'   She appraised her
carefully  and Scully didn't avoid the scrutiny.  She seemed satisfied
with what she saw.  ' Now,' she said.  'You'll want to know.  I rang
the hospital at five  and your husband was doing well.  He's even
managed 200 mls of urine output since midday so it sounds as if he's
picking up.  I'm also guessing  you need coffee.'

 Scully smiled with enormous relief.  'Yes please.  Coffee would be
wonderful.  Um,'  she felt embarrassed.  'I can't remember your names.
 I  can't even remember getting here.  And please, what time is it?'
She was babbling but she was just so relieved that Mulder's kidneys
hadn't been  permanently damaged.  'Oh, and Mulder's my partner, not
my husband.'

 The others were smiling, sharing her pleasure at the good news.  They
were such nice people.  They were being so good to her.  He was going
to be alright, she was so relieved.

 A large mug of coffee appeared at her elbow.  'I'm Paula,' the woman
said putting her hand on Scully's shoulder grounding her a little.
'And that is my husband Rod. He rescued you from the hospital just
before you hit terminal fatigue.  It's nearly six pm and I would have
woken you soon anyway.  I know you'll want to get back.'   She looked
at her with  concern.  ' You've had about six hours sleep.  You will,'
she sternly wagged a finger at Scully, 'come back here for the night
and sleep some more.  Hospital staff are paid to stay awake at night.
 Let them earn their money.'

 Paula crouched in front of Scully's chair, felt for her pulse.  'You
scared me this morning.  You were in a bad way.  We need to look
after you if you are to be any good to your partner.  Alright?'

Scully nodded, a lump in her throat and Paula stood up.  'You need to
eat  Dana.  What time of day do you feel like?  Do you want breakfast
sort of things or something more substantial?'

Scully uttered her thanks then sat there and let herself be fussed
over.   She realised she had no choice.
 
 

Christchurch Public Hospital

Rod dropped Scully at the main entrance of the hospital then sped off,
back to his office.  He still had a lot to be done before he could
give up for the day.  Scully watched the car leave and stood,
enjoying the warm  evening air before stepping back into the
antiseptic airconditioning of the hospital.  She contemplated the
forces that had conspired to bring this man and his family into her
life right when she needed them.

 Well fed, showered and dressed in her own clean clothes she felt much
more her usual self.  She wasn't stupid.  An obviously senior police
officer, obviously very wrapped up in a case doesn't suddenly decide
to play Knight in Shining Armour for the fun of it.  He must have a
reason  and Scully hoped it wasn't that he wanted Mulder's help.  But
she couldn't think of anything else it could be.

 She breathed deep, enjoying leaving her heavy winter coat behind.
For the first time she started to think about what would happen next?
 She wondered how long Mulder would be in hospital and what he would
want to do when he came out.  She couldn't see him wanting to go home
but their vacation would be severely curtailed.  He would probably
have to stay around for wound checks and the like.  Looked like he
wouldn't be sitting up mountains watching UFOs after all.

 But first she had to get him conscious.  Scully found her way back to
the  ICU, suddenly terribly eager to see Mulder and see for herself
how well  he was doing.  She felt like she'd left him alone for days.

 As she entered Mulder's cubicle Sally, a nurse she recognised from
the  night before was busy taking recordings.  She looked up when she
heard Scully and smiled.  'He's doing well.'   She patted Mulder's
leg.  ' Good  boy.' Sally tended to treat her patient as a naughty
little boy and it  seemed appropriate.  She smiled at Scully.  ' You
look better.'

 'I feel it too,' Scully answered.  She went straight to the head of
the bed.   'Mulder?'  she said quietly.  Her hand went to his
forehead, her multi purpose Mulder checking touch.  It told her a lot
about his condition and  it told him that she was there.  It
reconnected them and she couldn't have not touched him like that if
she'd tried. ' I'm back.'  He felt cool, no  fever, well hydrated, no
shock.  Automatically she checked the monitors  and equipment, her
hand stroking his hair back.  'How are you doing?   It's looking good.
 You're going to be fine.'

 Sally recognised the private moment and left them some space.  As
Scully pulled up the chair and settled by the bed she spoke.  'He's
doing  well,' she reported.  'His urine output's up and the blood
pressure's  settled right down.'

 Scully took Mulder's hand in hers and started when he twitched under
her touch.  ' He's lightening,' she said in surprise.

 'That's the other thing I was going to tell you,' Sally said.  'Dr
Neur is very happy with his progress.  She wants to get him
extubated.  We're letting him come round and we'll see how he goes.'

 Scully was alarmed.  'Don't let him wake up with the tube still down.
  He really hates that.'

 Sally looked at her puzzled.  'We don't do that.  Nobody likes it.'

 'I'm sorry,' Scully explained.  'It's just that Mulder's probably
spent more time in ICU's than most people ever do.  He's really
frightened about things like that.'

 'And that frightens you,' Sally said softly.  She had noticed that
the patient's past history in the notes extended to several pages.
She hadn't read it because his history wasn't relevant to his current
care.  Now her interest was aroused.  She'd read it later, once the
partner had gone.   Something to keep her going till home time.

 Mulder started to come round about nine.  The respirator was adjusted
to allow him to start breathing for himself.  Dr Neur arrived and at
the first  sign that Mulder was fighting the ventilator tube she
removed it.  Mulder  coughed and choked but didn't wake.  His
breathing calmed and Sally  placed an oxygen mask on his face.
'Easy,' she soothed.  'You're okay.   Just breathe.'

 Stroked by Scully, Mulder settled down, breathing well on his own.
After a few minutes she saw the pulse oximeter reading steadying on an
acceptable figure and breathed a sigh of relief.  He'd be okay.

When Rod arrived sometime after ten he wasn't sure if he'd have a
fight  on his hands or not.  He remembered refusing to leave Davy's
side for the  first few days after the accident.  People had tried so
hard to make him go home and sleep.  He felt a sudden pang of guilt
as he remember that it had been his annoying neighbour Bob Hamilton
of all people, who had arrived at 3 am one morning to sit with Davy.
He sat with Davy so that  Rod would know that Davy wouldn't be alone
while Rod went for a rest.   Bob Hamilton who Rod had had running
around in circles for several hours today tracking down luggage and
bribing customs officials (in the  nicest possible way) so that
unaccompanied bags could find their rightful  owners.

 The bed had been lowered so it was on a level with Dana's chair.  She
was semi lying, her head alongside the man's on the pillow.  One hand
held his, the other rested on his shoulder, lightly stroking.  It was
as close as she could get to holding him in her arms without actually
crawling  onto the narrow bed.  It was very quiet and they looked very
peaceful.

 'Hi,' he said quietly.

 She looked up and smiled.  'Hi.'   In the dim light she looked very
pretty.

 'Ready to go?'

 She nodded.  'Just give me a minute.  Okay?'

 'Yeah.'   He sighed with relief.

  Ten minutes later she met him at the door.  Now that she knew him a
little better he didn't look nearly so much like Skinner.  He was
tired but  greeted her with a smile.  ' I see the ventilator is gone.'

 'Yes,' she smiled, pleased to have some one to share with.  'He's
doing really well.  He woke enough to know me.  He said my name, then
he just  went straight back to sleep.'   She gave a huge yawn.  ' I
think we're jet  lagged.'

 'Come on Cinderella,' he offered his arm.  'Let's get you home to
bed.'

