++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Christchurch Central Police Station
Sunday 9.25 am

Discovering, on her arrival at the police station that Mulder had
already left did very little to improve Dana Scully's temper.  When
she discovered that he'd gone home, not because of any display of
good sense or desire to look after himself but because two constables
had carried him to the car after he'd fainted in the men's room, she
was absolutely livid.

She'd discovered this, within moments of entering the incident room,
all those present seemed abuzz with the happening.  Mulder's
reputation as a wonder boy profiler was now confused, and rapidly
being destroyed by his ignominious collapse.  Aw, what the hell.  This
wasn't even their case, what the hell did it matter what Mulder did to
his reputation here.

 Furious she paced up the passageway to Rod's office to find him on
the phone to Paula.  He handed the phone to her and she heard all
about  Mulder's arrival home.  Shit!  He sounded really ill.  What the
hell had possessed him to run around crime scenes all night?  He
bloody  deserved to be ill. Thank god for Paula!   Shit!  Shit, shit,
shit.  Didn't he know what he did to her?

Several deepbreaths later she decided not to go home.  She was mad at
him and she wanted him to know it.  She couldn't be mad at him if he
were ill.  She couldn't tell him what she thought if he were asleep.
She'd let him recover a little, then she'd ream him out.

 Rod seemed quite happy to have her around.  She took a good look at
him, concerned now for somebody else.  Here was another man who
was looking driven and exhausted, she'd have to work on getting him
home sometime too.  'Have you slept at all?'  she asked.

'No.  Kathy, can you brief Miss Scully on the night's happenings.'
He gave Scully a nod.  'I have to go interview the father.'

The night's happenings didn't amount to much.  Kathy Ihaka was very
thorough and the picture she painted was bleak.  Another little girl
missing and nobody had seen a thing.  Kathy led her around the
displays in the incident room.  They stopped in front of a board that
now had pictures of two girls.  They couldn't have seemed more
different.  Hinemoa Turoa was dark and smiling.  The portrait photo of
Charlotte Harvey showed a girl, blond and blue eyed, and with a sneer
on her face that suggested having her photo taken was something she
had to do but she didn't have to like it.  Scully wondered at the
parents that would pay to have this photo.  Surely a professional
would be able to coax a happier look onto a child's face.  She
wondered what the girl looked like happy.  She sighed.  Pray to God
she wasn't dead yet.

'What do we know about her?'

 Kathy gave a shrug.  They knew very little about her yet, her mother
had been too hysterical to tell much.  She lived with her mother, the
father was absent, and she appeared to be a normal ten year old girl.
The circus had been a long promised treat but apparently Charlotte had
thrown a bit of a wobbly when she learnt that Christmas in the Park
was on as well because she wanted to go to both.  The tickets had
cost a lot of money and she hadn't been able to get a refund the
mother told then,  so they had gone to the circus.

They discussed possible connections between the two girls but until a
thorough background was built up for Charlotte there could be
anything.  They did both live in New Brighton, however they went to
different schools.

Scully sighed.  'I suppose the best we can hope for is that she just
ran away and she'll turn up when she gets hungry.'

Kathy looked sceptical.  'That's what the boss said too, but you can
tell,' she swept her arm around the room, 'that he doesn't believe
it.'

 'Hmm.' Scully nodded.  'You know, I find it a little odd that on such
shaky evidence as two possibly unrelated notes, he could get the go
ahead to have a full team ready last night.'

 Kathy laughed.  'You don't know our boss very well.  He's wonder
boy.  He's the Commissioner's darling.'   Her eyes were glowing.  '
His reputation is amazing.  And he deserves it.'

Wow, such devotion from the underlings.  'Why?  What has he done?'

'He solves cases.  I transferred here a few years ago.'   She gave a
wry  smile, 'I married a detective.'   She waved her arm across the
room  until she saw who she was after and pointed at a Maori man, too
broad to look comfortable in his rumpled dress shirt.  Which
explained why a  blond woman would have a Maori name Scully thought.
'It's not  ideal,' Kathy said.  'We're often on different shifts,
different cases.  But  at least we're in the same city now.  And we
can always find something  to talk about.'   She patted her flat
stomach carefully.  'It's not for much longer now anyway.'   She
poked her tummy proudly at Scully, ' I'm  pregnant,' she told her.

 'Congratulations,' Scully smiled.  'Don't work too hard will you.'
She didn't need to be reminded of happy families right now.  'What
were you saying about Inspector Stuart?'

'Oh yes.  Before I came I'd found out a bit about him.  He was known
as a good cop.  He's a clever detective and everybody likes him, that
sort of stuff.  Wiri, my husband, he'd just made it into CID and he
liked working for him.  Then just after that the Sounds murder
happened and  no one ever thought we were going to get anyone for
that.  That's what  made his name.  He just didn't give up.  He didn't
let anyone give up.'    She gave a depreciative shrug.  ' It took
nearly a year but we got the  bastard.  Coupland was convicted, even
without the bodies.  And it was  all down to the boss.  He'll get this
one too, just you wait.'

'What happened?'

'Oh of course, you won't know.  It was three years ago, a couple of
teenagers went missing from a New Years Eve party at a lodge in the
Sounds.  The Marlborough Sounds,' she clarified.  'It's a pretty wild
place with lots and lots of bays, and plenty of bush and water to hide
bodies in.  There were major searches around the shorelines, people
combing the bush, that sort of thing.  They had to have left on a
boat, there was no other way out, not unless they went overland and
it was all  real rugged country.  They just disappeared.  They never
showed up New Year's morning at the boat they arrived on.  At first
their mates just thought they were off somewhere, you know, it was a
warm night.

'Let's see, the police were called on the second and CID arrived about
the fifth, once Picton police were sure it was more than just a
missing  persons.  It took a long time, it was good policing, asking
questions,  eliminating boats and suspects, but we got him.  He'd
lured them to his boat with a promise of a bed, there were more
people than beds on their one.  He'd wanted her for sex we reckoned
and had to take him along too.  He'd done whatever he'd done and
dumped the bodies at sea, the day or so after they went missing.
They've never been found.   Forensics found they'd been on the boat,
well she had anyway.  The  boss put it together and made a case.
Coupland got life.'

'I see.  I'll have to treat Rod with more respect when I meet him on
my way to the bathroom in the morning.'

'Oh god!'  Kathy slapped her hand over her mouth.  'You're staying
with him aren't you?'

'Don't worry.  I don't think you've said anything he wouldn't have
wanted to hear to his face.'   Scully turned back to the board and the
work at hand.  'Now, do you think you can find me the report on the
place where Hinemoa's body was found.  I've been thinking, why did
he float her down the river?  Why not just put her in the sea?  Maybe
he lives by the river or has access to a boat shed, is there a
property that  backs onto it that he could have used as a place to
keep her?'

Kathy was suddenly excited.  'Find it, we might even be able to find
Charlotte in time.  I'll get right on it.'

 'Hang on,'  Scully said.  'That could be one lead but keep thinking
about the river in other ways.  It might mean something to him.  The
water might be significant.  There could be significance to the surf
board thing too?  What do you think?'

 'I'm thinking, I'm thinking.'

 Their thinking took them so far that at eleven Scully went to see Rod
and put their suggestions before him.  Some of their thinking
impressed  him and he sent Constable Kathy Ihaka and Detective
Constable  Wiremu Ihaka out in a car to investigate the estuary and
lower river for  possible properties.  He refused to allow another
constable to phone the  local surf clubs asking after suspicious
behaviour on the beaches,  particularly regarding people with boogie
boards.  He thought that was  a little too nebulous to chase up at
this time.

When Kathy had left Scully stayed in the office and watched Rod sag in
his chair.  She started to speak but he held up a tired hand to stop
her.   'I know what you're going to say.  Save your breath.'   He
checked his  watch.  'Have you ever read Robert Ludlum?  "The Bourne
Identity",  "The Odessa File"?  They're spy stories.'

She wrinkled her brow.  'They sound familiar.'

 'Hmm.  The thing I remember from several of them; the hero, he's
going through hell but has to keep going.  But he always makes time to
rest, because "sleep is a weapon".'   He swung his chair around and
stood up.

'I'll go down and give the troops a pep talk.  Then I'm going home for
a sleep.'   He looked at her.  'Alright?'

'Good.  That's great.  I'm just not used to hearing a man say
something  so sensible.'

 'Right.  Well here's some more sense for you.  I appreciate, hell we
all  appreciate what you've put into this but,' his glare was direct,
' I have  plenty of people here being paid to think hard on a Sunday.'
His voice  became gentle.  'I think there's someone else who needs you
now.'

 Touche'.
 
 

11.30am

As she turned into the Stuart's street Scully passed Davy on his bike
peddling furiously in the other direction.  The day was clouding over
but if anything it seemed hotter that before and Davy looked quite red
beneath his purple cycle helmet.  Scully gave a toot, but of course he
didn't respond.  She felt a little silly.  He didn't appear deaf.
Sometimes it was hard to remember he was.

She let herself through the connecting door to the kitchen.  There was
no one there.  'Hello,' she called softly.

'In here,' Paula answered and then Scully saw her, sitting by the
window in the family room with some bright needlework in her lap.
Paula held her finger to her lips and Scully walked in quietly.
Mulder  was sleeping in the other recliner chair; his head turned to
one side,  mouth open, his breath coming in little puffs.

Scully watched him.  He looked grey and unwell, tight stretched skin
over his cheek bones and dark bruises under his eyes.  She laid the
back  of her hand on his forehead, stroked his hair.  Paula joined her
and  together they watched him before moving, of one accord, toward
the  kitchen.

'Shit,' Scully said moving to fill the kettle.

'Yeah,' Paula agreed.  'Dana I'm worried about him.'

'God Paula.  I'm sorry.  You shouldn't have had to deal with this.'

 'Oh for heavens sake.  I could, I did, it's fine.  Stop apologising
and  let's work out what to do.'

 'You think he should be back in hospital don't you?

 'If we haven't managed to get any fluids into him in the next hour or
so...  and something that could be called food by tea time, then yes.
He's dehydrated.  He's ketotic, smell his breath, his body is
starving.   When was the last time he ate anything that actually
stayed down?

'I don't know.'   Scully sat down with a whump, resting her chin in
her  hands.  'His last proper meal must have been on the plane.  He
was only  on soup and jello in the hospital.  Damn it.  If he'd just
stay resting and  give himself a chance.'

'I know,' Paula patted her shoulder.  'Men are silly creatures
sometimes.'

'At least your one seems quite sensible.  He said he'd be home by
twelve.'

Paula laughed.  'See.  He knows what he should do and he made you
believe him.  I know better.'   She put tea in the pot.  'Did he give
you  that "sleep is a weapon" crap?  He won't be home till,' Paula
looked at  the clock, 'about three.'   She held out her hand.  'Money
on it.'

 Scully laughed and shook.  'So we sit on them.'

'Yep.  If we can keep hold of them they haven't got a chance.  Was
Rod alright?'

'He was looking pretty tired but he seemed on top of things.  They
were  following several lines of inquiry.'   She snorted, 'They still
haven't got  anyone who saw anything.  Do you think I should wake
Mulder and get  him to drink something?'

'Hold on a few minutes.  I sent Davy to the shop for some lucozade.'
She filled the teapot.  'He only just got up.  You wore him out last
night.'

Scully nodded in response to her unspoken query about the tea.  'He's
a neat kid.  We really enjoyed taking them, I was glad we could do
it.'

'Good.'

The two women sat in a companionable silence.  The wind was picking
up and with it the heat.  Scully plucked at her tee shirt that was
starting  to feel too heavy.  She thought about taking a shower and
changing into  another of the dresses she'd brought.  But then she was
in someone else's house and she couldn't use up all their hot water.
Too bad.

 'It's the norwester,' Paula explained, seeing Scully's discomfort.
'It  could get really hot, but the way the cloud's built up, it
probably won't  get any worse than this.  If you get the sun as well,
it can be too hot to move.  It's to do with the way the dry air comes
over the Alps.'   She  sipped her tea and thought of something.
'Dana.  Who is Sam?'

Damn.  Scully shut her tired eyes a moment before answering.
'Mulder's been dreaming.  Was he really distressed?'

'I've seen worse but yes.  He was moaning a lot.  He was calling out
Sam's name.  "No, no" came into it quite a bit too.  I held his hand
and  just kept talking.  Did I do right?   I didn't want to wake him
and he settled back down?'

'You did right.'   Scully felt so tired.

 'Is Sam his brother?'

'Sister.  Samantha.  She was abducted when she was eight.  Mulder was
twelve and he was babysitting at the time.'  Scully sighed.  One
moment in time with such huge repercussions. The pebble in the middle
of the ripples.  'He doesn't remember what happened and the case was
never solved.  He carries a huge load of guilt.'   Succinct and to the
point she told herself.  You know the story so well you can reduce the
unspeakable to four easy sentences.  What does that say about you and
Mulder?

