"Then turn him on his side! Mandy, *you* have to help him. Only *you* can save him!" Scully felt hot tears burning her eyes as she stood, helpless. Then something caught her attention and she glanced quickly through the wide crack in the open front door to see Skinner run toward the house and crouch behind a thick tree trunk. His gun was drawn, and she assumed he must have heard the screaming from inside the house. But her immediate concern was her partner. He was trying to cough as blood sprayed in a fine mist from his lips. Scully decided that if Mandy did nothing to help him within the next 10 seconds, she would take matters into her own hands. If she continued to stand and watch her partner's suffering, then he would die anyway. And if she let him die without taking any action, then Mandy might as well kill her, too. "Mandy, he came here because he cared. If he had wanted to hurt you, would he have told me where to find him?" "Why are you here!" "Turn him on his side," she said quietly. Mandy hesitated, then keeping the gun on Scully with one hand, she put her hand under Mulder's right shoulder and rolled him on his side. The movement caused him to convulse again and throw up an alarming amount of blood. Scully could not see the knife lying on the floor behind her partner. She had to try and talk Mandy down and hope that Skinner didn't come charging through the door. "We want to help you, Mandy." When Mandy looked up at Scully, the crazed frantic expression was replaced with sorrow. There was a hitch in her voice as she spoke. "He never wanted me. He apologized to me at the Christmas party last week." Scully thought. "He said he was already involved with someone." He said that three years ago? Scully felt like someone had reached in and clenched her heart. "We were supposed to get married! And you don't even love him!" She had directed the remark to Scully who was caught off guard. "What?" "He told me tonight that you only care about him because you work together!" The fist around Scully's heart squeezed tighter. She hoped to God that wasn't what Mulder believed -- that he said it to calm Mandy down. "That's partially true. I do care about my partner, but I don't love him. We just work together." To her horror, Mulder's eyes opened and found hers. She saw more than pain there, she saw hurt. But there would be time to fix that later. If she didn't get him to a hospital, there wouldn't be a 'later.' Scully gathered up all the false compassion she possibly could. "He does care about you." "No he doesn't. He walked away from me in the bar just like he did at the party." Scully froze. She tried to give her attention to Mandy but it was impossible to keep her eyes off Mulder. He was having trouble breathing and even from the distance she stood from him, she could see his body shivering from loss of too much warm blood. She hoped that he was understanding that finally the truth was coming out. "What do you mean he walked away from you in the bar?" Scully asked, trying not to sound anxious. Mandy sighed, as if irritated with having to start over. "The man that told me to go to the bar that night said that Fox would be waiting for me. But when I saw Fox sitting at the table and I sat down next to him, he got up and moved to another table. When we walked outside, he got mad at me and left. Just like last week." "Last week?" "At my uncle's Christmas party!" she yelled, exasperated. "Okay," Scully said calmly, seeing her partner startled again by her loud voice. "Mandy, what man told you to go to the bar that night?" Mandy's thoughts were wandering, but Scully's question dragged her back to the conversation. "Huh? Oh, I don't know his name. He said he was a friend of Fox's. The police officer." Scully shut her mouth quickly to keep from gasping. "I thought that man was your uncle!" "No. He was just pretending. He said Fox had a lot of money and that he would pay us if I finally agreed to drop the charges." "Is that what you'd planned to do?" "Maybe. I'm still pretty mad at him for raping me." Suddenly Scully felt like someone had thrown her in quicksand. Just when she believed Mandy was finally lucid, the rape accusation emerged again. "Mandy, why do you think Fox raped you? According to the police report, you can't remember what happened after you got out of the cab at the park." "You're pretty stupid for an FBI agent!" she snapped. "I tried to fight him! He had the bruises to prove it!" Scully looked away from Mandy long enough to see how her partner was doing. Mulder's eyes were closed, his breathing irregular. She knew time was against him and his suffering was unbearable. But Mandy was finally talking, so Scully was trying to give her a few more minutes. Her partner's freedom might depend on it. "Mandy, why didn't you want to have intercourse with Fox? Didn't you have oral sex in the cab?" The words almost burned her throat. Mandy looked confused for an instant, then smug. "Yes, we did. But he didn't have a condom with him. I told the police that!" "You were worried about a condom when he had just come in your mouth?" As Scully said the words, she looked again at Mulder. His eyelids fluttered open, but he didn't look up from the floor. Scully carefully continued. "You told the police that you and Fox were dropped off at the park. But a few minutes ago you said you and Fox went outside the bar, he got mad, and left." Mandy's face went blank. Scully had effectively challenged and discredited her memory. Her eyes were like chips of ice, her voice harsh and cruel. "You just can't accept the fact that Fox is fucking me!" Scully was shaking inside, but kept her voice steady. "You're confused. You've been told things." Mandy's rage was back in full force. "I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT THIS ANYMORE!" Scully nodded slowly and kept her voice calm. "Okay. Okay, we won't then." Mulder closed his eyes again and moaned, trying to roll to his back. Scully knew that lying on his side had to be excruciating. Mandy looked down at him. She was still kneeling beside him, resting the gun on his shoulder. Her wild-eyed look changed to one of concern and Scully prayed she would remain in that state long enough to surrender the weapon. She didn't know where Skinner was, but hoped that he would be patient a little longer. "Mandy, can you see that Fox is hurt?" Scully asked carefully. The young woman tenderly put her hand on Mulder's cheek. "He's hot," she said surprised. "He needs to get to a hospital right away." Watching another woman trying to comfort her partner disturbed Scully in more ways than would be expected from the obvious circumstances. "Poor Fox," Mandy said, reaching over him to grab the front of his shirt. Roughly she pulled him over on his back and Mulder cried out, arching his body against the pain. Scully was losing the battle over her tears. Mandy had laid the gun on Mulder's chest, the barrel aimed at his chin. But although she no longer had it in her hand, Scully still felt it was too risky to move quickly against the woman. "Mandy, please," Scully said, her shaking obvious. "He needs your help." Scully wasn't even sure Mandy was listening to her as she caressed Mulder's cheek, whispering words in his ear that Scully couldn't hear. She realized Mandy vacillated between the real world and her fantasy world which consisted of only her and Mulder. The moment-by-moment change was like flipping a switch. The difficult part was trying to reason with her when Scully wasn't sure which world she had jumped back into. She watched as Mandy picked up Mulder's limp hand and put it inside her open shirt, pressing it over her breast. Her eyes rolled with pleasure. "Oh, yes, baby," she said, as if Mulder's actions were his own. Since it was obvious to Scully that she had once again retreated into her fantasies, she remained still and quiet. But that proved an agonizing decision when she saw Mandy drag Mulder's hand down and inside the front of her pants. Sitting back on her knees, Mandy spread her legs apart. As Mulder's hand was forced down, the front of her pants was pulled down with it. Scully clenched her jaw, willing herself to look beyond the sight that was before her -- her partner's hand in the crotch of another woman, resting on a patch of curly black hair. Then, to her surprise, Mandy looked straight at Scully and smiled demurely. "He likes to do this. He likes to curl his finger around mine and bring both of them inside me." Scully didn't care to look close enough to see whether Mandy had pushed Mulder's finger up inside her, but she could tell that Mandy was manipulating Mulder's hand. "He gets me good and wet, then he licks me. His tongue goes deep inside me and he loves it when I scream as I reach orgasm." Scully couldn't bear to hear more, but she was afraid to interrupt. She knew her partner was conscious because she saw him blinking. She could only hope that Mulder would keep quiet during Mandy's lurid fantasy and not worry about what Scully was seeing him do with another woman. "His hands are soft. He uses them to caress my neck, to get me to relax my throat muscles so I can take him deep in my mouth, all the way in. Sometimes it's just too much," she said with a giggle, "and he can't hold back. It's so incredible to watch him pull that long, thick cock out of my mouth, and then slide back in, pushing so deep that my lips are against his balls. He screams my name when he comes, and I suck him dry, swallowing every drop of him," Mandy said, rolling her tongue around her mouth. "Then he plays with me until he's hard again. Then we fuck. First I'm on top, bouncing up and down on his cock, then he enters me from behind, which really turns him on. And then he throws me on my back and spreads my legs and slams into me. He likes it hard and fast. He's so beautiful when he comes." Mandy was looking hard at Scully, as if anticipating her breakdown, or some reaction to her sexual escapades with Fox Mulder. Scully almost felt like applauding the narrative. It sounded like a chapter from a smutty book. She felt a surge of reinforcement that came from self-affirmation -- affirmation that she was the only person in the world who really knew all aspects of Fox Mulder. But even though Scully knew Mandy's sick sexual recitation was pure delusion, the imagery none-the-less nauseated her. Getting no reaction from Fox's partner, Mandy leaned over, her eyes never straying from Scully's, and pressed her left nipple against Mulder's lips. Scully saw him shut his eyes, trying to block everything out. Making sure Scully was still watching, Mandy pressed more firmly against him and moved her nipple over his lips, trying to get him to open his mouth. Scully saw a muscle tighten in Mulder's jaw; he knew what was happening and he wasn't about to give in. The disturbing knowledge Scully shared with her partner was that if he complied with the sexual advances in any way, even by simply opening his mouth and taking her breast, Mandy would take that as aggression. And that's what triggered the violence. Scully felt Mulder's humiliation. She could not even imagine what he was thinking, knowing that she had to endure this sadistic show. She wanted to look away, but refused to give Mandy that satisfaction. It was taking tremendous effort for her seriously injured partner to maintain control. Scully fought back angry tears as she silently praised her partner's fortitude. But his endurance was short-lived. Mulder was consciously slipping away again. Then Scully saw what she feared most, and she was defenseless to stop it. Mandy's hand traced the same familiar path up through Mulder's thick hair, and she lowered her lips to the place on his forehead marked only by Scully's kiss. Mulder's eyes opened and they were glassy, unfocused. Because of his severely disoriented state, and the position of the woman leaning into his face, his instinct and longing told him who was above him. And there was only one woman he wanted to feel in that way. In his fevered delirium he was responding to touch and desire, not sight. Scully watched helplessly as his lips parted, he took the hard nipple between his teeth and closed his mouth around it, sucking lightly. Just as