Watches.html

Watches

By LAAdolf
LAAdolf@aol.com

DISTRIBUTION: Archive if you'd like; just
please tell me where.
SPOILERS: Missing scenes from "End Game"
RATING: G
CONTENT: S/A; M/A; M/S friendship; MT
CLASSIFICATION: V
Date: Fri, 30 Jul 1999 02:47:12 EDT
SUMMARY: Scully keeps watch over the
injured Mulder and wonders how much she
is to blame for the circumstances that
have led them to this time and place.
DISCLAIMER: The X-Files characters belong
to Chris Carter and Tenthirteen.
COMMENTS: Dedicated to Kestabrook for
over ten years of sterling friendship,
support, encouragement-you're the best
friend anyone could have.
FEEDBACK: I'd greatly appreciate all that
is positive or helpful.

Watches (01 of 03)
L.A. Adolf

"He's stable," Scully said wearily into
the receiver, "at leastfor now. When I
arrived he had arrested. They were trying
to normalize his body temperature. If
I had been any later...."

"Don't second guess. You were there. You
knew what to do and you did it. You saved
Agent Mulder's life."

Skinner's voice, in spite of the
satellite up-link microsecond delay,
sounded as thought it were in the same
room. It was comforting to Dana Scully in
an odd sort of way, a touch of
familiarity and normality in an
unfamiliar environment.

"That may be premature. We've counter-
acted the blood thickening,but the meds
are tricky. Too much and there is the
danger of spontaneous hemorrhaging, too
little and he could suffer heart failure
again. There are some early indications
that the anti-viral agents are beginning
to work, but he's not out of danger. Not
yet."

"He will be, Agent Scully. I have every
faith." Skinner's voice was quiet,
reassuring and uncharacteristically
gentle.

"I don't know how long...until we know
something. It could be hours or days. I
just don't know," Scully continued,
noting that the hand not grasping the
phone was shaking, from weariness, worry
or adrenaline, she didn't know any more.

"As far as the Bureau is concerned,
Mulder is on compassionate leave due to
the death of his sister. And you are to
stay with him there until you can both
come back together. I've got you
covered."

The tacit permission to stay with
Mulder, something assumed long since, was
still a relief to have confirmed. "Thank
you sir,"she said quietly.

"And Scully? I want periodic reports on
Agent Mulder's progress. Insofar as it
does not interfere with his treatment and
your down time."

"Yes, sir. I will be sure to do that,"
Scully responded. She welcomed his
request, focusing on that duty would give
her something to hang on to in the way of
normal job routine.

"Any time of the day or night. Don't
let the time difference stop you. You
have my private cell phone number."

"Yes. Thank you, sir."

Scully deactivated the phone and laid it
down on the small bedside table. She had
been allowed to borrow one of the spartan
sleeping quarters adjacent to the base
medical facility and had finally yielded
to the urging of the medical staff to try
to rest for a few hours while they
monitored Mulder's care. It had been a
scant twelve hours since she had arrived
at Eisenhower Field, and her first chance
for sleep since she had lain on Mulder's
couch waiting for his mysterious
informant. The hours spent on the
commercial flight and the military
transports which had followed, had been
fraught with too much worry about what
she would find when she caught up to him
to allow for much rest. She had found
herself feeling a nagging guilt that she
had, as Mulder had said, "drawn the line"
at how far she would follow him on his
impossible quests. It was guilt unabated
by the fact that he had ultimately
respected her boundaries--had in fact
without rancor and with perfect
acceptance of her logic, repeated it back
to her nearly word for word in his good-
bye note to her.

Scully found herself pacing the length of
the small room. As weary as she was, she
was aware that sleep was impossible. Too
many memories crowded in, too many words
she regretted echoed in her head to allow
any rest.

Scully strode purposefully for the door
and back towards the intensive care unit.

x x

Walter Skinner slipped the cell phone
into his pocket and placed his hand back
on the steering wheel of his rented car.
He was nearing the Mulder house on
Martha's Vineyard; only a couple of easy
miles left to go.

He might have left this until later. One
generally didn't visit the next of kin of
an agent unless the news was final, and
even then, it was not usually the
Assistant Director in charge of the agent
who performed the duty. Even Skinner
wasn't sure what had made him book a
flight, sign out of his office and head
for West Tisbury, Massachusetts. Maybe
something he had seen in Mulder's eyes
when the agent had come to him with the
not unnatural but somehow disturbing
request for an indeterminate amount of
personal time off. He had seen Mulder
weather a number of reverses and crises,
but he had never seen the defeated air
and the desperate pain that he had seen
in his subordinate's eyes during that
short interview. Of course, the man had
justostensibly lost his sister, and grief
took many forms.