'No!  Poor Fox.'   Paula's eyes were wide with horror, but partly from
a  realisation of the implications.  'Now here he is in the middle of
a case  about disappearing little girls.  Oh no.'

'Precisely.  Paula, I think maybe we should go and stay somewhere
else.  I really, really appreciate what you've done for us.  Hell, I
don't  know what would have happened if you hadn't been here.'
Scully's  eyes filled with tears and a lump formed in her throat.
'I've got to keep  him away from this case.  He just can't take it
right now.'   She was  struggling not to cry.  'I don't think I can
handle it right now.'

'But where would you go?'

 'A hotel I guess.  The hotel we were originally booked into has
offered  us a week's free stay.  We'd be all right.  They'd have room
service and satellite TV so we wouldn't even need to go out.'

Scully tried to speak normally but she was choking up.  'If I removed
the phone, Mulder couldn't even call a cab...'

 'Shh,' Paula put her arms around Scully.  'I don't like the idea of
you dealing with this on your own.  You could make yourself ill
again.  You need to look after yourself too so don't go and do
anything rash right now okay.  I've got an idea...  I need to talk it
over with Rod first.   Alright?'   She sat back and handed her a wad
of tissues.  'It will work  out, I promise.'

'Damn.'   Scully muttered quietly.  'I'm not usually like this.  It
usually  takes an awful lot to get me upset.'

'I don't think I'd like to see what you call an awful lot then.  Don't
worry about it.'  Paula poured more tea.  She found this couple
intriguing, obviously in love and deeply involved and intimate with
each other and yet they didn't appear to have a physical relationship.
  Work ethics just didn't seem to cover the situation, and if that was
the  case, what were they doing on holiday together?  What, was one of
them gay or something?  They seemed mature normal adults; well
maybe Fox didn't quite, but close enough.  'Rod told me about the
ring.   I think perhaps your emotional involvement has just gone up a
notch.   That's probably made things more upsetting'

 AAARRUUGGHHAA!!!

'Jesus!'

Both women jumped, spinning around to face the open sliding door
onto the patio.  Scully started grinning, something she hurriedly
stifled behind her hand when she saw Paula's face, set like thunder
as she glared at her youngest son.

 Davy and his bike, and it's very noisy horn were just skidding to a
screaming halt, a brake handle caught by the trellis on the far side
of the  patio.  Throwing himself over the handlebars he attempted to
vault a  potted shrub and ended up crashing in a scrambled heap of
plants, soil,  pottery, and supermarket bags, his bike sailing finally
to rest on top of  the pile.

Feebly grinning, and trying desperately to maintain his cool he
reached  up and squeezed the air horn on the handle bars.  PAARPhhh...
 A  trickle of spilt milk leaked from the end.

Davy's face fell.  Scully couldn't hold it any longer.  She burst out
laughing.  She laughed and laughed, unable to do anything to help as
Paula extricated her son and gave him a thorough telling off.  The
trellis  was shattered, only held together by the leafy vine that grew
through it  and several shrubs and pot plants had come to grief.
Scully could tell  that the garden meant a lot to Paula.

All through the tirade she could see Paula struggling to hold onto the
sternness required, while her mouth twitched at the corners and the
light danced in her eyes.  It had been a terribly funny fall, quite
worthy of a Marx brother's film.  Scully watched Davy shuffle from
foot to foot and try and avoid his mother's face, because that way,
Scully realised, he could avoid knowing exactly what she said.  He
was a cunning one, Davy.  Kids, they were fun...

Then she lost that train of thought completely.  She heard Mulder call
her name.

In the dim light of the curtained family room Mulder's eyes looked
huge.  He was struggling to rise out of the lounge chair but couldn't
work out how to stow the foot-rest.  He had his legs spread on either
side and every time he lent forward the sprung mechanism folded
partially, allowing him no purchase.  Scully pushed him back into the
chair.  'Lie down.'

He was still wearing the clothes he must have put on in the early
hours  of the morning, jeans and a ratty old grey sweatshirt.  That
would  hardly have enhanced his image with the local police either.
'Easy  Mulder, just stay there.'   The heavy woollen blankets had
fallen to the  floor in his struggles.  She picked them up.

'What is it?  What happened?'  Mulder was alarmed, his voice croaky.

Scully felt his forehead and cheek.  It was a soothing touch.  'It's
alright.  It was only Davy showing off with his bike horn.  He likes
things that make loud noises.'   She pulled on the neck-band of his
sweatshirt and placed her hand on the skin of his chest.  'Mulder,
aren't  you hot?  It's a really hot day.'

He shook his head.  'No.  I'm all right,' temperature wise anyway.
Nothing else felt right.  He sighed.  'I feel bad.'   He leaned back
into  the chair.  'My arm's sore but not too bad but I feel,' he
thought about  it, 'achey, like the flu.'   He closed his eyes.  'God
I'm tired.'

'Can't think of any reason why,' her voice bored into his brain.
She's mad at me.  'You're not feverish which is a miracle, knowing
you.  Headache?'

 He blinked.  'Yeah.'

'Nausea?'

 'No. Not at the moment.'

'Good,' said Paula coming in with the apparently undamaged lucozade
bottle.  'Because you need to drink.  You're dehydrated, that's why
you've got a headache.'

Mulder looked up in horror.  'Scully, how did you throw your voice
like that?'  But the movement wasn't a happy one.  He sagged, 'You're
ganging up on me.'

Scully held the glass while Paula poured.  'Drink it Mulder.'

Mulder looked at the gooey orange stuff.  He hated these sorts of
fortified fizzy drinks.  He tossed up his options.  The two women
watched him.  Sensibly he decided that he had no option at all and
sulkily took the glass.  When the stuff touched his lips he was
suddenly ware of the foul furry feel to his mouth and realised he
was  desperately thirsty.  The sweet, faintly chemical taste barely
registered, he needed it so badly.  Running his tongue around his
mouth he held the glass out for more but the second cup didn't go
down so well.  Now  he could taste it, and he felt it slosh in his
empty stomach.  ' Uh...'

Scully took the cup away.  'That's okay Mulder.  Have a bit more in
half an hour or so, we don't want you sick again.  It needs to stay
down  if it's to do any good.'

'You are ganging up.'

'Yeah.  You should see what we've got planned in the food
department.'

'But not right now,' Paula said watching him.  'I think you'd be more
comfortable in bed Fox.  Come on,' she flipped the chair upright and
the footrest down in one movement. 'We'll detour past the loo on the
way.'

Mulder found himself not only toileted but showered as well.

The toilet was bad enough.

'Scully, I can manage this bit on my own.'

'Oh no you don't.  I'm not leaving unless you're sitting down.'
Before  he could protest further he found his jeans and boxers around
his knees.  Dumbfounded he offered no resistance as she pushed him
onto the seat, then she left the small room and shut the door.

He sat there mortified, but worse was to come.  Job finished, even if
it  had only been a feeble, strong smelling trickle, he firmly
buttoned his fly and forcing himself to stand tall stepped back out
into the hall.   Scully reached for him and touched, he leant into her
embrace, only to recognise in the next moment what her intention was
as his sweat shirt  was wrenched over his head and little more gently
off his arm.  Paula started taping a large plastic bag over the
bandages; the shower he realised was already running.  Woozy and sick
he was too slow to react so that seconds later his pants were around
his ankles again and Scully  was urging him to step out of them and
into the shower where a plastic stool had been placed under the
stream.

'God Dana,' Paula breathed as she handed Scully soap and a washcloth,
'there's nothing to him.  He's so bloody skinny.'

'I know,' Scully replied as she ran the soapy cloth over his back and
chest, 'Up,' under his arms.  'He nearly died from a serious viral
illness only a couple of months ago.  He hasn't really recovered.'

Hey, Mulder thought, when did I stop being here?  She squatted,
avoiding the stream of water and soaping his legs.  God Scully.  This
is me.  I'm naked here and I feel awful.  What are you doing?

'Hell, no wonder he's collapsed now.  He's got no reserves at all.'

Then Scully looked up and saw the hurt in her partner's face.  Her
heart sank; it wasn't only water running down his face.  Damn, she
hadn't been thinking.  He was ill, but he wasn't unconscious, she'd
been callous.  Catching Paula's eye she motioned her out.

'Mulder I'm sorry.'   She reached for a bottle of shampoo and poured
some into her hand, she still had to finish the job.   'Close your
eyes.'    She massaged the suds into his scalp and rinsed it off while
he sat woodenly.  He seemed determined not to forgive her.  Damn.
She  could have made this nice for him, or at least not unpleasant.
She could hear the hitch in his breath as he tried not to cry, but
she was hot and bothered too, and damp and sweaty from being too
close to a shower with her clothes on.  She just couldn't call on the
patience needed to  deal to his hurt ego.  Giving up she handed him
the cloth.  'Wash between your legs,' she instructed and turned to
find the towel.   Wrapping him in it as he stumbled out a few moments
later she sat him  on the edge of the bath while she dried his hair
with another towel.  He  needed to be hugged but she couldn't do it.

'That wasn't nice Scully,'  he said sadly.

'I know.  I'm sorry.  We weren't really gossiping about you.'

'You were.  Like I was a piece of livestock that doesn't measure up.'

'No.  No, not like that at all.  I was just...  I guess it was nice
not to be  alone in being worried about you.  Paula's a nurse.  She
knows how to look after people.  And she's seen men in showers before
too.'

'But not me.  And I know you've seen me in all sorts of situations
too.'   He looked up, his eyes full.  'I didn't like it Scully.
Why're you mad at  me?'

'For godsake Mulder,' his withheld tears seemed the last straw.  'It's
your own bloody fault.  If you'd stayed in bed instead of racing off
in the middle of the night to solve some case that has got nothing to
do with you...  Why the hell can't you look after yourself?  Fuck
Mulder.   I'm doing my best.'   She wrenched off the plastic bag,
removing all the  hairs where the tape had been stuck.

'Ow!'

'Shut up.  Stand up.'   She towelled him off as though she were intent
on removing his skin, his shaky stance not quite up to her vigorous
attack.

'Scully,' he grabbed at her arm.  'Stop.  I'm dry.'   He swayed,
'Stop.   Please,' his voice faded.  'I need to lie down.'

'Fine.'

With his arm over her shoulder and the towel sliding off his scrawny
waist they made their way to his bed.  Mulder was starting to feel
desperately sick and unutterably sad.  She's tired of looking after
me,  he thought.  Paula had made the bed and turned it down and it
looked so good, the teddy he'd brought from the hospital waiting to
welcome him.  The room had been closed all day too and was noticeably
cooler than anywhere else in the house.  Paula was laying out a tee
shirt and some clean boxers.  She stood nervously as they entered.

 'Fox, I'm sorry.  We were thoughtless.'   She came over and hitched
up the towel noting his pallor and unhappy face.  'My oldies I work
with are so used to being showered that they don't even blink.  I just
didn't think.'   She held up the clothes.  'I hope you don't mind.  I
found these in your case, I didn't know what you liked to sleep in,
you didn't have any pyjamas but I thought these would do.'

'Thank you,' Mulder said thickly.  Her kindness was likely to achieve
what Scully's shortness could not, he was going to cry.  Paula took
over from Scully.  Sitting him on the bed she gently pulled the shirt
over his  arm and then his head while he snuffled quietly.   'You
should feel fresher anyway,' she murmured quietly.  She slipped the
boxers over his feet and pulled them up to the towel, then lying him
down she slid them up over his hips, removed the towel and pulled the
sheet up, seemingly in one easy motion.

The bed felt cool and safe.  Lying down felt wonderful.  The large
bear  on the other pillow growled reassuringly and he reached for it,
turning  his head into its soft fur.

'Mulder.'   Scully's voice pulled him back from the edge of sleep as
she  moved the teddy.  'Mulder, drink this, then you can sleep.'

 He looked up to see her holding another glass of lucozade.  'No.
Scully, I hate that stuff.'

'Mulder.  Drink this or you're going back to the hospital and onto a
drip.'

'Uurgh, no,' he buried his head in the pillow.  'No,' as she shook
him.

'Mulder!  You are very sick.'   Her voice was rising.  'If you can't
drink you'll have to go back to the hospital.'

He looked up and saw that she meant it.  He struggled to sit up and
she  helped hold the vile liquid to his mouth.  He forced down a
mouthful  and gagged, the sticky stuff running down his chin and onto
the clean tee shirt.

'Mulder.'  She said it like she thought he'd done it deliberately.

Paula cut in, she could see Scully was near the end of her ability to
cope.  'What do you like to drink Fox?'

