From: Laadolf@aol.com Date: Sat, 18 Mar 2000 00:09:04 EST Subject: xfc: NEW: Cursum Perficio by Laadolf (27 of 58 )(PG13) Source: xfc From: Laadolf@aol.com Cursum Perficio (Part 27 of 58) by LAAdolf x Fox Mulder awoke to the touch of a gentle hand on his forehead. He opened his eyes and focused on the smiling features of Margaret Scully. "I'm sorry, Fox," Scully's mother said with a look of sincere regret on her face, "it's a mother's instinct," she continued apologetically. Mulder looked at her, trying to hide his confusion, and smiled reassuringly. "You didn't wake me," he lied. "It's okay." Margaret Scully squeezed his hand briefly, but warmly. Bemused, he returned the small gesture somewhat shyly. "I'm sorry I wasn't here yesterday. Dana tells me I missed quite a bit of excitement." Margaret continued, not letting go of Mulder's hand. "I spent the day in church, praying and lighting candles, thinking I could be of more use there. You're so much better today, maybe I was right." Mulder gazed at Mrs. Scully, lost in her soft brown eyes which radiated such a seemingly sincere fondness. "Thank you...," he murmured, at a loss for what to say. By rights this woman should hate him, he had done nothing but place her beloved daughter in danger ever since he had known her. Margaret Scully was waving her free hand--she still held one of his own in the other--as though she prayed and lit candles for people she hardly knew every day. Perhaps she did, Mulder mused distractedly. "Dana will be here soon." His partner's mother continued. "She said it was a bit early for me to give you these, but I'd already bought them and they do keep," Margaret reached behind her, withdrawing a small bag from the purse balanced on the chair near the bed. She held out a bag of sunflower seeds to Mulder. "I did get the right kind, didn't I? Dana was adamant that you didn't care for the ones without shells." Mulder took the proffered package in bemused wonder. "These are fine. You didn't need to bring me anything though." "Nonsense. I wanted to. They aren't allowing flowers until you're out of ICU, and those are small enough to hide if we have to. Is there something else I can bring for you? I've been feeding your fish these past few days, is there anything you need from your apartment? Books, mail? Just let me know, I'd be happy to bring them." Mulder felt suddenly overwhelmed by the woman's kindness, the warmth in her voice and manner discomfiting. He closed his eyes against the wave of emotion that threatened. "No, nothing....." he murmured quietly. "You should go back to your rest, Fox. Its the best way to regain your strength." Margaret Scully said soothingly, her hand gripping his warmly. "I'll just sit here with you until Dana comes." Mulder opened his eyes, "You don't have to stay.....I'm all right...." He demurred. "No, I don't have to stay, I want to. Go back to sleep, now." Mrs. Scully soothed. Almost against his will, Mulder's eyes began to drift shut. The last sensation he felt before sleep overtook him once more was the gentle pressure of Margaret Scully's hand holding his, the last conscious action he took was to return the kindly contact with gratitude. x Albert Hosteen watched as the drama unfolded before him in the FBI Man's hospital room. He did not have to be in the room to understand what was happening, the events had been in motion ever since the FBI Man had regained consciousness. Inside the glass enclosed cubicle, FBI Man's mother stood at her son's bedside, listening as the younger man spoke to her in reassuring tones. Her face was concerned and somber by turns, and she reached out to touch her son's cheek more than once as he spoke. Then, for many long moments, she was the one who began to talk, her emotions playing over her face, visible clearly from even this distance. The FBI Man reached up and touched her face, the action bringing tears to her eyes and she fell silent. It was then that the young man spoke again, and from the interplay of both hurt and understanding that flashed across her features, Albert knew that he had finally done what he had intended. He had both forgiven his mother and dismissed her. Of course it was by no means a permanent dismissal, he had merely informed her that there was no need for her to stay now that he was doing so much better. The doctors had confirmed just a few minutes before that the FBI man would be transferred to a private room later this very day, his physical progress toward recovery was a fact, its speed widely remarked on. But the doctors did not see beyond the physical as Albert had been taught to do, did not see that the underlying wounds to the FBI man's spirit did not parallel the wounds of the body in their healing. Sending his mother away, frustrating her maternal need after so much separation to be close to offer him care and comfort, was but one way for the young man to isolate himself, to refuse the succor that those who cared for him stood ready to offer. Albert watched sadly as FBI man's mother bent to kiss his forehead fondly before taking her leave of her son. As the woman emerged from her son's room and approached him, tears were shining in her eyes, threatening to spill over. "He wants me to go back home," she announced, her voice betraying only a slight tremor as she spoke. "Says there's nothing more for me to do here except worry myself ill. I wanted to stay and take care of him, you know--for as long as it might take. But he won't hear of it. I guess its nothing less than I deserve." "This was not directed at you." Albert touched her arm compassionately, allowing a brief silence to communicate his rejection of her observation even as his words strove to do the same. "I wasn't there for him for so many years. You can't abandon someone to their own hurt for so long and not expect them to find other ways to cope..." Mrs. Mulder was saying, her voice tinged with self recrimination. Albert frowned. Her words did hold a certain truth, the FBI man had learned long ago to deal with his pain by hiding it--and himself--away. But she was wrong to take it personally, as a rejection of herself. It was, he knew a realization that she must make herself, and one which she might never be able to see. The Navajo elder's compassionate nature wished to assert itself, to help ease the way between mother and son. But it was not his place. He had said and done what he could, the rest was in the hands of the spirits. "Thank you, Mister Hosteen, for your kindness and for helping my son. I hope you do know that it is appreciated." Mrs. Mulder spoke, regaining more of her poise. She squeezed his hand between both of her own briefly, then, her natural dignity reasserting itself, she looked one final time into her son's room, and moved down the hall. Albert knew that his own time here was growing short. Before he could leave and return to his home, he knew he must speak once more with the FBI woman. More than any other, it was she who held the power to heal the wounded spirit of the FBI man. But despite her triumph in coaxing him back to the world of the living, he knew she lacked an appreciation for her own ability to effect the necessary remedy. It was a curious failing in one trained to heal that she should be so blind to her natural power. All Albert could do would be to tell her once again, and hope, for the sake of both the FBI Man and the FBI woman, that he could finally make her understand. x End Cursum Perficio (Part 27 of 58) From: Laadolf@aol.com Cursum Perficio (Part 28 of 58) by LAAdolf x Dana was surprised when she stepped from the elevator on the intensive care floor Monday mid-afternoon and was immediately greeted by the Lone Gunmen trio. "Agent Scully!" Frohike was smiling at her. Behind him Langly and Byers stood, looking as though they had spent a worse night than she had and definitely uncomfortable to be where they were. Scully's eyes narrowed, sensing a plot afoot. "Guys, hi....." she began as she watched Byers fidget noticeably and Langly look away guiltily while Frohike forged on with an ebullience that he could not know seem forced. "How's Mulder?" Dana asked suspiciously, eyeing the three for their reactions. "Doctors say he can be transferred out of ICU any time now." Frohike responded quickly, while over his shoulders Langly and Byers served as a sort of unconscious lie detector. Their reactions told her that that much was true at least, and it was nothing less than she herself had predicted. "Good. You said last night you were going to stay the night, just in case something happened. I trust every- thing was okay? No midnight black ops sortees or anything of that nature that I should know about?" "Nothing!" Frohike asserted, while Langly fidgeted and Byers was the one who looked guiltily way. Scully crossed her arms across her chest and looked at the three men pointedly, each in turn. "That's good, because if I find out that something did happen and no one let me know, there is going to be hell to pay. Asses kicked." Frohike looked suddenly less sure of himself. His companions exhibited even more discomposure than they had just seconds earlier. "You might as well tell me what you are trying so hard not to. I'll find out anyway." "We promised we wouldn't, Agent Scully. We don't like to go back on our word," Frohike stated dejectedly. "Who