Skinner pulled into the driveway of the
house he identified as that of William
Mulder. Turning off the engine, he strode
purposefully up the driveway and
approached the house. Determining the
main entrance, he knocked, then waited
patiently for the door to open.

x x

Dana stood at the foot of Mulder's bed,
scanning the most recent notes on his
medical chart. His vitals did not read
much differently now than they had
earlier, before her call to Skinner. That
was no surprise; it was early yet, and
any sudden change would be more worrying
than reassuring. She looked up from the
chart and hung it back in place. She
stood silently regarding Mulder for a few
minutes, then walked toward the head of
the bed.

From the closer vantage, she studied
Mulder's face minutely. The blue tinge to
his lips and skin was finally gone,
indicating that his circulation was
steadily improving. He was still on
a respirator, but it was more precaution
than necessity at this point. The latest
blood work had indicated that there was
some improvement in the viral count in
his system; she should have felt
reassured that her course of treatment
was the correct one. But she didn't. In
fact, she had never felt so unsure of
anything in her life.

Scully wasn't sure why she felt so
profoundly shaken, seeing him in this
state--it was nothing more or less than
her trainingand experience would lead her
to expect. It was also not the first time
that she had seen him incapacitated--
thanks to the machinations of Luther
Boggs in his quest for escape from the
gas chamber.

Was it because after all these hours, he
was still profoundly unconscious? Between
the hypothermia, his arrest, and the
unknown effects of the virus, there was a
real possibility of brain damage, of
which a continuing coma state could be
a sign. But as a doctor she was prepared
for deficits, however unwilling to accept
their inevitability. No, this feeling she
had was something else; it was something
deeper, something more mysterious,
something altogether outside of her
experience with Mulder.

Ever since she had known him, Mulder had
possessed a vital spark, a vibrancy
crystallized in his all-consuming need to
know the unknowable, to uncover the
truth. That need had been born of and
motivated by the loss of his sister.
Samantha Mulder's mysterious dis-
appearance had launched his quest; now he
had apparently been reunited with his
sibling only to lose her again--
tragically and irrevocably.

Did you ever mean to come back?

The thought jumped into her
consciousness, unbidden and with all the
subtlety of a mugger. Her eyes settled on
his face once again, as if hoping to see
some clue that there that would reassure
her. But the unconscious features held no
explanations, only questions aching for
answers.

She thought back to a few days earlier,
when he had first informed her he was
taking time off. He had just been
released from the hospital after having
been found unconscious at yet another
abortion clinic, this one seemingly
abandoned and blazing with fire. She had
sensed a distance that was not a normal
part of their relationship. Dana had
considered it to be expected since he was
mourning the loss of his sister; when
her own father had died she had not found
comfort in discussing the loss as much as
she had in keeping her pain close and
coming to terms with it alone. She
thought she knew Mulder well enough to
believe that it might be the same for him
and had made it known as plainly as she
could that she was there for him, if he
needed her. He had made all the right
responses.

That had been the last time she had seen
him, until she had burst into the
emergency room at Eisenhower Field and
watchedhim begin to die before her eyes.

And there it was, the unknown property
in the equation. With his raison d'etre
gone, was there anything left for him?
Any reason to go on?

Scully wondered if and when those
expressive hazel-green eyes opened and
regarded her again, she would see in
their depths recrimination directed at
her for dragging him back to the world
of the living. She wondered if he had
drawn the line between them because he
had had no intention of ever returning--
that he had gone to the Arctic hoping to
die. She wondered if somehow, he might
still be able to will it to happen.

x x
*******************
End "Watches" (01 of 03)

Watches (02 of 03)
by LAAdolf

The face of the man who greeted Skinner,
his expression puzzled, was weary and old
before its time. In those world-wise
features, the FBI assistant director
could see the resemblance between father
and son. He knew before he asked that he
was facing William Mulder. He pulled is
own identification and introduced
himself.

"Assistant Director Walter Skinner,
Federal Bureau of Investigation. I wonder
if I might have a few words with you,
sir."

"Fox's superior. He's spoken of you. Come
in. Please."