'Iced tea,' he answered instantly.

'Right, we can do that.  You drink this now and I'll have some iced
tea ready when you wake up again.  That's a perfect drink for a day
like this.'

Mulder closed his eyes and concentrated on getting the drink down.
And on not crying any more.

Gentle hands laid him back on the bed and when he opened his eyes he
met Paula's dark concerned gaze.  Scully had gone.  'Dana's worn out
Fox.  She's been badly frightened and she's very worried about you.'
She touched his stubbly cheek in a move that must be taught as
"standard caring move number 2" in all doctor and nursing courses.
'So you need to rest and get well and not do anything else to distress
her.  Can you do that?'

He was sniffling again and she wiped his eyes with the corner of the
bath towel.  'What's wrong with me?' he cried.  'I hurt my arm, why do
I feel so bad?'

She smiled and tucked the teddy bear back next to him.  'Do you really
not know?'   She could see he didn't, sometimes even the brightest men
could be really dense.  'It's like Dana said, you've worn yourself
out.   You had a serious illness very recently, then less than a week
ago you  nearly bled to death.'   She took his hand and stroked his
hair with the  other hand, gesture number 3.  'It's only Sunday, on
Wednesday you  were still on life support and in renal failure from
what I can gather.   It's not just your arm Fox; it's your whole body
that's been injured.  You need time to heal.

'And you need fluids and energy to repair yourself.  Can you drink a
little more.'

 So he did.  Then he fell asleep, the bear held tight against his
chest and  his mind mulling over what she had said.  Scully was
scared, she was worn out.  It was all his fault.
 
 
 

Stuart Residence
3.35 pm

Blue, soft and warm, surrounding, encompassing containing.  Above
and below, from the lightest pastel ice to the deepest dark green,
above  and around and through.  Water.  Water.  He was it and it was
him.   Floating, moving rocking with the waves, part of the waves,
inseparable.  Waves spume laden and wicked where the wind and the
air, the air, life giving breathing air met the water, the blue.
Fighting  suddenly, no longer content to ride with, be with the tides,
fighting to reach the air.  Fighting to separate from the sea to
breath and loosing.   Going down.  Sinking back.  Calmly down.  Way,
way down.  No more  air, no more breath, just blue.  No need to fight,
just sliding.  Darker and darker, sinking, down.

 He passed them.  He passed the girls.  First Charlotte, her blond
hair  spread radiant around her face.  Her skin clear and cold and as
pretty as a water washed painting.  She opened her eyes and spoke but
her words were lost in the blue.  Then Hinemoa, lady of the lake,
floating, arms  outstretched pointing so that he turned to see.  The
water was changing,  it was thickening, taking on the feel, the taste
of blood.  Suddenly he  wanted to fight again, to leave the blood, he
couldn't live here.  This  wasn't the way it was supposed to be.  Not
yet, he wasn't ready.

He couldn't see now.  He was groping, trying to find his way up.  His
reaching arm encountered a hand and he pulled on it, pulling the body
of the child towards him until he could see her.  Tangled dark hair
obscured her face, which he suddenly desperately didn't want to see.
The hair was dissolving into worms floating away in the blood. He
panicked but couldn't turn away as her hand came up and with a totally
familiar move flicked the wormy hair back behind her shoulders.  Her
decaying lips moved.  'Hello Fox,' Samantha said.

Mulder jerked upright in bed, heart pounding, breathing hard,
desperate  for air.  His stomach roiled and he clenched his jaw
fighting to hold it  down.  After a few seconds he realised where he
was.  Wiping his face  on the sheet he started instant damage
assessment.  It appeared he  didn't have to worry, no one was in the
room and no one seemed to be  coming running.  He can't have screamed
then.  His heart beat was  slowing and the urge to vomit that he'd
woken with seemed to be  easing too.  Dreaming, he swallowed.  God,
that was a new one.

He lay back and worked on collecting himself, the images still fresh
in  his mind.  Water and the ocean, as if he'd been part of it.
Dozing again  he scrambled to hook a thought that was drifting like
seaweed on the  edge of his mind.  The ocean...

Jesus!  The ocean.  He could feel it.  He could feel him, he needed to
catch it...

Leaping out of bed he raced into the kitchen.  He needed paper to
write.   He couldn't see any, not even a shopping pad, oh for his
laptop.  A  computer.  The computer in the family room.  Tearing
through from the  kitchen he made a beeline for the machine.  It was
on and playing a  flight simulator game all on it's own.  Without even
bothering to try  and shut the game down Mulder hit the re boot
button, impatiently  jiggling about until an unfamiliar home page
arrived on screen.  Sitting  himself on the edge of the chair he
grabbed the mouse and started  looking for a word processing program.
Bingo, another second to load  up and he was away.  "The sea, the sea,
the ocean.  Cleaning them,  loosing them..."

Jabbing at the keys, frustrated by being unable to use his left hand
Mulder still managed to have the screen filled within minutes.
Immersed in his task he was completely oblivious to Paula's arrival or
her surprise in finding him there.  He'd filled several pages before
he  became aware of being called and fought his way out of the ocean
to  acknowledge her.

'Fox.  What are you doing?'   She could see the concentration it
required for him to focus on her.  She watched his agitation with
concern.  What the hell was happening now?  ' Fox?'

'Profile,' he explained, the muscles of his mouth slow to respond.  It
took tremendous effort.  'The killer.  I can feel him.  Now.  I woke
up  and I know...'  His hand tapped the keys, desperate to return to
his train  of thought before the ephemeral knowledge was lost.  'Need
to.'   God  he didn't have time to explain, just write.  "I must go
down to the sea  again..."

Paula watched in disbelief.  She peered over his shoulder.  What she
was looking at seemed total gobbledygook.  And horrifyingly familiar.

 "They've gone.   they're gone.  i've lost thsem  I'll nsver ssse her
aagain

                     rthe sea breeze waas coming in aand thwere was aa
xhild  making a sancastle on a beach.  WAAs it me or was it her.
 It's clean and pure and fresh.  They were innocent.  I am innocent.
innicence           innocence"

 Paula couldn't see any more because suddenly he scrolled up and
started deleting huge chunks of whatever it was, typing furiously
before  it had barely disappeared.  He was no longer aware she was
there.  Hell,  what was this, his hands were flying over the keys, the
ends of the  fingers of his left hand stabbing inaccurately and
dodging around those  of his right.  He was unstoppable.  Was he mad?

'Fox!'   She grabbed at his right hand and stilled it.  'Stop.  This
isn't  good.'   His legs jiggled, his body desperate for motion.

'No.' He was nearly frantic as he dragged his mind back to try to
explain.  'I have to do this.  This is what I do.  This is how I do
it.   Don't stop me. Please.'   He ground his eyes shut and forced a
breath.   'Please Paula.  I'm here, I'm okay.  I know what you're
thinking.  Just  let me finish so I can let it go.  Please.'

She made a rapid assessment of his physical and mental state, noticing
that he'd turned away from his precious writing and was watching her,
pleading, but apparently fully lucid.

 'Okay.'

 With a sigh he dived back to the key board.

 'But Fox.'

'What!'

'Have a drink.'

He held out his hand, drained the glass he was given and sank back
into  the abyss.
 
 

4.00pm

Turning into his driveway always brought Rod a sense of well being.
Home was a haven, a place where he could stop being a top cop and be
himself.  Here he didn't have to mind his Ps and Qs, didn't have to be
aware of the implications of an action, well not the same way anyway.
Here he was Dad, with the attendant responsibilities and duties that
that  entailed.  But it wasn't just duty, he gained huge pleasure by
travelling  through life beside his sons, supporting and guiding,
arguing and laying  down the law.  Fatherhood had surprised him with
its joys from the  moment the wriggly newborn Brad had been placed in
his arms.

At home too was Paula.  Rod still marvelled at the thought that he had
his best friend, his best lover, and probably just about the best
person he  had ever met all rolled into one person and married to him.
 And she was a looker.

God he was tired.  He was raving.  He turned off the car and sat.
Safe.   Alone.  He probably shouldn't have driven, he wasn't with it.
Where was everyone, someone should have come to greet him by now?
Wearily he stepped out of the car and made his way inside.  A cup of
tea, some toast or maybe some cake if there was any, then bed.  For a
few hours at least.

The house was dim with most of the curtains pulled, standard procedure
on a norwest day in an attempt to keep the heat out.  It made him feel
more sleepy.  He was surprised to find his wife standing in the
doorway to the family room.  'Hi,' he said quietly and walked into
her hug.

'I knew you wouldn't come home before three,' she told the skin on his
neck.  She drew him back and looked him over.  She was tall enough to
look him in the eyes, and his eyes were tired and sad.  'Not good,'
she whispered.

'No.' The taping of the computer keys caught his attention and he
broke  from the comfort of her gaze.  'What's going on?'

Paula nodded towards the computer where Mulder's gangly figure
jerked, his whole body involved in what he was doing.  'I think we're
seeing genius at work,' she said softly.  With his hair sticking out
and  uncoordinated typing motion it looked as though a trainee puppet
master were in control.  'He says he's doing a profile,' she
explained,  'but he's quite manic.  And what he's writing doesn't make
any sense.'

'How long's he been like that?'   Mental instability made Rod
extremely uncomfortable.

Paula checked her watch.  'About half an hour I think.  He was in bed,
sound asleep, I checked a bit after three.  I was putting washing away
and came out to find him like that.  He could answer me when I spoke
to him, but he didn't want to be here, he was desperate to be... where
ever he is.  Do you think we should stop him?'

'Where's Dana?'  Rod's tired mind would barely function.  He didn't
know what to do here.  It had been nearly forty eight hours since he'd
had anything other than a cat nap.

 Paula nodded towards the patio.  'She and Davy are both sound asleep
on the picnic blanket under the plum tree.  Davy was showing her all
his aircraft books.'

Rod had to smile at that.  Davy and his obsession with planes could
put anyone to sleep.  'Wake her.'

But they didn't have to stop Mulder because suddenly he came to a
halt.  He'd finished.  He'd caught it. The storm was gone.  He flung
himself back, away from the screen, away from the madness, but the
old chair wasn't up to that and the next moment he was on the floor,
suddenly terribly aware of how sick he felt, how long it had been
since he had last taken codeine.  He was so sore, it seemed like
years.

He gazed at the unfamiliar carpet, reacquainting himself with his
place in the world.  From under the sofa a tiny man stared at him, a
miniature diver, complete with mask and oxygen bottles.  Feet
appeared in his field of view, two pairs of feet.  One pair were
bare, long and slim and sported shiny pink toe nails, the other were
larger and in dress shoes.   Turning his head away from the lego man
he looked up as the feet's owners squatted above him.  Hell, he
swallowed, what had he been doing?  How badly had he hared out?  Why
couldn't he remember?

 'I'm alright,' he told them in answer to their concerned questions.
'I'm  okay,' but they seemed a long way away, their speech virtually
unintelligible.  Moaning he allowed Rod to help him up, his arm felt
like it was being crushed by rollers that were tearing the flesh away
from the bone.  Then as he came upright, it was if he'd had water in
his ears and they had cleared.  He could hear, he could comprehend,
and he could speak.

'Chair or couch?'  Rod asked.

'Couch,' he replied.  He lowered himself, curled up with his arm tight
against him.  'I'm okay,' his voice was a gasp.  'It's just really
sore.'   Paula gave him the tiny pill and he slid it under his
tongue.  The drug dissolved straight into his blood stream and had a
near instant effect.   He lay back with a sigh, eyes closed,
recovering.

The click of the computer keys made him start awake.  'Don't look at
that,' he shouted alarming Rod.  'Please.  I'll get up in a minute and
turn it into something you can use, it won't make any sense yet.'  His
voice was sad.  'You'll think I'm really off my rocker.'

Rod held up a placating hand.  'I'll just save it for you?  I won't
read it.'

'Okay.'

 Rod turned back and with a sigh lowered himself into the recliner,
kicking off his shoes and unbuttoning his shirt.  'Don't race to get
up and finish.  I'm going to have a rest now, I'm sure you need a
rest too.'    That was rather diplomatic Rod thought.  The other man
looked like shit, he didn't need another total collapse on his
hands.

Paula carried in an icy jug and poured them both her iced tea.  She
was rather proud of it, she's made the recipe up and she'd ended up
with a drink that was cool, fragrant with mint, balanced by the
sweetness of pineapple juice.  The tea itself gave it a kick and
stopped the other flavours from being too strong.  She'd already
drunk several cup fulls herself and would need to make some more
before long if this heat kept  up.

Mulder sipped appreciatively.  His nausea seemed to be directly
related  to his level of pain and now that was easier his stomach felt
fine.  'This  is good.  I didn't realise you would go to the trouble
of making  something yourself.'  He held out his glass.  'Can I have
some more.'