did you promise?" Dana pressed on, hardening her features. It was a difficult charade, she felt a deep sense of gratitude to these men for supporting her in so many ways during Mulder's disappearance, and a growing sense of camaraderie that she had never felt towards them before. But if it was as she suspected and Mulder had drafted their assistance in keeping something from her, she would get to the bottom of it. "Mulder," Langly supplied forlornly. "Uh-huh," Scully averred. Bingo! "He just didn't want to worry you, I'm sure," Byers offered soothingly. "And it turns out it wasn't that serious, really," Frohike chimed in. "I mean it was pretty scary while it happened but he snapped out of it fairly well." It was Scully's turn to be nonplused. She found her emotional self rapidly turning over any number of scenarios until the more logical, rational part of her personality insisted she step back and get more information. "Just what DID happen?" Dana questioned rather more shrilly than she would have liked. "We're not sure what started it, but we were outside his room when we heard him yell-" Langly began. "And we ran into his room to find him doubled over. He was in terrible pain," Byers continued. Frohike picked up the narrative. "So Byers ran for the doctors and I was going to have Langly call you, but Mulder wouldn't let me--" "Wouldn't let you? An invalid? How could he have stopped you?" Scully interrupted incredulously. "You had to be there, Scully," Frohike assured, continuing quickly. "Anyway, the doctors came. They said it was a muscle spasm, gave him some medication and put him in traction. So it really wasn't anything to disturb you over." "I'd like to have been the judge of that. I thought he was in a great deal of pain before I left last night, but he wouldn't admit it. Stubborn ass." Scully muttered, half rhetorically: "What is it with him?" "You've got to swear not to make a big deal of this Agent Scully. I did promise that we wouldn't let you know any of this. But we got to talking and there is no way around the fact t hat he's got a leg in traction, and his chart notes are going to show what happened, and all you would have to do would be to ask any of his doctors to find out about it. Eventually he'll figure out that it was a promise that couldn't be kept, but there is no sense getting him all upset now, is there?" Frohike pleaded. Dana could see the wisdom of what he was saying, "I'll swear up and down it didn't come from you guys, if it becomes an issue. And I will try to see that it doesn't. Has anything else happened I should know about?" "Other than Mulder sending his mother home, nothing. He's been asleep most of the morning, Your mother is back in there sitting with him right now and Albert Hosteen is filling in for us on point." Frohike soothed. "He sent Teena home?" Scully pounced immediately on the item of information that the Lone Gunman had tried so desperately to introduce nonchalantly. "And she went?" All three Lone Gunmen nodded in unison. "Skinner appointed someone to guard her after we found the body last night. Last I heard that agent was taking her to the airport." Byers supplied helpfully. Scully shook her head in disbelief, "He ought to be sleeping, he's had a busy morning! I can hardly wait for him to be back on his feet, I'm personally going to kick his ass for being a jerk." With that pronouncement, Dana Scully stalked down the hall and toward Mulder's room, leaving the Lone Gunmen to gaze after her. After a moment of silence, Byers looked at Frohike, who looked at Langly, who gazed back at Byers with a look of resignation on his face. "Are you sure we just did the right thing?" Langly asked morosely, shooting a glance up the hallway in time to see Dana Scully enter Mulder's intensive care unit. Frohike heaved a big sigh, "Sometimes you've got to give away the little things to protect the larger ones. There was no way she wasn't going to find out about last night. If Mulder was thinking straight, he'd have seen that. I had to promise him I wouldn't tell her about it to get him to calm down." "So what's the larger thing you're trying to protect by giving that away?" Byers asked, an eyebrow cocked at his compatriot. Frohike cast a glance between his friends. "Something I can't tell you right now--and maybe never. You'll just have to trust me that its important and keeping my word on another promise is,--well, its a matter of honor." Byers and Langly both looked at the smaller man penetratingly, but seeing the resolve in his face, decided to leave it at that. x End Cursum Perficio (Part 28 of 58) From: Laadolf@aol.com Cursum Perficio (Part 29 of 58) by LAAdolf x Scully's anger faded abruptly as she stepped into Mulder's room. It seemed odd, that in the few hours that she had been away from this place that some of the memory of it had faded, that she could still be overwhelmed coming back. Improvement, she knew, was always relative, and while her professional, trained self saw and noted signs of recovery, her more emotional side was unnerved all over again by how frail and ill Mulder still looked. She sighed wearily, met her mother's eyes over her partner's sleeping form, and quietly approached the bed. "He's been sleeping peacefully all morning, " her mother offered quietly, rising. Dana nodded and looked away from her mother and towards Mulder. She reached out, her hand hovering over her partner's bandaged head, wanting the comfort of touch, but strangely fearful of disturbing him. She dropped her hand away regretfully. She forced herself to look toward his tractioned leg, then back toward her mother. "He didn't have a very good night after I left, apparently. He was in terrible pain. I suspected it, and I still let him persuade me to leave." Margaret Scully gently laid Mulder's hand on the bed and moved around the bed to go to her daughter, embracing her warmly, then guiding her gently from the room. "Your father dislocated his shoulder once, roughhousing with the boys, he would sooner have died than let on that it hurt him at all. I practically had to twist that same arm to get him to go to the base hospital. Fox reminds me of him in some respects." Margaret ventured, glancing back into the room. Dana looked at her mother, smiling at the obvious fondness she detected in Maggie's voice and manner. Then she sobered, following her mother's gaze. "Frohike told me he sent his mother home." Margaret Scully nodded, her gaze swinging back to meet her daughter's. "I shouldn't say anything about someone I've hardly been introduced to-- but I couldn't believe that she allowed him to do that, that she went without a fight." Dana looked down, unable to meet her mother's eyes, wishing that she had made it to the hospital before that particular drama had taken place. "They've had a problematic relationship, Mom. His sister's disappearance destroyed the family in a fundamental sense, they were never able to put the pieces back together." Dana offered by way of explanation. Maggie Scully frowned, "I know it's none of my business but why keep repeating the mistakes of the past? No child of mine could have persuaded me to go while they were still so sick. Fox did try, you know, but I wouldn't budge. I held my ground until his mother came in." Dana smiled lovingly at her mother, and enfolded her in a hug. "Have I told you lately how special you are?" Scully lost herself for a few moments in the safety and comfort of her mother's arms. "Agent Scully?" a voice intoned softly from behind the two women. Dana turned to find herself facing Albert Hosteen. The Navajo elder had been sitting in the guard position just outside Mulder's room as the Lone Gunmen had said. Scully had been in such high dudgeon when she had originally entered the room that she had done little more than nod in his direction by way of greeting. Mindful of that abrupt greeting, she moved forward now and took Albert's offered hand. "I'm sorry Albert, I didn't mean to be rude...." "Your attention was elsewhere. That is as it should be. I need to talk to you before I leave." Dana glanced at her mother, who taking the cue, moved back into Mulder's room and to his bedside. Scully walked away from the room, pausing some distance away as Hosteen followed. "You're leaving? Of course you need to get back to your family. I can't thank you enough for coming--he may not have expressed it to you, but I know it also means a lot to Mulder." Scully offered warmly. Hosteen's kindly old eyes looked into hers, so penetratingly she felt he could see into her soul. "My work here is done, I have done what I can. There is much still needing to be attended to, but I cannot be the one to do so. That I must leave to you." Albert stated. Dana looked at the Navajo elder, her expression searching, "I know there is something wrong, but I seem to be the last person to be able to do anything about it. I can't seem to reach him." Albert shook his head, "You are the only one who can reach him. Your connection here," he brought his hand to his heart, "has brought him back to the living world...." "I can't take the credit for that...." Scully interrupted abruptly, her voice then faltering as she read a summary dismissal of her assertion in Hosteen's expression. "Now you must work with this connection," Albert tapped his temple, "to give him back his