 'I know what it feels like you know,' he said getting into the car.
'I  know how hard it is to leave.  Our youngest son Davy spent sixteen
days in intensive care a couple of years ago...'

 The telling of his tale took them home.

 When they entered the house they were greeted by Paula and a tall
youth that Scully took to be the older son Brad.  They'd been
watching TV in  the family room but jumped up when they heard the car
drive into the  garage.  Rod did a double take when he saw his son.
'What are you doing up?'

 The boy hung his head.  'Brad wants to talk to you,' Paula said.  A
wealth of information passed unspoken between husband and wife.

 Rod pulled at his hair.  'Okay,' he said.  'You get yourself into
bed.  I'll  see you in a minute.'   Brad turned to leave.  'Oh Brad,'
his father called.   'Aren't you going to say hello to our guest.'

 Brad glanced at Scully, mumbled something that may have been hello,
blushed and then fled the room.

 'Don't mind him,' Paula told her.  'It's something to do with being a
teenager.'

 'Oh,' was all Scully could think of saying.

 Paula led Scully into the lounge to show her the sofa bed she'd made
up.   She felt embarrassed about putting a guest in Davy's bed earlier
but there hadn't been time to do anything else, Dana had needed a bed
urgently.   She showed her guest the bathroom, where to find extra
towels and urged her to make herself at home.  Paula had decided that
she liked her unexpected visitor and she certainly felt for her
plight.  It was actually quite good to have something to distract her
from her concern for Rod  who was getting too involved in his case.
'And if you're hungry,  anytime, for heavens sake help yourself to
something to eat.'   Scully was left trying to stammer her thanks.
Being taken in by total strangers was a new experience for her.

 As the women moved back into the kitchen Rod stormed back down the
passageway.  'The answer in no!'  he informed Paula.

 'I know that,' she said mildly.  'I told him you'd say that but he
wanted  to hear it himself.'

 'He's only fourteen.'

 'I know.'

 'Even if it weren't for this case there is still no way I would let
him go.   Not just a group of kids on their own.'   He sat at the
table with a sigh.   'Maybe next year.'

 'Hmm.'  She was non committal.  She patted him on the shoulder.
'Anyway, I'm going to bed.  I only stayed up to see how you both
were.'

 Rod smiled.  'Well Dana's got good news anyway.'

 Scully told her about Mulder being off the ventilator.

 'That's great.  They'll probably move him onto a ward tomorrow.'
She  looked at her husband concerned.  'What's your news?'

 He spread his hands and shrugged.  'I don't know love.  I'll talk to
you  later.  Okay?'

 'Okay.'   She kissed him lightly on the top of his bald spot.

 When she'd gone Rod stood up.  'What say I make us a milo?'   He saw
Scully's puzzled face.  'That's a hot chocolate drink.  Just what
mothers feed their children when they want them to sleep.'

 Scully smiled.  'That sounds good.'   She had brought hers and
Mulder's carry on bags into the kitchen and was checking through hers
to see if anything had gone missing in the twenty four hours it had
been unattended.  Everything seemed to be there, passport, purse, all
her cards and money, US and NZ dollars still there.  She even seemed
to have gained the magazine that she'd been looking through before
chaos broke loose.  Some one had obviously taken good care of their
gear.

 Rod found cups, milk and milo powder.  When he had the milk heating
he turned back to her.  'What do you do in the FBI Dana?'

 Scully smiled.  How would this man take it?  One way to find out.
'We  work in the X Files...'  She watched the incredulity on his face
as she  explained their work but there was no sign of ridicule.  He
asked a few  intelligent questions and seemed very interested in their
investigation  methods and resources.  'Our closure rate is one of the
best in the FBI,'  she finished proudly.  She sipped from her mug.
The drink was  chocolaty, slightly malty and not too sweet.  It was
soothing, or maybe it  was just tiredness making her so sleepy.

 'When you say we, how big's your department?'

 She had to smile at that.  'No.  When I say " we", I mean Mulder and
me.  Period.  Just us.'   She picked up her passport and glanced at
the photo.  She'd changed a lot since that was taken, when, seven
years ago.

'You work together?'   He was astounded.  That sort of arrangement was
frowned on in his own force.

 'Yes, we're partners.  Ah,' the penny dropped.  'It's alright.  I
know what you thought.  Partners is an ambiguous word.  That's what
we are though.  Close, but not that close.  We're best friends.' God,
she thought, shut up.  The lady doth protest too much.  She turned
the pages of her passport as a thought struck her.  She opened
Mulder's bag and found his  passport near the top of a jumble of his
belongings.  She opened it and  looked up at the senior police officer
sitting across from her.  'Rod, how  did our passports get stamped?'

 He shrugged and spread his hands.  'It's not what you know,' he said
slyly.  'It's who you know.'

'mmm.'   Scully took a deep breath and made her decision.  'Tell me
about your case Rod.  Can I help?'

 She watched him.  He looked pleased, and then he looked guilty.  ' No
Dana, it's alright.  You don't have to do that.'

 'That's why you came to the hospital yesterday isn't it?  You've
heard  about Mulder and you want his help.'

 'Well yes,' he said uncomfortably.  He'd already had Mulder's
passport  checked and knew that he did have the right man.  The fact
that he'd been profiling serial killers at the age of 25 was a little
frightening.  He was very much looking forward to meeting this man
properly.  'I had thought  that.  But now it doesn't seem fair.'

 'I'll tell you what,' Scully said.  'Tell me.  Now, quietly and
unofficially  and see if I can help.  I know you're really worried
about it.  I might be able to see things from a different
perspective.'   She smiled and gestured  at her mug.  'It does seem to
be the least I can do.'

 He chewed his lip and gave a brief nod.  'Okay.  This may not seem
much to you, but here, in this town, this is a big thing.  Things like
this don't happen in New Zealand.'   He opened his briefcase and
pulled out a file.  He found a photograph and handed it to Scully.
The photo was a studio portrait of a pretty dark skinned girl.  Her
curly black hair framed a  happy face with laughing brown eyes and a
gappy smile.  'Hinemoa  Turoa,'  Rod said. 'Eight years old, older
sister to two brothers, doing well at school.'   He paused and then
reeled off more facts.  'Maori mother, pakeha father.  Happy and
friendly.  Brownie Guide, adored by her family and everyone who knew
her.'  He pulled out another photo and threw it on the table.  A
polaroid, the same child, blue and cold on an autopsy table.
'Kidnapped from the Santa Parade.  Murdered.  Drowned.
Tied to a boogie board and floated down the estuary on an outgoing
tide.'    He raised haunted eyes to Scully.  'That is my case.'

 Scully looked at the photos.  A child.  A dark haired child.  'What
have you got?'  she asked.

 'Not much.  She was at the Santa Parade with her parents, younger
brothers and six cousins, nine children for the adults to watch.  The
parade is a big thing, thousands of people along the route, around a
hundred floats.  A real familyaffair.   The Turoa family was about half
way along the route.  The end of the parade passed them about mid day
and they started to walk back to catch their bus.  They had to walk back
along the street in the same direction as the parade was moving and there
were hundredsof people going in all  directions.  They passed an icecream
vendor and stopped to let the  children spend their pocket money.  That was
when they noticed  Hinemoa wasn't with them.