'Of course.  I like making things, don't trouble yourself.

'How about you love?'  she asked Rod.   You're nearly asleep.  Do you
want anything to eat first?'

'Mmm,' Rod mumbled, eyes shut.  'I do but I'm too tired to care.  What
have we got?'

'I've got some smoked chicken, I could make you a salad.'

'How about something with eggs, those bread things?'

Comfort food was needed was it?  She knew her man.  Others saw the
tough nut, the boss cop with (apparently, someone had told her) balls
of  steel.  She got to nurture the little boy, the one that lurked
within and  gave the tough cop his inherent goodness.  She smiled.  '
You mean  French toast?'

'That's it.  Could you?'

She dropped a kiss on his forehead.  'Of course.  You deserve it.
What  about you Fox? Can you manage to eat something?

Mulder smiled.  'French toast sounds wonderful.  My mom used to
make that,' his voice went sad, 'when I was little.'

Rod and Paula exchanged glances, we'll talk later they said.  'Right,'
Paula said.  'I've got loads of bacon.  Coming right up.'

'Um.'   They looked at Mulder again.  'Can I not have any bacon.'   He
was embarrassed.

'Sure,'  Paula said puzzled.  'How about I put on some fruit and lots
of  syrup?'

 'Thanks.'

 Then Rod twigged.  'You're Jewish?'

'Yeah.  Sorry?'

'Sorry.  Why sorry?'

Mulder shrugged, he didn't really know.  It just felt like one more
way  he was putting these people out.  'I think I'd probably like
bacon, he  said feebly.  'I just don't think Mom would like it if...'
 God, how  pathetic.  He sounded like a two year old.

'It's alright Fox.  You don't have to explain.  I'll make you
something  nice.'   She left.

Rod kept his eyes on the man curled on his sofa, the one whose bare
legs were way too long.  He wondered if Mulder realised he was only
wearing his underwear.  'Paula said you were writing a profile?'

Mulder looked back warily.  He thought about how to explain what had
come over him but he couldn't explain it to himself.  'I gave up
profiling,' he said finally.  Rod waited.  'Sometimes,' Mulder said,
'it  gets to me.  I could treat it like a job, do it by the numbers,
but then I'd  see that that way was all bullshit and I'd see so much
that no one else  could...'  He swallowed.  'No it wasn't like that.
Profiling is a science.   I'm a psychologist.  It's a matter of taking
examples of someone's known behaviours and extrapolating them,
predicting what they may do  in the future.  And it works.  But you
know that.'

Rod nodded.  'I do.  Good profiles have helped me on cases more than
once.  But you do something else don't you?'

'I have a gift,' Mulder snorted.  'If you'd like to call it that.  I
soon realised that I know things I couldn't possibly know.  I don't
know how but my subconscious seems to process information differently
to other people.  I have a 200 IQ,' he said disparagingly, 'but
that's nothing to do with it, I think I just know how to think..,'
he struggled desperately for a phrase, '... Dark.  Like a killer.  I
kept coming up with the goods, kept catching killers but god...'  His
breath was rough.  His meaning  was abundantly clear.  The toll he'd
had to pay was way too high.  'I was too good.  They wouldn't let me
stop, they wouldn't let me take time off.  Always another case,
another consult.  "Just a few minutes Mulder.  Look at this for us
Mulder."'   His eyes filled with tears.   'Always another missing
kid...

'Someone told me once that what I did was like channelling.  I don't
know.  I don't know how I do it, but it's a dark horrible place it
happens in.  And when it happens like it did today I can't stop it.'
He  looked up at the older man.  'You do think I'm mad.  That's all
right.   So do most people that know me.'

'Except Dana.'

Mulder grimaced.  'The jury's still out on that one.'
 
 

Scully surfaced, drawn to the kitchen by the delectable smell of bacon
frying.  Davy was right on her heels.

Paula grinned at them.  'I suppose you two want some too?'   Dana was
looking better she thought, although somewhat rumpled.

'Yes please Mum,' Davy begged.

'Who are you cooking for?'  Scully asked.

'The men,' Paula indicated the living room.  'Rod's just got home and
I want to catch him before he crashes.'

Davy had caught that.  'Daddy's home?'   He saw his mother nod.
'Daddy's home.'   He shot off to find him.

'Fox is awake too,' Paula said, 'but...'

'But?'   What was wrong.

'He's been writing a profile.'

Scully grimaced.  'Is he alright?'

Interesting response Paula thought.  Not, "Is it any good", but "Is he
alright".  'Well for a bit there I did wonder.  He was manic.  He
wasn't all there, not on this planet anyway.'

Scully snorted.  That was a good way of putting it.  'How is he now?'

'He's flat out, exhausted on the couch, but he's lucid and he's
hungry.   Let's strike while the iron's hot.  Tell you what.  You take
these into the  men,' she handed Scully two plates, one laden with
golden squares of  toast and bacon, the other, smaller, two slices of
toast with stewed  peaches and syrup.  She reached into the fridge for
more eggs.  ' I'm  going to make another round for us.  Bacon?'

Scully smiled.  What a treasure.  'Please.'

They ate companionably in the family room.  Paula took the other chair
while Scully and Davy sat on the floor leaning back against the sofa.
Mulder managed awkwardly, one handed, his plate on a small table in
front of him.  He found himself able to eat very little.  He was no
where near as hungry as he'd thought he was.  He nibbled at a corner
of the toast and found that the peaches slid down nicely, he would
have been happy with just that.  He could see Scully watching him out
of the corner of her eye so kept plugging away until he just couldn't
take any more.  He gained much more pleasure and a different sort of
nourishment from Scully's closeness.  Are we ever going to kiss again
he wondered.

'This will do us for tea then will it?'   Paula asked.

'Sounds good to me,' said Rod reclining the chair and settling down to
sleep.  'All I need now is some milo.'

Paula grinned.  'Sorry, can't do.  We haven't got enough milk.  We
would have but Davy had an "accident" with it.'   She told Rod all
about it, much to Davy's embarrassment.  'I'll see if Brad's still at
Mum's.  He can get some on his way home.  Pass me the phone.'   The
cordless phone was on the coffee table next to Rod.  'Rod!'

'Huh?'

'Go to bed.'

 'Okay.'   He lumbered up.

 'Pass me the phone please.'

'Oh.  Okay.'   He passed it over.  Paula dialled and wandered into the
kitchen, preparing for a good chat.  Rod said mumbled goodnights to
the others and turned in time to see his wife stiffen.  'What?' he
asked,  his instincts roused.  He saw her face as she turned and his
heart dropped.

'He's not there,' Paula said.  'Mum says he went home just after
lunch.'

All hell broke loose.

Scully worked out later that it probably only took ten minutes to
track Brad down at a friend's house.  During that time, especially
when his parent's were trying to work out who to call first, and
discovering that he wasn't at his best friend's house, the fear in
the room was palpable.   No one could bear to voice the thought, but
it was in everyone's minds that the perp had targeted the family of
the policeman who was after him.  None of them would be surprised
when this turned out to be an abduction.  Paula phoned Brad's
friends, quickly, barely explaining when she discovered he wasn't
there, frantically moving on to the next phone number.  All the while
Rod was giving her instructions, already thinking through who he'd
put on the case and what they'd need to do.  Scully and Mulder tried
to occupy Davy.

And then all of a sudden the tone of Paula's voice changed.  At first
she just sounded wildly relieved and then as Brad must have been put
on the phone she went ballistic.  Brad could have been in no doubt as
to how thoughtless, stupid, and unthinking he'd been.  He was also
thoroughly grounded, for roughly until his twenty fifth birthday.

Scully found her eyes were full of tears and Mulder realised he'd
barely breathed the whole time.  He didn't think his heart could take
this.  Maybe he didn't want to be a parent.
 
 

 Sunday
Mid evening

Scully leaned back on the pillows with a sigh, the book she had just
finished reading dropping into her lap.  She and Mulder were on
Mulder's bed where they'd been for the last couple of hours, trying to
give the family a bit of space.  Mulder had been dozing, lulled into
somnambulance by the interminable cricket commentary on the
television.  Scully's movement roused him and he rolled over smiling.
It was still hot so he didn't race to hug her, contenting himself with
a  pat on her arm.  She smiled back and leaned in to give him a brief
kiss  on the lips.  "Later," the smile said.  'How're you doing?' she
asked.

'Hot.  But better.  Lots better.'

'Good.'   They lay side by side enjoying the company.

'Hey Scully.  What are we going to do?'

Scully laughed.  'I was just thinking the same thing.  It will depend
a bit  on what happens at the hospital tomorrow.'

'You don't think I'll have to stay in do you?'

'I don't know Mulder.  The surgeon might want you to have physio,
you've hardly got any movement in your fingers have you?'

Mulder tentatively moved his fingers and winced.  'You could look
after that couldn't you?  You'll be able to take the stitches out?'

'Well that's what I'll be arguing anyway.'   She smiled at him.  'I
want  to get on with this vacation.'   There was a whole lot of
promise in that  sentence.  'And besides, I think we should get out of
this house.  Paula  and Rod are really kind, but they've got enough on
their plates right now.'

Mulder nodded.  'I want to finish that profile.  At least it's
something I can do.'   He was half way up, intent on getting back to
the computer  when Scully but her hand on his chest and pushed him
back.
'In the morning will be soon enough.'

Taking a look at her face he didn't argue.  'I think we should use
some of that gift money to buy them a big present.  And then, what do
you think?  I say we give the rest of it and the toys to the local
deaf foundation.  Except for Bozo here.'   He patted the large bear
that was on the other side of him. 'I want to keep him.'

'Bozo?  You've called him Bozo?  Mulder, that will need another
whole seat on the plane.'

 'He can sit on my knee.'  He threw her a challenge.  'What would you
call him then?'

'Bed bug,' she said facetiously.  'Bed bug bear.'

'Bed bug?  Nah, he's too big.'

'That's the problem Mulder,' the bear was currently taking up a third
of  the bed, Mulder more that a half and Scully was squeezed into a
small  space near the pillows.  She didn't need to say any more on the
subject,  not just then, it could get too complicated.  She knew
Mulder got the point because he moved over, making more room for her
legs.  'I know.  How about Custard?'

 There was a knock on the door, saving him from a reply.

 'Hello,' he called.

 Tentatively Paula poked her head around the door.  'Are you guys
awake?  Can we have a word.'

 'Yeah,' he glanced at Scully.  'Sure.'

'Rod's going to head back into work soon.  Why don't you come and
have a bit of supper with us.  We, ahh...  We'd like to ask you
something.'

'They want us to leave,' Mulder muttered to Scully as he got up and
let  her help him into his jeans.

 Mulder decided not to beat about the bush.  'You'd like us to go
wouldn't you?' he said as he sat himself at the kitchen table.

The bread maker had been doing its thing and a fresh loaf was sitting
in  the middle of the table surrounded by sandwich makings.

'Hell no,' Rod said from where he was putting together an elaborate
salad sandwich.  'Of course not.'

 Paula poured boiling water into the teapot and set it on the table,
sitting  down beside her husband.  The air was finally cooling off and
the open patio door brought in the breeze, fragrant from the garden.
Outside an incredible sunset was playing across solid lenticular
clouds standing out from the Southern Alps.  Inside was homey and
comfortable while outside seemed incredibly foreign in the dying
light.

Relieved Mulder reached out and helped himself to some bread, opting
for honey rather than anything of high nutritional content.  He kept
his eye on the couple across the table, watching as volumes of
unspoken communication passed between them.  It was something that
lots of couples did when they knew each other well he realised, not
something unique to Scully and himself.  So what, he wondered, did
they want to  ask?

 Rod finally broke the silence.  'Mulder, Dana, we'd like to ask you a
favour.'   There was a long pause, the sound of crickets filled the
evening air.  'It's quite a big ask, but I hope you'll at least
consider the  idea.  I think you might even enjoy it.'

 'I'm not letting Mulder get any more involved with this case,' Scully
said.

Well that's telling him Scully.  Mulder glanced at her.  She got his,
<Is  that so?> message.

<Yes,> she answered just as silently.  <And yes I can make you.>

'It's nothing to do with the case,' Rod said quickly.  'At least not
directly.  Though I certainly appreciate your help.  In fact if I got
you a laptop we could be in touch that way.  Your input would be
valuable.  I'd keep you up to date.'

'Rod,' Scully said quietly.  'What do you want us to do?'

Paula laughed.  'What my husband, who by the way can give a mean
briefing, is trying to say is: we would like you to take the kids
away.'

Mulder audibly gulped on his tea.