spirit. Much depends on this. Perhaps everything." "He hasn't listened to me for so long, Albert, I think you overestimate my power to help him." Scully responded, the defeat and desperation that had haunted her throughout the long night asserting itself again. "No. You underestimate your power." Albert paused, his expression softening. "The fox is a solitary creature, keeping always to itself, trusting no one. When injured its first instinct is to hide and lick its wounds. The FBI man was named well on his natal day. Like the fox the FBI man gives trust grudgingly, but once the trust is given it creates a bond that can never be broken. You must believe in your bond, you must use it. "You are a healer. You can do this thing." Scully felt adrift, bereft, lost in the conundrum with which Hosteen had presented her. His logic seemed so straightforward, his faith unshakable. She wished she could share it. There was little else she wanted more than to help Mulder and there was nothing she felt so powerless to do. "You see things so clearly, Albert. I can't persuade you to stay to help? To guide me?" Albert shook his head, sadly, "I would stay if I could help. This is something only you can accomplish. You must find the faith in yourself and you will find the power." "Scully looked at Hosteen, then stepped forward, embracing the Navajo elder, an embrace he returned warmly. "Courage, little one," he said gently. "Scully nodded against his chest, then turned and walked away, toward Mulder's room. Albert watched her go. Then he returned to his seat to await the return of the men who called themselves the Lone Gunmen. x End Cursum Perficio (Part 29 of 58) From: Laadolf@aol.com Cursum Perficio (Part 30 of 58) by LAAdolf "Hi, there," Scully greeted him, smiling. Her color was more robust and the circles beneath her eyes had faded, but she still looked tired and worn. Mulder closed his eyes again for a moment, hoping that his anguish did not betray itself on his face. There was no escape from his responsibility and no place to hide. He opened his eyes again. "Hi," he responded quietly, watching his partner for a long moment, then sparing a glance around the room. He was somewhat surprised to find he was no longer in the same room he had awakened to before. There had, of course, been mention of moving him out of intensive care, but he had not counted on sleeping through the transfer when it finally took place. Scully seemed to sense his confusion, she took his hand in both her own and began to speak. "You missed quite a show Mulder. Langly was taking point and Frohike was protecting your flank, and Byers was serving as rear guard. I don't think many transfers out of ICU cause the stir that yours did." Mulder allowed a small smile to curl the corners of his mouth, losing himself for a moment in the warmth of Scully's answering smile. Scully looked away, toward his tractioned leg. Mulder allowed his gaze to follow hers, then watched the play of emotions on his partner's face. "I've read your chart, Mulder. I know from the notes what happened last night after I left." Scully commented quietly, her gaze fixed on her hands which still held his. "One...of the drawbacks of having a doctor as a partner," Mulder noted. He'd meant it as a wry observation, but the words came out flat and emotionless, even to his own ears. Scully cocked her head at him. "I knew you were in pain, Mulder. There wasn't anything to protect me from. We've been through too much to play these kind of games with each other." "Sorry," Mulder admitted, chagrined. He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again. "Just don't do it again." Scully was looking at him directly once more, her blue-green eyes imparting the warning of dire consequences for disobedience. "Wouldn't dream of it." Mulder murmured. "Good. Now, do you want to explain to me why you told Teena to go home?" Mulder frowned, "You know about that?" "I tortured it out of Frohike," Scully stated completely straight faced, and for a moment Mulder didn't doubt but that she had. "There was nothing to be gained in her staying, Scully, she would only have worried herself sick. Besides, I'm doing fine, right?" Mulder attempted what he hoped was a ingenuous smile. "You're going to be fine, but you're not there yet. Did it occur to you that she might worry more back home, where instead of being able to see your progress on a daily basis she has to hear about it second or third hand?" Scully's voice was mild, but Mulder could tell that his partner was genuinely upset with his decision to send his mother home. But what could he tell her? That her relationship with her mother was not the same as his with his? That he had done so long without the comfort of a close maternal bond, that having his mother hovering worriedly over him now seemed surreal and uncomfortable? He couldn't expect her to understand any of that--she had an entirely different frame of reference. Better to try a different tactic. "The farther away she is from me, the safer she will be," Mulder ventured, pulling his hand away from the cocoon of her smaller ones. As difficult as it was to break that bond of touch, it was something he needed to do just now, as he prepared to fight dirty. "Which is the important thing. It's also something you need to consider. Scully frowned at him, "Meaning?" "Someone wanted me dead badly enough to follow me to Casey's and toss me down an elevator shaft. Someone presumably not overjoyed that the reopening of the X-Files has been announced. You've announced your intention to stay with the FBI, t o continue work on the X-Files. I don't think I need to go over recent history one more time. You're the next likely target. And if they can't get to you directly, there are other ways. Who is protecting your mother when she goes to my apartment to feed my fish, for example?" Mulder paused. Scully seemed to be studying him for a moment, her expression unreadable. "Skinner provides my mother with an escort to and from your apartment and he's arranged for some protective surveillance for her at home. Skinner personally escorted me home last night, where he had already dispatched a security team to sweep my apartment before he would allow me to enter. Not only do you have Frohike, Langly and Byers working guard duty outside your room, but Skinner also has a security detail working the hospital. We're probably safer around you than any where on the planet right now." Scully responded, looking at him levelly. (continued in part 31) End Cursum Perficio (Part 30 of 58) From: Laadolf@aol.com Cursum Perficio (Part 31 of 58) by LAAdolf "They still managed to dump a body in the hospital parking lot, right under the collective nose of all this security." Mulder paused, watching for Scully's reaction. "Who told you about that?" Scully queried. He had obviously surprised her with his knowledge of the events of the night before. "You're not the only one who can torture Frohike for information you know." Mulder responded, hoping his energy would hold up a bit longer, so he could play all his cards. "Poor Frohike," Scully commented, unfazed. "suppose he also told you that the man we believe actually attacked you was found dead just a few blocks away from Casey's the day after you disappeared? And that Skinner found a surveillance photo not far from last night's body which connected the two dearly departed--presumably plotting your assassination?" Mulder nodded. Actually he hadn't known that, and only knew what he did about the events of the night before from what he had been able to overhear the Lone Gunmen discussing in the corridor outside his room. But Scully didn't need to know that.... "That doesn't mean that the threat is gone." Mulder commented. "Precisely why no one has pulled back any of the security measures, Mulder. I repeat, I'm in the safest place I can be right now. And this is where I intend to stay. At least until you're back on your feet, or ready to be released. Whichever comes first." Mulder frowned. All his well reasoned arguments were having no effect whatsoever on his intractable partner. "And how long is that going to be?" Mulder asked. "They told me what all is wrong--but they didn't bother to say how long it is going to be before I can leave." Scully considered for a moment, "Your progress has been very good so far. Provided there aren't any setbacks, and the infection continues to respond to the antibiotics, and you do well with the physical therapy that hip is going to require---probably three weeks, give or take a few days." Mulder absorbed this information with a growing sense of unease. "Three weeks?" he repeated faintly. He closed his eyes for a minute, then opened them, looking at his partner with undisguised asperity "Scully, don't you have a job, a life?" His partner gave him a sly grin, "I've got three weeks of accumulated vacation time, which Skinner has already approved for me to take, starting today. And for the next three weeks, this is my life, Mulder. Like it or not, I'm not going anywhere." Mulder sighed, and determinedly, closed his eyes. He was exhausted from the effort this latest battle of wills had exacted from him, and he didn't even have the satisfaction of having scored a victory. Why did she have to make this so difficult? He knew what he had to do, why couldn't