From tpotter@inri.com Mon Apr 21 22:35:18 1997 Subject: coming home From: Teresa Potter -------- SUMMARY: Scully comes home after "One Breath" and Mulder is there for her in more ways than one. RATING: PG -- mild language CATEGORY: VA -- I think SPOILERS: None really, but you should have seen One Breath to understand My first attempt at fanfic, here. I didn't like where we were left at the end of One Breath...There was still too much they could have said and done. This is just my idea of what the continuation of the story would have been if the cameras had kept rolling. No X-file here, just a character/situation piece where our heroes act out my idea of the way it should have ended... Disclaimer: I don't own any of the real chracters in this piece. I didn't as to use them. But, if I return them unharmed, is it really worth the trouble to sue? All comments may be returned to tmpotter@widomaker.com _____________________________________________________________ Coming Home 17 November 1994 Washington DC 4:37 pm EST Pete Finn looked back over his shoulder for about the twentieth time since he had picked up this fare. At the ripe old age of 38, Pete was an average Joe. He'd done okay in high school -- his diploma graced the wall in the den. And after he'd gotten out of the education army, he'd signed up and done a hitch for Uncle Sweet. After a rough tour under a sergeant who'd obviously been recruited from Hell, he'd eventually decided he had a problem with discipline and had gotten out. Pete then went to work doing whatever he could to keep food on the table and spending money in his pocket. Pete didn't have much money to spend on entertainment. He was a regular at his local branch of the library, always scanning the shelves for an undiscovered classic. He bought a ticket to a Redskins game sometimes, usually getting it cheap from a guy his boss, Manny, knew. He was also a people watcher. Pete wasn't a pervert or anything, but he had always found himself looking around whenever he was in a crowd or sitting on his favorite park bench, feeding the ravenous pigeons. Watching people's faces at a 'Skins game was almost more fun than the game itself -- especially the sorry way the team had been playing the last few years. He'd always been fascinated by the fact that people, in their infinite diversity, generally behaved and reacted the same in any given situation. If he'd had the grades, Pete would have gone to school and become a behaviorist, but the C+ average he'd had through most of his school career just hadn't been enough to earn a scholarship, so he'd kissed off any chance at that life. And now, Pete did something which gave him a chance to study the diversity of culture in a major metropolitan area...He drove a cab in Washington D.C. Pete was generally used to the hospital run...New parents packing a baby home in brand new, shiny car seats and not wanting to take the Metro...People taking loved ones home in casts and bandages, some more chipper than others, all with that scared look that only came when people were very worried about someone they loved. Always a sucker for a sad pair of eyes, he'd taken to packing lollipops in the glove compartment just so he'd have something to offer the little kids who were being so brave so their parents wouldn't cry. Pete'd even had his share of people who brought someone to the hospital in an ambulance and took only themselves and their grief home, packed onto his cab by the police with that shell-shocked look he'd seen in pictures on the faces of soldiers who were coming home from war. He'd looked into desolate faces enough times that he didn't think he could be surprised anymore. And then he'd picked _her_ up... Pete glanced back over his shoulder again. She was small, maybe just over five feet, and very thin...Not that gaunt "waif" look so many girls and women tried to emulate these days, but a genuine emaciation which made her cheekbones too prominent in her too thin face. The copper hair just brushed the tops of her shoulders, it's fiery warmth making her porcelain skin seem waxen and unhealthy by comparison. The halo of fire around her face was a horrible counterpoint to the dark, painfully bruised-looking circles under her eyes. Painful. That described her movements. Pete would've guessed her to somewhere on the young side of thirty, but when the nurse had helped her out of the required wheelchair at the hospital, her movements had been slow and controlled, like he'd seen old people move. She moved like she was tired and just didn't have the strength to go on. Looking at her from across the cab, Pete would have guessed she _didn't_ have the strength. Then she'd turned those blue eyes on him to give him the address. He'd seen a wellspring of determination in those eyes, along with a pain and fear so deep that just looking at it had made him flinch. ###### 7 November 1994 Northeast Georgetown Medical Center Washington D.C. Scully had been in the hospital, out of the comatose state, for almost two weeks, now. Each day she'd been awake, she had