the panic registered on Mandy's face, Scully saw him open his mouth again, drawing in just enough air to speak. His soft murmur was unmistakable. "Scully." The panic reflected in Mandy's eyes turned instantly to fiery hatred. She sat up, at the same time flinging Mulder's hand out of her pants. Seconds became hours as simultaneously Scully reached down for her gun on the floor and Mandy lifted Mulder's weapon from his chest. Scully screamed in her head as it became a dual to the death to see who could pick up the gun first, pull back the hammer and fire. Mandy's target was practically underneath her. < NOOOOOO !!! > * * * * * Maybe God did intervene because the young woman's hands were shaking so badly that she fumbled with the gun, giving Scully a split-second advantage. But the shot Scully had to take from the angle of a crouched position on the floor would put her partner almost in the path of the bullet. There was no room for error. Aiming quickly but with a steady hand, she fired just as Mandy placed the gun to Mulder's temple. Scully's bullet hit Mandy high in the right shoulder. The impact jerked her back, but not off of her feet, causing instantaneous muscle damage, which impaired her right hand. But the gun was in Mandy's left hand. Because of the angle of Mandy's body, Scully had taken her best sure shot, which -- because she was firing a millisecond after struggling to get a grip on the trigger -- was a full body shot and not the less accurate head shot. Scully stood upright, her gun still trained on Mandy. She didn't want to shoot her again. She could see the young woman was stunned, the gun wavering in her hand. There was no way to determine whether Mandy had enough strength to pull the trigger. "PUT THE GUN DOWN!" Scully ordered. "PUT IT DOWN!" It was then that Scully realized Mulder was awake and trying to move away from Mandy. His movements were sluggish and uncoordinated, as he tried to rise up on an elbow. His face looked panicked. If he raised up, he would be between the two women and Scully wouldn't have another shot at Mandy. "Mulder! Lay still!" Scully yelled, holding Mandy in the sights of her gun. But he was determined to move away from her. Something was happening that Scully couldn't' understand. Mandy was showing no sign of surrendering, despite her wound, and her attention was still fixed on Mulder. Time had now speeded up, as Scully tried to figure out why things seemed so wrong. Her mind was spinning with life or death indecision. She saw an awkward arm movement from Mandy but when Scully started to step forward, she was startled by a booming gunshot blast. Before she could turn away from Mandy to seek out the cause, she saw a neat crimson hole appear in the center of Mandy's forehead and a quick spray of blood fanned out the back of her head. With eyes still open in surprise, Mandy fell flat on her back -- dead before she hit the floor. Scully was caught temporarily in a web of confusion, panic and horror. Catching movement, she looked to her right to see Skinner lowering his gun. Behind him, uniformed officers began to fill the room. He gave her a quick, cursory look to make sure she was okay, then took rapid strides toward her partner. Scully snapped out of it, holstering her gun and rushing to him. Mulder had collapsed forward, his forehead resting on the floor. His body was shuddering and both Scully and Skinner could hear him whimpering in pain. As both agents kneeled on either side of him, Scully looked down at Mandy's body and saw the long knife in her hand. From her position, she hadn't been able to see it, but Skinner, coming from the kitchen, saw her pick it up off the floor. Skinner spoke to two police officers, indicating with a flick of his head toward Mandy. "Get her out of here," he said with revulsion. As they removed the body, Scully shot Skinner a look of immeasurable gratitude. Then Mulder became their only concern. As Scully put her hands on Mulder's shoulders, ready to raise his head off the floor, Skinner put his hand over hers. "Scully, wait," he said. He leaned closer to the floor, then put his hand under Mulder's body. "He's bleeding . . . he's cut." They both felt his body spasm and he moaned again. Scully put her hand on the back of his neck and her lips against his ear. "Mulder, it's me. It's over, partner. You're going to be okay." She listened to his breathing. The end of each breath was followed by a wheeze. He wasn't getting enough air. Scully placed her hand over Mulder's ear so he wouldn't hear her, then she spoke to Skinner. "Sir, he can't get enough air! We need oxygen! Now!" Skinner turned to an officer on his radio. "Where are the paramedics?" he asked harshly. "Five minutes away. The helicopter will be here in ten." He nodded. "Sir, we need to turn him over and elevate his chest so he can breathe. And I've got to stop the bleeding," said Scully. Skinner sat on his knees and put his hands on Mulder's shoulders, ready to lift him. Scully put her cheek next to Mulder's again and took the fingers of his casted hand in hers. "Mulder, can you hear me? Just squeeze my fingers." She waited, worried. Then heard a faint, raspy whisper. "Scully." Knowing that Skinner and other officers were there, she pressed her lips against his temple, not quite a kiss. "Partner, we're going to move you so you can breathe better. Okay?" This time he squeezed her fingers. Scully nodded to Skinner. Gently Mulder was lifted up. A police officer rushed over to help so he could be moved slowly. But it was too much for Mulder. They all heard the gurgle of blood that rose in his throat. Skinner tightened his grip on his shoulders as Scully held his head against her chest. Mulder threw up a shocking amount of blood, coating both Skinner's and Scully's arm. Skinner, sickened by his agent's suffering, looked to Scully to gauge how serious this was. He saw what he expected to see. But Scully knew right now that her partner needed her more as a doctor than concerned friend and partner. So she held her emotions in check. "Help me lay him back, sir." As gently as possible, Skinner pulled Mulder's shoulders and head into his lap. Mulder cried out, squeezing his eyes shut and grabbing Skinner's shirt sleeve as if trying to stop him from moving him. Skinner slid his arm up, taking Mulder's hand in his. Scully heard him gasping for air, but there was very little rise to his chest. Forcing her will to keep a rein on her panic, she tried to focus solely on what she needed to do to save his life. She unsnapped his jeans and started to remove his jacket, but then decided to let the doctors cut it off him at the hospital. Carefully she pulled his shirt out as Skinner opened the shirt buttons. A police officer knelt down with a handful of towels and gave one to Scully. Tenderly, she first cleaned his mouth. The cut to his side was deep but only about half an inch in diameter. In Mulder's already depleted condition though, any more blood loss was catastrophic. Scully folded the hand towel and used gentle pressure against the wound, watching Mulder's face as she did so. Skinner looked down to see that his entire right side and abdomen were dark purple. The cut Scully was working on was on the same side, just above the waist of his pants. Mulder gasped again, trying to get air and his eyes found Scully's. He was scared. She bent over him, so close that her lips brushed the side of his mouth as she spoke. "I know you're afraid, honey. But I'm here. Skinner's here. You're safe and help is on the way." An agonizing cramp of pain seized Mulder again and he tried to stifle a cry but as the pain continued to build, spreading throughout his body, he could no longer contain his torment. Skinner felt Mulder's trembling hand squeeze his and he returned the pressure. "Mulder . . ." Scully said, her voice quivering. She brushed her fingers along his cheek, trying anything to take his mind off the pain. Mulder was losing it and they both knew it. Any other human would have passed out long ago. As the pain consumed and overwhelmed him, he finally broke. Crying softly, his tears mixed with the blood that seeped from his mouth. Skinner watched Scully struggling not to break down herself as Mulder lay in his arms. He could see the helplessness in her face. He knew she wouldn't speak until it was with the strength and assurance that her partner needed to hear from her. So for right now, Skinner would be her voice. "Mulder, hold on. This is the worst of it. Just hold on to us," he said, pressing his fingers lightly around Mulder's. Skinner heard commotion and looked over to see the paramedics rush in with their equipment and a stretcher. He listened as Scully quickly apprised them of his injuries and what treatment was needed. An oxygen mask was placed over Mulder's nose and mouth and the relief was immediate. Although his breathing was easier, he still had to be elevated because of the blood in his throat. The paramedics worked quickly and effectively, inserting IV's, hooking him up to a heart monitor. He was ready to be moved to the stretcher once the IV's were all in place. Scully spoke softly to him again. "Partner, we're taking you to the hospital. I want you to close your eyes and stop fighting. You can let go for a little while." She trailed the tips of her fingers over his lids and they closed. Then she and Skinner let the medics take over. Standing side by side, the two agents were exhausted. Skinner glanced over at the body of Mandy Morrison lying under a sheet. Scully saw that Skinner was deep within himself. She put her hand on his arm, but he only acknowledged her with a dishearted sigh. "Sir, you had no choice. You had to shoot her." "But now the truth may be hard to prove." He leaned closer and lowered his voice. "*We* know that Mulder's DNA won't be a match, but how do we prove it? How do we prove any of it?" "Sir," Scully said in an equally hushed voice, "I *heard* her. She said that someone told her to meet Mulder at the bar. Her stories contradict each other, sir! Officer Femino isn't even her uncle! can be proved!" "Oh really! With all that's been done so far to implicate Mulder, would it surprise you if a document surfaced proving he was Mandy's uncle? But that's the least of our problems. We're going to have a hell of a time explaining why Mulder was here and how we knew it. And then there's this little problem of justifying why we broke into the house of a rape victim and shot her instead of her alleged attacker, who was in her house!" Scully's voice was hushed, but emphatic. "I heard , sir!" "Scully . . . " he said, shaking his head. "Femino was the one who told Mandy to meet Agent Mulder in the bar that night!" "And who's going to prove that!" "I'm a federal agent! Now my word isn't good enough?" "Scully, he's your partner." "Does that mean I would lie!" she whispered harshly. "It doesn't matter what I think. Mulder's been on a hit list for a long time." He rubbed his eyes. "And I just eliminated his best chance to prove his innocence." "You saved his life." Although Scully was engaged in conversation, she had kept an eye and an ear to what was being done to her partner. When she heard the paramedic she looked over. "Sir, you need to keep the mask on." Mulder had lifted the oxygen mask from his face. She heard him weakly whisper her name and she and Skinner were instantly at his side again. "Partner, keep this on. It'll be easier to breathe." At the sight of his pain-filled eyes, protocol and will power collapsed. As far as Scully was concerned, she and Mulder were the only two people in the room. Without hesitation she leaned over and kissed him firmly on the lips. Skinner was surprised -- not that Scully had kissed Mulder; he had a feeling it wasn't the first time -- but that she was so bold about it. It was no feather kiss. When she pulled away, she heard her name whispered softly again. She didn't want him talking, but there was an urgency that, in her experience with him, couldn't be ignored. "What is it, Mulder?" Speaking was difficult and he had to concentrate on timing his words with his breathing. "J-jack . . . et," he rasped. She didn't understand what he said and she watched his lips as he tried to form