'I know it's a big ask.  It's just...' Paula spread her hands.  'You
saw what happened here today.  It's too hard for Rod to work if he's
worried about the boys, and how can he not be with this maniac around.
  He needs to be able to put everything into finding the girl and
catching  the guy.'

 Rod smiled.  'I am capable of speaking for myself you know,' he said
wryly.  'What we were thinking...  We have a holiday cottage booked at
Bush Bay in the Marlborough Sounds.  It's for the week before
Christmas.  It's a really lovely place.  We found it a couple of years
ago when I was on a case up there and we just love it.  At this stage
it  doesn't look like I'm going to be able to take my leave and I'd
hate for the boys to miss out on their holiday.  So we wondered if
you'd take them.  I'd really like them away from here as soon as
possible.'

 Paula took up the request.  'I rang the lady who manages the cottage
to see if we could get it earlier.  It will be available from
Thursday.  Well I  know you want to go whale watching so I thought,
depending on what your doctor says tomorrow Fox, you could go up to
Kaikoura for a couple of nights, take the boys and do the whale
watching and then go into the Sounds on Thursday.  It won't matter if
the boys miss their last week of school, they're hardly going to be
learning much.'

 'Well...' Scully said.

 'It's a beautiful place.  The beach is gorgeous.'   Paula was trying
to  read their faces.  She knew they would love it, and it would be a
perfect place for convalescing.  'It's a place we'd have sent you to
at least see anyway, it's incredibly scenic.  We'll be paying for the
cottage and your food.'

'The fishing's good,' Rod added.  'You could probably live on fish if
you wanted.'

'The fishing would have to be exceptional if I were going to feed us,'
Mulder laughed.  'They'd have to be leaping on to the beach.'

 'There's something else you should like,' Rod said with a grin.
'There's supposed to be a ghost in the bush behind the cottage.'

 'Now you've got me,' Mulder matched his smile.  'How can I resist.'

 'We'd keep in touch.  There's a phone on and I'll find a laptop with
a modem so we can use email.  Paula could come up next week when her
leave starts and you could leave then if you wanted.'

'If it's as nice as you say,' Scully said.  'You might need to use a
crow bar to remove me.'

'We'll go,' Mulder emphasised, just in case they'd missed Scully's
point.  He took her hand knowing instinctively that she was pleased
with the idea.  'We like the kids, that'll be no problem.'  He wasn't
sure that he really wanted to share a scenic spot and Scully with
Brad and  Davy but it couldn't be too bad.  Could it?  'This place
sounds just what we were wanting.'

'Maybe you should take some time to think about it,' Paula jumped in
guiltily.  'I mean, please don't feel that you have to repay us in any
way because you don't.  And both of our boys can be fair sods at
times,  Davy's deafness can be difficult too.  You might not feel you
want to be responsible for them, especially somewhere new.  And
especially Fox, when you really ought to be looking after yourself.'

 They could see her marshalling her thoughts, wondering whether or
not to push any further.  She was saved from making a decision when
the phone rang.  'Stuart,' Rod answered.  He went still for a moment
and they all turned to watch.  Then he gave a war whoop that would
have put a Maori warrior to shame.  Beaming he turned to the others.
'They've got her.  She's alive!'   He started issuing instructions
already  walking towards the garage and his car.  'I'm on my way Bob.
Scene  of crime only in there until I see it okay.'   He checked his
watch.   'ETA twenty minutes.  I'll see you soon.'

Paula handed him his jacket.  'Where?' she asked.

 Rod grinned.  'A warehouse in Ferrymead.'   He beamed at Scully.  'It
backs onto the estuary.  Thank you.'   He gave Paula a kiss.  'I'll
phone.   Don't wait up.'  His gaze was squarely on Mulder as he said
it.
 
 

 Ten minutes later Mulder was sitting on the patio watching the stars
come out.  His arm throbbed and he was tired, but he felt well.  He
felt better than he had in a long time.  When Scully came out of the
house and pulled up the chair next to him he felt content and
complete.  She reached over and found his hand, her smaller fist
fitting snugly inside  his.  Leaning together, her head fitted easily
on his shoulder.  'We fit,'  he said quietly.  He could feel her
smile.  'Of course,' she answered.

Their kiss this time was long and sweet and much more than Mulder
imagined a kiss could ever be.  Her lips burned a path to his soul,
opening his being with her tongue.  And yet, and how could this be, it
barely whispered of erotica, just passingly stirred his loins as it
filled him with a promise of something he'd never imagined.  Then
just when he thought he was going to implode she gently broke away
and he gasped, catching his breath and his whirling emotions.  Whoa!
Cynical Mulder bounced back.  It must be the drugs.  'Nothing in my
life ever felt like that.'

 'mmm,'  Scully purred.

Oh hell, he'd spoken aloud.  'Uh...  Scully?'

'Look Mulder,' Scully pointed up.  'A satellite.'

'It's me.  I'm in orbit.  I think my heart just stopped.'

Scully's lips came towards him again and he nearly backed away, but
they moved this time for the old familiar forehead brush.  He put his
hand to the back of her head, pulling her down until they were cheek
to  cheek.  He rubbed gently, inhaling her scent, brushing her face
with his  lips.

'Come on G-man,' she said quietly.  'Bed for you.'

'Ooo.  I was hoping you'd say that.'

 'Not tonight Josephine.'

 He knew that, but there was no harm in trying.  He stood up.
'Anyway.  I've got a date with a bear.'
 
 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Surgical Ward
Christchurch Hospital
Monday  13th
10.05am

'And what about your bowels Mr Mulder?'

'Excuse me?'

'Your bowels,' Mr Sharples reiterated.  'When did you last move your
bowels?  I expect you're constipated.  Are you?'

 'Um,' Mulder reddened as he remembered the painfully unproductive sit
he'd had not long before the doctor finally arrived.  He didn't want
to talk  about it, not here in front of all these people.

But he didn't have to say anything, the surgeon was explaining.  'Mr
Mulder is on codeine for pain.  What is the most common side effect of
codeine Miss,' he studied the mass of students in front of him,
'Cassidy?'

'Constipation Mr Sharples,' Miss Cassidy said.  'It relaxes the smooth
muscles.'

'Now, Mr Parker, what were we just discussing prescribing for Mr
Mulder  a few minutes ago?'

'Ferrous Glutamate doctor.  It can also have a constipating effect.  I
suggest,' the boot licking young man jumped in anticipating the next
question, 'that we also prescribe a laxative.'

'Hmm,' Sharples winked at Mulder.  'Good thought.  I feel that in this
case a more aggressive approach might be needed.'  Even having seen
the wink  Mulder was feeling exceedingly nervous. 'Mr Parker, a rectal
examination  to discover the extent of the problem with perhaps an
enema while you're there.'

This was not turning out to be a good morning.

Mulder had slept as if trying to make up for his life time of
insomnia.  He had still been deeply asleep when Scully had had to
wake him.  So he was feeling groggy as well as uneasy when they got
to the hospital.  They discovered that the doctor would see him as
part of his rounds so Mulder would just have to sit on his bed, which
was still covered in toys, and wait for him to arrive.  This was
frustrating after all the effort to get there by eight as instructed.
 The toys had at least kept them a little amused.  One of
the nurses had removed the bandages from his arm and left it wrapped
in a green surgical towel.  He felt uncomfortably naked like that,
his skin so oddly sensitive he was afraid to even rest his arm on his
lap.

And there they had sat for close to two hours, except for Mulder's
time in the bathroom.  Scully went downstairs to buy some coffee and
came back  with a newspaper so at least they knew a little bit about
the case.  Charlotte had been admitted to hospital, the police were
following several lines of  inquiry and amazingly "The Press" had been
reliably informed that two American FBI agents were helping the local
police with the case.  Inquiry head Detective Inspector Rod Stuart
would neither confirm nor deny the  claim.

 They had been chuckling over the thought of that when Mr Sharples and
his entourage had finally arrived.  The surgeon had been delighted
with the arm but not so delighted with his patient's general
condition.   He  investigated the suture lines closely.  The redness
was fading from the suture lines, replaced instead by a pale
yellowish bruising.    He made Mulder make a fist, turning his arm
and wrist in several directions.  Mulder winced.  Any movement was
painful, pulling oddly all along the muscles in his forearm.  The
surgeon ran a pin around his hand discovering places on
the fingers and palm that were completely numb.

'Don't panic now Mr Mulder.  I expect the sensation to return but
nerves can take several months to regenerate.'

'Months?'   Mulder was horrified.   Scully put her hand on his arm.
It will be alright.  We'll talk about it later, her touch said.

One of the students was encouraged to describe exercises to help him
regain use of his hand.  Mulder found himself with a tennis ball to
squeeze, whenever he remembered to do so, but was allowed to handle
nothing smaller than the ball and lift nothing unless it was a fork.

Mulder had asked if it was all right if the fork held a piece of steak
and that was when the trouble really started.  Mr Sharples had said
that he thought  in Mulder's case it had better be a very large piece
of steak.  He had then lent forward and rolled down Mulder's lower
eyelids, examining the colour  of the skin.  He pressed Mulder's
nailbeds and stood back arms folded regarding him.

'Tell me Mr Mulder,' he said.  'Did you have a quiet relaxing
weekend?'    Mulder didn't answer.  'Well.  Did you?'   He held up his
hand.  'No, don't  bother answering.  I know all about your visiting
of crime scenes and about  passing out in the toilets at the police
station.'   There was a hastily stifled buzz from the medical
students.  They were obviously wondering what the  hell the patient
had been up too.  Speculation on the topic would keep them
busy for days.

 'How?'  Mulder asked cowed.

Sharples grinned taking at least ten years off his age.  'Easy.  My
daughter  was working in the incident room yesterday morning.  She
spoke very  highly of you Dana,' he said.  'She's not sure what to
make of you though.'   His look suggested that he was still trying to
make sense of Mulder as well.   'My son-in-law however has heard many
good things about you.'

Mulder was looking puzzled.  'Kathy?'  Scully asked.

'That's right,' Sharples said proudly.  'I heard all about it last
night.'  But  he didn't say any more about his daughter and Scully
wondered if he knew  of his impending grandparent status.  'Now,'
Sharples was back to  business.  'If you plan on any more crime
fighting Mr Mulder, don't!  You have been through a major trauma.
You are not well enough for anything  more energetic than eating and
sleeping.'

 'It's alright,' Mulder muttered.  'I've already heard this lecture.'

'Good.  Have you got the message yet?'

 'Yes.  Dammit!'

'You're anaemic, hardly surprising.  I think...' he pinched his lip.
'Sister.   Can we get a unit of packed cells?  Fairly soon if we can,
I think Mr  Mulder would like to get out of here before too long.'
He turned back to  Mulder.  'That will take a couple of hours but will
make you feel much  better.  I think you'll find it time worth
taking.'

'You're letting me go?'

 'Yes.  I'll add iron pills to the list.  We'll keep up the codeine
for a few  more days then, panadiene.  He looked across to check one
of the students was taking notes.  He checked the flip board.  'I'd
like you back on Thursday to take the sutures out and see how you're
going.'

 'Um... Doctor?'  Mulder muttered looking around panicked.  'Scully?'

 Scully stepped in.  'Mr Sharples.  I am a medical doctor.  Would you
mind  if I removed the sutures?  It's just that we've been offered the
use of a  holiday cottage in...'

'The Marlborough Sounds,' Mulder supplied.

' ... And we'd really like to get away and start enjoying our
vacation.'

'Wonderful,' Mr Sharples had exclaimed.  Then he'd brought up the
subject of bowels.

'Me?!'   Parker's cheesy smile slid to his toes.  'A rectal and an
enema?'

'Yes.  As you are so helpful, I'm sure it would be good practise.'

Hell.  This sounded for real.  'I'm fine sir really,' Mulder said
quickly.   'I'm sure I can go.  Soon.  I'm fine really.'

'Oh.  Thank you Mr Mulder.  Sorry Parker, you miss out now but I'm
sure I'll keep you in mind for next time.  We'll put a laxative in
with the cocktail.  What do you think?'   Mulder smiled with more
than one type of relief.

Sharples had another close look at his suturing.  'If you're going to
be in the Sounds I'll let you go swimming.  The water up there is
wonderful.  It  will be good exercise.  Only in the sea though, stay
out of swimming pools.'   He looked over at Scully.  'I'll organise
some dressing packs.  Dry it well and rebandage.  If there's any sign
of infection...  Hmm.'  the  thought worried him.  'Any sign at all,
get him back to hospital.  Blenheim would be your closest.  An
infection would be serious.'  He stared at  Mulder.   'I don't think
you've got the reserves to fight it.  A wound break down would undo
all our good work.  I'll get the notes ready just in case
they need to be faxed through.  You should be alright.'   He
straightened  up.  'Can someone redress this now.  Leave the hand free
this time.  Alright Mr Mulder, have your blood and then you can
leave.  I'll have your discharge notes ready by then.  Oh, if
something hurts, don't do it.' He turned to his students.  'That's
good advice to anyone, anytime.  The body has pain for a reason, to
stop you hurting yourself.  Mr Mulder, enjoy your  holiday and try to
stay out of trouble.'   He swept out of the room with the
students, taken by surprise, flustering at his coat tails.
 