Skinner allowed the older man to wave him
into a living area and gestured away an
offer of refreshment.

"Why are you here, Mister Skinner?"

"Is Mrs. Mulder here? I was led to
believe she was staying here for a few
days; what I have to say would be better
said to you both, I believe."

The elder Mulder raised an eyebrow. "My
wife has been profoundly shaken by the
re-appearance and loss of her--our--
daughter. She's been under a doctor's
care the last few days and is resting in
her room. I would rather she not be
disturbed right now."

Skinner nodded. "Of course. I hope you
will extend my most sincere sympathies to
her. I will get on with it, then. Two
days ago, your son took a commercial
flight to Tacoma, Washington. From there
he caught a military transport to the
Beaufort Sea. A little more than twelve
hours ago, a Naval reconnaissance force
found him on an ice flow some eighty-
seven miles north of Deadhorse, Alaska.

"Are you trying to tell me my son is...
dead?" Bill Mulder broke into Skinner's
narrative abruptly. Skinner searched the
face of the elder Mulder carefully,
studying what he saw there before
attempting to continue. Several emotions
flashed across the other man's face--
shock, pain, an almost palpable sense of
despair followed by a fleeting look of
sheer terror.

"Your son was found unconscious,
suffering from severe hypothermia. He was
airlifted to Eisenhower Field to a
medical facility there. His heart
arrested, but thanks to his partner,
Doctor Dana Scully, he was resuscitated
and he is alive. There are complications
to his condition, and it is still
considered grave; however, Doctor Scully
believes there is every hope of a full
recovery."

Bill Mulder sat down heavily on the edge
of the couch, momentarily dropping his
face into his hands. When he looked up, a
mask--not unlike that Skinner had seen
cross the younger Mulder's face in
moments of emotional upheaval--had
dropped over his features.

The gasp that echoed across the stillness
of the room startled both men. Skinner
spun in response to the sound, while the
elder Mulder stood once again, his eyes
locked on his wife.

Mrs. Mulder stood in the doorway of the
room, wrapped in an elegant satin
bathrobe. Her features were pale, and she
looked from her husband to the stranger
in the room, aghast.

"Am I going to lose Fox, too?" she
demanded of her husband, her gaze sharp
and penetrating as it swept away from
Skinner to rest accusingly on the elder
Mulder.

"Teena. Mister Skinner says that there is
every hope for a full recovery." Bill
Mulder stated, his voice attempting
calmness and evenness, but falling short
of the ideal.

Mrs. Mulder looked searchingly at
Skinner, her face softening from the
sharp accusatory glare with which she had
favored her husband. "Fox has spoken
highly of you, Mister Skinner; I hope you
can forgive my intrusion. Where is my
son? Can I go to him?"

Skinner regarded the woman before him. He
could see where Agent Mulder had gotten a
good deal of his determination. Any
preconception he might have harbored in
the face of the elder Mulder's
description of his wife's present
condition was shattered by meeting her.
While she was obviously grief-stricken
and upset, there was a strength bred in
her that served her well.

"Your son is in the best medical hands in
the area. He's at a medical facility on a
military base not far from where he was
found and he is under quarantine due to
exposure to an unknown viral agent. He is
too sick at present to be moved, but his
partner is with him. She is, as you may
know, a fully accredited medical doctor
and has his care in hand. She is
reporting to me at regular intervals. I
wanted to be sure you were both kept
informed, and I did not want to telephone
with such sensitive information."

Teena Mulder nodded, as though used to
having roadblocks thrownup in the way of
her maternal instincts.

"Viral?" Bill Mulder asked suddenly, his
voice sharp. "Is that the complication
you wouldn't speak of earlier?"

"Yes. And that is all I can reveal at
this time, I'm afraid."

The elder Mulder's eyes narrowed, and he
nodded absently, accepting. Skinner had
read in Mulder's file that his father had
worked for the State Department; he, of
course, would be familiar with issues of
security and protocol--although Skinner
could swear, from the reaction to the
word "viral" that something else lurked
behind the obvious.

"I want to assure both of you that I will
continue to pass along word of your son's
condition. I wanted to come here in
person, soyou would have a face to
connect to the voice on the other end of
the telephone."

The elder Mulders nodded and thanked him.
Skinner could not miss a palpable tension
crackling between the two of them.