the word again. It took a long time to find the strength and she could see that he was becoming agitated. Scully smiled reassuredly and pushed his hair back. "It's okay." She felt the paramedic touch her arm and she knew there was a dual purpose: Mulder needed to be back on the oxygen and the helicopter was landing. Not taking her eyes off Mulder, she nodded. Mulder weakly cleared his throat and the fingers of his casted arm tapped the front of his jacket. "Pock-et," he forced. At first she frowned, looking at Skinner, but then they both seemed to understand at the same time. Skinner gently put his hand inside Mulder's jacket and could feel an object in his pocket. He reached in and pulled it out. After he opened his hand, it only took a second for the surprise to register simultaneously on their faces. The tape recorder was still running. For the first time in days, Scully's face brightened and Skinner looked at Mulder with renewed respect. She looked down at her partner and there was no need for words. Mulder's eyes closed slowly as she put the oxygen mask back in place. * * * * * BETHESDA HOSPITAL 8 days later, 6:40 a.m. It had been a long, difficult week. Mulder's medical progress had been slow -- two steps forward, one back. His immediate treatment had been at Roseland Medical Center in Richmond. He had been flown there, rather than Bethesda, when he stopped breathing in the helicopter just after take-off. Skinner and Scully had driven halfway back to Washington when they received the call that Mulder was at Richmond. When told the reason why, the quiet drive to Roseland was agonizing for both agents. After his first surgery, it had been touch and go for 24 hours. Mulder survived seven hours of surgery, only to be set back by post-operative bleeding. To make matters worse, Roseland was a small hospital and did not have enough blood supply to handle Mulder's rare type. Emergency blood supply was flown in from Georgetown and Bethesda hospitals. The inclement weather had delayed flights, thus causing many panic-filled moments waiting and pacing. Then there were further complications from an infection. It probably started the day his rib was broken when he was thrown into the steel railing at the police station. In Mulder's weakened condition, the infection ravaged his body. His platelets had diminished by two-thirds, leading to the severe hemorrhaging, which required a second surgery. Then for two days his fever raged. Scully never left his side, bathing his face with cool water and sponging his body with a mixture of alcohol diluted with saline. Three times his temperature spiked over 105 degrees, sending him into convulsions. Yet through his delirium, somehow he knew she was there and he held on to her, whispering her name as a plea not to leave. As if she could. During Mulder's most critical time, Skinner drove down. He tried to relieve Scully, but when that failed, he settled for bringing her food and coffee. Then he hovered in the hall in between the short visits he was allowed with his agent. At one point, Skinner entered just as Mulder went into a convulsion. Laying his arm across Mulder's collarbone, he put the palm of his other hand on his forehead, holding his head to the pillow. He flashed back briefly to another time when he helped Mulder ride out a seizure -- one that he might have caused. Skinner shook off the thought, as doctors filled the room, injecting medication in the IV's and hurriedly taking vitals. They worked around Scully, who had crawled up on the bed next to Mulder, talking gently to him the whole time. But what surprised Skinner was that the doctors worked around him, too, probably because Mulder had a death grip on his hand. When Mulder finally calmed down, he did something the AD would never forget. Skinner had released his hand, but Mulder laid his fingers over the back of Skinner's hand, squeezing slightly as he looked up at his boss. There was no mistaking the message of extreme gratitude that shone through Mulder's eyes, and so intense was Skinner's reaction that he had to look away. For the first time, he truly understood the power of non-verbal communication that was the trademark of his two most 'special' agents. Before quietly slipping out the door, he glanced back at Scully. She was watching him, but she said nothing. She knew what he was thinking. She simply smiled. Following Mulder's second surgery, the bleeding was temporarily controlled by transfusions, but until the infection was treated, it was like continuing to bail water out of a sinking boat instead of plugging the hole. After five days at Roseland, Mulder was flown by a medi-vac jet to Bethesda Hospital where he was placed in a hyperbolic chamber to fight the infection. Until he improved, he would remain comatose in isolation. Scully used the M.D. behind her name -- and, Skinner suspected, probably her weapon -- to gain access to her partner. She had a story to tell Mulder when he woke up, one that she knew would amuse him: when she insisted on being with her partner, the doctors tried to convince her that there was no way he would know she was there. She argued bitterly with them, accusing them of being too closed minded and had they never heard of extreme possibilities? She vaguely recalled using the term 'conventionally handicapped' at some point. On the fifth day of hospitalization at Bethesda, Mulder was taken out of isolation and the medication decreased to allow him to wake up -- gradually. Scully should have remembered that nothing is gradual with Fox Mulder. But fatigue and worry attributed to her taking the word of the doctors, so she went home to sleep. Then at 2:48 this morning, she was awakened by a phone call. Her immediate response, so ingrained over the past week, was panic. Time stood still between her hello and the voice on the other end. It was a weak, wisp of a sound, unrecognizable in content, but purely defined by familiarity. "Scully." That one word was all he could manage, but it answered a volume of prayers. Scully found herself weeping with relief, not the least bit embarrassed to reveal the depth of feelings to her partner. The only other sound she heard out of Mulder was a "Shhh," as roles reversed and he tried to let her know everything was all right. She sped to the hospital and practically ran down the hall to his room, only to find that he had fallen back to sleep. Lowering the bed rail, she eased on to the mattress and took his hand. Gently rubbing her thumb over the back of his palm, she waited to see if he might wake up. But just the few minutes he had been awake, while the nurses checked vitals and tried to ask him questions, had worn him out. Scully learned later that throughout the nurses' ministrations, he had asked them to call his partner. Claiming it wasn't in his best interest, they had refused. In more or less a joking manner, they asked him with whom did he think his federal position carried weight. He met them head-on, with his short but definitive answer. "I.R.S." They dialed his partner. * * * * Now it was two-and-a-half hours later. Scully wasn't sure what had happened, but the nurses couldn't seem to do enough for her -- getting her coffee and a danish, verifying that what they were doing to her partner was satisfactory to her. It was weird. Skinner had dropped by briefly with the pretense of delivering a file to her. But after firing a barrage of questions at her about Agent Mulder's condition, he started walking away with the file under his arm, smiling sheepishly when Scully gently reminded him of it. She had been reading the report when Mulder's head turned slightly on the pillow. Laying the file in the chair, she again took her place next to him on the bed. He was facing the wall when his eyes opened. "Hey," Scully said softly, a smile in her voice. When he turned his head, his eyes met hers and he was bathed in that glowing smile. He tried to smile back when she kissed him on the cheek, but he was again consumed with pain. Scully's relief that he was awake was quickly overshadowed by his obvious discomfort. She felt a stab of guilt cut her like a knife. She had agreed with the doctor that Mulder's pain medication be reduced to allow him to wake up, and to begin weaning him off the heavy narcotics. Neither she nor the doctors were sure what dosage to cut him down to, so they decided to establish a baseline at halfway. If he couldn't handle that it could be increased, or vice versa. But now it was obvious that it was far too little to handle his pain. "Mulder, we've cut your morphine in half. While you were in the coma, we had to continue the morphine or you would have fought your way right up through the pain. And since you can't take Demerol, there was only a weak substitute. I know you have a high pain tolerance, so we're hoping the lower dosage will help you get your strength back." "Y-your call . . . Dr. Scully," he breathed heavily. Mulder suddenly saw the lines of worry in her face as she stared at the overhead monitors, and he knew she was waging her decision against the possible outcome. So he guessed he might be in for a pretty hard time. Still holding her hand, he tapped the bed twice to get her attention. "Scully . . . trust you," he said softly, using as few words as possible to convey his message. She moved closer to him. "I'll be here whenever you need me, and in between." She saw him straining to look around her at the closed door. "What is it, partner?" she asked. "Guard . . .?" he whispered. Even under layers of pain she heard the apprehension in his voice. She didn't know what he remembered of his last few hours before she and Skinner found him. She took his good hand in both of hers and kissed his fingers and before she even spoke he knew there had been a change. "No," she answered. "No guard. It's over." She saw his relief, but confusion as well. "Mulder, I could tell you everything that happened, but I'd have to repeat it twelve times. Let's give it a few days. For now, there is only one thing I will joyfully repeat: it's over and you're cleared." "And . . . Mandy?" he said with undisguised distaste. Scully paused, but figured that it was one answer that he might subconsciously remember later. "She's dead." "Did you . . .?" he stopped. "Skinner and I both shot her. But Mulder, let's talk about this later. The important thing now is to get you well." The nurse came in and removed the empty bag from the IV stand. Mulder was pleased to see it was his previous nurse, the one he called Rosie. "Hey, Foxy," she kidded. "Hey," he whispered in a raspy voice. Scully saw her take a quick but thorough visual inventory of her patient as she checked her clipboard for new orders. "Hmmm, Foxy, no pain meds for you until later tonight. Guess it's time to hand the job over to your endorphins." It almost sounded like a joke until she fixed her eyes on Scully and her voice was tight with concern. "You'll be here tonight with him?" It wasn't so much a question as a statement. Mulder felt a little anxious at her inference as Scully nodded, naturally. he thought, Rosie leaned closer to the bed. "Well, I'll be on until eleven p.m. -- pulling a double shift so I can go to a wedding next weekend. So I want you calling me if it gets too bad. You hearing me, bright boy?" she directed to Mulder. Again in a whisper, "Yes, ma'am." "Good." She turned to Scully. "Oh, and my grandson is bringing some burgers in for dinner. I'll have him pick one up for you, Dana. . . Hey, don't give me that look, Foxy. I can't see a perfectly good burger being barfed up in a wastebasket." "Thank you for that," Mulder said weakly, scrunching up his face. "But I will get you a vanilla shake if you promise to give me the real scoop on Area 51." Scully laughed. "That's like saying 'I'll pay you if you let me wash your car.'" Rosie chuckled and gently raised Mulder's gown to inspect the bandage around his chest. Scully wasn't worried; she had already done that half a dozen times, checking for bleeding. Satisfied, Rosie pulled the gown back down and the blanket up. "I'll see you in about an hour," she said, pointing a finger at her patient. Mulder smiled and nodded, but just before the door closed behind her, Rosie