Five minutes later one of the students had come back to insert a
butterfly needle in the back of Mulder's hand for the blood
transfusion and then there was nothing to do again but sit and wait.
It was only half an hour before the packed cells arrived and were set
up, but by then Mulder knew how many holes there were in the ceiling
tiles, in particular and on average, and how many for the entire
room.  The blood was set to run over two hours.  He was working on
total number of tiles needed for each floor of the hospital based on
the assumption that the utilities room and places he hadn't seen all
had the same type of ceiling when Scully picked up a pink
bunny and got a very devious look on her face.  'Mulder, you know how
we said we were going to donate this stuff to the deaf foundation or
whatever it's called?'

'Yeh?'

'Well, don't you think the kids ward right here could maybe use them
too.   What do you say to giving them half of it?'

'Damn right Scully.'  He sat himself up a bit.  'When I've finished
here we'll take them down, I reckon they'd let us give some out
personally.   There's sixteen toys, why don't we take them all.  We
can keep the money for the deaf kids.'

 'No way G-man.  You sit there like a good boy.  I want to play
Santa.'   A  nurse came in to take Mulder's recordings, a half hourly
requirement for a patient receiving a blood transfusion and Scully
quickly explained what she wanted to do and asked for help.  Mulder
never stood a chance.  He was chained to the bed as long as the IV
was running, and short of pulling it  out; a look at Scully proved
that wasn't an option, there was nothing he  could do about it.

Scully leapt into action, pleased to have something to do.  The
thought of  playing interminable rounds of hangman didn't do much for
her.  Help was very forth coming.  All the staff from the ward
crowded into the room to tell Mulder they thought he was being very
kind and generous and that the children would be really delighted.
Colin thought it was a good idea too and decided to donate his toys
as well.  He was allowed up quietly and much to Mulder's disgust,
managed to talk one of the nurses into taking him to the kids ward in
a wheelchair.  The charge nurse of the children's  ward was made aware
of their impending arrival.

At the last moment Scully rescued a copper coloured fox.  'I think
I'll keep  this,' she said quietly, tucking it in beside Mulder.

 'Scully?' he said threateningly.

 'Back soon,' she told him.  'Look after my fox for me.  Don't let him
do anything stupid.'

 'Oh I won't.  I promise.'

Laden with bulging pillowcases, Scully, Colin, and Fiona, the student
nurse went to spread joy among the children.
 
 

It was nearly 1.30 by the time they left the hospital.  Mulder had
been sleeping when Scully and Colin arrived back from the kids ward,
both of  them high from the generosity of giving.  Scully was actually
contemplating some permanent voluntary involvement with sick children,
she had found the task so rewarding.  Colin had just been totally awed
by the level of illness some of the children were enduring.  His guts
were giving him hell after being up so long, but he now had a
different  perspective, he wouldn't be complaining again.

 Because of the presence of Colin and the two morose old men, Mulder
and Scully hadn't been able to discuss anything that Mulder really
wanted to know.  As soon as they made the parking garage, doctor's
notes, scripts and handfuls of get well cards in hand, Mulder
started.  The blood had given him a new lease of life.  All that
haemoglobin whizzing around his body  was making him bouncy as a
toddler.

 'Mulder, not now,' Scully sighed.  'I'm hungry.  I'm tired.  I want
to get  the hell out of here and never see a hospital again.'

 'How far is it to the beach?'   Mulder asked.  'Come on, we might as
well  do some sightseeing.'  He saw Scully's face.  'Gentle
sightseeing.'  He  wheedled, 'Come on, there must be a cafe at the
beach.  We can sit and watch the sea.'

Scully looked at her watch.  She liked the idea.  'Paula needs her car
back by three.'

Mulder slid into the passenger seat.  'We can do that.  Pass me that
map.'   He waited until she was out on the street and headed in the
right direction.   'Now tell me about Charlotte.'

Scully sighed, she knew she couldn't put him off but the memory of the
pale little girl was haunting.  From what Mulder had told her of his
catatonic state Charlotte was too much like the way Scully imagined
the twelve-year-old Mulder after Samantha's abduction.  'She's not
going to be any help for a while,' she said gently.  'She's
completely withdrawn.  She's not responding to anything, she's just
lying there, staring into space.'  She  looked at her partner.  'I
couldn't ask too many questions, I'll get it from Rod later okay.
But chances are she'll be fine.  She'll wake up when she's
ready, and with good psych care she should be fine.'  Better than you
were, she thought.  'I left her the rabbit.'

It wasn't until the landscape suddenly opened out revealing a large
open body of water on the left-hand side of the car that Scully
realised what Mulder was up to.  To the right and ahead of them were
the Port Hills, the remains of an extinct volcano that perched on the
very outskirts of  Christchurch City jutting into the sea.  To their
left the waters of the  Heathcote and Avon rivers ran into a tidal
basin that opened into the ocean  about a mile ahead of them.

'Mulder.  This is the estuary!'

'This is the way to Sumner Beach Scully.  We have to go past here.
There  is no other way.'   He looked completely innocent.  Before she
could  acknowledge this innocence he proved it wasn't.  'Here.  Stop
here.'

Growling Scully did as she was asked.  She pulled up beside a boat
shed on the wide gravel verge.  Cars obviously stopped here all the
time.  Sighing she didn't wait for what Mulder had to say but got out
and leaned on the hood.  The tide was about half way she judged,
going out if the race of water in the centre was an indication.  A
man was fishing from a dingy just  out from them and several people
were working on small boats already  stranded by the tide.  The water
was an opaque reflection of the sky and the  sun was warm and pleasant
on her shoulders.  She felt Mulder behind her.   'Tell me,' she said.

He leaned next to her.  ' You smell nice.'

 Huh?  That wasn't what she was expecting.  'Are you trying to come on
to me Mulder?'

 'Maybe.'

He sounded hurt and she regretted her choice of words.  'Sorry
Mulder.'    She patted his leg.  'I thought I was going to get chapter
and verse on Hinemoa's journey to the sea.'

'I'm not always a hard assed investigator.'

'I know.'  She did know.  It was just that right now he was so wrapped
up  in these abductions that he'd caught her by surprise.  'Why have
we stopped here?'

'Okay,' he grinned.  He held up the map and flapped it back towards
the warehouses and buildings behind them.  'Charlotte was found at
number 20  Ferrymead Close, that's an old brick making works that's
been used more recently as a storehouse for a building firm.  It has
a boat ramp and is, I  think, just out of sight up there where the
river curves.'   He took a breath  and took a note of the height of
Scully's eyebrows.  Okay so far.  He turned  and faced towards the
sea.  'Hinemoa was found out there in the breakers.   Look how fast
that water's moving.  How long do you reckon it would have taken for
a floating object to get from there,' he pointed, 'to there?'

 'About an hour actually.'

 'You think?'

 'I know.  Forensics had a play around with a weighted dummy and a
surf  board.'

  'Oh.'

 'Come on Mulder.  This isn't getting us any lunch.  How much further
is it  anyway?'   They got back into the car and she decided to have a
bit of fun.   She leaned way across until she was well into his space.
 He backed away unsure. 'Smell my neck'

'What?'   She watched as his eyes bulged with shock, then she grinned
as their colour lightened to tiger gold.  'With pleasure.'   His
mouth lifted in a  smirk and he gave a good sniff.  Scully had a
sudden flash of an  interrogation room and Mulder announcing that
someone was wearing his  favourite perfume.  It hadn't been her.
'Mmm.' She forgave him now.  It  was all he could do to keep his
tongue from darting out and licking her. She giggled slightly and sat
up, satisfied with the effect she'd had on him.   'That was money well
spent then.'   She held her wrist to her nose enjoying
the expensive scent.  Smirking she threw the car in gear and drove
off.   Mulder shifted uncomfortably in his seat and wondered what the
hell was going on.

 They found not just a cafe at the beach but a cafe literally over the
beach.   Built on piles over the sand the veranda was a perfect place
to watch the waves roll in.

 Scully ordered a ham salad sandwich while Mulder went for a burger
and chips.  The servings were huge.  Scully's sandwich was made with
homemade bread the size of a dinner plate and overflowing with
goodies.   The burger stood nearly six inches tall.  Mulder's eyes
boggled.  This was exactly what he wanted.

It was just what he wanted until he'd managed three messy bites, then
suddenly his stomach just didn't want any more.  There was nothing
wrong with the food, in fact the whole thing was delicious, he just
couldn't eat.   He played with it, picking it apart and taking
desultory nibbles of the meat.   He hoped she wouldn't, but of course
Scully noticed.

Her hand came down over his.  'Are you alright?'

'It's hard to hold that's all.  I don't want beetroot and sauce and
stuff on the  new bandage.  It's easier to eat it with a fork.'

'Uh huh.'   She didn't buy it.  'Try and eat a bit more.  Your bowels
will never work if there's nothing in them.  Okay?'

Oh gross.  'Yeah.  Sure.'   That'd be the problem then.

The sea was a gorgeous greeny blue just barely curving into white
edged  breakers.  A large house sized rock sat just off the beach,
connected to it by  a strip of sand.  On top of the rock was a stumpy
round little building like  an abbreviated lighthouse.  There were
caves in the base of the rock and  children ran in and out of one,
dodging the waves.  From where they sat  they could see the coastline
curving north for miles before getting lost in  the heat haze.

Overhead seagulls swooped and cawed, flocking in and scraping loudly
when Mulder threw them pieces of his bun. He breathed in the scent of
the sea.  It brought back childhood, the smell that ran through all
his life at the Vineyard.  It had been there even when you couldn't
see the ocean.

His life had never seemed particularly easy, his brain, his mind, had
always made him different, had made him defensive and closed him off
from other children his age.  He could read before anyone else, knew
things that the others didn't.  He always had to be on alert, making
sure he got things wrong, trying not to be too clever so that he
could fit in.  Sam had been the  only one he could truly relax with.
When she'd been taken it hadn't been just his sister he had lost,
what he had lost had been his innocence, his ability to be
comfortable as himself.  After Sam was taken and his parents
withdrew, there was no more warmth in his life.  The ocean at the
Vineyard was the cold grey heaving Atlantic.  That ocean pounded
remorselessly onto windswept dunes.  This Pacific seemed gentle in
comparison, the glassy green swells plashing onto the beach like
children's toys.  He had no  doubt that this ocean could cause death
to unwary mariners but today at  least, with the gentle breeze and the
sun shining...  he looked up into  Scully's anxious glance, aware he'd
hazed out for a bit,  ...and with Scully  beside him, this ocean was
positively benign.  She was another person who accepted him as he
was, the only other person who ever had.  That was so precious.  But
she didn't know did she.   When are you going to tell her,
his censor asked.  He had some unpleasant things to tell her, but not
yet.   Oh god, maybe never.

She was standing, finding money, preparing to leave.  She was so
lovely.   She wouldn't forgive him.  Would she?

 'I want to walk in the sea.'

'Mulder.  We haven't got time.  Paula needs her car.'

 'Oh I forgot.'  The sea was calling to him.  He felt a need to
connect to it  and be part of it. He sighed, 'It will have to wait.'

Scully took his hand to lead the way out.   He looked so dejected.
'Don't  worry.  Tomorrow we're going to Kaikoura.  That's got plenty
of ocean.   And this Bush Bay sounds wonderful, you'll get plenty of
chance to get more than just your feet wet.'

Scully had a quiet bet with herself and heading home, Mulder didn't
let her  down.  They'd crossed the causeway and were nearly past the
estuary when Mulder looked up and said, 'turn right here.'   Without
comment Scully did  as she was told, glancing quickly across to
register the surprised look on  Mulder's face.  'Second right after
this one isn't it?'

His voice was puzzled.  'Yeah.'

'Okay.'   She entered the road and slowed right down as they
approached  the cluster of police vehicles parked alongside the road.
'I'm not stopping  though.  Have a good look.  This is as close as you
get.'   Both of them  fixed their eyes on the square warehouse, one of
many on the street.  The  only thing that made this one stand out was
the yellow crime scene tape  draped across its front.  That and the
swarms of police and associated other  people hanging around.

The building backed onto the lower tidal reaches of the river,
presumably  its boat ramp was at the back. It appeared to have no
windows except for  some high panes of glass on one of the side walls.
 It had large roller doors  across the front high enough to allow easy
access for large trucks.  The  doors were presently open to the dim
interior showing shadowy figures  scurrying about in various
activities they could both guess at.