gotten more and more tired of seeing her mother's concerned eyes and Melissa's false chipperness. She was tired of hearing the nurses tell her how lucky she was to be awake and alive while they poked and prodded her and scolded her for not eating enough. She was tired of the flowers and cards from friends, and their well-meaning, but overdone, pep talks on the phone. And she was tired of seeing Mulder come in after work every day and all day on the weekends. He looked like he'd been through Hell, and she felt guilty because she knew that'd he'd walked there because of her. His wan face would always draw up into a smile as he walked through the door, hiding some of the lines etched around his mouth in his smile. Somehow, that smile wasn't quite cheery enough to hide the relief that she saw every day when he walked in the door and found her in the same spot where he'd left her the night before. Mulder brought her goofy gifts...a penny racer from the toy store, a slinky, a can of silly string <"To shoot at the nurses," he said, a sly smile crossing his features>. They ate soft serve ice cream he smuggled in under his trench coat and watched videos on the VCR he'd sneaked into the room by stashing it inside his briefcase. He'd flash his badge when the duty nurses came to kick him out after visiting hours were over. She'd teased him a little after the sixth consecutive day he'd come and stayed as long as he could, asking him if he didn't have better things to do than spend all of his free time with her. He'd only smiled and quoted Einstein's saying about the relativity of time. ###### 14 November 1994 Northeast Georgetown Medical Center Washington, D.C. Time. Scully hadn't realized it until she looked back on her time in the hospital later, but all the time she been awake her mother, sister, Mulder and even the hospital staff had all avoided letting her see a television news broadcast, or magazines or newspapers -- anything which might have reminded her that time had passed while she was sleeping...and whatever else she'd been doing that was buried behind that black wall in her memory. She had an idea that she had been...away for a while, but she figured the elapsed time to be about two weeks. Finally, she'd been strong enough to be allowed to sit in the sun room with the other patients in the Women's Health ward. She'd been looking out over the garden, amazed at how cold it had gotten for early September, when she glanced over and saw the magazine one woman had held. A picture of a perfectly browned roasted turkey graced the cover and the headline said something about the perfect holiday feast for your family. Scully's vision had fogged over and her breathing had grown labored. She could not remember much after Duane Barry took her from the trunk of the car and started up the hill towards the blinding light, but she did remember events before that. She watched the scene play in her mind with crystal clarity...Her standing at the grocery store checkout, writing a check. She watched her pen write in the amount and skip back up to the top to date the check. She'd written the check at the grocery on August 8th.!!! Scully ignored the concerned volunteer standing beside her. She knew the nurse was speaking to her, but she sounded very far away and small... "What is the date?" Scully croaked, taking the woman's hand and squeezing it until she bent over her chair. "Ms. Scully, I think-" "The date!" Scully barked in her best FBI voice. "November 14th" The older woman pulled her hand from Scully's grip and worked her suddenly sore fingers and hand. "My God!! I've lost three months!!" Scully could hear the hysteria and anger in her own voice, beneath the fear. "Dammit, Mulder!! Why didn't anybody tell me? Why?!" That was all she'd been able to say as the nurse had come over, hurriedly gathered her things, and wheeled her back to her room. ## Charley Marks, the nurse on duty in the sun room, had noticed Agent Scully's odd behavior and the direction of her gaze. She knew that this patient had been in a long-term facility of some sort and had come awake from her unnatural sleep only recently. Charley also knew that Agent Scully had no idea how long she'd been gone from the world and even though she was quickly regaining her strength and had endured very few complications from her illness, the doctors and her family had decided it would be best to wait to tell her about the time which had elapsed while she was sleeping. Charley had watched the little color that was left in the redhead's face drain away as the volunteer took her hand and had put two and two together and come up with the square root of sixteen. She'd quickly taken the stressed FBI agent back to her private room and called first Dr. Daley and then the person on the top of the next-of-kin notification list. What an odd name...Fox.... It suits him, Charley had thought as he'd come whizzing around the corner not twenty minutes later. He was long and lithe and intense, with hazel eyes that bored right through her as he questioned her about