stuck her head back in the room. "By the way, hotshot, the hospital brought in a pair of bloodhounds in case you try that disappearing act again." Scully laughed as Rosie winked at her again and left. Mulder was not so amused. Finally alone again, Scully saw Mulder's eyelids droop. He had been awake longer than at any time over the past eight days. He needed as much sleep as possible for his body to recover from the trauma. Exhausted, Mulder dragged his eyes up to meet Scully's intense gaze. Her blue eyes sparkled like sapphires. He wanted so much to just lay there and look into those beautiful eyes, but his body was not cooperating. He felt his eyes slipping closed and before he could open them barely halfway, he felt soft fingertips upon his eyelids. "Go to sleep," Scully whispered. "Scully . . ." he whispered back. This time her fingers were on his lips and the message was repeated. "Shhh, sleep, Babe." Her words were like a tranquilizer and he drifted off to the touch of her hand through his hair. * * * * * BETHESDA HOSPITAL 7:40 p.m. Mulder had slept off and on during the day. When Rosie came in on her break at 6:00 to bring Scully the promised hamburger, they sat quietly chatting, while Mulder slept the entire time. He awoke about 6:30 and Scully forced him to drink about a third of the vanilla shake. But she could immediately see his discomfort again. He was given a Vicodin tablet, but the real test was yet to come. So Scully warned him about hiding the pain, explaining that it would do more damage than the drugs themselves. He was scheduled for a second dose of Vicodin at 10:00 o'clock p.m., but if the pain was unbearable they would consider another shot of morphine. When he fell asleep at 7:05, Scully didn't think he would wake up any time soon, but she didn't want to take any chances, so she had her mother sit with him. She just wanted to make a quick trip to her apartment so she could shower and change into fresh clothes. Now at 7:40, his eyes opened and he was immediately in the throes of immense pain. His gasp brought Maggie Scully out of her chair, her book dropping from her lap to the floor. Mulder closed his eyes, willing the pain to a tolerable level, but his body had other ideas. Again he gasped as white-hot pain coursed through him and he felt a hand on top of his, and another on his forehead. He whispered without opening his eyes, "Scully." The voice was soothing and familiar, but not his partner's. "Fox, it's Maggie, sweetheart. I've called for the nurse." He didn't open his eyes but turned his hand palm up, curling weak fingers around Maggie's gentle grasp. He took a shuddering breath as a small whimper escaped. Maggie moved closer to him, bending over the bed to smooth his cheek with the back of her hand. The gesture was so familiar as he leaned into it slightly. She was speaking softly to him but he was too consumed by the pain to understand her words. The door swung open and briskly Rosie entered with another nurse. Instantly she was on the other side of Mulder, her hand on his shoulder, quickly assessing his condition. His cheeks were flushed, his skin cool and clammy. There was a slight tremor in his body from the effort of fighting the pain. "Hey, handsome, can you open those beautiful eyes for me?" Rosie's voice was all business as she spoke quickly to the other nurse. "Call his partner." She looked back to see two pain-filled eyes looking up at her. "Hey, Foxy. I know it's pretty bad, sweetie, but we're going to decide real quick what to do. Can you hold on for a few minutes?" Mulder wet his lips and swallowed. "Hurts." "I know, Fox," Rosie said sympathetically. Maggie gripped his hand tighter. She knew what it took for Fox Mulder to confess he was hurting. Her attention was so focused on him that she didn't realize a cup was being handed to her until she saw it in her line of vision. She took it, putting the straw in Mulder's mouth. As he drank the cool water, another nurse entered to help Rosie take his vitals. Mulder was fractionally aware of conversation carried on between the two nurses and Maggie, and he felt hands on him, but the pain had taken away any ability to concentrate. The voices in the room blended into white noise and time drifted away until he heard one distinct voice at his ear. "Fox. Hey handsome. Open your eyes for me." He had been conscious the whole time, but his awareness and perception of time blinked on and off. The voice that kept repeating his name wasn't Scully's, but maybe the hand caressing his hair was hers. He opened his eyes, trying to focus. "Scully?" Maggie's voice spoke at his ear, but he didn't think it was the one urging him to wake up. "She's on her way, Fox, if you don't' mind her hair being a little damp." He couldn't see Maggie's smile, but he could hear it in the words she used to try to relax him. Then he felt a hand gently cup his chin and turn it to towards the other voice he heard. "Hey Foxy, can you listen to me for a minute?" Mulder nodded slightly as the hand moved from his chin to his shoulder. "Good," Rosie said. "Dr. Green is on his way. And let me tell you, the staff here is in shock because the Knicks are on TV, and nothing short of a train wreck pulls that man away from the tube when the Knicks are on." Maggie smiled at Rosie. She knew the story behind the friendly nurse's celebrity name, and had even taken to calling her that. She was touched by her calm, soothing ministrations toward her pain-wracked patient. But Maggie knew also that this particular nurse had taken a special liking to Fox Mulder. They possessed a similar sense of humor, which was a definite attribute when having to deal with people who were in distress. Maggie's heart ached seeing Mulder hurting so badly. After all he'd been through, it just wasn't fair. She turned her attention back to Rosie when she heard her explaining to Mulder what they were doing. "Dr. Green is trying very hard to keep you off the heavy narcotics. You'll be able to return to work faster if your body can work on its own. You got that, handsome?" Mulder nodded again. Rosie gently squeezed his shoulder and continued. "Dr. Green may decide the Vicodin is not enough tonight, so he'll give you another shot of morphine, but probably a much lower dosage. Okay, G-man?" "'Kay," he whispered. "I'll be right back. I'm going to have those meds ready to go when he gives the word." Rosie looked at Maggie, then back to Mulder. "You're in good hands, sweetie." She gave his shoulder another gentle squeeze and walked out. He and Maggie were alone and he turned his head to face her, seeing her worried smile. His voice was weak and raspy but he forced the words out. "Scully . . ." "She's coming, Fox." He shook his head once and briefly shut his eyes. Maggie understood there was something else he wanted to ask. He took another shuddering breath and tried again. "She . . . okay?" Maggie's hand slipped tenderly through his hair. "She's good. Worried about you, but she knows you're recovering. I know you don't know what happened yet with that girl, but you do know that it's over?" "Mmmmm." "Then don't worry about Dana. Everything's going to be okay." Maggie was surprised to see tears in his eyes. The pain gave him little control over his emotions. He moved slightly, trying to lay in a position that would give him some relief. But the movement only caused him to wince. "Honey, it's okay," Maggie soothed. "I . . . tell . . . Dana . . ." "Tell her what, Fox?" "I'm . . . sorry." Maggie wasn't sure what he meant but she knew he must be remembering something about his ordeal. She wondered if his eidetic memory was affected by pain and trauma, as any average individual's would be. She bent over and tenderly kissed his forehead. "Fox, sweetheart, try not to think about that until Dana and Director Skinner can explain what happened. Please, trust me when I tell you it's okay." He nodded once and closed his eyes. Over the next twenty minutes, nurses were periodically in and out of the room, but they let Mulder rest. Maggie pulled her chair up next to the bed, touching him at all times by holding his hand or rubbing his arm. She wanted him to know that she was still with him. Rosie was taking his blood pressure when the door opened and Scully rushed in. Her eyes were instantly on her partner. Maggie and Rosie both sighed with relief as she carefully sat on the bed, taking in her partner's labored breathing and tense face. It was then that she realized he still had not been given painkillers. Scully shot a look at Rosie, who looked apologetic even though she had no decisions in his treatment. Scully put her hand on Mulder's neck and leaned close. "Hey, partner," she said quietly. Mulder had tried to block all his senses and drift into a cottony haze. The hushed conversations held over him were muted and unrecognizable, as if he were behind a wall. Until he heard *her* voice. It hurt to even open his eyes, but he had to see her. Scully saw the effort it took and she brushed her thumb over his cheek. When his lids raised, his eyes were glassy, his pupils dilated. Scully's full attention was on her partner, but a ribbon of anger coursed through her at the suffering he was enduring. He wanted to speak but it came out as a moan. "Mulder, slow your breathing down." Her words were soft, but with that touch of 'doctor's orders' that she knew Mulder would respond to. Maggie watched in fascination -- as did Rosie, who was changing the tape over the IV site -- as Scully took charge. She was gentle, but firm with her partner and he responded by completely submitting to her. The comfort zone between them was obvious as was their natural instinct to give and receive what was needed. Without a word, Scully rose quickly off the bed and grabbed a yellow plastic basin from the tray table. She hurried into the bathroom as Maggie looked to see how Mulder reacted to her leaving him. He laid quietly, waiting, showing every confidence that she would be right back. There was the sound of water running from the faucet and then Scully returned to Mulder's bed as quickly as she had left. She took her place next to her partner again, setting the basin on the tray table. "Rosie, where the hell is the doctor?" Scully asked as she began opening the front of Mulder's gown. "He should be walking in any minute." Out of the corner of her eye, Scully saw the nurse writing current information on the chart. "Can I see that?" Scully asked. Rosie handed it to her and Scully was in full doctor mode as she read over her partner's vitals. It was apparent that Mulder's pain had affected his temperature, blood pressure and heart rate. She handed the chart back. Picking up a washcloth from the bottom of the basin, she squeezed out the excess water. Gently she dabbed the damp cloth over his right shoulder, across his chest, to his other shoulder. Mulder's eyes closed and his body relaxed a little. "That's it partner, take it easy. Just a few more minutes." Scully heard a sound from him, something between her name and a moan. "I know, Hon, I know," she soothed, re-wetting the cloth again and wiping his face. Maggie reached through the bed rails and took his hand. She felt his weak but desperate grip. For the next ten minutes there was no talking in the room as Scully continued to run the cool, damp cloth over his upper body and face. Finally the door opened and the doctor entered. It surprised Scully to see him in sweatpants and an old navy-blue 'Chicago' sweatshirt that was faded and torn at the shoulder. He was wearing tennis shoes and no socks. Scully's temper abated when she realized that the doctor must have left home immediately after receiving the call about Mulder, that he didn't even take the time to change clothes. It must have taken so long because he didn't live close. Dr. Green gave a cursory nod to Scully as he picked up the chart with one hand and Mulder's wrist with the other. He read the update while taking his pulse. What he was most concerned about was whether there had been any blood in Mulder's urine, which would indicate more internal bleeding. There had been none. He turned momentarily to the nurse. "Let's give him the half dose of morphine. The Vicodin isn't going to touch