"And if it is any consolation, there is
some reason to believe that the woman who
presented herself to you as your
daughter, may have been an impostor--
there is an ongoing investigation into
that possibility. I will also let you
know of any developments on that front."

Skinner watched them in turn as they
absorbed this added information. A
fleeting sense of relief seemed to
lighten Mrs. Mulder's features, while
another emotion coursed across Bill
Mulder's face. As Walter Skinner turned
to offer his leave taking and exit the
house, he wondered at the lack of
surprise he noted in Bill Mulder's
expression and felt a curious sense of
vindication at seeing the mask of guilt
that seemed to follow.

x x

"Can you die now?"

The face that hovered above Mulder
shifted and changed once again, settling
into his father's stony features. He had
spent a lifetime trying to change that
face from a mask of disapproval into one
of loving acceptance, but the features
wouldn't budge; there was no softness to
be found; there was no forgiveness.

"But it wasn't Samantha...don't you
understand? It wasn't her, just a
changeling sent to fool us," Mulder
offered plaintively. But he was in a
place where there were no words, only a
deadly silence...and where there were
no ears to hear.

His father's face faded, the
recrimination lingering long after the
countenance had gone.

He was alone in this place of silence and
solitude, alone as always. Any closeness
he had known had vanished the night his
sister had... He had learned to live with
it, after a fashion. One tried not to
miss what one didn't have.

Did you ever mean to come back?

In this place where there were not words,
these echoed around him explosively.

Scully? It was her voice--but there was
no sound here. He found himself
straining, trying to grasp at the last
echo of the thought--for it had to be
that didn't it? A disembodied thought for
a disembodied soul....

She was close; he could sense it. And if
he had heard her once, perhaps he would
again. He would wait.

He wasn't alone.

x x

Dana started awake, disoriented. The pain
of a cramped neck was the first sensation
that registered, followed by the feel of
a starchy hospital sheet beneath her left
cheek. She sat up groggily and waited for
her eyes to focus.

As awareness returned, so did a flood of
reality. She must have fallen asleep at
Mulder's beside. Her last clear memory
was of sitting next to him, her hands
steepled together as she regarded his
unmoving form. She must have laid her
head down on the bed next to him,
exhaustion finally overtaking her.

He was off the respirator now, and the
tube that had allowed fluid to drain from
his lungs had been removed as well. It
had been a small victory, but one to be
savored. Her body must have sensed it was
all right to lower her guard, to allow
sleep to overcome her. She studied
Mulder closely, looking for any sign
that would indicate which way the tide of
battle might be going. He seemed
frustratingly the same.

She stood, taking a moment to work the
kinks out of her neck, then reached for
his chart once again. While she had
slumbered awkwardly, the efficient staff
of the Eisenhower Field medical facility
had continued the medication regimen and
carefully monitored her partner's
condition. The viral load in his system
was slowly decreasing, the anti-virals
were winning their battle.

Science had gained a foothold....

Scully returned to her bedside chair,
letting her thoughts carry her back to a
time not long ago when it had been she
who had lain unconscious and
unresponsive. Mulder's voice had reached
her inthat place, had given her something
to focus on, had communicated the
strength of his convictions. She reached
out and touched her partner's lax hand,
something she had unaccountably kept from
doing during the long hours previous.

The flesh beneath her hand was warmer
now; it did not have the cold feel of
death any longer. Had that been what had
kept her from doing this one human thing
for so long, the dread that touch would
betray what she most feared?

"Your vital signs are good, Mulder,"
she began tentatively. In medical school
they had never been taught to speak to
unconscious patients; it had been
assumed to be a waste of time and energy
and made keeping a professional distance
more difficult. "The viral count is
dropping; you're going to be fine."

Her words echoed hollowly in the room. If
it felt odd keeping up a one-sided
conversation, she had to remember that
this was not just any patient; this was
Mulder. He might be as maddening a
partner and friend as ever anyone could
have, but he was also one who had made a
truly pyrrhic decision which had
preserved her own life at the cost of the
woman he had believed to be his sister.
He was worth any effort, no matter how
extraordinary, no matter how unusual.

"Do you hear me, Mulder? You are going to
be fine, I promise you." Scully squeezed
the hand that lay beneath her own.

She paused, looking across at the heart
monitor, straining to see if there were
any observable reactions in his vital
signs that could assure her that she was
getting through to him.