what had happened. His eyes had grown wide with dismay and then dark with sympathetic pain as she'd relayed the shock Dana Scully had suffered and her reaction to it. As he'd turned to go to her room, Charley had felt the need to tell him of Dr. Daley's order to sedate Agent Scully and the patient's flat refusal to allow them to do it. He'd thanked her, a small smile flashing across his lips as he shook his head, and had disappeared into Agent Scully's room. A few moments later, when they had all heard the raised voices from her room all the way down at the end of the hall, Beverly Adams, the head nurse on the floor, had just shook her head, muttering about how they should have known better than to wait this long to tell her. Charley had ignored the noise as she'd stacked a pile of patient charts on the desk. Bev gave the orders that "those two" were not to be disturbed unless the call button was activated. No one had needed to ask which "those two" she meant. Bev had walked to catch the elevator to retrieve the medicine dosages from the pharmacy downstairs, still muttering and shaking her head. Raised voices had not been heard from the room again, but Charley had noticed that he'd still been there, speaking calming words in soothing tones when she'd made her final round in the wee hours of the morning and gone off duty. ####### 17 November 1994 Scully's Apartment 5:11 pm EST Pete wondered if his passenger sang...Her voice was low and musical, but had a rough edge that made him think of blues bars and too many cigarettes. The accent was pure Mid-Atlantic, but there was a certain cadence to her speech which made him think of someplace else...someplace far away. It was obvious in the way this woman spoke and the way she held herself that this woman was no shrinking flower...She was used to being in charge and seemed almost a little confounded by her own illness...whatever it was. They drove in silence. She seemed to be in her own world, eyes far away and serious and mouth pinched into a grim line. Her back was ramrod straight, but her thin shoulders slumped in a defeated manner. When he arrived at the address she had given him and parked out in front, he'd turned to her and spoken. "So, Miss." He'd kept his own voice quiet to keep from startling her. "You need some help getting...uh...your bags...to the door?" That had been five minutes ago. She had not answered his question or even acknowledged his presence in the cab, in any way, shape, or form. She'd just stared out the window, up at the large Victorian house across the lawn from where they were parked. ###### 17 November 1994 Northeast Georgetown Medical Center 10:03 am EST "Miss Scully, I will not be responsible for what could happen to you if you check out of here today." Dr. Daley's voice had been calm, but there was a strident note as he shook his head. "In my opinion and the opinion of the staff psychologist, you are not physically or mentally capable of leaving, yet." "Dr. Daley," she'd returned, her voice full of steel. "Have I been declared incompetent?" "No." He was clearly puzzled by her question. "Am I being held here by some local, state, or federal law enforcement agency in connection with a crime?" "No." He'd hesitated at the precise edge in her carefully chosen words. "Is there any legal way you can keep me from checking myself out of this hospital?" He'd refused to answer her, his lips compressing into a thin angry line in his cherubic face. "I didn't think so," she'd grimaced, already pulling at the IV tube in her arm. "Now, do I have to do all of this myself, or will you people help me?" ###### 17 November 1994 Scully's Apartment 5:21 pm EST Pete had waited for a response from the young woman in the back seat of his cab. Getting none, he had turned around and shut off the cab's engine and the meter. He looked around again and saw the emotions flitting across her face. He thought he could identify fear and anger and...confusion. All that emotion from just a house... Pete considered...Was she a girlfriend of the inevitable yuppie lawyer/doctor/stockbroker type who'd live at this address? A wife? A sister? A daughter? He wondered what it was about this place that made her look at it with such loathing on her face and longing in her eyes...Sad eyes which pooled with unshed tears and turned to him, as if noticing him for the first time. "Ahhh, damn." He muttered with no heat in his voice. He'd always been a sucker for strays, of any species, and the hurt in her eyes pulled at his better instincts. "Why'd she have to have those sad eyes?" Manny would kill him if he knew he was sitting here with the meter off, letting some woman stare at a piece of property. Screw Manny, Pete decided...He'd make up the loss with a couple of fares during his lunch hour. He waited for a few more minutes, hoping she'd come out of it and give him some kind of sign that she was okay. Pete had just gotten out of the cab and turned around to open the back door to check on her when she whimpered. Whimpered. That was the only way Pete could