'Is Rod here?'  Mulder asked.

'I can't see his car.  But we can't stop anyway.  It's quarter to
three.  We  have to get this car back.'   She expected argument but
she didn't get any.   Curious she looked over at her partner to see
him hunched down in his seat,  his fingers worrying at his bottom lip.
 His look was one of intense  concentration.  'Mulder?  What are you
thinking?'

'Have we heard how come they didn't get the perp last night?  Was he
there and he got away or what?'

 'I don't know.  I haven't had any update today.  You know that.'

'Sorry. We need to get back.  I need to talk to Rod.'   He held up a
hand.   'On the phone, don't worry.'   He went back to giving his lip
a hard time.   'Something's bugging me.'   He straightened up and gave
a frustrated sigh.   'I want to get on with this profile.  Hell.  I've
only got tonight to do it.'

 Scully fought her way clockwise around a roundabout, something that
felt  completely wrong, and found the right exit.  'Mulder.'

'Hmm?'

 'Why are you doing this?'

'What?'

 'Putting so much into this case?  You know you don't have to.  In
fact you  know you shouldn't be doing it at all.'

'Ha.'   Mulder gave a rueful laugh and turned to look at her.  He
studied her  profile, unused to being able to study the left side of
her when she was  driving.  Her hair sat slightly differently on this
side, she looked subtly  different.  She was dressed differently too,
open necked blouse in a sea  colour, and shorts in a deeper green.
Her feet, down there on the pedals, at  the end of her smooth muscular
legs were wearing boat shoes with no  socks.  She looked...
different, not quite "his" Scully any more.   He  contemplated her
question and decided to give her a version of the truth.  'I
do it,' he said sadly, 'because it stops me thinking of other things.
It's like  theway I need the TV to help me sleep.  It's sort of white
noise.'

'What things,' she asked softly.

 What else could she have said he wondered.  'Not now.  I'll tell you
later.   Maybe.'   He looked at the map ending the conversation.  'If
you take a left here, I think it'd be quicker.'
 
 

 Stuart Residence
3.30 pm

Mulder sat in front of the computer contemplating the screen.  He'd
found the file Rod had saved for him but hadn't opened it yet.
'Scully,' he called.   'Do you think they'd mind if I remote checked
my email?

'I'm sure that's fine,' she answered from the kitchen.  The next
moment he  could hear some piece of heavy duty kitchen machinery
running.  She came  through a few minutes later with a tall tumbler
full of what looked like a  milkshake.  She handed it to him.  'Drink
this.'

'What is it?' he took a cautious sip.

'Call it egg nog.'

'Heavy on egg, hold the nog?'

'Something like that.  Only one egg though, don't worry.'

 It tasted alright, thick and slightly fruity.  It slid down easily
and he drank  half the glass.

'Drink it all.'

 'In a minute.  Whatever you've got in here, it's filling.'

 'Probably.  Banana and yoghurt.'

 He winced and contemplated the drink.  'I notice you didn't tell me
till I'd  had half of it.  You really are worried about me aren't
you?'

 'Yes.'   She contemplated him and then teasingly prodded his arm.
'I've  got to get some food into you.  I like my men with meat on
their bones.'    Back before the virus had struck he'd been slim but
powerful, his muscles  defined and attractive.  Now he was just
skinny.  She could circle his wrist  with her fingers.  Tears appeared
in her eyes and she blinked them away.   'Did you find your email?'

 Mulder saw the tears and pulled her in for a quick hug.  'I've got a
rude message from Frohike.  Do you want to read it?'

She shuddered.  'Pass.  Are you going to do your profile now?'

'I guess.'

 She looked at him quizzically.  'What's wrong?'

He rubbed his face with his good hand and then carefully flexed the
fingers  on the other one.  He sighed.  ' I want to do this.  I'm
really close to  something, I can feel it.  I just...  I don't
like...'

He reached for her again and leant his head into her stomach.  He
moaned  softly as she caressed his hair, her arm tightening around
him.  'It's like  Alice's rabbit hole.  I have to drop down into a
dark place and every time it's harder.  You've seen me.  I'm not me.
I don't know what I am.  I'm not them either.  I'm just dark and it
hurts.  There's so much badness there.   It always hurts.'   He
snuffled slightly.

'Don't do it.'

 'I have to.'

'No you don't.  I know you feel you have to help on this case.  But
you still  can.  Do a standard profile.  I'll help you.  Use what
you've got to work  one out by the book.'

'I'm quite sure Rod already has access to that sort of profiler.  He
doesn't  need me for that.  This country doesn't strike me as being
backward.  No.'  He straightened and drew breath.  'I can do this for
those girls.  And then I  can let it go.'   He looked at her intently,
willing her to understand.  'It  won't leave me alone till I've
finished.'

She dropped a kiss on the top of his head.  'I'm not going to leave
you alone until you're finished then either.'

'Good.'  He was inordinately pleased.  'I need you to pull me back.'

 'Count on it.'   She collected her book and settled herself on the
recliner, behind him so as not to distract him.  She was not quite
out of sight.
 

An hour or so later Scully glanced up from her book, startled by a low
moan.  Mulder was leaning forward, his head buried in his hand.  She
realised she hadn't heard any clicks from the keyboard for several
minutes.   She recognised that posture.  Oh God, please, not one of
his headaches.  He  hadn't had one for over a month now, she'd hoped
they'd stopped.  Moving  softly she came up behind him just as he sat
up and wincing attempted to  type some more.  'Mulder?'

'Nearly done,' he grunted screwing his eyes shut and painfully opening
them.

'Stop Mulder, don't do this.'   She pulled his body back against her
chest.

'Nearly done.'   Feverishly he rubbed his temple.  He put his hand
down  and tapped awkwardly one handed.  'God!' He growled in
frustration and  pain.  Tap tap tap.  Tap tap.  Intake of breath, tap
tap.  Scully wrapped  herself around him, willing the pain to go away.
 As she watched he lost the ability to type.  "is not likely to allow
himsslf to be easily captured in  spite of his desire to be stpped
Suspect shoulf be teatedwth etcxreme  cauion.jhh nnm"   He was
randomly stabbing at the keys, stubbornly trying  to finish his work.
He couldn't do it.

'Ahhh,'  Mulder folded over.

She hugged him briefly.  Then tilting the chair back she used it to
drag him  to the sofa and as gently as possible tipped him onto it.
He curled up tight.

'Mulder?'   She put her hand on his head, quickly checking his pupils
then  running her fingers firmly over his scalp, a movement that gave
him a  focus on the outside of his head.  It had proved to help in the
past.  'Is it the  same as before?'

'Yeh,' a breathy gasp.

Well at least they knew what to expect.  'I don't suppose you brought
the pills with you did you?'

 'Didn't think,' he could barely speak, 'I needed them.'   The pain in
his head was intensifying as though his brain was a solid swelling
that was forcing the sutures of his skull apart.  His face, his
teeth, even his hair hurt and he felt as though something surely had
to give.

'No,' she agreed.  'It's been ages, although I'm not terribly
surprised.   We'll try the codeine.  It should at least take the edge
off it.'

 Mulder's headaches had been crippling in the weeks following his run
in with the alien artefacts and the virus.  They seemed to last from
one to  about three hours with intense pain, photophobia, irritability
and nausea.   Then he'd vomit, fall asleep and wake, usually, pain
free.  At their worst he  had suffered three in one day, barely
recovering from one before the cycle started again.  A barrage of
tests had found no physical cause.  The  physician had finally
suggested treating them as migraines, in spite of the lack of
evidence to suggest that that was what they were.  It was a
suggestion that had been extremely successful.  But it had been weeks
since he'd suffered like this and it had not occurred to either of
them to bring the migraine tablets with them.

Scully fetched the codeine and a bucket from the laundry.  If this was
true to form, he'd throw up sometime in the next hour then he'd sleep
it off.  Oh Mulder.  She placed a cool cloth of his brow and rubbed
soothing circles on  his back.  This isn't fair.

The codeine did help with the pain and Mulder dozed.  Knowing it was
only a brief respite Scully made the most of it. She ran through the
profile he was paying such a high price for.  She spell checked and
looked for anything that might make him look bad.  Astonishingly,
apart from the last few paragraphs it was not just well written but
brilliant.  God this man was  exceptional.  How did he do it?  She
finished the conclusion for him, saved  the piece and fiddled until
she managed to get it to print.

 She went back to her partner and refreshed the cloth.  What the hell
was so bad that he had to do this to himself rather than think about
it?  She wasn't  sure she'd ever get to the bottom of everything that
caused him pain.  Was he worried about proposing?  Or was it that the
myriad bad experiences he carried in his unforgiving memory would not
leave him alone?  He was starting to get restless as the nausea
intensified.  He looked at her dumbly,  resigned to what was to come;
wishing it would hurry up so it would be  over.  They'd been here many
times back in September.  'I printed your  profile,' she told him.

 'I heard you.  What did you think?'

'I think you're one clever bastard.'

He gave a weak smile.  'I am, aren't I?'  He groaned and tossed his
head,  eyes closing.  'It's going to be soon.  Can you hold my head?'

She sat on the sofa arm and took his head between her palms, applying
gentle pressure.  She could feel his pulse thumping rapidly at his
temples.   'At least,' he gasped, 'I can't hear what you think any
more.'

 'Just as well Mulder.  I always thought telepathy was over rated.
I'm not at all keen on you discovering that when I'm giving you "the
look" as you  call it, I'm actually wondering whether or not you're
wearing those silk boxers I gave you for your birthday.'

'Scully!'  He snorted and tilted his head backward to look into her
amused  blue eyes.  Bad move.  He grabbed hold of her hand and clung
to it as the  world tilted and swung.  His breath came in short pants
as the band  tightened around his head and his stomach fought demons.
' Oww...'

 'It's alright love.  Lie still.'

 The nausea overwhelmed him and he twisted awkwardly over his sore
arm, diving for the bucket as the demons won.  Oh God!  His stomach
heaved as his head exploded and it hurt so much. Crying, gasping, he
finally came back to himself, to the realisation that Scully's hands
were  holding his head together; to the remembering of her calling him
"love".

Totally exhausted he let her clean him up.  With her hands once again
on his head he closed his eyes.  A thought occurred to him and he
forced them  open.  'You didn't give me boxers for my birthday.  The
guys did.'

'Oh,' she smiled.  'The ones with the little "X" Marks the Spot on
them?'    She bent down and kissed his forehead.  'That's what you
think.'

'Scully.'   His eyes were loosing the battle.  His voice was soft and
slurred.   ' Gunna...' His eyes flicked open again.  'I luv em.'

'Shh.' Her fingers traced through his hair.  She watched his face
loose  tension.  'One day you can model them for me,' she whispered.

His mouth lifted fractionally at the corner, the lightest of smiles.
'Count on  it,' she could have sworn she heard him say.
 
 

Rod arrived home with the children an hour or so later.  Scully must
have dozed off because the first she was aware of their arrival was
Brad roaring into the room to turn the television on.  He screeched
to a halt as he saw Mulder asleep on the lounge.

'Oh sorry Dana.  I just wanted to watch the news.  Dad did a press
conference today.  I want to see it.'

'That's alright,' Scully said.  'You couldn't wake him up now if you
tried.'

'Damn,' she heard Rod mutter as he headed up the passage shedding his
tie.  ' I hate seeing myself on TV.'

 Davy came in.  'Is it true Dana?  Are you really taking us to Bush
Bay?'   His eyes were bright with delight.

'Yes Davy.'   Scully got out of her chair and stretched.  She couldn't
help the huge smile that Davy's happiness brought her.  'We really
are.'

 'Cool!'

'I'm going to miss the beach picnic,' Brad said morosely.  'None of my
friends are finishing school a week early.'

'I'd have thought you'd be pleased,' his father said coming back in.
He had changed into shorts and tee shirt and looked cool and relaxed.
 Nothing  however could hide that fact that he was exhausted.  He
gestured at the TV.   'Do we have to watch that?  I'd just as soon
have a bit of quiet myself.'

'But I want to see what you have to say.'

'Brad that is ridiculous.  I can tell you everything I said, and I bet
they'll only show you half of it.  Turn it off.'  He stretched out in
his chair with a  sigh.  'Please,' he added quietly.

 'Brad,' Scully said.  'I don't mind if you watch the TV in the lounge
room.   After all, I guess that's where your father would usually go
when he comes home tired.  You can sit on my bed.'

Rod gave a grunt of acknowledgment.   'Don't touch anything that
doesn't  belong to you,' he said softly as the boys left the room.

'Thank you for putting up with us,' Scully said.