she, just once, let him do it without complicating everything with her damnable logic? He was nearly asleep, almost in spite of himself, when he felt Scully's warm, soft fingers closing gently, yet firmly around his hand once again. He should pull away from the comfort of that touch, but his strength and endurance failed him, and at last he slipped back into a healing slumber. Scully watched as her partner drifted off to sleep. She could not savor her triumph, it had come at too high a price, draining still too precious reserves of Mulder's strength. She knew what he was trying to do--chase her away, just as he had his own mother earlier today. Once again he was rejecting a return to the status quo of their partnership as it had been--when? Before Dallas? She was finding it hard to remember. Still, she had had to stand her ground, there had been no other choice. She would just have to choose her battlefields carefully, with an eye to Mulder's continued progress. She could not allow herself to baited into unnecessary clashes against the infamous Mulder will, but she could also not allow him to ride roughshod over her in his seemingly determined effort to distance himself from her. There was a mystery to be solved here, depths to be plumbed, answers to be found. She would find them. x End Cursum Perficio (Part 31 of 58) From: Laadolf@aol.com Cursum Perficio (Part 32 of 58) by LAAdolf x Assistant Director Skinner met Scully's eyes levelly. "I don't know how to say this...." He began, chagrin evident in his expression. He had just left Mulder's room where only a few minutes earlier he had entered flowers in one hand and the very real and deeply felt relief at his agent's improvement evident in his demeanor. The expression on his face now spoke of not only frustrated expectations, but an unexpected sense of confusion. "Sir?" Scully, who had just returned to Mulder's room from dinner--off to which she had been strong-armed by Frohike and Byers sometime earlier--looked at her superior quizzically. "Have you two had some sort of falling out?" Skinner finally asked, gesturing back toward Mulder's room vaguely. "No, sir. Why?" Scully did not consider her reply dissembling, for in fact there had been no real disagreement, except about her presence here at the hospital. And even that had amounted to little more than conflicting opinions about its appropriateness. Hers had simply been the stronger argument. "Agent Mulder has requested...uh.." Skinner paused as though considering his next words carefully, "that you be reassigned. Out of your partnership, out of the X-files. Immediately." Scully's eyes widened briefly. Damn the man! "May I ask what you told him, sir?" Skinner glanced back over his shoulder, then gently touching Scully's arm, he drew her across the hall and farther out of earshot of the occupant of the room behind him. "I told him, as firmly as I could, that any personnel changes would be considered at such a time as the two of you were officially reassigned to the X-Files. And that t he decision was not his to make. And that even if it were, any major decisions about anything at this point should wait until he's recovered completely." "Thank you, sir." Scully replied, "That was excellent advice." Skinner eyed her penetratingly, "So, is this coming as far out of left field as it seems to me right now? Should I be worried about Mulder's mental health or emotional well being? Is this consistent with his recent experience?" Scully sighed. Skinner's concern was obviously sincere and deeply felt. The trouble was, she wasn't any closer to understanding her partner's intransigence now than she had been weeks ago. "He was convinced I should sever all ties with him and the X-Files before his disappearance, sir, so no, this really isn't anything new. I can't say that his recent experience hasn't colored his perceptions of the urgency of the matter, but as for being some sort of aberration caused by the stress of his ordeal...no, I don't think it is that. At least not exactly. I don't think I fully understand myself where he is coming from. I know he is worried about people he is close to being made targets by association with him--but I have a sense there is something more behind this. I wish I had an answer. Right now, all I have are more questions." Skinner sighed, nodding. "Right now his energy should be focused on healing himself. I told him that, too. He's never listened to me before though and I doubt he will now. But we can hope, I suppose. He is still making good progress, isn't he, Scully?" Dana allowed herself a small smile, which she hoped offered some reassurance to the obviously worried assistant director, "He's doing very well considering everything he's been through, he's really got an amazing recuperative capacity. And I guess we should take his being such a stubborn ass as a good sign, things are getting back to normal faster than we could have expected." Skinner laughed and seemed to relax visibly. "Good point, agent," he chuckled. Scully smiled broadly, even as an inspiration struck her. "Sir," she began after a moment of contemplation of the notion's ramifications. In some respects the idea made no sense at all, what could be gained by it after all? But she decided to forge ahead anyway. Albert Hosteen had instructed her to trust her instincts after all. "has the elevator shaft been sealed yet? I know you mentioned something yesterday about them welding the doors shut so that nothing like this could happen again. Has that happened yet?" Skinner shook his head, "With the weekend, and the fact that we had forensics crawling over the entire building for most of it, no it hasn't. We've released the crime scene, but the owner of the building hasn't had time yet to contract the work. He wasn't expecting anything to happen until day after tomorrow at the earliest. Why?" "I want to go back there, sir. I'm not sure why, but I have to see the place where Mulder was trapped for so long. Try to make some sense of how he survived at all I guess. For my own peace of mind, maybe." Scully admitted. Skinner gave her an appraising look, then slowly, nodded. "I've got the keys to the elevator shaft doors. I'll meet you in front of the building at ten a.m. tomorrow if you that will suit." "Sir, I don't expect you to accompany me there. There hasn't been any threat proved...." Skinner waved his hand in dismissal, "Maybe I need to see it again too, Scully. For my peace of mind. Ten o'clock then?" Scully nodded. She hadn't expected to have company on her unforeseen excursion she could think of no reason insist on solitude, and she doubted that any argument she might have presented would have been successful against Skinner anyway. In some ways, she was even glad for the company. x End Cursum Perficio (Part 32 of 58) From: Laadolf@aol.com Cursum Perficio (Part 33 of 58) by LAAdolf The sound of a disagreement drifted into Mulder's dream, forcibly inserting itself into the existing imagery of the reverie. He'd been dreaming about Scully, trying to explain to her yet again the necessity of keeping her distance from him. The dream-Scully had been every bit as intractable as the waking version, refusing to listen to him yet again, frustrating his every effort to make her see sense. The Lone Gunmen had been in the dream too, silent witnesses to his argument with Scully. He found himself increasingly irritated by their very presence and was just on the verge of telling the trio so when Frohike transformed himself from elfin man to ferocious bulldog. As the dream-Mulder watched in fascination, the Frohike-bulldog bristled at the approach of a shadowy figure, growling as it emerged from the shadows. "What the hell are you doing here?!" the Frohike-dog barked as the Cigarette Smoking Man coalesced in Mulder's line of dream-vision. His nemesis cast a disdainful glance at Frohike, even as the bulldog stiffened even further, trying to make himself physically larger. "I've come," the older man said with quiet menace, "to visit Agent Mulder. I just heard about his unfortunate accident. I wanted to pay my respects and check on his progress." At some point during the brief exchange, it dawned on Mulder that the dream was not complete fantasy. He struggled against the drugs in his system and the exhaustion he felt to force himself awake. "You're NOT going in there," The voice was Frohike's, and it was real. As Mulder's eyes opened to the reality of his hospital room, he could see Frohike and Byers blocking the entrance to his hospital room, and over Frohike's head, he could just catch a glimpse of good ole Smoky. ... Talk about waking nightmares.... "I've checked with the nurses, Agent Mulder is being allowed visitors now that he is out of Intensive Care." "Friends and family only," Frohike growled at the larger figure just as menacingly as his canine counterpart had in Mulder's dream. "His mother is his only family, and I know she has returned to her home in Connecticut. And I am an old fried of the family. Certainly allowances can be made?" Mulder shook off the last of his lethargy at the mention of his mother. Smoky knew she'd gone home? Knew she'd even been here? "Frohike, FROHIKE!" The elfin Lone Gunman spun as Mulder's voice interrupted what had promised to be a colorful response. Frohike looked at Mulder owlishly for a