this pain." She nodded and quickly left the room. Green gently sat on the bed, as Scully was doing, with Mulder between them. "Agent Mulder, this is Dr. Green." He watched his patient's eyes slowly open. "I'm going to put a little morphine back in the IV. It probably won't take all your pain away, but you should be able to sleep. If you want more, I just want you to let the nurse know and we'll give you more. But if we have to increase it, let's do it a little at a time. Okay?" Mulder's answer was a slow blink. Green watched him for a minute, then looked over at Scully. "I'm sorry. I know it's hard to see someone you love hurting so much." She tried not to register her surprise at his statement. He plowed right ahead as if he didn't expect a response from her. "When you start weaning someone off morphine, it's a hit and miss. It's better to have to increase the dosage than to have given him more than he needed. Unfortunately there's no way to determine that base except through an educated guess. But I can promise you, he won't go through this again." "Thank you. *He'd* probably live through it, but I don't think *I* would." Within minutes, Mulder had been given the promised medication. His body was so drained from his struggle with the pain that any relief at all allowed him to drop off to sleep. The doctor stayed longer than Scully expected. He seemed to hover over her partner, not ready to leave until he was certain Mulder would be comfortable throughout the night. Scully felt gratified that this man was in charge of Mulder's treatment, because she felt like he genuinely cared about his patient. With that assurance, and her own belief that this time Mulder really would sleep through the night, she decided to try one more time to get some sleep at home. Mulder would be awake tomorrow, and with the diminished pain meds, he would need her with him more than ever. So she needed rest as well. * * * * * The next two days gradually became easier for both the agents. Mulder's increased pain was controlled more by sleeping pills. That course of treatment probably wouldn't have been as effective with any other patient, but a certain copper-haired female with an unmatched bedside manner seemed to be just the ticket for success. On the third day, Scully found herself and Skinner giving a final statement to the Shooting Board about the circumstances of Mandy's Morrison's death. The Board had been unusually compassionate by postponing the investigation to allow Agent Scully to be with her partner in the hospital until he was out of danger. Although the testimony was extensive, it was a cut and dry case, particularly with the Assistant Director of the FBI as a witness. So today's meeting was merely a closing formality. Special Agent Fox Mulder was completely exonerated of any wrongdoing. And although the Bureau's Investigative Unit could find no apparent reason for framing one of its agents, they conceded that the likely cause was some deep, dark secret within the X-Files. Even the Bureau had come a long way in their thinking. The proceedings had been delayed most of the morning, which kept Scully away from the hospital the entire day. When the proceedings were over, she hurried home to change, knowing how much her partner liked seeing her in casual clothes, rather than her all-business power suit. By late afternoon, she finally arrived back at Mulder's room to find him awake and very alert. She almost melted to the floor when she swung the door open with anxiety and found him sitting up in bed, a radiant smile greeting her. Mulder knew the effect it would have on her. He was all too aware of her deep worry and concern the past two weeks, and especially the last few days. She flashed him her own dazzling smile as she perched on the bed next to him. "Welcome back," she said, kissing his cheek. "I won't even ask where I've been," he said hoarsely, his voice unused to speaking. Mulder looked around the room. "How about where I am?" "Bethesda. You've been here eight days. You were at Roseland Hospital for five days." Her voice softened. "You've had a pretty tough time." Mulder looked more closely at his partner. She had on jeans and a moss-green sweater that showed her curves nicely. She looked beautiful, but there were telltale signs that she hadn't slept much. "So have you," he said, raising his eyebrows for her to confirm. She nodded, her eyes clinically checking him over. Out of habit, she felt his cheek, but to her relief, it was cool. She poured him some water and held the cup while he drank from the straw. "Thanks," he said as she set the cup down. "Still snowing?" he asked, glancing at the closed blinds at the window. "Off and on." Scully slid her hand under the thin blanket and sheet, resting it lightly on his chest. Even though she kept eye contact with him, Mulder could tell she was counting his respirations. "Scully, you're examining me," he said. She smiled brightly. "And I like what I see," she teased. "How do you feel? Any trouble breathing?" "Only when I look at you. You take my breath away." She faked a scowl. "I think you have me confused with a bone splinter." "Want to tell me what happened?" "Nope. Not right this minute, anyway. Skinner's on his way down. We'll both fill you in on everything. Okay?" He nodded. Then he looked over at a bouquet of bright balloons tied to the foot of the bed. A red and pink one was covered in hearts and a "Get Well" message. Another one was silver and names were signed with a heavy black marker. A purple balloon was filled with yellow moons and stars, and there was a blue and green one with little flying saucers on it. Scully saw him wondering about the gifts. "The red one is from me. The Gunmen signed the silver one. I wouldn't let them come in the hospital with the one they bought at their favorite adult book store," she said, with mock disdain. "The purple one is from my mother. She says it's her way of thanking the heavens for bringing you back to us." "And the UFO one?" he asked, curious. "Skinner." Scully knew she would get a surprised reaction, but she didn't expect his hearty laugh. It was music to her ears, and she laughed with him. "As you so adeptly said to me once, Agent Scully, he just keeps 'unfolding like a flower.'" There was a beeping sound that both of them were familiar with. Scully reached over and pushed a button on the IV monitor that was signaling his medication needed to be replenished. The nurse that came into the room was a welcomed surprise. "Rosie," Mulder said with affection. "'Bout time, G-Man. You're really milking the insurance company for this one." He saw the two women look at each other and Rosie winked at Scully. "Uh-oh," Mulder said to Rosie. "Looks like you might have heard some stories." "Not to fret. Your 'partner' here guarded you like a mother bear with a new cub. It might have been a bit annoying to some of the younger nurses, but secretly I think they all wished they had someone that devoted for a 'partner,' she said, stressing the word again with a raised eyebrow. When Mulder looked at Scully, she dropped her eyes, a little embarrassed at the observation. But he hadn't heard anything he didn't already know. Even if he hadn't been consciously aware that Scully was with him every minute, he unconsciously knew it. Rosie wrote down some numbers from the monitors on his chart. While she asked Mulder some routine questions, Scully took the opportunity to look her partner over closely. He was more relaxed than she'd seen him in weeks, but the tiny lines at the corners of his eyes and the slight rubbing of his thumb and index finger together were signs of anxiety. He had the assurances of the people who cared about him, but he needed answers. Scully wondered how much he remembered of what Mandy forced him to do -- and if he did remember, would he even admit it to her? She saw him smile at something Rosie said and turn to her, so Scully smiled too, as if she had been listening to their conversation. "Okay, G-Man. You okay on pain meds?" Rosie asked. Mulder nodded. "Good." Rose looked at Scully. "He's doing good." Scully smiled and nodded to her partner, indicating she was pleased with his progress. Rosie opened the blinds a little. It was already dark outside and the snow flurries swirled in the wind. It reminded Scully of a pillow fight she had with her brothers one night when a seam opened on one of the pillows and feathers danced around the room, caught in the breeze from a box fan. She watched as Rosie turned to her partner. "Dr. Green has some new orders for you tonight. He's cut you back on the sleeping pills and we're going to see how you do on Tylenol 3." Mulder automatically looked at Scully who nodded, obviously having been consulted with and agreeable to that decision. "So . . ." Rosie continued, getting his attention again, "no undue activity tonight -- no arm wrestling, shooting hoops . . ." Mulder turned to his partner, faking a look of dejection. "Now what do we do, Scully?" Rosie chuckled. "Yeah. Right. Any questions, G-Man?" He shook his head. "No questions, but can you see that my partner and I have a few minutes alone?" "You got it, handsome. He's all yours, doc." "Thanks. I'll try to be gentle," Scully teased. Rosie winked at Mulder but as she put her hand on the door handle, Mulder called out to her. "Rosie, just one question." "Shoot." "What's your real name?" She answered him straight-faced. "Oprah." Scully burst out laughing and when she saw her partner stumped for a quick retort, she laughed even harder. Rosie grinned and pointed a finger at Mulder, then left the room. Mulder looked up at Scully when he felt her gently poking his shoulder. "You've met your match," she said. "For the second time in my life," he said warmly with a twinkle in his eye. There was a moment of silence between the two partners. They took the time to re-focus and settle into their familiar pattern. Scully could see that he was gathering his thoughts. He picked up her hand, running his thumb along each of her delicate fingers. "Scully, we need to talk." If his tone of voice was any hint, she dreaded this conversation. "I know, but Skinner will be here any minute. He's bringing a copy of the report that --" she stopped, seeing him shaking his head. "No. We need to talk *before* Skinner gets here." "Okay," she answered apprehensively. Mulder gazed into her blue eyes. "How much do you know about Mandy Morrison?" * * * * * "I think I know just about everything." "Tell me." She was taken back by his bluntness. It took her a minute to decide where the beginning was. She had made up her mind that if Mulder couldn't remember his involuntary part in Mandy's sexual fantasy, she would not tell him. Squeezing his hand to reassure him, she got off the bed, pulling the chair over closer and sitting down. If Mulder was puzzled at her actions, he didn't show it. Perhaps he was bracing himself for a difficult discussion as well. "I know about Mandy's commitment to the private institution, and I know why she was there." Scully had opened the door for his explanation, but he pressed on with his questioning. "Who did you talk to?" She realized that she needed to go back further in the story. There were so many facts he wasn't aware of. She took a deep breath. "Mulder, let me back up a little. I'm sorry, there's just so much --" "It's okay," he said softly, letting her know he wasn't about to rush her. "The officer who arrested you, who claimed to be Mandy's uncle, was murdered. Only he wasn't her uncle. But you knew that, didn't you?" He said nothing, offering only a slight nod. He wanted to hear everything she knew before he started adding to it. He expected there would be some anger on Scully's part because he hadn't revealed the truth. That was why when she moved off the bed, he understood her wanting a little distance from him. "The officer's involvement in this makes a little more sense now," Scully added. "They needed someone who had access to the Evidence Room because their plan from the very beginning was to steal the semen sample. That's why they weren't concerned about the DNA match. Skinner ran a check on Officer Femino and found he had heavy gambling debts. So he obviously did