 'That was Saturday.  The next she was seen was Monday morning...  By
an early morning surfer as her body rolled in the waves where the
estuary  runs into the sea.'   He checked his notes.  'She had been
dead approximately twenty four hours.  She was drowned...  In what
was probably tap water, before she'd been put in the river.  No sign
of sexual  assault, rope burns on wrists and ankles, torn nails
suggesting she fought back.'
His hands went to his hair.  ' Facts.  Nothing.  We've interviewed
hundreds of people who were at the parade.'   He looked up at Scully.
'The police are pursuing their enquiries'

 'You have got something else though haven't you?'  she asked
quietly.

 He made a frustrated hissing noise.  'Yees.  But I have no proof this
has anything to do with it.'   He took two sheets of well folded
paper out of his pocket and smoothed them out.  'These are copies
obviously.  This  note was addressed to me personally and arrived in
my office the Wednesday before the Santa Parade.  My secretary nearly
binned it but changed her mind and filed it.'

He gave a little grunt and offered a wry smile.  'It's an X File.  My
secretary has a slightly eccentric filing system.  These things used
to go in W for weird, but that drawer is full, so now they go in the
drawer  underneath.'

'X,' Scully smiled.

 'Yes.'

 'After Hinemoa disappeared she remembered it and showed me.  I'm
sure it's from our man.'

 He passed the note over and Scully read :

 TIS THE SEASON OF INNOCENTS.
  INNOCENCE WILL BE LOST.

'Innocents, innocence?  Spelling mistake or deliberate?'   She looked
at  him.  'I think it's deliberate don't you?'

 Rod nodded.  He then passed her the second note.  'This arrived
yesterday morning.  Addressed to me.'

 A TIME OF INNOCENTS.
 A TIME OF SORROW

'Saturday night,' Rod continued, 'is the big free Christmas in the
Park  concert.  Over one hundred and twenty thousand people attended
last year, half of those were children.'  He put his head in his
hands. ' I don't  know what to do.'

 'You can't stop it?'  Scully asked quietly.

 'On the basis of that?'   He gave a mirthless laugh.  'No.'

 'No,' Scully agreed.

 He tapped the notes.  'First one postmarked Merivale, second Hoonhay.
  They're suburbs on opposite sides of town.  Not that Christchurch is
very big.  Common computer paper, inkjet printer.  No prints.'   He
shook his  head.  'And nothing to tie either of them in to anything.'

 'Nothing to show that Hinemoa's death is linked to anything either,'
Scully said.  'It could be a coincidence.'

 'I tell myself that.  But I have no way of knowing until Sunday
morning  do I?  When we see if we've got any kids missing from the
concert.   Shit!'   He thumped the table.  'The bastard has already
defiled the Santa Parade.  Christmas in the Park is another tradition
that will never be the same.  It's changed already for us.  We've
always gone as a family, but not this year.'

 'Paula is working and you'll be there but you won't be enjoying it.'

 'Precisely.  No way Brad and his mates are going unaccompanied
either.'

 'You can't warn the public without inciting panic...'

 'And possibly ruining the concert,' he finished ruefully.  'The
council is not being very understanding.'

'A hundred and twenty thousand people,' Scully murmured.

 'mmm.  And one more child that won't be opening presents on
Christmas morning.'

 Scully found herself biting back a yawn.  'Let me take the file to
bed.   I'll have a look at the PM results and see if I can tell you
anything.'

 'No.  No way.'   Rod gathered up his papers and shoved them back in
his  case.  ' It's late.  You need to sleep.  If you're a good girl
I'll let you  come into the office when you get bored of the hospital.
 You can see  them there.'

 She yawned again.  ' kay.  Deal.'   She went to put Mulder's passport
back and realised she hadn't checked his wallet.  His bag was a mess,
tissues, sweet wrappers, she felt around.  Yuck.  Husks of sunflower
seeds.  Wallet...  What's this?  Small, square, plush?  'Oh.'   She
pulled  the little box out.  'Oh!'

The little crimson jeweller's box sat on her palm.  She looked at Rod,
her  eyes wide with astonishment, her mouth a perfect circle.

 Rod smiled.  She looked a picture.  'That's good news then is it?'

 'I...  I..'  she stammered, shaking her head and nodding at the same
time.   Trembling slightly she reached towards the box with her other
hand.   Rod's hand came down on hers.  'Don't open it!'

 She looked at him puzzled.  'Let the poor guy catch a bit of your
surprise.  He's the one who should have seen what I've just seen.'

 'I need to know if...  if what's in there, really is still in there,'
she said,  her voice low and husky.

 'Let me.'   He took the box and opened it below the table top, out of
her  sight.  He looked up, smiling widely.  'It's still there,' he
said quietly.  He  couldn't help himself  'And it's beautiful.'   He
looked at Scully's pale  face then tucked the box back into the bag,
piling Mulder's rubbish back  on top.  'You are going to have to work
very hard at being surprised.   Aren't you.'

 'mmm,'   Scully nodded, her eyes full of tears.  Oh Mulder.  I
wondered.   I thought you might be up to something.  Oh god!  She
stood up.  'At  least I've got time to think of a good answer,' she
mumbled.  'I think I'd better go to bed.'

She turned back as she got to the door, thinking of
something.  'Rod, there is one thing I can do.  Not for your case, for
you.   Let me take your children to the concert.  They shouldn't have
to miss out and I promise they'll be safe with me.'

 'You don't have to do that.'

 'I know.  I'd like to.  I'm going to be a bit tired of sitting at
Mulder's bedside by then.  What else have I got to do?'

 'I'll have a word with Paula,' he said.  'But I think that sounds a
great  idea.  You'll enjoy it.  There's fireworks and everything.  The
boys will be pleased.'

 'Good.'   She turned to go.

 'Dana,' he called softly.  'Pleasant dreams.'

  - - - - - - - - -
 

Christchurch Hospital
Friday 10th
8 am

Rod dropped Scully early at the hospital gate.  She found herself in
the ridiculous quandary of wanting to be with Mulder and not wanting
to see  him.  Don't be stupid, she told herself.  Just act normal,
he's hardly  going to be in any state to notice how you're behaving
anyway.  I hope he slept alright.

With some trepidation she entered his cubicle to find him sitting up
in bed making a half hearted attempt at one handed toast buttering.
He looked dishevelled, pale, exhausted and was as cross as a bear.
Scully thought he looked wonderful.  'Hey,' she said.

 He looked up, the smile transforming his face.  'Scully!  Where've
you  been?'   With horror she watched the smile dissolve into tears.
'I woke up and you weren't here.'

 'Mulder, hey,' she grabbed his hand.  'I'm here.  It's all right.'

 'You weren't here,' he sniffed.

 'I'm sorry.  I know.  But I had to sleep.  It's been three days since
I  slept.'

 'Scully sorry.  I'm sorry Scully.'

 'It's alright.'   She wiped his eyes and let him blow his nose.  'I'm
here.'

'I am so drugged.'

 'I can see that,' His eyes wouldn't quite focus.

 'I know you needed to sleep Scully.'

 'It's all right Mulder.  It's good to see you so much better.  Do you
want me to butter your toast?'

 He shook his head.  'It's horrible.  You could tile floors with
that.'   He moved awkwardly on the bed.  'I hate hospitals.'
 
'Yeah.  Now you can add another one to your list.'

 Alison floated in the door and put two cups of tea on the table.
'Fox,  good news.  We're moving you to a ward about ten o' clock.
Drink that,  both of them, and I'll come and take you for a shower.'
She smiled at Mulder and winked at Scully.  'I'll enjoy that.'   She
grinned, 'Gosh Dana, you look better than the last time I saw you.'