The heart monitor kept the steady rhythm
it had evidenced. Brump-pa-bump.

x x

He became aware of a steady rhythm and
was confused at first. This was a genuine
sound for the first time in so long that
he had almost failed to recognize it.
This was progress...a life line to grab
hold of.

"...vital signs are good, Mulder...."

Scully!

"...viral count is dropping...You're
going to be fine..."

Scully...he could hear her now, and he
gloried in the musical tones that
comprised human speech, savoring the
familiarity and the solidarity of this
particular voice pattern. She was here
and talking to him, not a trick of the
shape shifter. Scully, his Scully,
partner and friend...

"Do you hear me, Mulder? You're going to
be fine. I promise you..."

He did hear and that was the wonder of
it, and somewhere he felt the pressure of
a warm and gentle hand alongside his...
face? It was a first step on what could
be a long journey, but he had the
direction now and a beacon to follow. He
would find his way back.

x x

Scully's hand lingered, stroking Mulder's
cheek. No reaction. Not a single
quantifiable response. He had not moved,
his heart rate had not changed, his
breathing had retained the same steady
cadence it had had ever since coming off
the respirator. Not even an eyelash had
fluttered as she had bent over him,
speaking softly and maintaining a
continuity of touch as well as sound. He
was going to live, but it remained to be
seen what kind of life it would be, as
did whether or not her partner would
thank her for her efforts in making it
come about.

*Scully?...*

x x
**************************
End "Watches" (02 of 03)

Watches (03 of 03)
by LAAdolf

"He will live, I'm sure of that now at
least. But the longer he's unconscious...
I can't dismiss the probability of post-
trauma deficits."

"What are you saying, Agent Scully?"
Skinner asked.

"There is a very real possibility that
there may have been brain damage. Mulder
was severely beaten before he was left to
die on the ice. There could have been
damage done that was later masked by the
effects of the retro-virus and the blood
thinning treatment."

"And the nearest CAT-scan equipment is?"

"I'm not sure, sir. Perhaps Anchorage, if
not Seattle, and he's in no condition to
be moved at this point," Scully allowed.

"How long before he could be?"

"Given his current prognosis, and
provided that full medical evacuation
protocol is followed, I would say a
minimum of forty-eight hours."

"Then I say that if there has been no
significant improvement in Mulder's state
of consciousness in that time, I'll
arrange for a medical airlift to Walter
Reed or Bethesda."

"I think the benefits would be worth the
risk, sir. All respect to the facility
here--in D.C. he'd be closer to state of
the art treatment. And sometimes familiar
surroundings and people...oh, my God."

Scully paused in her train of thought.
"I've been so focused on Mulder, what
about his family? Do they even know---
I should have..."

"Already taken care of," Skinner broke in
on Scully's increasingly distraught
thoughts. "I flew up to Martha's Vineyard
yesterday. Mrs. Mulder was still there.
I told both of them everything I could up
to that point and I will keep them
updated."

"They must be devastated. To have lost
one child after finding her again and now
this..." Scully mused aloud, passing a
hand in front of her eyes. "You won't
mention what we've talked about. That is
something I really feel I should explain
in person, if it comes to that."

"Yes, if it comes to that. Mulder may
surprise us yet," Skinner offered. "Keep
the faith, Agent Scully."

Dana made her farewells, feeling a
growing sense of gratitudeto Skinner. He
had been as good as his word about being
available around the clock. She had
stayed in Mulder's room until the walls
had seemed to close in on her, talking
until her voice was hoarse, then had
escaped to her assigned quarters to make
a long overdue check-in with Skinner.
Whether from exhaustion or stress-induced
confusion, she had forgotten about time
differences---she wasn't even sure she
remembered any more time in the zone she
was in--and had ended up waking Skinner
up in the middle of an East-coast night.
Yet he had been as professional as ever,
dismissing her apologies and urging her
to bring him up-to-date on the current
status of Mulder's condition.

"...and ultimately it was science that
saved Agent Mulder's life." Dana recited
the last of her report into the micro-
cassette that she had brought along in
lieu of the more cumbersome laptop
computer. She would have plenty of time
after her return to Washington to
transcribe her report of this last case.
Perhaps too much time....

There was a light tap on the door of
her quarters. Scully looked up to see one
of the ICU staff nurses poking her head
into the room.

"You asked to be informed of any change
in Agent Mulder's condition. He's scored
well above nine on his most recent
Glasgow coma test and there has been some
spontaneous movement. It looks like he
might be close to waking up, Agent
Scully."