 Rod just gave another grunt.

'I'm under orders to feed you.  Paula left some steak.  How does that
sound?'

'Fine.'  He just wanted to be left to sleep.  Why did women always
want to feed men?  Couldn't they tell that sometimes that wasn't what
men needed?   He must have nodded off because he started awake to the
feel of his elbow being nudged.

'Paula made some more iced tea.'

'Oh.'  He forced his eyes open.  'Dana?  Right.  Sorry.'  He sat
himself up  and took the drink.  'I'm so tired I can hardly think.'

 'I know.  I'll have your dinner ready in a few minutes, then you can
go to bed.'

 He smiled at her.  She really was lovely to look at.  She was kind
and she was bright.  He looked across at the man softly snoring on
the sofa.  Did he realise what he'd got he wondered.  If that ring
was any indication, maybe he did.  He thought of Paula and his smile
turned inwards.  Rod knew that he was a very lucky man.

 Scully enjoyed cooking the dinner.  It wasn't something she usually
did;  but she was her mother's daughter and knowing how to prepare a
good meal was something she carried in her make up.  It was just not
something she got to practise very often.  As she placed new potatoes
and vegetables beside the steaks she wondered as to the family's
preferences but they fell  on the food with delight.  Davy left the
broccoli and Brad the carrots but everything else disappeared.

 'Thank you,' Rod said sincerely.  'Usually when Paula's working we
haveto make do ourselves.'

'That's alright.  I enjoyed it.  It will be fun looking after the boys
this  week.'   She watched him yawn.  'Before you nod off, are you up
to talking  about the case?  Mulder finished his profile.'  I hope you
want to, she thought.  He sweated blood for this.  I want it to be
appreciated.

Rod looked at the sheaf of papers she held up.  'Do you think you
could  give me the "Readers Digest" version.  I think reading this
would put me  straight to sleep.'

She smiled and settled herself across from him. She refilled their
mugs and  flicked through the pages.  'Right.  I'll leave out the
"indicators suggest",   "strong possibility", and "within the
parameters of" stuff and take it all as  given.  I've found that
Mulder is usually right, although how he does it is  completely
unfathomable.  He can spout chapter and verse of the theories
of behavioural studies if he has to but it's complete bumph.  He makes
it fit the profile after he's written it.  He has a "gift",' she
added sadly.  'One no one would ever wish to have.'

 Rod smiled wryly.  'I saw him at work yesterday.  I think I know what
you mean.'

Scully spread the pages out in front of her and looked up ready to
start.   She was suddenly business like, completely different from the
homey  person who had served him dinner.  And yet, as she looked at
the papers,  there was something in her eye, something very motherly,
if that mother was a lioness.  He thought he understood.  'It's all
right Dana.  I won't ask  him to do it again.'

That was it.  He'd hit that nail on the head.  Had something happened
today  when Mulder was working on this?  He suspected yes, but he
wouldn't  intrude.  But whatever it was had knocked the man out
because he hadn't  even stirred in the hour Rod had been home.  God he
was tired too.  He  scrubbed at his eyes and blinked to clear his
vision.  'Okay,' he nodded.   'Lay it on me.'

The perp, according to Mulder was male, aged between 20 and 30 years.
He had had a childhood that had caused him to become alienated from
his  peers.  Mulder suggested either abusive parents or the
possibility of  alienation due to sexual orientation.  Or of course,
it could be both  scenarios.  Due to the lack of sexual overtones to
the abductions and  murder Mulder felt that the sex of the children
made very little difference  in his choice of victims.  He possibly
felt that women were inferior and  therefore girl children didn't
count for much.  The sample was too small to be able to tell if race
had anything to do with his choice of victims. Mulder  felt the man
had suffered a loss for which he was trying to avenge himself.
Someone he loved may have drowned or have been otherwise lost at sea.

Scully looked up surprised when Rod seemed a little jolted by that.
She  filed the thought for future investigation and continued without
indicating  she had noticed anything.

The reference to innocence suggested the lost one to be a child.

That seemed to score a definite hit with her new friend.  Was it his
personal past or a case he was thinking of?

She continued.  The perp seemed to think of the sea as cleansing but
without evidence to indicate what he had been planing for Charlotte it
was  very hard to extrapolate any further.  The sample just wasn't
large enough.

Scully sorted the pages into order and handed them to Rod.
'Hopefully,'  Rod said as he took them, 'the sample won't be getting
any larger either.'   He gave a huge yawn.  'I'll have a good look at
this in the morning.  I'm  afraid I just can't take it in tonight.  It
does sound solid.'  He stood  stretching.  'Does he think he'll do it
again?'

'Yes.'

 Rod just nodded.  'Do you want a hand to put sleeping beauty to bed?'

'No thanks.'  He was such a nice man.  'I think he'll wake soon on his
own.   I want to get some food into him.  What about your beauties, do
you want  me to put the boys to bed?'

He grinned at that.  'Brad will take himself off when he's ready but
I'm  sure Davy would love to have you tuck him in.  He's so excited
about the  holiday you'd better start now if you want him down by
midnight.  I think  he's already in his room trying to decide what to
take.'

Dana smiled with genuine pleasure.  'I'd better go share my extensive
experience in packing.  I've noticed that when my nephews come to stay
they always have gameboys and books but not enough socks.  Mulder on
the other hand goes on assignments with plenty of underwear but nearly
always needs to borrow my toothpaste.'   She coloured as she realised
how  that sounded.  'I mean, I assume he has plenty of underwear.
I've never heard him complain.  I mean I've never seen if he has or
not.'

Rod snorted.  'I'm going to bed.  I am unavailable to calls from
anyone  except DS Jarvis who is in charge tonight.'   He dropped a
brief kiss on the  top of her head.  'Thanks.'

'For what?'

Rod shrugged.  'I guess, for caring about my kids.  Just I suppose,
for caring.'

Dana watched him go a warm feeling in her chest.
 
 

Stuart Residence
Tuesday 14th
3.32 am

Scully lay on her camp bed, barely breathing, listening for what had
woken  her.  She could hear the sound of a vehicle a long way away, a
slight wind  moving the trees outside.  That wasn't it, the noise that
had woken her  came from inside.  As she brought her attention inward
she heard the quiet  movement of the sheets as Mulder tossed
restlessly in his bed.  Then the  sound she knew she had heard,
familiar from many nights on the road, a quiet moan.

Lifting herself up on her elbow she studied him.  There was enough
light  coming from street lamps outside that she could see his shape
on the bed.   He seemed distressed but not excessively so.  She
wondered what to do.  If he could just keep sleeping, pass through
REM sleep without waking he  probably wouldn't even remember dreaming
come morning.  His body  needed a good sleep to repair itself. She
could get up and try to sooth him  but that might actually wake him.
That would defeat the purpose.  He didn't seem too bad.  She lay
there and determined to do nothing in the mean time.

The decision was taken out of her hands.  Piercing, terrified screams
suddenly broke the night's silence and echoed through the house.
Jesus!   She startled bolt upright and looked across to see Mulder do
the same.   Fuck.  Her heart was racing.  She realised Mulder was
frantically searching  for a weapon then saw awareness kick in as he
woke enough to realise what  was happening.  Panting he sagged back
onto his pillow.

 Mulder's pulse was pounding from the shock of another man's screams.
The fright of his own dream mixed with his startled awakening.  Oceans
of blood still filled his senses and coherent thought was going to
take a minute or two.   He saw Scully at the door peering up the
passage. A light at the other end of the house was enough to
silhouette her figure in her night gear.  She looked quite surreal,
her hair a blood bright halo.  Slowly his breathing  slowed.

He could hear quiet voices.  Scully turned and closed the door.  'It's
alright,' she told him quietly.  'It was Rod.  He must have been
dreaming.'

He felt the mattress dip as Scully sat beside him and he moved in
towards  her. He felt her hand on his shoulder and was comforted just
by her  presence.  Feeling needy and a little foolish he grabbed her
hand and held it to his cheek.  He was still breathing hard and she
was so calm.  Eyes closed, childlike he let himself be stroked.
Slowly he realised she was speaking to him.

He swallowed.  Looking up he could see her sitting above him in the
dark.   'What?  Sorry?'  There was a light on in the kitchen now.  The
light  coming through the curtains over their window glowed.  The
jungle print  seemed bright and alive.  It gave enough illumination to
see the concern on  Scully's face.

'I said, I think Paula's making Rod a drink.  Do you want anything?'

-Only you.-   He shook his head and bit back the tear that that
thought  brought him.  'I'm okay.  Thanks.'

'You're okay?'   Scully ran her hand down his arm. 'Are you okay?' she
asked.  'You were dreaming too.'

 'It makes a nice change though,' he tried to joke, 'to not be the one
yelling the place down.'

'Well yes.'   Scully's hand moved up his arm to find his face.  She
stroked  him again.  'It doesn't mean that you wouldn't have been
going to.  You  sounded pretty unhappy.'

He sighed and pushed himself across the bed.  Scully was puzzled until
she felt him reach up and pull her arm. She smiled.  She knew exactly
what he wanted.  She lay down, pulling him in close, their heads
together on the pillow.  He lay still, willing the tension to leave
him as she stroked his hair  and rubbed circles on his back, his head
buried against her neck.  'What  were you dreaming about?'

'Blood.'

 They were silent for a long minute.  She could feel a deep trembling
in his  body that slowly faded as his breathing slowed.

'Drowning in blood,' he explained.  'I was fighting through it.  There
was  something I was desperate to find in there but I couldn't get
through it.  I  couldn't see her but I knew she was there.  It was too
thick.'

'Samantha?'

'I don't know.'  He tightened his grip around her body.  His voice was
very  quiet.  'It might have been you.'

 'Oh Mulder.'   She hugged him tightly in reply.  'I'm here.'

 'I know.'   His face turned upwards to find hers and kiss her.  It
was a kiss  for reassurance and comfort and she responded in kind.
'Stay here,' he  asked.  'Please.  Sleep with me tonight.'

He felt her move away and gasped at the unexpected pain of her
refusal.   'I'm sorry.'   His voice rose in panic.  ' I didn't mean
that.  I just wanted...'  Frantically he tried to pull himself
together.  She was fumbling with the  bedding and he sought to save
something of the situation.  'I didn't mean to  make you
uncomfortable.  Sorry.'  He tried to make his voice sound
normal.  'Goodnight Scully.'

 He felt her finger across his lips.  Then miracle of miracles, her
body slid  into the sheets next to his.  'Mulder,' she said fondly.
'There are times when you are really dense.'

 Oh God.  He was gulping like a fish, his heart rate at danger level.
She had only been getting under the covers.  Christ what a fool.
'Thank you,'  he whispered.

 She knew what he meant. Taking him back in to her arms she held him
tight.  How on earth, she wondered had he managed to survive this long
when he was so desperately insecure and alone?  'Good night Mulder.'
She dropped a kiss on his forehead.

'Night Johnboy.'   He was pleased when she giggled.  He snuggled
deeper,  fidgeting around to try and find an easy place to lay his
arm.  He was tired, he just wanted to sleep and being wrapped in
Scully's arms should be heaven but it wasn't.  'Sorry.'   He twisted
over.  'I'm not used to sleeping with someone.'   His arm ached
whatever way he put it.

'You need codeine Mulder.'

With a sigh he admitted that he did.  Before he could even think about
where he might have left them he felt her fingers against his lips.
Obediently he opened his mouth and lifted his tongue.   She put the
tiny pill  in place, right back behind his teeth at the root of his
tongue. It was a very  intimate thing to do and gave him a strange tug
in his chest. 'Thanks.'

 'Go to sleep Mulder.'

 'I'm tired of being sick,' he said sometime later, rousing her when
she was on the verge of nodding off.

'Shh!'

'Sick and tired.'   He laughed at his own joke.

Groaning slightly Scully rolled over, feeling him follow suit.  He
wrapped  himself around her, his bandaged arm carefully lying along
her side.  'I  know Mulder.  I think we might have to look at a total
revaluation of our lifestyle.  You can't keep on like this.'

It was her unconscious inclusion of herself in his lifestyle that
emboldened  him to ask, 'Do you ever wish you could have what Rod and
Paula have?'

'What's that Mulder?' she asked cautiously, unsure just what he was
asking.  'A nice house in the suburbs, two kids and a job that gives
you nightmares.  Or,' she rolled onto her back so her face was right
next to his,  'do you mean two kids who scare you so much when you're
investigating a child murderer that you send them away with total
strangers so that they'll  be safe?'

 What she didn't say was implicit in her answer; two children she
could  never have.  Her sadness was tangible.  Mulder gulped, he
hadn't meant  that and now his own sadness and guilt was swelling his
throat and  rendering him unable to explain.  Damn.  Awkwardly he
pat