describe the noise she'd made. It was a pathetic little noise which came from her throat and reminded him of how his new pup, Buster, sounded when he was frightened. It sent Pete's already concerned thoughts into overdrive, wondering what could be so horrible that she was that paralyzed with fear. "Lady? Are you okay?" Pete had opened the back door and was now squatting awkwardly on the pavement beside the cab. He waved a hand in front of her eyes, realizing that she didn't really see him. She sat still for a few seconds more before her unfocused eyes blinked and turned to him. "I'm sorry...Did you say something?" "Are you okay?" "I'm...I've been away for a long time...I have-" She stopped cold as her eyes locked on the house again. "Look," Pete waved his hand to get her attention again. "You look wiped out...Can I go get somebody from the house or help you get inside or call someone or something?" She nodded and shifted on the seat, lifting the small satchel beside her in preparation to leave the cab. Pete slipped around to the back of the cab and was pulling out the surprisingly heavy overnight size bag the orderly had hefted into the trunk at the hospital. He had just closed the car door behind her, taking her arm just above the elbow to steady her as she swayed a bit, when the gray Taurus screeched around the corner and banged to halt on the curb behind his cab. The tall, dark-haired man jumped from behind the wheel almost before the car came to a halt. He started towards them, trench coat tails flapping behind him, and Pete heard a gasp escape the woman. They guy was tall, but thin...He looked more afraid and happy and scared all at one time than angry, but Pete stepped in front of the petite woman at his side anyway. Better safe than sorry...Besides, he thought he could take the guy if he had to... "Who are you, bud?" Pete heard himself ask and couldn't believe he was doing this. The man's eyes snapped away from the woman to meet his head on, and Pete saw the tumult of emotion ripple across the man's face. They guy moved his arm to reach into his coat pocket and the suit coat underneath pulled back revealing a gun. His face must have shown his surprise, because the man raised his free hand in a conciliatory gesture when he saw Pete tense, and pulled out an ID folder. "Special Agent Fox Mulder, FBI." The man spoke, flipping the wallet open to reveal a badge and an ID card with his picture on it. Pete had never had much reason to see a Fed's ID card, but it looked real enough and so did the man. The close cropped hair, conservative gray suit, reasonable shoes...Everything except that tie, which looked like a kid had spilled finger paint on it, fairly screamed "Elliot Ness is my hero". Pete relaxed and then a puzzled frown crossed his face. "Geez, the FBI...What do you want with _her_?" "She's my partner, Special Agent Dana Scully." The sardonic grin was lost on Pete as he stepped back and gazed at the slight woman again. ###### 17 November 1994 Scully's Apartment 11:21 pm EST Mulder wiped a hand over his face and ran it up into his hair as he leaned back on the striped sofa. A smirk crossed his face as he realized one of the universal truths ...When you wanted to go to sleep, there was no way you'd be able to. And when you really needed to stay awake, then sleep would sneak up on you, subtle and persistent in its offers of sweet relief from your troubles in its arms. His snort of laughter sounded loud in the quiet room. He glanced around Scully's apartment. Everything was as he'd left it last week, when he'd come with Mrs. Scully to get her daughter some clothes and a few things to "make the hospital seem more friendly", Mrs. Scully had said. The quiet television mocked him from its spot on the other side of the room, and his fingers itched to pick up the remote and begin channel surfing. He didn't touch the remote on the coffee table, though, afraid the noise would disturb the woman sleeping on the other side of the wall. ###### 17 November 1994 Scully's Apartment 5:43 pm EST They'd made a strange tableau coming inside, he was sure. His tall frame bent over her much smaller one, as he helped her up the sidewalk and stairs. The Protective Cabbie (as Mulder had decided to call him) had followed them with her bags, never crowding them, even though Mulder was certain he was capable of a faster pace than the one Scully set. Once to the porch, the Cabbie had set the bags down and waited, a little self-conscious. Mulder had given the Cabbie a great tip and one of his business cards, thanking him for taking care of Scully and telling him to call him if he ever needed the FBI. Mulder found himself surprised that he really meant it...Somehow, it seemed like just when he'd figured out that the only good people left in this world were already known to him, a complete stranger came out of the woodwork and proved to him that decent people still existed -- you just had to know where to look. The Cabbie had grinned at his offer of help. "Thanks, Agent-" he glanced at the card. "Agent Mulder, but