Dana favored the woman with a startled
look which transformed itself into a
genuinely relieved smile. She stowed away
her micro-cassette and rose swiftly,
following the other woman back into the
ICU area.

Scully walked into her partner's room and
quietly seated herself in the chair next
to his bed where she had already spent so
many hours. She gently laid both of her
hands on his forearm and leaned forward
expectantly. Closing her eyes briefly she
found herself focusing all her attention
on actively willing him to awaken.

As it happened she did not have long to
wait. A sound, somewhere between a moan
and a cough, startled her into opening
her eyes and looking up expectantly. As
if sensing her presence and focusing in
on it, Mulder's head moved slowly in her
direction.

Dana pasted what she hoped would pass for
a reassuring smile on her face as the
hooded hazel-green eyes sought and found
her own. Mulder was regarding her with
unmistakable awareness.

"Hey..." she offered lightly, endeavoring
at the same time not to betray her joy
and relief in a torrent of unseemly
emotion. "How you feelin'?"

"L-like I've...got a bad case of freezer
burn," Mulder's voice was a hoarse rasp,
"H-how did I...get here...?"

As labored and painful as his voice was
to hear, Dana was elated by his
immediately evident wit. There was
nothing he could have done or said that
would have reassured her more in that
moment than to make one of his
characteristically dry remarks.

"A Navy reconnaissance squad found you...
they choppered you to Eisenhower Field,"
she explained. Then, allowing a hint of
the exasperation she had felt for so long
to color her voice slightly, she
continued, "Thanks for ditching me."

"I-I'm sorry..." Mulder paused, weakly
attempting to clear his throat. "I
couldn't l-let ...you risk...your
life on this," he said, looking at
her briefly and then away, as though
suddenly loath to meet her searching
gaze.

Stricken, Scully glanced down at her
hands, which still rested lightly on
Mulder's arm. "I drew that line, and he
respected it," she thought to herself.
"Now I have to learn to do the same."

She looked up to search his face,
attempting to decipher an expression
turned unreadable. "Did you find what you
were looking for?" she asked softly.

"No...no. But I found something...I
thought I'd lost," Mulder offered
quietly, his gaze slowly connecting with
hers again.

Scully grew her brows together
questioningly and gave her head a small
shake of incomprehension.

Mulder perceived her confusion. He
swallowed painfully and rallied his voice
to speak once more with an effort that
made her ache to watch. "Faith to keep
looking," he said simply.

Scully's relief was palpable, and the
smile that spread itself across her
features was genuine, not merely pasted
on for Mulder'sbenefit. If she didn't
understand quite yet all the shades of
meaning behind the remark, at least now
she knew that there would be the time and
opportunity to explore the question
together.

Dana maintained her gentle touch on
Mulder's arm, determined to sustain the
physical contact and to reassure him of
the continuity of her presence as he
drifted back to sleep.

x x

She eyed her wristwatch as she felt the
pulse point on Mulder's wrist. It was a
ritual Dana had performed at regular
intervals ever since they had left
Eisenhower Field to begin their journey
home.

"What's the verdict?" a whispered voice
queried from somewhere in the vicinity of
her left ear.

Dana looked up, startled. She had
attempted to be as unobtrusive as
possible and had waited until she was
certain that her partnerhad drifted off
to sleep. Damn him, anyway.

Mulder was looking at her expectantly out
of one squinted eye as he resumed his
reclining position in the first class
seat. Her first choice had been that
Mulder stay strapped to a stretcher for
the commercial flight home. Failing that,
she had arranged to assure him the
relative comfort of first class airline
accommodations. In addition to more room
to stretch out his lanky form, there was
a decidedly more peaceful atmosphere in
the sparsely people first class cabin.
Mulder was far from completely recovered,
no matter his own foolhardy personal
views on the matter.

"You tell me. How are you holding up so
far?"

Having departed Sea-Tac Airport in
Washington State some two hours earlier,
Mulder now had the bulk of the trek
behind him. Dana would have felt more
reassured about the trip if she could
have convinced Mulder to remain
convalescent a few more days, gaining
reserves of strength against what was a
grueling itinerary for a healthy person.
Instead, her headstrong partner had
decidedsome twenty-four hours after
awakening that he was as fit as he
would ever be to return to D.C. and face
the music. She had managed to keep him
down and resting for another day beyond
that--holding to the timetable she had
under less heartening circumstances,
discussed with Skinner.