 'Every time I walk in here someone says that to me.'

'Might be something in it then.'   She turned back to Mulder, 'I'll
see you in five.  Drink your tea and give your kidneys something to
play  with please.'

Mulder sipped on the weak tea.  'What did you have for breakfast
then?'

Scully thought guiltily of freshly stewed plums, nutty cereal and
bread fresh from a breadmaker.  She had had a choice of homemade
strawberry jam or marmalade made by Paula's mother for her bread.
There had been a plunger of strong coffee to accompany it. 'Nothing
much,' she said.  'How are you feeling anyway?'

He leant back on his pillows and sighed.  'I don't know,' he said
crossly.   'I'm sore, I'm woozy.  I'm itchy.  I'm dirty.'   He opened
his eyes and  glared at her.  'I'm...  I'm just pissed off!  Fuck It!'
his voice was rising.   'I'm in fucking hospital when we ought to be
on vacation.  Shit!'   He  forgot himself and banged his fists on the
bed.  'Ahhh,' he howled with  pain.

'Mulder,' Scully cried, reaching for him.

'Fuckfuckfuckfuck.  I'm sorry,' he sobbed, tense against her chest.
'I've  ruined our vacation.  Ow.  Fuck it hurts.'

 Scully shushed him and held him tight, rocking gently.  She saw
Alison  out of the corner of her eye and nodded slightly as she read
her query.  A  few minutes later Alison was back with a syringe.  With
the contents  injected into the IV Mulder settled quickly.  Soon after
Scully laid him  back on the pillows and they watched him fade into
sleep.

'Oh well,' Alison said.  'A shower a bit later then.'

 
Hagley Park
Central Christchurch
3.45pm

Scully was enjoying the sunshine and at last allowing herself to relax
a  little.  She checked her watch, should she go back or should she
not?   The trees above her gave a dappled shade, enough to protect her
from the hot sun and still let some of its warmth in to her tired
body.  She stretched out on the grass and watched the play of light
in the leaves; the colours iridescent and shimmering as a gentle
breeze stirred them.   Turning her head she watched the sunlight
sparkling on the little river  that wound through the park.  From this
angle she could ignore the bulk  of the hospital buildings which she
could feel looming behind her.  She  could just lie here and sleep for
a little.  Now that would be an odd thing to do.  She could get up
and go back to the police station.  She could go back to one of the
cafes she'd seen on her way to Rod's office earlier.

She sat up.  She could go into the city and sight see.  She could go
shopping.  She could get a cab and go back to the Stuart's.  Or, she
sighed, she could go back inside and make her peace with Mulder.

She smiled fondly, she knew that the fit of bad temper was really just
frustration, but even so.  It wouldn't hurt him to know that she
wasn't prepared to sit at his bedside like a faithful puppy dog.

Mulder's transfer to the ward had not been plain sailing.  He'd been
extremely disgruntled to learn that his insurance didn't cover a
single room.  Things had gone downhill when he discovered that one of
his room mates, there were three, could not stop talking.  The other
two were elderly and deaf.  He threw a tantrum that had simply
infuriated the staff and embarrassed Scully.  It hadn't stopped his
room mate talking.

 Scully had excused herself and gone to see Rod.  On her return she
discovered that someone had told Mulder that she was staying with a
police officer, not at the hotel as he had thought.  Why hadn't she
told him he demanded?  Because there hadn't been a chance, and anyway
so what.  Things had escalated and again she'd left.  So far she
hadn't gone back.  What did he think she was doing with the police
officer he didn't know?  How could he think...?  Well, her logical
mind told her, has he got any reason not to think that?  If you're
going to marry me Mulder,  you better learn that I don't like to be
possessed.  And I suppose I'd better get used to sharing things that
happen to me.  That way no one need get jealous.

She smiled gently.  Mulder, you idiot.  Don't you know me better than
that?

When she walked in she thought she'd come to the wrong room.  To
start with it was full to overflowing with flowers and was eerily
quiet.   Three beds were empty and the one that should have been her
partner' s  was completely covered in a snowstorm of get well cards
and fluffy toys.  For a moment she thought she'd wandered into a
child's room by accident, until she noticed Mulder, sound asleep in
the middle of the mess.

Mulder was lying on his left side; his bandaged arm flung out beside
him with a pillow that was probably supposed to be supporting it.
Clasped in his other arm, held tight to his chest was a very large
teddy bear.  Scully  smiled and kissed him quietly on the forehead.
'Well hello Mr tough FBI man.'   She carried a chair to the bed.
Curious she picked up some  of the cards.  As she looked through them
she could feel her astonishment growing.  Taking a handful she went
back out to the office.   'Nurse?  All this stuff on Mr Mulder's bed.
Where did it come from?'

The girl looked up from her paperwork and smiled.  'It's incredible
isn't  it.  That lot's been building up at the main office since he's
been here.  Apparently there's even more for Mrs Maruyama.  People
have really taken it to heart.'

'But these cards are all from total strangers.  People have sent
flowers and toys.'  She held up a cheque,  'People have sent money!'

The girl shrugged.  'The whole country felt really bad about what
happened.  I think the fact that it happened on an Air New Zealand
flight makes it feel like it happened here.  Mr Mulder and Mr Brunner
are heroes, and what happened to Mrs Maruyama is a tragedy.  People
want to help out.'   She gave a quizzical look.  'You do realise that
you were headline news for at least two days and the media is still
desperate for an interview?  I'm surprised they haven't nabbed you
yet on your way in or  out.'

 'You won't let them in will you?'

 'Of course not.  We've all been given instructions.  Mr Brunner's
being moved down soon too.  Don't worry we'll look after them.'

 'What about young loud mouth in there,' she motioned towards the
room.  ' What's to stop him from telling the tabloids,  "I shared a
hospital room with..." sort of thing.'

The nurse smiled.  'Don't worry about him, I've just discharged him.
He's gone, and the old fellas don't care about anything that isn't
carrying a cricket bat.  New Zealand are playing the West Indies this
week.'

'Oh,' said Scully.  'Thanks for the tip.'

Scully borrowed paper and pen and went back and started noting return
addresses if there were any.  She collected cash and cheques and
realised there was over a thousand dollars here.  'Hell,' she
breathed.  That was a  lot of money to send to a total stranger.
There were also pledges of  places to stay, free boat and plane trips,
free meals and of course the  flowers and toys.  She started reading
the cards.  Some simply said get well; many more were eloquent pleas
to not judge New Zealand by what had happened on the flight.  The
writers seemed to feel that they needed to create a good impression
of their country.  Many suggested places and  attractions to visit,
all expressed a genuine desire for the recipient to  recover soon.

Scully already had tears in her eyes when she discovered a hand drawn
card.  The artist had drawn a stick figure with an enormous bandage on
its arm.  In the background was an aeroplane.  Inside he had written,

" To the man who saved the laddy on the plane my mum says
your a hero and I should learn that I shoodnt hit my sister corse
people get hurt and sometimes its not who you mean bt i shood
grow up to be a good person like you Iam sorry you got hurt
but hope you have a nice holiday anyway  I hate my sister but
shse all rite
love from
 Liam"

Scully laughed and carefully refolded the card.  She looked up to find
Mulder's hazel eyes fixed on her.  'Hey,' she said.