moment, and was nearly ready to wheel around to face Cigarette Smoking Man with a renewed ferocity for having disturbed the patient, when a gesture from Mulder stopped him. "Let him in, Frohike," Mulder's voice was quietly authoritative. "But, Mulder---" Frohike protested immediately, looking at Mulder as though he suspected madness or delirium. He exchanged a quick look with Byers his expression begging confirmation or denial of his suspicions. Byers shrugged, looking at Mulder calmly, then turning to meet Frohike's puzzled glare. "You heard the man. He's an old friend of the family. Let him in." Mulder repeated. Frohike shot a look at Mulder that promised a full interrogation later on, but acquiesced, moving slightly to the side of the doorway, and indicating the older man toward the entrance. "We'll be right outside, Mulder... We can be all over him in thirty seconds if you need us." Frohike looked Cigarette Smoking Man up and down threateningly for a full half minute, much to the older man's amusement. "Come to admire your handiwork, Smoky? Or to finish the job?" Mulder asked his nemesis as the Cigarette Smoking Man entered the room and came to stand at the foot of his bed. Mulder could swear that the temperature of the room rose a full five degrees with the other man's entrance, and he wondered if it were his imagination that he sensed the vague scent of sulfur in the room. At first, the other man made no reply. Instead he looked Mulder over thoroughly and searchingly for a long minute, as though satisfying himself of something. Mulder was aware of a fleeting expression of what seemed to be relief mixed with concern, crossing the older man's features. "I told your mother and I will now tell you, that I had nothing to do with what happened to you. In fact, I am relieved to see you doing so well, Fox." "When did you talk to my mother?" Mulder challenged, chilled by the knowledge that while he had been laying here helpless, this man had somehow been able to approach his mother. "On the phone the night after you disappeared. She called me. And the day before yesterday, outside her hotel room. I understand you have since sent her home. Laudable, sparing her a bedside vigil, but not very accommodating of her maternal instincts." "It keeps her farther away from you, at least." Mulder replied. At some future point he would have to check the veracity of what his enemy had said with Teena, but it could wait-- would have to wait for another place and time. It was all he could do at present to keep his eyes focused and fixed on the older man. "I would never harm your mother, Fox. She knows that, and so should you," Cigarette Smoking Man's voice sounded vaguely affronted. Mulder gave thought to replying with a pointed retort, but he knew that ole Smoky would like nothing better than to bait him into a war of words, into doubting everyone around him. He'd drawn Mulder into that trap before, too easily and too successfully. There was no point playing that game any longer, and even if there were a point to it, Mulder was too tired, too damnably weak to play. "I'll try to keep that in mind." He finally said, fighting the weariness that pulled him toward the oblivion of sleep, "You'll forgive me, however, if... I take your protestations of innocence with... a.... shaker or two of salt." The Cigarette Smoking Man was studying him again, and Mulder was further frustrated by his inability to hide his frailty from his adversary. The quaver in his voice had betrayed the tenuous hold he currently had on his senses, and he knew his enemy missed nothing... "Of course, I would expect nothing less," the older man replied. "The nurses told me I should limit my visit to five minutes. I'll leave you to your rest, Fox." Mulder watched as his enemy gave him one last, searching look, then turned and left the room. Mulder fought to keep his eyes open, watching the man's retreating back as he paused to exchange glares with Frohike, then disappeared down the hall. Frohike and Byers rushed into the room in the wake of the other man's leaving it, hovering around Mulder concernedly, as though checking for any damage the Cigarette Smoking man might have been able to inflict through sheer proximity. Mulder tried to reassure them that he was fine, just awfully tired, and that against all odds their sinister friend's visit had been benign, if puzzling. But he lost his struggle to maintain consciousness even as words were forming on his lips, and his last memory was of Frohike bending over him, saying his name. x End Cursum Perficio (Part 33 of 58) From: Laadolf@aol.com Cursum Perficio (Part 34 of 58) by LAAdolf x Scully stood for a moment, glancing up at the morning sun as it filtered weakly down the shaft from the skylight above, then she allowed her eyes to drop once more to the elevator shaft floor. She suppressed a shudder as her early physics training kicked in and she mentally calculated the force with which a body falling some eighty odd feet would hit the shaft bottom. It was nothing short of miraculous that Mulder hadn't been killed on impact.... Dana knew that Skinner was standing back, watching her concernedly, and she could not blame him. It was not logical to be back here, to want to be back here where her partner had nearly died. There was absolutely nothing to be gained by being here. Everything of any value had by now, been photographed, cataloged and analyzed by any number of experts in the Bureau. Within twenty four hours the shaft would be sealed forever against any repeat of the events that had led to Mulder being trapped here--that should be enough to satisfy anyone. Scully bent down, noting the dried pool of blood that still stained the elevator cage floor. From Mulder's head wound, scalp lacerations always bled profusely. It had been a similar patch, brought to visibility by the Luminol lamp that had led them down here, had led to Mulder's finally being found. Dana realized abruptly that one reason she had had to come here was to make peace with the fact that it was her fault that Mulder had not been found sooner. She had stood, two days into the search, over the very spot on the roof where Mulder's blood had later been detected. As Langly had stood peering down the skylight and seeing nothing out of the ordinary, she had similarly not seen that very important piece of evidence that had still been fairly fresh and probably more visible than it had later proved to be. She understood poignantly Langly's feeling of guilt and anguish--she felt those same emotions too. And she remembered her dream -- the dream on the night that Mulder had fallen. While her logical mind wanted her to believe that it had been simple coincidence, another part of her knew it was not. That same part of her had convinced her that Mulder was not dead when her companions had tried to stop her from coming down to this very spot, which had refused to let him go when he began slipping away from her right here ...right here...just as she had foreseen in yet another dream. He had even spoken the words she'd dreamt, just before he had stopped breathing... "...Scully...? Agent Scully?" It was Skinner's voice, reaching her as though across a distance. Dana shook herself mentally and turned her head to look at her superior, framed in the elevator door. His expression was one of deep concern. "Yes, sir?" she said, finally, standing up and turning to face him. "Are you all right?" Skinner began, moving closer, as though ready to lend her physical support if she required it. "I'm fine, sir. Why do you ask?" "You went suddenly very pale... And you didn't respond to my calling your name." Scully raised a hand to her face, "But I did, sir. Immediately." She protested. Skinner shook his head, sadly, "No. On the half dozenth try. I'm beginning to think this wasn't a very good idea after all. How much sleep did you get last night?" Dana shook her head, "Enough. I was just lost in thought. Imagining what it must have been like for Mulder to lie here, knowing he was trapped without much hope of rescue--unable to save himself. Knowing what it is like to be completely helpless and vulnerable. To be so alone....for so long...." Skinner was silent, and finally, Scully turned to look at him again. His expression was a worried one, mixed with determination. "There is nothing else to be done here. It's time we left." Scully looked back, back to where she'd found Mulder, her memory providing her with a flash of how he had looked as she had stumbled into the elevator cage and to his side. She flinched involuntarily. Skinner's hand was on her arm, taking her elbow gently, but firmly, "Now Scully. Let's go see Mulder." Dana wanted to resist, but she knew, somehow, that he was right. She had found what she had come for. She allowed herself to be led into the small foyer space in front of the elevator doors, and waited, lost in thought, as Skinner secured the doors once more. Ringo Langly's shaggy blonde head appeared around the corner of the elevator shaft. The third Lone Gunman was paused on the bottom step of the stairway that led down to this level. With a prescience that Scully should have expected from one of the trio, Langly had materialized outside of Casey's Bar at the exact time she had arranged with Skinner the evening before. He had balked when they had decided, after