it for the money." Mulder nodded, but remained silent. Scully had answers he didn't have, so he allowed her to go on. She saw the slightest twitch in his cheek and knew he was uncomfortable with being confronted with the things he kept from her. A part of her was still upset with him for making her worry. "I should kick your ass, partner," she said, not unkindly, but with no humor either. "I'll give you a rain check. How's that?" "No, maybe I should do it now while you can't fight back." "Or you could just help me to the window and I'll jump." Now that sounded more like Mulder. It was hard to top his own self-punishment. She could see and hear his remorse. She didn't want to kick him while he was down, but her anger was also a way of expressing concern. "I had a visitor to my apartment. Twice." There was just a flicker of confusion in Mulder's face, then the creases in his forehead smoothed out. "What did Mr. Mr. X tell you?" "The first time was the night you had been hit by the truck. He said that you were completely innocent and that the DNA wouldn't match. He disregarded my insistence that none of this made any sense if you would be cleared, and what would be gained from that?" Scully stopped and Mulder recognized the familiar look of guilt. His ability to instantly form a profile from a collection of facts helped him understand where her pain was coming from. "You didn't believe him, did you?" He'd hit on the truth because he saw the pain in her eyes. "Mulder --" "I know you too well. I know how you assemble every piece of a case into a puzzle, and if a piece doesn't fit, you have to assume it's the wrong piece, not that it's the wrong puzzle." "There was so much evidence," she said, almost to herself. "I wanted so badly to believe him. And I did." Scully's eyes were fixed on his. "I believed him because --" "Because it was tearing us apart. The doubts you had, the doubts I had. And because aspects of our relationship would be made public to the Bureau. And that would be enough to separate us and shut down the X-Files." Scully nodded, realizing that the misunderstanding and guilt had been evenly balanced. They had been attacked on so many different fronts, but never a direct hit to their partnership. "Scully, I was ravaged with doubt. Why didn't you tell me what X had said?" "Because it was before the polygraph." She saw him blink slowly, again processing the facts at the speed of light. But she went on anyway. "You had no memory. If Skinner and I had told you that you didn't do it, how could you have answered the questions? It would have looked like you were lying either way -- if you said you didn't remember, or you said you didn't do it." Mulder wet his lips and nodded as Scully handed him some water. "That's why neither of us pushed to have the polygraph postponed when you were obviously so sick. We couldn't tell you the truth until it was over. And it was killing Skinner and me as well, believe me." Mulder handed the cup back to her and she took a drink herself before putting it on the table. "You said X came to you twice." "Yes. The second time was after you'd . . ." she narrowed her eyes in consternation, ". . . made your escape from the hospital. He knew Skinner and I were making very little progress on the case. He told me that . . ." Scully's hesitation caused Mulder to frown. ". . . that you weren't telling the whole truth about the girl." Mulder laid his head back on the pillow and closed his eyes. He could escape seeing the pain in her face, but not from hearing it in her voice. "For the first time, Mulder, I began to doubt your trust in me." Hearing her say that, he lifted his head, gazing again into blue eyes that sparked with unshed tears. He took her hand and she gripped his tightly. "Oh, Scully," he said with apology as thick as honey. She composed herself quickly. "X hinted that you had a government contact that had some answers. The only person I knew for sure that you worked with was Senator Matheson." Mulder smiled slightly, not surprised that she paid more attention to scraps of scribbled notes and cryptic phone conversations than he had given her credit for. He could have been totally discreet, but it was the trust he had in her that allowed him to be just a little less careful with his informants. "But before I could see Matheson, I went to see Dr. Waterman, the director at the institution where Mandy was committed. He was somewhat helpful." "He gave you her diagnosis and history?" "Yes. He emphasized her sexual deviance, her role playing in sexual fantasies." "You said he told you why she was there." "Yes." He waited for her to continue, but she didn't look like she planned to finish the story. "Do you want to tell me what he said, or just shoot me right now?" "I thought about it." "Well this time, aim just a little bit higher so I don't bleed so much." She scowled at him. "I thought you didn't' remember anything in the back seat of the car when we drove to New Mexico." "I recall some things. But I do remember you panicking at some point because I started to bleed too much. So you moved me into the front seat and laid me across your lap as you drove . . ." he waggled his eyebrows at her, ". . . I remember that part the best -- while you held a bandage against the wound. I think your tender words to me were, 'Goddammit Mulder you better stop this.' I don't know if I was more afraid of bleeding to death, or what you'd do to me if I did." "Were you aware of me getting us a motel room?" His mind did a quick backtrack, but he shook his head. "Too bad," said Scully. "You would have loved the look on the manager's face when I checked us out after three hours." They both got a good chuckle out of the implied indiscretion, before settling into silence again. They had avoided the subject at hand long enough. "You know, Mulder, it took over three years to finally get the truth about what happened to your arm when you supposedly fell on a broken bottle." "You had been really sick. What did you expect me . . . " he stopped, eyeing her quizzically. "Mandy's records reflected an assault, but no victim was named. I don't believe you assumed from such vague information that it was me she assaulted." "No, not at first. Dr. Waterman was a little unclear on facts. He kept referring to the victim as her boyfriend, whom he said was a federal agent. So it crossed my mind that you might have been dating." "Dating! Scully, that was during the time your cancer went into remission. How could you have thought that I'd even look at another woman?" She shrugged. "Mulder, you should have told me she was stalking you." "No way. Not after what you'd been through." "You'd been through it, too." He shook his head again, adamant that he had been right in his decision back then. "Scully, when you went into remission, there was . . . well, for me anyway, a change in how I felt about you. When I almost lost you, I realized how hard it would have been for me to go on." She felt her anger evaporating like morning fog. Of course she had known how he felt. Unlike her, Fox Mulder wasn't afraid to bare his feelings. Mulder's mind was racing ahead, linking to things she had already told him. "I've been laying here all day, wondering how in the world you found me in Virginia. Then just a few minutes ago you mentioned Senator Matheson." She knew he had already made the connection even before he admitted it. "You went to see him, didn't you?" "Yes. I was shocked to learn he was her uncle. He was the one who told me about Mandy's fixation on you at his Christmas party, her subsequent obsession, and the assault in your shower. That explained how she knew about the scar on your leg." He felt the waves of guilt break over him. He knew at the time Mandy confessed her knowledge of the scar what terrible implications it suggested. Yet he had not eased his partner's nor his boss's mind by confessing the truth. "Senator Matheson then explained that there had been a competency hearing and that your testimony had Mandy committed to the institution." The disappointment in Scully's face was disheartening to Mulder. "I don't understand why you didn't tell anyone who she was from the very beginning. I realize you were trying to protect the Senator, but that seems too extreme, even for you, Mulder. She had a diagnosed psychotic disorder. It was documented that she stalked you, and then assaulted you." "And you think that makes it sound like someone put her up to accusing me of rape and battery? I think it sounds like a damned good reason for revenge. If you read my testimony at the competency hearing, it was brutal. I left no room for sympathy. Of course, no one actually realized how fried my nerves were. All I wanted to do was be with you or think about you. And she took that away." Scully had never heard him speak his thoughts during that time. He had been her rock to lean on, a shoulder to cry on -- when he wasn't making her laugh. She knew it had been terrible for him, that his fears had been as great as hers. But she had never considered the aftermath. She had been allowed to crash, to expel her feelings, but only because of his strength and support. He hadn't had the same release. Now she knew that his worry and fatigue had been compounded by the actions of a psychotic. She realized something else. "Mulder --" He cut her off. "She walked up to me in a bar like nothing ever happened. And I knew instantly that she was no better than she was three years before." Mulder's voice was cold. "I hated her, Scully." She could see that he was disgusted with his own admission. He started to go on, but stopped momentarily, looking apprehensive. "When she sat at my table the second time, I started to move again, until she asked me if you still lived in the same apartment. It was a threat, pure and simple. And it scared me. So I sat down and bought her a drink. She talked, I listened. It was the same bullshit: the seduction, the delusions that never happened. I didn't want to anger her by causing a scene. So we walked outside. I really was feeling ill. We argued and I called a cab. You know the rest." Scully looked shocked. This was more than he had originally admitted. Mulder could hardly stand to look into her eyes. And he was tiring rapidly, but there was still so much to say. "I couldn't tell the truth about her being in my past because I believed it made me look more suspicious. And there was no way anyone could have made her admit the lies, except me. *I* had to be the one to confront her." Scully spoke softly, but there was strength in her voice. "But it was something more than that, wasn't it Mulder?" He cocked his head slightly, not quite a frown on his face, as he listened to her explanation. "You've admitted that you hated her, that she was now back making threats against me." Scully saw him slowly close his eyes, the truth like a blinding light. "You had your own doubts about what really happened that night, didn't you, partner?" To her dismay, she saw his bottom lip quiver, and he pursed his lips to keep her from noticing. He opened his eyes when he felt Scully sit next to him on the bed and gently lay her hand on his chest. He swallowed hard, fighting for composure, but his voice betrayed him. "The person I am could never do such a thing. But the person I had become through the terrible thoughts that I had about Mandy, was more than capable of such an act. I knew that there really was a message from Skinner. And I also believed that some kind of drug had been given to me. So I knew there was a set up. But I was terrified that the drug, combined with my loathing of her, had pushed me over the edge. I thought it was possible that I did exactly what I was accused of." Mulder looked down at her hand fingering the material of his gown. "This wasn't just rape, Scully," he said with a slight tremor in his voice. "It was a brutal assault, as if someone were really angry." "And you think you were that angry toward Mandy? Or could have been?" "If I were to profile the perpetrator, I'd say he used sex to not only injure the victim, but humiliate her. The bite marks on her breasts and . . . elsewhere, were not just signs of rough treatment. The rapist *knew* Mandy Morrison. He