'Hey,' he smiled tentatively.  He clutched at the bear.  'Is it
alright  Scully?'  he looked at her anxiously.  'I'm sorry about what
I said.'

 That bear would be easier maintenance than me, Scully thought.  She
couldn't resist him, nor did she want to.  'Yes Mulder.  It's
alright.'    She leant over and kissed his forehead, the old familiar
kiss.  She  searched his eyes and on impulse leant lower.  She kissed
him on the  lips.  His lips were firm under hers, warm and alive.
They parted in surprise and she swallowed his breath.

'Oh,' and she pulled away.  She sank onto the bed beside him, hand on
his shoulder.

He stared up at her.  'What was that for?'

Didn't you like it Mulder?  No, don't joke, that's an old response.  I
wanted to kiss a hero.  That's not the right response either.  Be
honest  remember, she told herself.  You decided you'd tell him the
truth.  'You  almost died,' she said.  'Again.  You almost died and I
realised I'd never  kissed you.'   There.  Does that make everything
better?  She searched  his face and saw that it did.

'Now,' she said swallowing her emotion.  She stroked his hair.  'What
do you want to do with all your loot?'

'Don't change the subject,' he growled.  His arm came around her.
'Can  we do that again?'

 'mmm.'

 They did.  Long and hard until it started to get desperate and Mulder
pulled away, panting, suddenly dizzy.  'Oh.'   His eyes were closed.
Scully sat there stroking, grounding herself.  She was slightly
disorientated herself.  'Oh wow,'  he finally said.

 'I know,' Scully answered.

Mulder licked his lips.  Then he looked up at her, eyes sparkling.
'Scully,' his voice was husky, 'you taste of sugar.'   His eyes locked
on  hers.  'Donuts.  You've been eating donuts.  God Scully, I'm so
hungry.'

She laughed, tension released.  'It will be dinner time soon.  They
always feed you early in hospital.'

'They won't feed me anything decent.  You know that.  I'm still on a
light diet.  I want a steak.  Or a burger.  Could you get me a
burger?'

She stared at him.  'Why are you on a light diet?  You should be
eating  okay?'

'Um,'  he dropped his gaze.  'I threw up at lunch time.'   He rushed
in to  justify that.  'I was upset and I hadn't eaten anything for
days.  I just  choked on some lettuce, it wasn't a real vomit but...'

 'And you want me to get you a burger?'

 'Or a pizza,' he said hopefully.

 'Mulder,' she sighed with exasperation.  'I'll tell you what, I'll
get you  some fruit.  Something that slides down easily.'   She picked
up a card  and looked at it grinning.  'I'll get bananas.  Bananas are
good in cases like yours.'

'Lots of potassium and stuff?'

'Yeah.'   She showed him the card that showed an elderly superman
fighting to get the top off a pill bottle.  'And they taste nearly the
same coming back up as they did going down.'

 His look was one of pure disgust.

'Now.  What are we going to do about all of this loot?'

He noticed her unconscious use of  "we" and settled back into the
pillow, feeling more content than he could remember in years.

Later in the afternoon Colin Brunner was transferred into the next
bed.   He was the other passenger to have been injured by Matuso
Maruyama.   With him came another florist's convention of blooms and
the entire  teddy bear isle of a toy shop.  Colin had been across the
aisle when  Maruyama pulled his knife.  He had launched himself at the
man as the woman had started screaming and had been stabbed in the
stomach for his efforts.

 Colin was still quite ill but alert enough to be pleased to see
Mulder.  He  remembered Mulder dragging him into the aisle but not
much after that.   He was interested to hear what else had happened.

Mulder told him what he could.  Coming from the row in front, he had
been slower and had to get over the injured Colin before he could grab
at the enraged husband.  He'd shoved Colin out of range and then
tried to stop the man who was stabbing repeatedly at his wife.  He
hadn't been in time to save the wife from receiving serious facial
wounds.  The awkward space had made it difficult to grab for the man
and Maruyama had lashed out with the knife to try and stop him.

 Scully had taken herself over the seat and managed to drag the
screaming woman along the hastily vacated central seats into the other
aisle, leaving Mulder the chance to use his greater bulk to subdue,
and finally sit on Maruyama.  Male cabin stewards had then taken over
and dragged the man to the back of the plane where he'd been
flexicuffed to a seat.  Mulder's memories were hazy after that.

 It had been absolute chaos, Scully remembered, people screaming and
fighting to get away.  Blood everywhere.  She had been busy with the
injured woman and the crew and another doctor from further down the
cabin had looked after Colin.

Noriko had been having trouble breathing, the knife wounds went right
through her cheeks and she had blood streaming down into her throat.
Scully had spent a long time with her, trying to keep her calm,
pleased  that there was another doctor who could look after Colin.
When next she'd had time to notice Mulder she'd been shocked to see
him clutching a blood soaked towel around his arm.

 'I hadn't even realised you'd been hurt,' she said quietly.  'Then I
saw the blood dripping from your elbow and saw how pale you were.'

A stewardess had seen it too and hurriedly sat him down reclining the
seat.  She grabbed another towel, which she put over the first one,
and  holding his arm up against the back of the seat applied pressure,
but it wasn't enough.

Another doctor had appeared and Scully handed Noriko over to her just
as Mulder vomited, proving how shocked he was.  Before Scully could
do anything he'd passed out.  The slashes were so numerous and deep
that she'd had no choice but to use a tourniquet.

Things had seemed strangely surreal after that she told them.  The
aircraft purred along, the way it had all the time.  There was a movie
running and three unconscious people were sprawled across the cabin,
one in each aisle and Mulder across the centre seats.  The aircraft
carried  a life pak defibrillator, a clever machine that allowed the
doctors to take  their patient's heart rhythms, 'and it gave us a
basic chance of saving  you if one of you went into cardiac arrest,'
Scully said.  She didn't add how surprised she was that nobody had.
Oxygen of course was available  and there was enough basic medical
equipment to put up three IVs, but the only drugs available were for
cardiac and asthma conditions.  What they really needed was blood and
an operating theatre and they were still  three hours from
Christchurch.  Things had seemed pretty desperate  once they'd done
all they could, but she didn't tell them that.

The staff had been great she said.  Several stewardess were trained
nurses and very helpful.  The captain had come back and offered to
divert to Fiji if the doctors thought it was necessary.  However he'd
pointed out that while that might be life saving, the surgical
services in Christchurch would definitely be above the standard of
Fiji's and Fiji's blood supply might be unreliable.  The doctors had
conferred and decided to continue to New Zealand.

That was a decision they regretted when two hours later Colin's heart
rate had become extremely erratic and Mulder's blood was still hosing
from him every time Scully loosened the tourniquet.  ' I didn't want
you  to loose your arm,' she told him, holding his hand tight, 'but
then it  looked like it might be a toss up between that and your life.
 Your blood  pressure was practically non existent.  I decided not to
take the cuff off  again.'   Her lip quivered.  'I'm sorry.'

 'Scully, shhh.  It didn't happen.  I didn't loose it.  Scully,' he
used his  good hand to wipe her tears  'I wouldn't have minded.  I
trust you.  If  that was the choice you made.  That would be okay.'
Scully's breath  caught in a sob and she leaned into him.  The fright
of the flight was still  very close, probably more real for her than
for him.  It was his turn to  soothe.  'We made it.  We all made it,
and it's thanks to you.'