Barely.

"Me?" Mulder queried playfully, raising
his seat to its upright position. "I'm
fine. How could I be anything but? I did
think the wheel-chair at the airport was
overkill, but I have to admit that it
beat being strapped down to that litter
on the military transport all to hell,"
he mocked lightly, favoring her with one
of his more charming half-smiles.

Scully reached across her partner,
pressing the button that reclined his
seat, dipping him back into semi-
recumbant position. She then made a
determined show of rearranging the
blanket that had slipped halfway off her
wayward charge in his maneuvering.She
tucked the cover back around his
shoulders and under his chin with an air
of perfect authority, daring him to
protest.

"Mulder, I know you think you're fully
recovered but your system has sustained a
major shock, and we have no experience of
the after-effects of that retro-virus
by which to gauge your recovery. I would
rather err on the side of caution than
drag you off this plane in a state of
relapse."

Mulder gestured defeat, his hands
upraised and palms out in surrender. They
had had the same conversation in one form
or another at least half a dozen times
since starting out from Eisenhower field.
He was no closer to winning the argument
now than he had been the first time.

"Okay...okay." Mulder was gracious
in defeat. "So tell me, Doctor Scully,
are you this bossy with all your
patients?"

"No, Mulder, just you," Scully responded,
favoring him with a rather feral smile.
"You seem to bring it out in me."

Mulder chuckled and settled back into his
seat. He closed his eyes and was so quiet
for so long that Dana almost believed he
had fallen asleep.

"Have I thanked you lately for saving my
life?" he spoke quietly, his voice so low
that Scully almost had to strain to hear
him above the jet engines.

Scully half turned in her seat to look at
him, a look of genuine surprise on her
features. "There's no need, Mulder. You
saved mine. And at great personal cost."

There was another long silence. Mulder
then opened his eyes, regarding her with
a guarded expression.

"She wasn't Samantha, you know."

Scully's eyes grew large. "You have proof
of that?"

Mulder nodded. "The abortion clinic.
Those women I wanted them to find--they
were all like her. Just like her. The man
who took you--he came to kill them. He
must have done it somehow and left no
trace."

"Her--the body we pulled from the
river...when it reached ambient
temperature, it corroded, completely.
There was nothing left. I thought it
might be from exposure to the retro-virus
at first..."

Mulder had closed his eyes once gain, and
when he continued it was as though with
great effort. "No. She was like the man
she called her 'father'. Those like...
her said my sister is still alive. That
was how she knew enough to be able to be
so convincing."

Scully studied her partner carefully.
"And you went to the Arctic looking for
what?"

"The man who took you. He knows where my
sister is. I wanted him to tell me."

"And instead he almost killed you,"
Scully stated.

"He intended to kill me, but first he
confirmed what they had said. That my
sister is alive. He had nothing to gain
by lying at that point. I'd shot him, and
that was how I was exposed to the virus.
He knew that would finish me, even if the
cold didn't."

Scully gazed at Mulder meaningfully. "He
badly miscalculated then," she offered.

Mulder opened his eyes and looked
directly at her finally, the expression
in his eyes one of puzzled vulnerability.
Scully responded to the look with a
gentle squeeze of the hand that rested on
the armrest between them.

"Instead of killing you, he gave you the
will to survive." Scully proclaimed.

Finally, Dana understood. She couldn't
have known, but her fear that Mulder
might have nothing to live for had been
wrong. He might have gone to the Arctic
to die, but only if that was what it took
to know the truth. And he had prevailed,
not merely thanks to her efforts--to
science--but also to his own implacable
desire that the truth not only be known
to one man but revealed to all.

Mulder nodded and gave a small smile,
looking suddenly and overwhelmingly
weary. Scully took his hand briefly
in both of her own, then tucked it
under the blanket. "Get some rest,
Mulder. You've earned it. I'll be right
here."

Mulder nodded his assent, closed his eyes
and relaxed against his seat. Within
scant minutes, his breathing had assumed
the steady rhythm of restful slumber.
Dana Scully watched over her wayward
colleague contentedly, letting the fear
and guilt she had carried around with
her for so many days to fade slowly away.

Yet another vigil over her sleeping
enigma of a partner. But this at least
was one last watch she would happily
keep.
********************
End "Watches" (03 of 03)