I genuinely hope I never have any need to call you." Scully had swayed dangerously as the Cabbie walked away. Mulder realized that the reserve of strength that had borne her through the entire day was just about to give out. They needed to get her someplace to sit and rest very soon. Scully's slight form had stiffened in his supporting arms when they'd actually stopped at her door. Up to this point, she'd said not a word to Mulder, responding to his questions with a nod or shake of her head. "Scully," Mulder stepped back, still supporting her a little, and tipping her chin up so he could see her face. "Dana...Are you okay with this? I mean, we can go to your mother's house, or Melissa's place, or even my apartment." "Please, Mulder." Scully said with a small smile. "I would hate to live through all of this and then die from ptomaine poisoning from eating off the dishes at your place." Mulder smiled at her humor, his heart gladdened by the fact that she was still together enough to joke with him. But he wasn't about to allow her to dissuade him. "Just because you left the hospital doesn't mean you have to come back here." Her blue eyes stared back up at him, the turmoil inside her revealed to him their depths. He could see her fighting for control over the fear and pain this homecoming was causing. He could see her package the strong emotions and snap them under the steely control which had so impressed him when she'd first walked into his office so long ago and at least once a day every day since. "Mulder, I left that hospital to come _home_." Her voice was stronger this time but still rough with disuse and strong emotion. "I have to face this sooner or later." Her eyes darted to the door and focused once more on his face. "I need to get back to my life...I need to...start....living again. I feel..." Scully broke off, her eyes stinging with tears and her mouth clamping shut on the sob which threatened to escape her throat. She wanted to tell him how she hated this. She hated feeling lost and disoriented and afraid. She hated feeling weak and helpless. She hated feeling confused and dazed. And she hated that Mulder kept looking at her with those puppy-dog eyes, making her feel guilty because she was hating him for pitying her. "I need to do this, Mulder," was all she said. Mulder's eyes were wide as he nodded, willing strength into her for the battle he knew was going to be raging inside her in a few moments. He used his key to open the door and flipped in the entry light. The warm glow fell into the living room, casting her furniture into familiar shadow. Mulder had spent many nights here during her absence, ostensibly looking for clues to help find her, but actually fulfilling the need to feel close to her somehow. He had sat on her couch beside the end table which held a brand new phone identical to the one she'd lost under Duane Barry's heel. He had spent hours sitting there, staring at the now-repaired window and wondering ...Was Dana Scully destined to be a scar he carried around on his soul, yet another person who had trusted him and been lost because of that trust. He wondered if she would ever again tease him about his taste in ties and challenge him to prove another of what she considered one of his outlandish theories. Mulder had missed her presence in the office long before her abduction. They'd been separated for almost five months before the Duane Barry case had come up. They'd talked on the phone and had lunch once or twice, but it had been the little things he'd missed...the soft sound of her breathing which wafted across the basement room they'd shared, the way she would hum under her breath when transcribing notes to her computer...the subtle smell of her, the fresh smelling soap and light perfume in her clothes, that told him she was already at work when he walked in the door in the morning. He'd been able to stand not seeing her every day, knowing that she was a phone call away. But, when she'd disappeared with Barry that night on the mountain, when she was truly gone, an ache had settled around his chest which reminded him all too clearly of the first days in the aftermath of Samantha's disappearance. That clamp on his soul had been loosened a notch since Scully had turned her head and smiled at him from her hospital bed, but the feelings of desperate fear that went along with it had been harder to dispel in the early hours of the mornings when he was all alone. Mulder had stood quietly and watched her, every sense tuned to her, as Scully walked slowly inside her home. She had stopped just inside the pool of light, letting her eyes adjust to the gloom. Her eyes had flicked immediately to the repaired window and the area in front of her couch, looking for some evidence of what had happened here so many months ago. Then, she'd pressed those thoughts back down into the darkness where they belonged and stepped over to the wall which held so much of her life in memories. She went immediately to the bookcase and lifted down a leather-bound volume of Shakespeare, holding