'I wasn't the only one.'

 'I know.  But I'm grateful.'

 What the hell just happened here Scully asked herself as she allowed
Mulder to hold her against him.  She'd been frightened for him before.
  She had been terrified when he was in that secure psych unit and yet
she  went off to Africa without even seeing him.  What was different
now?  It  was as if kissing him had broken the "I'm fine" barrier.
Now they had  to be honest.  And that meant that comfort could be
offered because pain  could be acknowledged.  She nestled her head
against his chest.  And  comfort could be accepted.

 'I heard,' Colin said as he watched the other two snuggle, 'that the
captain got that plane to fly faster than it ever has.  He used nearly
all the fuel reserves and took half an hour off the flight.'

 'That's what saved your life,' Scully said.  'And your arm,' she told
Mulder.

 'I know,' they both said.

 'I'd drink a toast to that if they'd let me,' grumbled Colin who was
still  unable to eat or drink.  With Mulder and Scully cuddled
together on the bed the conversation moved on to the general griping
of two convalescent patients.

 
Stuart Residence
Sat 11th
9 am

Scully finished a brief perusal of the newspaper then got up to top up
her  coffee.  The sun was bathing the kitchen with warmth and it was
going  to be too hot to sit here soon.  She looked across the table at
the morose  figure on the other side and reached over to refill Rod's
cup too.  'I  know you can't stop thinking about it,' she said, 'so
why not update me on your witness that came in yesterday.'

Gratefully Rod pushed the newspaper away.  'It might be something,' he
muttered.  'Not exactly a reliable witness.  The guy thought he had
seen a girl fighting someone who might have been trying to get her
into the back of a van after the parade.  He just thought she didn't
want to go  home, reasonable assumption.  He's done an identikit of
the man, but he doesn't really remember, not even enough to remember
if he was Pakeha, Maori, Asian, or alien.'   Rod saw her quizzical
look. 'Pakeha  means white.  This guy's not even sure if it was
Hinemoa, and as far as  the van goes,' Rod sighed with frustration,
'it might have been a blue Ford Transit.  Or it might not.'

 'What's made him take so long to come forward?'

'Usual thing.  Wasn't sure if it was important.  Didn't want to get
involved.  My pick, he's a dope head with weed growing in his
bathroom and doesn't want to get done for anything himself.  His
conscience, or his girlfriend finally got to him.'

 'Are you running a check on him?'

 'Not yet,' Rod grinned.  'We'll give him a chance to be an upright
citizen.'   He looked around like he'd only just noticed she was
missing.   'Where did Paula say she was going?'

 Scully shrugged.  'She didn't.  Just said she had something she had
to do, then we'd go out.'

 'Oh yes.  Sightseeing.'   Rod's voice dripped with sarcasm.  'If you
see anything other than shops or markets I'll be very surprised.'

 Scully grinned.  'It's a girl thing.  Maybe you should come with us,
take your mind off things.'

 'Thanks but no.  If I get time later I'll drive you up onto the Port
Hills and show you the view.  What time do you think you'll be back?'

'Ah.  Sorry.  Paula will leave me at the hospital.  I won't come back
until about six.  That should be all right for getting to the concert
shouldn't it?'

'Yeah, well, hopefully I'll have nothing to do tomorrow and I can take
you then.'   They both smiled and Scully knew he didn't believe a word
of it.

 'What have you got set up for tonight then?'

 'I'll go in about three for the briefing.  There's a huge uniform
presence  anyway and I've got six plain clothes teams to cover as
well.  There's no  ticket gates or perimeter fences so I'll get them
to wander around the  edge of the crowd.  You,' he gave a glare that
made him uncannily like  Skinner again, 'will find somewhere in the
middle of the crowd and hang on to Davy like...'

 '...like he's my own,'  Scully finished.  'Don't worry.  I'll be the
only other person there aware of danger.  I'll be watching them.'

He smiled.  'Thanks.'

 'You'll be watching the car parks?'

'Yep.'

'Lost children area?'

'It's a tent.  Yes, but I think he's more likely to do what he did
last time, take a child at the end when everyone's milling around and
parents are distracted.'

 But Scully was no longer listening to him.  She was staring at Paula
who had come in while they were talking.  Paula was watching her right
back, a triumphant smile on her face.  She was holding up Scully's
blue jacket.  The jacket that Scully had last seen bloodstained and
ruined stuffed into a hospital property bag.  Only now it was on a
hanger, clean,  pressed, and as good as new.  'Oh,' Scully said
reaching for it then  sitting down suddenly as her legs gave out on
her.  'Oh thank you.'   Her  eyes glistened.  Paula put the jacket on
the table and enfolded Scully in  her arms.  'I thought you'd be
pleased,' she murmured.

 
Surgical Ward
Christchurch Hospital
9.30 am

Mulder stood with his nose pressed to the window watching a circus set
up in the park across the road.  From this height, the border of oaks
were  inconsequential and he could see most of the action.  It looked
to be a  beautiful day out, but up here in the air conditioning the
outside weather  was immaterial.  He paced the length of the window,
turning at the end  and returning to where he started.

'For god sake stop it,' Colin muttered but without much conviction.
It  wasn't the first time this morning he'd said it.  'You're making
me  tired.'

 'Yeah.  Sorry,' Mulder moved back to his bed.  He was a little tired
himself and now he could pretend to be appeasing Colin.  'Where have
the old guys gone?' he asked wondering if it might be somewhere more
interesting than here.

'They're watching the cricket test in the lounge.'

 'Oh.'   Nope, cricket was one thing English he'd never managed to get
interested in.  He'd been to a match once, only huge amounts of
alcohol  and the absence, for some reason or other, of Pheobe had made
it  tolerable.  He picked at the bandaging around his fingers.  How
long till  he could have another of those pills?  His arm ached
terribly with a sort  of tingly, jumpy sensation while the briefest
touch caused it to flare into  heart stopping agony.  The pills
weren't as good as the injection, but at  least his head was clearer
now.  He tried to wiggle a finger into the bandaging.

'Don't do that Mr Mulder,' a deep voice boomed in his ear.

 Jesus!  Mulder jumped as if he'd been stung.  Mr Sharples, the
plastic surgeon.  Fuck!  He looked around.  And the entire entourage,
keen young things in white coats.  'Morning,' he muttered.  ' I
didn't realise  you people worked weekends.'

 'I do try not to,'  Sharples said.  'However since I wanted to check
in on Mrs Maruyama, I decided I would come and see you too.  Let's
have a look at that arm shall we.'

Before Mulder could blink his arm was unwrapped and naked before the
crowd.  He stared in horror at the suture lines that criss crossed the
pale  skin of his inner arm.  Jesus.  The skin was pulled and swollen,
puckered and disfigured by the red cuts and peppered by hundreds of
tiny black  stitches.  The gauze pulled off the wounds was sticky with
yellow  exudate and had a feral, unhealthy smell.

The smell did it.  He felt himself swoon, the sweat breaking out on
his forehead, the sound of the doctor and medical students swelling
and  waning in his ears.  Oh hell, he thought vaguely.  This will be a
first,  fainting while actually lying down, he moaned, if he didn't
throw up  first.  He became aware of his other hand being held, the
grip hard,  giving him another focus.  Gratefully he turned his head
to meet the eyes of a young Asian girl in a white coat.  She held his
gaze and kept it.   Gradually, swimming in her dark eyes, he felt
better.  She waited until the wounds were cleaned and redressed
before she left.  She never said a word.