taking one last look at the roof, to come down to this floor, deciding to wait on the ground floor for them to finish whatever it was Scully planned to do in the elevator cage. Apparently the memories of just a few days ago were alive enough in Langly's guilt-stricken brain that he did not feel the need she had to revisit this place. "Agent Scully? Assistant Director Skinner? I just got a call from Byers at the hospital. Mulder had an unexpected visitor a few minutes ago. No trouble, but apparently Mulder isn't doing so well at the moment...his fever has spiked again." "Wait a minute...a visitor? What visitor?" Skinner began, "no trouble?" "It was Cigarette Smoking Man, Byers said. He and Frohike never took their eyes off of him, he didn't do anything to Mulder, in fact, Mulder invited him into his room, over Frohike's protests." "But now Mulder's had a setback." Skinner responded. "I don't believe in coincidences. Scully?" Both men looked at Scully, who stood transfixed, staring at Langly, her eyes large and luminous. "I shouldn't have left him alone," she whispered, and before either man could stop her, her stillness shattered and she was running, past Langly and up the stairs. x End Cursum Perficio (Part 34 of 58) From: Laadolf@aol.com Cursum Perficio (Part 35 of 58) by LAAdolf "Damn!" Even as he took off in pursuit of Agent Scully, Walter Skinner was berating himself for thinking that this visit to the site of Mulder's entrapment and near death might be a therapeutic thing, for Scully; for Langly whose presence he had not expected but had welcomed; and even for himself. For his own part, coming back to this place had enabled him to marvel yet again not only at Mulder's escape from more devastating and disabling injury, but the miracle of his being pulled back from the brink of death by Scully's quick thinking, action and unshakable faith. He also felt some measure of satisfaction that he had pointed out the obstacles to an earlier discovery of Mulder's whereabouts to Langly, uncovered as they had been by the forensic team's minute examination of the elevator shaft, its lighting and structure, all of which had conspired to hide the fallen agent's presence rather than reveal it. Langly still had some issues to grapple within his own psyche, but Skinner hoped that he had taken a first step towards forgiving himself for his perceived culpability. Skinner would have felt completely at ease with their trip here before the shaft was sealed permanently, had it not been for the haunted look that appeared in Scully's expressive eyes as soon as she had stepped back into the elevator cage. In spite of her protestations, he had seen almost immediately that far from ameliorating her own personal demons as regarded the disappearance of her partner, returning to the scene of the "crime" had in fact put her farther into the grip of those demons. "Scully!" Skinner skidded to a halt next to Dana Scully as she fumbled with the keys to her car door. As she snatched at the unlocked door handle, he braced his arm against the door frame, stopping her progress. "Sir!" Dana protested, looking up at him, expression angry, combative. "I don't think you are in any shape to drive right now. Let's hold up for a minute, catch our breath, and think this out." "I've got to get back, Mulder--" Scully argued, her eyes ablaze with indignation. "--Is in the best medical hands in the District--getting yourself killed in a car accident on the way back to the hospital is hardly going to help him at this point." Scully's frustration expressed itself in a scowl and almost pugilistic body language. Her disgust with his assessment of her emotional state was evident, but he could not be sure if the disgust was with him or with herself. "I'm fully capable of driving myself back to the hospital. I'm not some hysteric," she stated. "I know. But I also know you're worried sick about Mulder, so much so that you've spent much of the last hour in state of distraction so deep you weren't responding to outside stimulus. Moving vehicles and distraction spell disaster, Scully. I'll drive you back to the hospital. If it takes that, I'll make it an official order." "What about your car?" "Byers dropped Langly off here on his way to the hospital, Langly needs transportation--he can drive my car over. Here he comes, I'll give him the keys." Without taking his hand from Scully's doorframe, he turned and addressed Langly, tossing the blonde man the keys to his sedan. Langly nodded and waved as he jogged over, climbed in Skinner's car and waited, seeming to prefer that they led the way back to the Mulder's hospital. Skinner swung his gaze back to his recalcitrant agent, meeting her glare boldly. He reached down and put his hand out to her, palm up. Reluctantly, Scully dropped the keys into his hand, and marched to the passenger side of the car. Opening the door and climbing in she crossed her arms over her chest in a defiant action after she belted herself in. Skinner climbed into the driver's seat and immediately was brought to the realization of the differences in their height when his knees impacted the dash. Sparing his now smirking special agent a withering look, he adjusted the seat backwards, started the engine, and drove off on what was to prove to be a rather tense and silent trip the few miles across town. x They arrived on Mulder's floor to find Frohike pacing outside the agent's room while Byers sat stoically in the self designated guard position. Skinner made a concerted effort t o out-pace Scully--not a difficult maneuver when the length of their respective strides was considered-- he arrived at the entry to Mulder's room first, noted the presence of nursing staff within, and turned to Frohike, who paused his pacing and turned a worried scowl on the new arrivals. "How's Mulder?" he asked as Scully came to a halt next to him, Langly close behind her. Her anxious gaze zeroed in on the room's occupant and the activity within. Byers moved out of his chair and came to stand behind Frohike. He spoke in his quiet, calm way, but his expressive eyes radiated worry as plainly as did Frohike's downcast demeanor. "The doctor said this particular complication isn't totally unexpected in the case of injuries like Mulder's, and in light of his experience of the past week, the enforced immobility then and now. He's developed what they call hypostatic--" "--pneumonia," Scully broke in finishing for him. "Caused by factors such as reduced mobility and prolonged unconsciousness which both allow the accumulation of fluid in the lungs. There doesn't need to be any outside contagion introduced, normally benign microorganisms in one's own throat or mouth can be causative, due to the patient's already compromised immunological condition." "But he's been on antibiotics, shouldn't they have been able to stop it?" Skinner was incredulous. Byers glanced at Scully, who remained silent. "Hospitals are hotbeds of antibiotic resistant strains of bacteria--it is possible, therefore, that he picked up something here--even from some of the equipment they've had him hooked up to. At any rate, they are adding additional antibiotic agents to his medication right now aimed at controlling the pneumonia specifically. We should see improvement within 48 to 72 hours, they say." "He's going to be all right, then?" Skinner finally asked. Byers nodded, "It's serious and its a setback, but a manageable one at this point, at least according to the doctors." The assistant director mulled over the information about Mulder's condition for a moment, sparing Scully a concerned glance. She was still focused on the activity within Mulder's room. "Tell me about Cancer Man's visit. What happened, he just showed up?" Frohike nodded, scowling angrily. "Bold as brass. Called himself an old friend of the family and insisted on seeing Mulder. I tried to throw him out--but Mulder invited him in. They spoke for a little while, then he left." "He never approached Mulder closely enough to do him any harm? Just talked to him?" Byers nodded. "He stood at the foot of the bed, never got closer than three feet from the bed itself." "We watched him like hawks the whole time he was in there, and Byers made sure he left the hospital while I went in and checked on Mulder. He was burning up by the time I got to him--he was trying to say something, but he kinda faded out before he could talk. He didn't seem overwrought by anything that happened, just completely worn out." "So this was all coincidental after all." Skinner announced. "Apparently." Byers agreed, "as hard as that is to believe." Skinner paused, looking at Scully for a long, contemplative minute. His gaze floated up to meet Langly's. The two men exchanged a non-verbal communication, Langly nodding and moving closer to Scully, radiating an aura of protectiveness even while his relaxed body language contradicted it. "I think I need to go check on my security detail--I shouldn't have had to hear about this via Langly, though I appreciate your passing the word along." The assistant director announced, as the other man shrugged elegantly. As Skinner moved off to raise hell with his own detachment of undercover security for maintaining too low a profile, he watched as the Lone Gunmen instinctively formed a protective phalanx around Dana Scully. x End Cursum Perficio (Part 35 of 58 From: Laadolf@aol.com Cursum Perficio (Part 36 of 58) by LAAdolf x "Forgive me, son." Fox Mulder turned to face the shadowy form that spoke from somewhere behind him. "Forgive me, Fox..." His father's features emerged from the darkness, a sad expression on the face that had grown old before its time. "Dad...?" Mulder began. He didn't remember how he got here, only that he was searching for something, something that eluded him with maddening ease. In fact, he wasn't sure where here was anymore. "Where....?" "You're going to be fine, boy. Just as good as new," the careworn face looked at him with an indefinable hunger, a yearning that was difficult watch, "Don't worry. That's not why I've come..." "But..." "I want you to know how sorry I am. I wasn't the father you deserved, that I wanted to be. I thought I was doing the best I could for all of us. "But I was wrong. Forgive me, Fox...." Mulder moved forward, wanting to offer comfort to the pain he saw in the well known and loved features, but as he reached out, his father was gone, just as he had been so often in the past... Mulder was alone, again, in the dark. Fox William Mulder awoke to a feeling of loss and despair. His eyes opened slowly, heavily, and he felt the reconnection to his achingbody keenly once more. The room he found himself in was dimly lit and something was strapped over his head onto his face. He reached up to discover that the object was an oxygen mask. Breathing as deeply as he was able, he savored the lungful of warm, moist air, finding it helped dispel the worst of the lassitude he felt. He automatically took several more deep breaths, as though he had not been able to in a while. Perhaps he hadn't-- he didn't know. The last thing he remembered was watching while Cancer Man walked out ofhis room and Frohike and Byers rushed in. He remembered Frohike bending over him worriedly, then nothing more....had something happened? He did not remember the oxygen mask being on when he fell asleep, perhaps something had. Gathering his strength, Mulder attempted to focus his eyes to the dim light and gather what information he could about his surroundings. He sensed that he was still in the same hospital room as before, but couldn't be sure, one looked pretty much like another. He turned his head to the right, toward what he was sure was a window. It did not provide additional light-- must be night--he must have slept the greater part of the day away. His gaze dropped a little lower and fell on Scully. She was sleeping peacefully on the other bed in the room which had, he recalled, been empty since his transfer. Even in the dim light he could see how exhausted she was, how much more drawn she looked than the last time he could remember. Seeing her in a hospital bed once again brought back terrible memories of when she had been so sick. Had something happened to her? What was she doing here this late at night? Skinner had promised he would make sure she went home each night, that there would be no more bedside vigils. Mulder had wanted more, he had wanted her ordered away from this hospital and forbidden to return, had wanted Skinner to remove her from their partnership, from the X-Files, now, while there was still time, before something else could happen. While Skinner had told him that decision was out of his hands, he had promised to watch out for Scully, help to keep her safe and well. No matter how problematic their relationship had been in the past, Mulder had felt that he could trust Skinnerto keep his word on this seemingly small-- but so very important--detail. Mulder felt himself growing angry. "Fox?" a soft, feminine voice spoke from somewhere between his bed and Scully s. Mulder turned his head slightly, surprised to see the features of Margaret Scully looming closer from out of the darkness, "It's all right, Fox." "Mrs..Scully?" His voice was muffled to near indecipherability by the mask, but Scully's mother smiled, grasped his hand and bent over him, smoothing his hair back from his forehead. "Just relax, Fox...you're fine now." she whispered. "We're here with you." Her voice, as low and soft as it was, seemed to have the effect of starting rustlings from what seemed to be every corner of the room. Mulder was bewildered at first, then he realized that there were more people in the room than just himself, Scully and her mother. As he watched, bemused, other figures gathered around him. At first he feared he hadn't really awakened at all, but was in the middle of a nightmare, and that a parade of all the people he had hurt by his actions would process by his bedside, looking at him accusingly. But the features that gathered around and above him were the familiar ones of Frohike, Byers, Langly, and oddly enough, Assistant Director Skinner. Had they all been in the room while he slept the day away, staying until deep into the night where they had all dozed at his bedside? It didn't make sense. He had gotten used to the Lone Gunmen playing security guard outside his room, but other than Scully and occasionally Maggie, he had never awakened to such a congregation of people looming over his bedside. What the hell had happened while he had been out of it? Mulder pulled the oxygen mask away from his face, "What has happened? Is Scully all right?" He looked worriedly from face to face, not forgetting the picture that his partner had presented in the bed a few feet away. (continued in part 37) End Cursum Perficio (Part 36 of 58) From: Laadolf@aol.com Cursum Perficio (Part 37 of 58) by LAAdolf x Before anyone could answer, a small, soft hand was replacing the oxygen mask on his face with a gentle forcefulness. "Scully is just fine, you big idiot." It was Dana's voice, and close by. He turned and saw her pale features bending very close to him now, "You just gave us another scare is all." He realized that her hand had replaced her mother's in his, and she was squeezing reassuringly. "Is he doing all right, Scully?" Frohike asked, a sentiment echoed almost simultaneously by Langly and Byers and even Skinner. "He still seems kinda out of it." "So would you if you'd been fighting off pneumonia for the last forty-eight hours," Scully chided softly. She turned her attention back to her partner, "How do you feel, Mulder?" Mulder allowed his gaze to travel across the features of the six people who ringed his bedside, and pulled the oxygen mask down from his face again. "Like an unexpected guest at my own wake," he commented. Six sets of features lightened in relief and amusement, and there was a round of subdued chuckles from the room's other occupants. "Well, you're sounding more like your old self at least, Agent." Assistant Director Skinner remarked as dryly as his grin would allow. "And you could still be that if you don't leave that mask in place, Mulder." Scully was saying firmly, as she once again settled the apparatus over his face, her hand lingering for the briefest of moments beside his face. "I think we might all be overwhelming Fox by hovering over his bed like we are. Why don't we find the head nurse and let her know he's awake?" Margaret Scully-- perceptive as ever-- announced. The four men looked at her, then with a few clearings of throat, made noises of agreement and began filing out of the room. Maggie paused, trading a significant look at her daughter, before she too stepped away from Mulder's bedside. "Alone at last," Scully noted softly. Mulder did not try to remove the mask again, instead he attempted to enunciate clearly so that he could be understood. "Forty-eight hours? Pneumonia?" he asked, still mulling over the information he'd really been overwhelmed by in Scully's comment to Frohike. Scully nodded, then briefly explained his last missing two days to him--for all that there was to tell. Apparently he'd suffered a not altogether unforeseen complication of his injuries, causing a new round of "musical antibiotics" until an effective combination had been found. While Scully attempted to make light of the missing hours, Mulder was still concerned about the strain that was plainly marking her face, and wondered if he was getting the full story. For his own sake, it didn't matter at all, but for hers, after all he had already put her through.... "What's the last thing you remember?" Scully was finishing her discourse with a question. "Cancer Man came to call." Mulder responded, after a brief pause. There was little point in trying to keep her in the dark about that, doubtless Frohike and Byers had already mentioned Smoky's visit. "Frohike said you invited him in. And that nothing happened. We were afraid at first that maybe he had done something to you." "Mulder shook his head, "We just talked. I tried to let Frohike know nothing had happened, but I guess I didn t get it out." "No. Frohike mentioned as much. Any idea of why he came here to see you? Did he say? Did he want anything?" Mulder shrugged against his pillows. "Only to see for himself that I was on the mend, he said. Guess maybe he hates to lose an enemy through any action not his own." "Are we so sure that this wasn't something he orchestrated?" Scully asked quietly. "He said not. Funny thing is, I do believe him." Mulder admitted. There were a couple of minutes of silence between them, then Mulder spoke again. "What are you doing here in the