it to her nose for a moment. She could almost imagine she could actually detect the scent of the man who'd given it to her mixed with the earthy smell of the leather. She opened the flyleaf and read the inscription in the half-light. "To Starbuck...Keep the wind at your back and your eyes on the horizon..."it read. "Love, Ahab" was signed below in a broad, masculine hand. The bold black letters shimmered and blurred as tears once again threatened her. She grieved at that moment not for the man she missed, she knew she had already mourned his death and had moved on. She cried for the scared little girl inside her who would have found comfort in the strength of her father's arms. She replaced the book with careful reverence. Scully closed her eyes for a moment as the bittersweet pang lanced through her when she touched next Jack Willis' watch. She'd given the watch as a birthday present and kept it after he'd died ten feet away from her in an old run- down house. She then ran a finger over the beautiful rose-quartz crystal Melissa had given her before she'd headed off for medical school. Melissa had said it would help balance her aura. Scully had never worn it, but it was beautiful, so she'd kept it around. She next fingered the worn spot on her old one-eyed Pooh Bear, retired to a shelf in her room when she suddenly became too sophisticated for it at the ripe old age of seven. She raised an eyebrow when she noticed that no dust had settled on the beautiful antique fountain pen and ink bottle her grandmother had given her for Christmas a few years ago. Mother had been busy in here while she was gone. Scully's fingers ran over items old and dear on the shelves and then traveled naturally to the table beside the bookcase. Smiling faces stared back at her...the pictures of important moments in her life...Her mother and father at the cabin a few years ago. Family pictures of her brothers and their wives and children. The picture of the entire Scully "clan", taken at Christmas last year, only a few days before her father had died. The picture of her and her parents the day she'd received her medical degree, a neon-yellow stethoscope hung crazily from her ears while her parents beamed from either side. Her hand moved to the right side of the table, near the picture her mother had taken of her and Mulder last year when she'd forced him to go to her family's annual fourth of July picnic, and encountered something that didn't belong there on the table. Her brows arched together on her forehead, she reached out and clicked on the table lamp. Scully drew in a short breath and distantly heard Mulder swear as she picked up the ID folder and pair of glasses sitting on the edge of the table. She opened the folder and saw her own face staring back from the ID card inside. The face seemed foreign and strange to her, even though she realized that she still looked this way, or would when she regained the weight and time returned the healthy color to her skin. The glasses that she'd been wearing the night she'd been abducted were a bit bedraggled. She had a flash of them falling from the table as she reached for her gun, but could remember no more about them. The frames had been mangled at some point and then bent back into shape, she could tell from the slight bow in the face plate and temples. She turned to look at Mulder and noticed that he looked...ashamed. "I'm sorry, Scully." His voice was low and quiet and he wouldn't meet her eye. "I must have left them here...earlier...When I..." "Cleaned my house and had the repairs done?" Scully finished, her voice fairly strong. "Uh...no, not then. Uh...ummm...when I came with your mother to pick up your clothes and things. I must have had them in my pocket then." he smiled sheepishly and gestured to the glasses in her hand. "Sorry they got...uh, bent...I...accidentally left them on the couch at home and I kind of sat on them." "Sat on them?" "Well, okay...Slept on them..." "Oh." She sat down on the couch, pulling her coat from her shoulders and leaving it in a pool around her hips. He removed his coat, throwing it on the chair in the corner of the room, and sat down beside her. They stayed that way for a long time, her sitting quiet and him watching her. She looked slowly around her apartment and, as the clock on table ticked the minutes away, Mulder could see her come home. ###### 17 November 1994 Scully's Apartment 7:56 pm EST When they had first sat down, he'd seen her tense and start at every noise...afraid of the common noises her older building made. Mulder heard the compressor on her refrigerator squeal into life for the fifth time since they'd sat down. This time, though, she didn't jump and the hand next to his own on the cushions didn't reach for his, only to release it immediately. She was getting used to her place again and he watched as the fear of the unknown-yet-familiar started to run away like snow on a hearth. Mulder was surprised when he looked over at the clock in the near darkness of the room. They'd been sitting like this for almost