Ten minutes after the road show had left the male charge nurse came
into the room.  'Mulder mate,' he grinned.  ' Great news.  You've got
weekend leave.'   He smiled at the reaction he got.  'Do you need to
use the phone?'

Stuart Residence
5pm

Davy walked into the kitchen to find the adults were still arguing.
He looked anxiously from one to the other, the pretty woman and the
tall skinny man with his arm in a sling.  Their voices were raised,
their postures aggressive and they were both talking at once. They
looked like two cats hissing and spitting at each other.  Davy knew
what they were talking about but he couldn't follow what was being
said.  He hoped he could manage not to look too disappointed when
they told him they weren't going, he didn't want her to think he was
just a dumb kid.  Davy supposed she must think it strange that a deaf
kid would want to go to a concert anyway, but he'd been looking
forward to this since last year.   He could feel the music through the
ground and through the air, the crowd created an electricity that
made him tingle.  And then there were the fireworks.  He could hear
those.  Please let us be going.  He glared at the man and sent a
silent plea.  " Go back to hospital.  Don't ruin it."

'Dana.'   He pulled anxiously at her sleeve until he got her
attention.   'We are going aren't we?'

'What?'  Scully snapped.  She turned, seeing the appeal in the dark
eyes  and instantly realised what was wrong.  She put her arm around
the  boy's shoulder and made sure he could see her face.  'Yes Davy.
We are  going to the concert.  Mulder,' she glared at her partner, '
is not!'

 'Scully,' he whined.  'I can't stay here.  They've only got four TV
channels.'

She growled.  'Give me strength.  We have been through all of this.
You are supposed to be resting.'

'He could rest on the blanket,' Davy said, desperately trying to
rescue  the situation.  'We take a blanket to sit on,' he explained.
'Sometimes I just lie there and look at the sky.'

 'There,' said Mulder triumphantly giving the big helpless shrug that
made her want to kill him.

 'For fu..,'  Scully swallowed her swear words.  She flung her hands
up.   'Okay.'   She turned and glared at him.  'You.  Go lie down.
Now.  We  leave here at six so you've got about an hour.  I'm
going....'   She was  pacing in frustration.  'I'm going for a walk.
And don't even think of  getting off that bed until I get back.'   She
turned to Davy.  'Watch him,'  she ordered.  She flung open the front
door and strode out.

 'Oohh.'   Mulder and Davy exchanged looks.  'You better lie down
then,' Davy said.

 'Don't come heavy on me kid,' Mulder mumbled.  He started to slump
into the lounge room, which was their bedroom for the duration.

 Davy stood at the door, arms folded like a jailer and watched as
Mulder  found the remote, climbed onto the sofa bed and turned on the
TV.  He  brightened.  'Hey, What's happening in the cricket.'

'Dunno,' Mulder patted the bed.  'Why don't you come and explain it to
me.  You got any food?'

 Half an hour later Scully was back, bad temper assuaged by her brisk
whisk around the block.  The afternoon was warm, the gardens smelled
sweet, and she was soothed by the buzz of lawn mowers and the scent of
backyard barbeques.  Saturday summer afternoon in suburbia.  To be
followed by free family Christmas concert.  It felt good.  It felt
normal.   Until she remembered that this was a borrowed suburb, she
was taking borrowed children to the concert, and to all intents and
purposes, this was really borrowed time.  In about three weeks she'd
be back in winter  Washington, back to her real life.

 With a sigh she let herself back into the house and went into the
lounge.   Fuck.  The sight before her was perfect proof that men
started their  training young and never grew up.  Mulder and Davy
shared the bed,  Brad was in the armchair.  It was a male bondage
personified.  They  were muttering unintelligible somethings to each
other, swearing (all  three of them) at the cricket commentator, and
having a wonderful time.   The bed, and the rest of the room were
littered with potato chip packets,  crushed chips, coke cans,
chocolate biscuit packets, and...  Yes, she  sniffed the bowl, it
really was.  Custard!  Custard smudged the bowl that  showed signs of
having been licked, custard trailed across the duvet, and
a fair bit of it was smeared across three tee shirts and three faces.
There  was even custard on the cream carpet.

 'Mulder!'   Her voice was low and dangerous.

 Brad jumped and Davy turned to see what happened, but Mulder gave a
sunny smile.  'We're winning Scully.'

'Jesus.'   She punched the off switch of the television with violence
and  launched into full rant.  'How the hell could you make such a
mess in  such a short time?  And this?'  she held up the bowl,  ' What
the hell is this?'

'That was Brad's idea,' Mulder told tales.  Brad sunk in his chair.
'He's good at making custard.  These biscuits,' he held up an empty
packet,  'taste really good with custard.  You should try them.'

Jesus Christ.  He had no fucking idea.  This was someone else's house
he'd just trashed, not some crummy hotel room.  She skewered him with
a look and watched him shrink.  She extended it to take in the two
boys.   'You lot, get this cleaned up.  Now.'   Her voice was nearly a
whisper.   'Or we won't be going anywhere.'

'But Dana,' Davy's voice was panicked.  'He didn't get out of bed.
Not  once.'
 
 

In retrospect Mulder decided the custard party probably hadn't been a
particularly good idea.  Scully had barely said a civil word since
she'd  caught them.  She'd apparently forgotten about Mulder's need
for rest too, and had made him get down on his knees and clean the
carpet.  She  was busy slamming the last of their picnic provisions in
the boot while the boys climbed into the back of Paula's little two
door hatchback.

Mulder watched Brad quizzically.  He had a feeling he'd been conned
and that chocolate biscuits with custard wasn't something Brad was
usually allowed to eat.  Damn.  It tasted good though.  He licked his
lips,  hopefully checking for any left overs.

He looked up to see Scully watching him and for once couldn't read her
expression.  He ran his tongue over his bottom lip in one last search
and saw her pupils darken.  His groin got it before his mind did and
a warm feeling rushed through him.  Mmm.  Must file that away for
future reference.  How come he'd never noticed that before.  God, she
looked good tonight.  She was wearing her new blue jacket with a
floaty floral dress underneath it.  The jacket was the same colour as
some of the  small flowers on the dress, the colour that matched her
eyes.  He was so unused to seeing her in anything other than drab
coloured suits that she  seemed a different person.  She looked
stunning.  He wondered if she  knew.

 'Mulder,' she said, her voice like velvet.  ' Get in the car.'

 Scully knew that driving a right hand drive car on the left hand side
of the road was going to take a little getting used to.  She would
have preferred her first attempt to have been solo but there hadn't
been a  chance.  Now, she was having to figure it out with a car full
of backseat  drivers.

Brad started it.  'My Dad says that lots of people get killed by
tourists who try and drive on the wrong side of the road.'   That was
as she reversed down the driveway and hadn't even got on to the
public domain.

She managed to get onto the road, on the right side, which was the
left side and pointed in the right direction then she stalled.  Damn.
 Her right hand hit the door as she reached out automatically to
change gear, with the wrong hand.  She expected Mulder to snigger but
he didn't.  When she had her left hand on the gear stick he placed
his hand on top and  gave her a little pat.  'You get used to it you
know,' he said.  'It won't  take long.'   He smiled at her, he seemed
happy again.  'Hey Scully,'  he  said as she did the little hand
shuffle at the intersection with the main  road.  ' You want me to
change gears.'   She grinned back.  It was good  to have him with her,
even if he really shouldn't be here.