knew what her psychosis was, and he used that to punish her." Scully saw his eyes darken. "It could have been me. Given all the facts and my instincts as a profiler, *I* would have picked me as the prime suspect." The full impact of his words were frightening. Scully tenderly brushed her other hand through his hair. She heard the catch in his voice as he spoke again. "Scully, I was afraid that if I told you and Skinner the truth about Mandy and you investigated it, you would find that I did it. And I would rather die than have you be the one to discover that I raped and beat up that girl." The full force of his words hit her like slamming into a wall. "Oh, God. Oh, honey." She saw him blink a few times, trying to clear his eyes of tears. She took his good hand in both of hers and squeezed hard, getting his full attention. "But you didn't do it. No matter how you felt -- how hard you were pushed, drugged, seduced -- you didn't do it," she said, with quiet emphasis. Scully's mind raced through the conversation she and Skinner had with Mulder, trying to reconcile with him the fact that he had sex with Mandy Morrison, but didn't beat her up. Now that Scully knew about their past history and how much her partner despised the woman, she understood his fear: that he could not be guilty of one thing without being guilty of both. Scully felt the tremendous weight of her own guilt for the part she and Skinner unwittingly played. "Mulder, I'm so sorry." "No, Scully. I kept the truth from you. I promised you long ago that I'd never do that again." She looked deep within his eyes, at last seeing a calm resolve. "You know," she said, smiling at him, "someone said to me once that sometimes the truth isn't all it's cracked up to be." That eased his tension and got a smile out of him. "Is Skinner pissed at me?" "Not as much as Frohike." Mulder formed an 'o' with his mouth and sucked in air. "Now might be a good time to offer him your video collection," she joked. "He'd rather have your phone number." Scully chuckled, then watched as Mulder put her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles. His eyes took on that far-away look again, signifying that he was organizing his thoughts. There was more he wanted to say to her and she could guess where they were headed next. "Scully, I recall bits and pieces of being in that house with Mandy." "Mulder --" "Hear me out," he said softly. "The last thing I want is you wondering what I remember and me wondering what you're thinking. The only way to put this completely behind us is to be honest and talk about it." When he saw her reservation he cupped her cheek with his hand. "I need this," he whispered. Despite what he just said, she saw that he was still apprehensive. She knew that it was up to her to put it to rest. She nodded and took his hand from her face, holding it in her lap. He took a deep breath and wet his lips. "I know what Mandy said to you about . . . about what I like. You don't know me well enough in that way yet to dispute her. But I give you my word upon my mother's grave that Mandy Morrison could not possibly know what I like about sex." "I know that." "Do you really? Is there no doubt whatsoever in your mind?" "None." He nodded, as if that were the first hurdle. "Scully, I had a hard time with reality. It seemed that when the pain got too bad, I slipped into a dream world with you. You were all I could see. And the vision of you was even more real when Mandy's touch was gentle instead of abusive." "I could see what was happening, Mulder." If he still weren't so pale, Scully might have seen him blush. Instead, his chin dropped to his chest. Still holding his hand, with her free hand she again combed her fingers through his hair, causing him to look up at her again. "Go on. Say what you need to say," she said. She saw his eyes narrow as he uncharacteristically struggled with his memory. "That's just it. I have too vague a recollection to feel any shame. And yet, I do. So something . . . must have happened." He stopped abruptly. "Mulder, if you can't remember, why not let it go?" He hesitated only a fraction of a second. "Because *you* remember." * * * * * BETHESDA HOSPITAL Scully didn't want to do this. Her partner didn't need any more burdens. But not telling him the truth might be a worse burden. "She made you touch her, Mulder. You were weak from loss of blood and a raging fever. You hardly had the strength to lift your hand." Scully thought, from the devastated look on his face, that he must have been hoping those foggy visions were part of his delusions. He tried to pull his hand out of hers, but she gripped it tighter. "No, I won't let you pull away. And I won't let you blame yourself for this either, Mulder." Ashamed, but unable to distance himself from Scully, he closed his eyes instead. She heard him groan. "Mulder . . . look at me." "Scully, give me a little time." "No," she said bluntly, tugging gently on the sleeve of his gown. He opened his eyes, not expecting her hard tone. She was determined to put closure to this. "I'm not going to let you make more out of this than it was. That's what she wanted. And I'm not going to give her that satisfaction, even from the grave. If you and I can't talk about this . . . this *thing* that happened with that demented woman, then something has gone seriously wrong with our relationship. You're not Superman. There are things that happen beyond your control, whether you want to admit that or not." She hesitated long enough to let that sink in before she continued on. "I've made mistakes, Mulder, that were purely by choice, not contrived manipulation. You weren't even there to witness it, and yet I feel guilty simply because it's in my head. So I understand what you're going through. But don't you see -- you're punishing yourself because you think *I've* been hurt. I know what I saw. But mostly importantly, I know *you.* I'm okay, Mulder." She quirked an eyebrow, waiting for his response. So many times their unspoken communication, relayed through body language, gestures and eye contact, spoke so much louder and clearer than words. Scully's disbelief in the paranormal was a contradiction if she considered the uncanny mental link between herself and her partner. She was still waiting for Mulder's response, when she saw a smile tugging at his lips. "What mistakes, Scully?" His sudden remark caught her off guard and she snorted, shaking her head at him, finally breaking into a relieved laugh when she saw him grin. "Don't look so smug. You still deserve an ass-kicking," she said. His eyes softened and he pushed her hair back behind her ear. "We're okay then?" he asked, squeezing her hand. "We're more than okay." Their gaze might have turned into more, but just then there was a quick rap on the door and it opened. A familiar face peered in, then smiled when he saw Mulder awake. Scully instantly dropped Mulder's hand. "Come on in, sir," Mulder said. Walter Skinner stepped into the room. Both agents saw that he was holding a manila envelope. Scully knew what it contained. Skinner approached the bed, looking closely at Mulder to assess his condition. He was pleased at what he saw. Even though he looked tired and still a little pale, it was quite an improvement over the last week. "This hospital food must agree with you," he kidded. Mulder groaned and Scully chuckled. "Sir," she said, "when have you ever known *anything* to agree with Mulder?" Skinner laughed when he saw Mulder roll his eyes at his partner. "Hey," he said, getting their attention. "You have some visitors who would like to say a quick hello." Mulder frowned, looking at Scully, who only shrugged. He nodded to Skinner and the AD opened the door. As soon as the Gunmen walked into the room, Mulder sank back against the pillows, his expression one of gratitude, but also apprehension. Frohike came closest to the bed. "When you get out of here, G-Man, your ass is grass," he said lightly. "Yeah? Well, see Scully on that. She's making a list." "I'm not as pissed as I would have been if you'd gotten yourself killed," he said with sincerity. Mulder relaxed hearing him say that, and nodded his thanks. Langly thumped the silver balloon. "This wasn't our first choice, Mulder." "I heard," Mulder replied, cutting his eyes to Scully who looked pleased with herself. Byers reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small book. "Actually, Mulder, we did get a little get well gift -- for your partner." As he handed it to Mulder, Scully leaned over to read the title. '100 Ways to Find Someone Who Doesn't Want To Be Found.' Mulder glanced sheepishly at Scully, who had turned to give the Gunmen a look more effective than a warning shot. "This doesn't even begin to make amends, guys. You can start with cheese steaks and we'll go from there," she said. They nodded, being careful about showing any premature relief. And then Scully turned sharply to Mulder. "As for you -- if I ever have to even think about opening that book . . ." she said, indicating Byers' gift, " . . . the very next book I read will be the sequel,'100 Ways To Get Rid of Someone So They're Never Found.'" Mulder winced, hearing the laughter of his friends and even AD Skinner, who mumbled, "Amen." There was a pause in the conversation and Mulder looked over at Frohike. His voice was soft, with a hint of apology. "We'll talk later. Thank you." The older man hesitated, clearly seeing in Mulder the brutal aftermath of surviving hell. Then he smiled. "You wouldn't be 'Mulder' if you didn't break the rules and piss people off." Skinner whispered another *Amen*. That was as good a compliment as Mulder could expect, and he nodded. The Gunmen said a quick goodbye to each of them, then left the room. Skinner laid his coat over the back of a chair and slid it closer to the bed. Then he sat down, taking a folder from the manila envelope and holding it on his lap. He saw Mulder's look of expectation. "Scully tells me you're feeling well enough to hear the final report on the case." When Mulder realized it was a question, he nodded. "Yes, sir." "I brought the police report. OPR should have theirs typed up tomorrow, but it's essentially the same. Mandy Morrison died from a gunshot wound to the head, fired by me. She sustained a non-fatal gunshot wound to the shoulder, fired by Agent Scully. I shot her because she was about to stab you. Do you remember any of that, Mulder?" "Yes. It's not crystal clear, but I recall the shots and that she had the knife." "All of her medical records were made available. OPR was not happy to learn about the assault on you three years ago, which you didn't report to the Bureau at the time." Mulder expected as much. Skinner went on. "But apparently there was an eyes-only document that went to the Director himself. I don't know who sent it, or what the contents were, but it carried enough clout to halt any further investigation on that assault." Mulder and Scully exchanged glances quickly. "The doctor at the private institution . . ." Skinner opened the folder and lifted up the front page. " . . . Dr. Waterman, was also helpful. He was pretty clear on Miss Morrison's psychosis." Skinner hesitated, waiting for any questions Mulder might have, but nothing was asked. The AD looked at Scully to see if there was anything she wanted to add, but she also was satisfied to let him continue. "The tape recording you made pretty much blew their case to hell. The prosecutor wasn't convinced that the evidence pointed to any type of conspiracy, but I'm sure that doesn't surprise either of you. But he had to concede that he didn't have enough to try a case. With two witnesses leaving town, evidence disappearing, well, it was just too circumspect." "And," Scully added, "made more difficult by the fact that the victim was dead." As AD Skinner and Scully watched Mulder, they saw that familiar way he had of crawling into himself without ever moving a muscle. His eyes were the dead give-away. It was remarkable the way he could disappear into his mind for a few minutes. Then he blinked and when he spoke to both of them, his voice was subdued. "If what I'm remembering is accurate, that tape recording was pretty crude." Scully and Skinner