three hours. But even though his back was beginning to cramp from the odd way he was holding himself, he smiled. He would have had his body permanently welded this way rather than disturb what he was seeing happen at this moment. In the semi-darkness of the room, he could see Dana coming slowly back to herself. He could see the Dana Scully he knew, proud and strong, loyal and courageous, reappear from this ghost that had been inhabiting her place on earth for the past few weeks. Scully wasn't completely back, but she was on her way to recovery and the hardest part was over. Time would take care of the rest. "You repaired the window." It was a statement, not a question. "It was going to rain inside and mess up the carpet." He didn't need to hide his eyes in the gloomy room. "Besides, I have an old basketball buddy who does home repair on the side. He gave me a good deal." "And the phone was on sale, I suppose?" "Well..." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to think of way to change the subject. "It's okay, Mulder. I'm not going to bite your head off." "Oh." "Thank you." "It was nothing Scully....I was in the mall and the phone store was there, and..." "You're not a good liar, Mulder." Her tired voice held a tinge of humor. "You're never 'just in the mall'..." "Oh." "And that's not what I mean." She paused, blindly reaching for his hand in the dark. She squeezed it hard, as if she could will him to understand all of what she was saying. "I mean...thank you." Mulder looked at her as she turned to look at him for the first time since they'd sat down. Scully hoped he knew all the things she couldn't say, what she really meant. She wasn't saying thank you for the window or the phone. She was saying thank you for being there, for continuing to believe in her strength when it seemed all hope was lost. She was thanking him for the return of the faith she'd had in him in the past and for being strong enough for both of them when she couldn't be. She was thanking him for all the times he'd been there in the past and for coming here this afternoon. Mulder looked down at their joined hands, wincing at the bruises the IV needles had left on the almost translucent skin there on the back of her hand. He squeezed her smaller hand in his own, careful of the pressure he applied. There's no reason to say thank you, he thought at her, I only wish I could have done more. He found himself surprised at all he had wanted to do for her. When Scully had disappeared, he had wanted to give up everything to get her back...his files, his badge, his hopes...He had been shocked at the depth of his own rage over her disappearance. He hadn't felt that way since Sam. And when he'd walked into that hospital that first night to find her a mere shadow of the woman he knew, he had wanted revenge on the people who'd done this to her. During her illness, he'd run the gambit from desperate fear of losing his partner to the overwhelming sadness that even though she lived, she was already lost. He'd gotten to the point where all he had left was his belief...Belief that despite all odds, she would not end this way, _they_ would not end this way. He had held his belief around him like a shield against Melissa, and Skinner, and even her Mother...all of those people who'd said 'Let her go...It's over.' He had wanted to be there when she woke up, but Mrs. Scully had seen he was exhausted and sent him home. He'd missed seeing her pale eyes open and the first smile on her drawn face. But, he had told himself, he had vowed at the time, he'd be here today. He had wanted to be here...to see her come home "I'm tired." Her eyes left his face and her hand went loose in his own. "I want to go to _my_ room, pull _my_ pajamas from _my_ drawer, and crawl into _my_ bed and sleep for a week." Scully got up from the couch slowly and Mulder had to stop himself from taking her arm like she was some sort of invalid. He knew he'd be stopping himself from helping a lot over the next few weeks. He also knew she'd rip him a new orifice if she knew he was thinking about wrapping her up in cotton batting and never letting her out of his sight again. He watched her make her way over to the bedroom door. "I guess I should go..." he started as he stood and grabbed his wrinkled coat. Scully froze in place. She turned to look at him after a moment, her movements painful to watch. "Would you...?" she began and stopped. There was a look of panic on her face that Mulder was unaccustomed to seeing. Mulder was confused for a split second and then what she wanted registered. He straightened and turned to the coat tree in the corner of the room. Very deliberately, he hung his coat and sat back down on the couch. "Just call if you need me." Scully smiled and headed for the bedroom again. She had just started to close the door to her room when he stood up again and called softly to her. "Scully?...Dana?" She paused at the sound of her first name on his lips. "Yes, Mulder?" "Welcome home." FIN The only connection INRI has with this opinion is the address.