'That way,'  Brad ordered.  'There, there see.  Turn there.'

Thankfully Scully already knew where to go.  They were going to park
in the police station yard and walk the two blocks to the park.
Scully  just hoped that Mulder was up to it.  She knew he had to feel
worse than he was letting on.

 Even as they drove past the hospital they started seeing people
parking and walking towards the venue.  Maybe they were lucky to be
parking where they were after all.

Mulder spotted the circus tent between the trees, bright red and white
stripes, enticing in the sun.  ' You'd hardly think it would be worth
their  while to show tonight, what with a free concert happening on
the other  side of the park.'

'Big park Mulder,'  Scully said.  And it was.  There was much more to
it  than what he had seen from the hospital, half of their trip seemed
to skirt the park.

They entered the one way system and the roads were packed and slow
moving.  Turning back onto a two way road gave Scully a moments
worry as she'd been driving comfortably on the right and then had to
readjust to end up on the left.  However it was only another block to
the police station and she pulled in, pleased they'd made the trip
with out  incident.

They piled out of the car, obviously not the only people with police
connections making use of the parking.  Scully loaded the boys up with
their supplies, carrying two deck chairs herself and leaving Mulder to
bring just himself.  Moving onto the street they joined a happy throng
of people all similarly laden moving towards the concert.

People attending the concert came in all shapes and sizes.  There were
family groups, teenagers, the elderly.  In ones and twos or in much
larger groups, happy and having fun, it seemed as if the entire
population of Christchurch was intent on a free night out.

A bottle neck of pedestrians had formed at the bridge over the placid
Avon River, the only entry to the ground from this direction.
Although  wide enough for vehicle access it was packed with people
arriving from  three different directions and all intent on going in
one, across the bridge  to the concert ground on the other side.

'Stick together,' Scully implored, but it was difficult.  With their
hands full they couldn't hold hands and the crowd swirling around
them carried them every which way.  Davy was nearly delirious with
excitement, bouncing around.  He was rather like Winnie the Pooh's
friend Tigger Scully decided.  She understood now where that
character's traits had come from.  She grabbed at his arm, then
managed to snag the back pack Brad was wearing.  'Stay together,' she
told them.

They were doing alright until she heard Mulder scream.  Inspite of
being well padded with layers of wadding and bandages, his arm was
acutely sensitive to the lightest touch.  He was wearing a sling,
which had so far stopped people from getting too close, but now a
woman, fighting with a  struggling toddler had stumbled straight into
him, her full weight and that of her child pressing his arm between
her body and his.  The pain  was ghastly; the raw nerve endings
shrieking in a cacophony of neural  impulses that seemed to come from
every part of his body.  'Fuckfuckfuck fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck...'  The
intense pain sent his body  into shock.  Scully turned back to see
him, his arm clasped to his chest,  doubled over, and slumping as he
started to go down.

 Struggling backwards she grabbed at his good arm, propelling him
bodily through the crowd and up against the bridge rail where he
sprawled, reeling, desperately trying to hold himself together.  The
crowd streamed past oblivious.  ' Got bumped,' he gasped, tears
streaming down his white face. 'Ohgod god fuckfuckfuckfuck...'

Scully leaned against him, something strangling her heart as she
watched  him fight the pain.  She supported him with her body weight
and at the  same time shielded him from the crowd.

Shit!  Scully looked around for the boys.  'Brad!  Brad!' She could
see  his head disappearing off the end of the bridge.  Davy being
smaller was already lost from her sight.  Oh Christ!  If the perp had
been watching  them this was exactly the sort of happening he would be
looking for.   'Davy!'  she screamed although she knew he could never
hear her.   'Brad!'  She grabbed Mulder again.  'Come on.  We can't
loose the  boys.'

With no choice Mulder stumbled alongside her.  The crowd pushed them
around like flotsam and Scully could no longer see the boys or even
decide which way they had gone.  Shit no!  What now?  Mulder
staggered and she realised he couldn't stay upright much longer.  She
worked them across the flow, off to the side of the main path and up
against one of the large oak trees that bordered the ground.  'Sit
down,'  she ordered.  She helped him lower himself, pressing his head
down to  his knees, looked up, and there, leaning on the next tree
were Brad and  Davy.  She took a deep relieved breath and offered a
small prayer of  thanks that they were sensible children.

'What happened?'  Brad asked.  'Hey, Mr Custard, are you okay?

 'Yeh,' Mulder mumbled attempting to smile.  God, don't mention
custard.  He was really regretting that now and hoped like hell he
wouldn't be seeing it again.  The pain was easing a little but he felt
like shit.  He was breathing hard.  'Sorry to ruin the party.'

 'You boys gave me a fright,' Scully told them.  'I thought we'd lost
you.'  She smiled warmly.  'And you've got the food.'   The evening
was warm but she pulled Mulder's leather jacket out of the pack and
wrapped it around his shoulders.  'We'll sit here a couple of
minutes,'  she told the boys.  'Let's just watch the people go past
for a while.' Her  hand rested lightly on her partner's shoulder and
he gave a small grateful  nod.

Two minutes later Mulder forced himself to his feet.  The nauseating
scent drifting from a nearby hot food trailer was going to make him
heave.  But that wasn't the only reason to leave.  He had been
watching  the boys and Scully, in her dress like a garden and
realising that his continual needy child impersonation, must pale
beside the pleasure she  seemed to be getting from looking after the
real thing.  Okay Mulder, it  is time to start acting like a man.  And
that means, not making a fuss when you get hurt.  'Come on,' he told
them, ' let's go get a seat.'

Usually a sports field, the concert ground was a big open area ideally
suited for tonight's use.  At one end, near the bridge a huge box like
stage was set up with an enormous Christmas tree beside it.  There was
a raised screen and sets of huge speakers in place around it.
Marking a  ragged perimeter were hot dog and ice cream stalls and rows
and rows of  portaloos.  The field was already loosely full and the
group made their  way into the middle until Davy stopped them close to
one of the speaker  towers.  It was possible to see the stage and the
screen and seemed as  good a place as any.  They found a space and
Brad set out the rug while  Davy prepared to dive into the picnic
basket.

Brad was being sulky again.  He'd just remembered that he was being
baby sat and that some of his friends were probably here alone.  Then
he  remembered that his babysitters were American FBI agents and
usually they wore guns, and that was just way cool.  He didn't quite
know what to feel.  Meanwhile his stupid kid brother was bouncing
around like a bloody bunny.  And he was going to sing, Brad just knew
it.  Davy shouldn't sing.  God it was so embarrassing.

Scully watched the sibling interplay while she set up the deckchairs.
She watched amused as Mulder attempted to sit in his without appearing
to collapse on it.  She sat on the rug herself, smoothing out her
skirt and  enjoying the feel of the cool cotton on her legs.  'Hey
Mulder,' she held  out her hand in invitation, 'A beautiful evening,
you and me, a rug in a  park...' she waggled her eyebrows and watched
delighted as he giggled.

'Yeah, you and me, two kids and a cast of thousands.'   Wincing he
slid down beside her.

 'Lie down.'  Scully hid her smile and settled him with his head in
her lap.  She ran her fingers through his hair, enjoying its softness
and knowing that he would be comforted by her touch.  She noted he
was still pale and sweaty.  Her hand