middle of the night, anyway, Scully? And what about everyone else? Don't any of these people have lives?" Scully looked at him quizzically for a long minute, then apparently deciding that his question was a serious one, she spoke. "Where else would I be? And as for Skinner, the Lone Gunmen, and my mother-- they care about you--where else would they be given the circumstances?" "But you just said that this pneumonia thing wasn't unexpected, why was everyone camped out in this room, then? Did something else happen? Was there an attempt on you or something? Tell me, Scully, I want to know." Mulder persisted. Something more had to be afoot than Scully was admitting. Dana looked at him in undisguised surprise, "You really don't get it do you?" (continued in part 38) End Cursum Perficio (Part 37 of 58) From: Laadolf@aol.com Cursum Perficio (Part 38 of 58) by LAAdolf "Get what?" "That there doesn't have to be a deep mysterious plot behind everyone's actions. That some people might care enough for you as a person to be concerned when you're sick? Mulder, pneumonia--expected or not-- is never a minor thing. The Lone Gunmen, A.D. Skinner and even my mother were here because they consider themselves your friends and want to help, even if it only is by their presence in your room. They wanted to be there for you, Mulder. There have been no attempts on anyone's life since the attack on you. I swear to you." Fox William Mulder looked at his partner closely, mulling over what she had said silently, sensing her sincerity. "We just didn't want you to be alone, Mulder, " Scully continued when he didn't respond. "And you need to know that you aren't. As horrible as isolation in that elevator shaft was, you aren't alone now and you don't have to be alone again." Mulder looked at his partner, considering her words and more importantly the message she was trying to convey to him. Being alone was Scully's terror, that thing that she never spoke of, but which cast its shadow over her life regardless. She had never been able to remember much about her abduction, but the small amount of memory she had or would admit to, involved her being terrified of having been so utterly alone and helpless. For a woman of her independence, capability and courage, it was an understandable reaction to an otherwise unfathomable experience. But for himself, Mulder knew no terror of solitude. It had been his constant companion since the night his sister had been abducted--when the closeness and warmth of family as he had known it had been ripped away forever. She was being haunted by his experience of the past week far more than he was, he finally realized, her empathy for what she believed to be their shared experience causing her more strain than the circumstances warranted. In that moment, in a flash of insight, Mulder understood that his partner held herself responsible for what had happened to him. Hadn't she said something like that as he had awakened before, in the ICU, to find her crying? He had tried to comfort her then, instinctively, without understanding precisely. He had remembered only snatches of what she had said as he had struggled to wake up, urged to consciousness by her tears more than her words. Now that he understood, he would have to try to console her again. Nothing that had happened to him was her fault. "Scully..." he said quietly, turning his hand in hers so that he gripped her fingers in what he hoped was a warm, comforting clasp. Once again, consequences be damned, he pulled down the oxygen mask with his other hand. "I'm used to being alone, it doesn't bother me anymore. It is part of who I am. Whatever I experienced in the elevator shaft, fear wasn't part of it. It wasn't your fault. Or your responsibility. What happened, happened. It's over now. I'm okay with it." Scully looked at him, and opened her mouth as though to speak. But further conversation was interrupted by the arrival of members of the nursing staff and a physician. Whatever she had been going to say was lost in the flurry of activity that followed. x End Cursum Perficio (Part 38 of 58) From: Laadolf@aol.com Cursum Perficio (Part 39 of 58) by LAAdolf x Scully pressed her back against the cool firmness of the wall behind her fighting against a sudden urge to run wildly from this place, this deserted hospital corrider. Away from the room she had stumbled out of just moments before, far away from its occupant. She was aware of a sense of incipient hysteria, a reaction way out of line with the interrupted conversation that had compelled her to remove herself from the room as the swarm of medical personnel summoned by Skinner and the Lone Gunmen entered it. She fought against the irrational flood of emotions stuggling to keep them down and under her control. After all, what had he said? Only that he was not afraid of being alone, that his ordeal had held no torment of fear, and that nothing that had happened over the last week had been her fault. Calm, rational perfectly understandable words. Words she should have been relieved to hear. She should have found them calming, they should have released her from the guilt she had battled this last week. Why then was her reaction so intensely the opposite? "Dana? Are you okay, honey?" It was her mother's voice, "Fox is all right, isn't he?" So deep had been her distraction that she had neither seen nor heard her mother's approach. She looked up and into the warm, concerned eyes. Some of her control slipped, and she found herself dissolving into tears. Her mother's reaction was instinctual; Dana found herself wrapped in a comforting embrace, her mother's loving arms around her, grounding her, soothing away the terror, banishing the urge to run. She found herself coming back to herself, and after a few minutes of uncontrolled sobbing, she somehow found her control once again. "What is it Dana? Did they find something else?" Maggie queried, looking at her daughter carefully as she drew away, wiping the tears off her pale face. "No. Mulder's fine....he's going to be fine. It's me, I'm a coward." Maggie Scully put a hand to her daughter's face, soothing away some of the tear-streaks herself, "You are the bravest person I have ever known. Don't you dare say that about yourself." "But I am, Mom. I'm scared to death-- right now, right here, I've never been so terrified in all my life." "You've been through quite a lot in the last couple of weeks, its only natural that you're feeling fear. Your partner vanished, was nearly killed, and has been terribly ill. Of course you're frightened. Right now nothing seems the same as it always has been, your sense of security has been shattered, you're short on sleep, you're worried sick. Who wouldn't be feeling frightened at a time like this? But it will get better, I promise you." "I don't think so Mom, not this time. I know what I'm afraid of, and I don't see how I can overcome it. It isn't what you think, what you've said. I've analyzed it and while what you say is true--this is something very different....And its not the fear itself that makes me the coward. Itshow I'm choosing to deal with it. Or not deal with it." Scully buried her face in her hands for a moment, when she looked up, her expression was as hopeless as her mother had ever seen it. "I don't understand. Tell me about it. Let me try to help..." Maggie offered, heart wrenched at the torment she sensed in her daughter. "I don't think you can. I'm not even sure I understand it myself. It's Mulder. He frightens me." "Fox?" Maggie said gently, trying to square what her daughter was telling her with what she knew to be true of Dana's relationship with her partner. "I told you I don't understand it. I've never been closer to anyone in my life, and I accept who and what he is, but I can't control the fear that comes with that acceptance. He's always running away--towards something I don't understand. And I don't mean that in any sense of escape, he isn't running away from anything, he's running towards it, always towards it. And that is the one thing that frightens me the most. Because the one place he's focussed on moving toward is the one place I can't find it in myself to follow. And I don't deal with it. I don't deal with it at all." "Where is that, Dana, help me to understand?" Scully took a deep breath and sighed, shaking her head ruefully, groping for words that did not exist for the emotions she found herself feeling. "Towards the truth, yes, it does lie there I'm sure of it. But I'm not sure that the truth is worth where it leads...." "Dana, I'm trying to follow, but its not making sense...." Maggie ached for the pain her daughter obviously felt. "I know, Mom. It doesn't to me either. But it leads to solitude and death. And he embraces it, welcomes it, believes it is nothing less than he deserves. And as much as I want to, I'm not sure I can deal with that. I told you I was a coward." Maggie shook her head vehemently, reaching out to enfold her daughter in a fierce hug. There were no words to answer, no comforting platitudes that would help. Her daughter had already committed herself to the task that lay ahead of her, whether she realized it or not. All Maggie could offer was more of what was causing the anguish--and she poured every ounce of her being into expressing her love. x End Cursum Perficio (Part 39 of 58)