exchanged a subtle glance, then Skinner cleared his throat. "You might say that." Mulder only nodded, but Skinner knew he had questions. "Agent Scully pre-warned Detective Bensima about the graphic nature of the tape, so he allowed only his primary investigators to listen to it -- and Dr. Waterman." That surprised Mulder, but he knew immediately that Waterman was a vital key to interpreting Mandy's behavior, thus giving further proof of the contrived case against him. "The doctor's explanation and opinion further convinced the police of your innocence," Skinner added. Mulder knew who would have insisted that Dr. Waterman be consulted. Looking at his partner, he saw her quietly contemplating him. She knew from the gratitude in his eyes what he was thinking, and she smiled. Mulder could feel the uneasiness hanging in the air like thick smoke. "Well," he said, trying to lighten the disquiet, "don't let that tape get in the hands of the Gunmen or they'll be taking orders over the Internet." The tension broke, and Skinner held up the folder. "It's all in here. This will help clear up a lot for you." Mulder's voice was still hoarse and weak. "What about the polygraph, sir? How did OPR respond to that?" "Thanks to your attorney, they never saw the report. By the time the results were analyzed and transcribed, Mandy was dead and your guilt was highly doubtful. So he invoked a gag order and sealed all evidence, pending final outcome of the case." Mulder looked at Scully, who had been watching him, then back to Skinner. "So it's over? Completely over?" "Completely," Skinner said definitively. They saw the tension leave Mulder's body. In spite of Skinner sitting a few feet from his two agents, Mulder felt Scully's hand take his and she smiled. "Mulder," said Skinner, "OPR wants as detailed a report from you as you can give them, as soon as you're feeling better. In a few days, okay?" "Yes, sir." Skinner stood, laying the folder on the table. "Sir . . . I don't know how to thank you." His AD shook his head once, as if to brush off the gratitude. "Don't, Mulder." Mulder disregarded his remark, something Skinner was used to from his agent. "Sir, you were with me all the way, and I don't even have the words to tell you what that means." "I told you at the beginning of all this how much I've regretted all that's happened to you and Scully. And yet through it all, you haven't wavered one bit. You're still as loyal and honest as the day you were assigned to me. So it's my turn to return the favor. Don't thank me, Mulder. I owe you. It's the least I could do." Skinner's ending remark had a finality to it that Mulder was all too familiar with. Translated, it meant *End Of Discussion*. Mulder nodded and looked at Scully when he felt her shift on the bed. He saw that she was looking up at the monitors. , he thought. Skinner stood from the chair and picked up his coat. He put the folder back in the envelope and laid it on the tray table for Mulder to read later. "Scully," Skinner said, folding the coat over his arm, "I'll talk to you tomorrow. Both of you get some sleep. Mulder, for you I guess that's a given," he said, glancing at the IV line. "So I'm talking mainly to you, Scully. I've got some cases for you to look over, that you and Mulder need to be ready to go on when he comes back." Scully nodded, but she knew that Skinner's instructions were more for Mulder's benefit. The prospect of investigating new X-Files would have him back on his feet in record time. Just as Skinner got to the door, he stopped. He rocked back on his heels a couple of times, chewing on his bottom lip. Then he focused on Mulder again. "You know, there is one thing you can do for me." Mulder waited, ready to oblige anything he asked of him. Skinner's eyes narrowed. "You can explain an expense report from Bangor, Maine, with a line item for *one* meal of . . ." "Two-fifty seven, twenty-nine," Mulder and Scully both answered at the same time. "Bingo," Skinner replied, pointing a finger for emphasis before a hint of a smile unmasked his sternness. Scully glanced at her partner and saw him nodding emphatically, as if that were the least he could do. She felt almost giddy at the realization that they had come almost full circle in the last two weeks. As the door closed behind Skinner, she turned to look at her partner and saw him watching her closely, his eyes soft, his lips parted slightly. "What?" she asked, her mouth tilting in a smile. For what seemed like minutes, he just looked at her, as if he were drinking in every detail of her face and body. She was amused by his scrutiny. "What, Mulder?" He opened his mouth wider and took a breath, as if to tell her what he was thinking, then changed his mind. His head dropped slowly to the pillow. "I'm tired," he whispered. It was plainly obvious that he was not only tired, but exhausted by all the talk. This time she would allow him that excuse to avoid her question. Once again, she felt his cheek, first with the back of her fingers, then with her full palm, leaving her hand there several seconds to determine whether he had a temperature. Still satisfied, she smiled. "I know you're tired. I want you to close your eyes and rest while I go get us some real food. And if you're good, I'll pop by the video store and pick out a movie." She saw his eyes twinkle at her suggestion but he was mesmerized by the fact that as she spoke to him, her hand remained on his cheek, her thumb brushing softly over his lips. Scully was well aware of the effect it had on him. She had discovered this hypnotic technique years ago after one of his nightmares. She leaned closer, her lips inches from his and whispered softly. "You still owe me big time," she said in her most seductive voice. "So I get to choose the movie." . Scully read his thoughts in his eyes, but before she could move any closer to those temping lips of his, the door opened again. They were startled and Scully pulled back quickly, both of them thinking the same thing -- that maybe Skinner had forgotten something. "I've got to work on my timing?" Rosie teased. Both agents chuckled as the nurse came to the other side of Mulder's bed. She had a fresh pillow under her arm, which she exchanged for the one under Mulder's head. "I didn't think you could get any more gorgeous, G-Man, but that smile . . . Lordy, check my blood pressure!" Scully laughed out loud, squeezing the nurse's arm in affection and Mulder blushed. "Keep it up," Mulder threatened, "and I'll make this my hospital of choice." "Go ahead, I know the cook. He can do some amazing things with green Jell-O." Mulder narrowed his eyes at her, accepting the challenge. "So can I," he purred. Scully stood up from the bed. "Okay, you two," she said with amusement, "enough. Rosie, I'm bringing Mulder some waffles from IHOP. Would you like anything?" "No thanks, Sweetie. Still want that VCR brought in?" "Yes, please." Scully cocked her head at Rosie, speaking loud enough to make sure Mulder heard. "Have you ever seen the movie, "The Piano?" Rosie quickly understood the game being played between the partners when she saw Scully cut her eyes at Mulder to see his reaction, and he blanched on cue. "Scully . . . no. You wouldn't. Rosie, I swear to god, you let my partner bring that movie in here and I'll be up all night screaming for morphine." Rosie laughed and winked at Mulder. "Not to worry. I'm afraid that's one flick that would have *me* raiding the drug cabinet." Scully shrugged. "Wimps." She took her coat from the closet and laid it on the bed, sitting back down next to him. "Scully, I've got some money in the drawer over there," Mulder said. "My treat this time. You've got a 'celebration of life' dinner to pay for, remember?" She leveled her eyes at him. "So I guess after that little extravagance drains the bank account, you'll be dropping in around suppertime at my place for awhile, huh?" They both heard Rosie breathe out through her mouth and mutter under her breath. "Lordy, the temperature in this room just jumped ten degrees." She clucked her tongue at them. "Be back shortly. Behave." As soon as the door shut, Scully started to get off the bed, but Mulder reached out for her hand. "Just a second," he said quietly. He looked long and hard into her bright blue eyes. Her beauty and compassion left him speechless. More than anything he wanted to put into words what she meant to him, how his world centered around her. But she was his partner, she knew everything he thought and wanted to say, but couldn't. Very slowly, Scully bent over, her lips tenderly kissing his forehead, then the tip of his nose, then finally, his mouth. The kiss was soft and warm, matched in passion only by lovemaking. When she drew away from his mouth, she kissed his forehead again, then smiled at him. "Did you want to say something, Mulder?" He was still overcome by the kiss. Scully's smile was radiant. "Then I'll say it. I love you." She saw only the faintest quirk of an eyebrow and a slight twitch of his lips. He drew out the moment, at first unable to speak, then forcing her to wait with anticipation for his response. His eyes traveled the plains of her face from her hairline to her chin, lingering on her lovely mouth. Her eyes danced as she watched him enjoying keeping her in suspense. Finally, his lips parted and his voice was a mere whisper. "Oh brother." Scully's surprise registered at the same time she saw Mulder's eyes twinkle with mischief and delight. Her fist went back as if she would hit him, but he knew better. As both agents began to laugh, their arms went around each other, Scully's hug a little more careful. They separated only far enough that their foreheads still touched. "You're going to pay for that, you know," she kidded. "Oooh. How, pray tell?" he asked. "Huh-uh. Can't reveal my secrets, can I?" He grinned, then closed his eyes and sighed contentedly. "Oh, Scully." She heard the deep resonance of relief and she put her hand on the back of his head. "I know, Hon," she whispered. Still holding him a few minutes later, she felt him lean into her and his breathing deepened. She laid him back on the pillow and covered him with the blanket. His eyes were already heavy with sleep. Soothing his face with her hand, his eyes finally closed. Gently, Scully got off the bed, pulling the blanket up a little farther over his chest. She watched him sleeping soundly. The lines of worry were gone, his face smooth, but still as pale as alabaster. "We won to fight another day, partner," she said quietly. She looked up again at the monitors. His heartbeat was regular, his respirations and temperature back to normal. It seemed that no matter how many times either of them were taken to the brink of death, they always came back stronger. Perhaps that's why Mulder never took life for granted -- why even at his lowest point of desperation he still held on. Or maybe he felt, as Scully did, that their partnership, their friendship, and perhaps their future, was reason enough to keep going. Life really was a celebration. Then Scully remembered something. Looking down at her partner, knowing he was safe and recovering, she smiled. The door cracked open and Rosie stuck her head in. She looked at her patient fast asleep, then back to Scully. "He okay?" Rosie asked. "Yes," she smiled, getting off the bed and picking up her coat. "Rosie, I've got to run an errand. Would you keep an eye on him for a little while?" "Sweetie, it's hard to take your eyes *off* this man," she grinned, stepping fully into the room. Scully chuckled. "Thanks," she answered, obviously deep in thought. Rosie tilted her head. "Everything okay, doc?" Suddenly Scully's smile was like sunshine breaking through storm clouds. "Oh, yes," she beamed at the nurse. Scully lightly touched her partner's cheek with her fingers. When her eyes met Rosie's again, they twinkled. "I won't be long." "Some kind of covert government mission, G-Woman?" "Not today. This has more to do with new beginnings, celebrating life, and a devil's food cake." Scully laughed and touched the arm of the puzzled nurse as she walked by her and out of the room. * * * * * END OF STORY. Let me know if it was worth the trouble. Even so, I had fun. Thanks. M.