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This author's e-mail address has changed to: rn500@usa.net
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From:             rn500@ozline.net (MS LINDA D PHILLIPS)
Date sent:        Fri,  6 Mar 1998 16:09:41, -0500

TITLE: Days of Future Past
AUTHOR: Linda Phillips
RATING: R 
SPOILERS: Redux, ReduxII
CLASSIFICATION: S / R / A
KEYWORDS: MSR
SUMMARY: An evil from the past uses Scully for Mulder-
bait, and Mulder goes off the deep end over the suffering he's 
caused her. Can he ever let go of the past long enough to see 
what's right in front of him? A veritable Angst-O-Rama!
DISCLAIMER: X-Files and it's characters belong to 1013 
Productions, Chris Carter, and Fox Television. No 
infringement intended.


~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^


About 3 a.m.

        Sirens.

        "Thank God" Scully let out in a murmured breath. She 
looked down at Mulder, his upper body cradled in her arms, 
and blood, so much blood... his eyes were shut, his face pasty 
white. His breaths were coming in short gasps, with a catch in 
the rhythm before letting out each gulp of air, a second in time 
that felt like it stretched to infinity.

        catch...exhale
        catch...exhale
        catch...exhale

        Silence.

        "Mulder!"

        catch...exhale

        <oh God, hurry
        oh God, hurry... >

         The mantra repeated itself relentlessly in her mind. 
He was so heavy. Scully's body ached with the weight of 
holding him up. But she knew that he would breathe easier 
like this than lying flat on the cold concrete. Her left arm was 
beneath his neck, his lower back lying against her kneeling 
legs. Her injured right arm was across his chest, her blood 
soaked hand struggling to stay put on the sucking wound over 
his left ribcage. Suddenly, Mulder opened his eyes.

        "Hurts...Scully..."

        "I know. Hang on, hang on, the ambulance is coming. 
Hang on Mulder."

        He reached one hand up and grabbed tight onto her 
arm that lay on his chest, and Scully let out a moan of pain. 
His eyes widened, focused on hers, panicky, the way she had 
seen patients get when they couldn't get enough air into their 
lungs.

        <He's afraid.> She felt tears sting her eyes.

        <don't cry don't cry don't cry>

        She spoke evenly and firmly, belying her own 
escalating fear.

        "Mulder, listen to me. It's gonna be okay. The bullet 
went through your lung, that's why you're having a hard time 
catching your breath." She took a deep breath to steady her 
voice.. <Calm, calm...>  "We can fix that, okay? You're gonna 
be alright."

        Scully's eyes left his for a brief moment as she 
watched the pool of blood that had been gathering under him 
break through its self made barrier. It began to trickle in a 
slow, narrow stream toward the center of the room.

        catch...exhale....

        catch...exhale...

        <oh God, hurry....>

        *********************
5 hours earlier...

        He was having a hard time staying quiet. Every time 
he thought his plan through, he wanted to chuckle. Hand over 
his mouth, he watched through the crack he'd left in the door. 
It was  cramped in the closet, and his legs were starting to 
ache. He shifted his weight just a bit. 

         <Ahh, that's better.>

        His heart jumped as he saw her go into the bathroom. 
This was perfect! He could see right into the bathroom from 
here. And right on time too. This chick was nothing if not 
predictable, he thought, as his vigil over the last few days had 
proved.  10 p.m., bathroom light on.  10:45 p.m., bathroom 
light off. 
        
        He watched as she started her bath water. As the tub 
filled, she looked in the mirror and brushed her hair. 

        Such lovely hair it was too.  

        Her back turned to him, she unzipped her slacks. He 
licked his lips as she pushed them down over her hips, 
dropping them to the floor. An ache rose  in his groin as she 
leaned over to pick them up, and he got a view of that lovely 
satin covered ass.

        <Stay with it, Buddy. You gotta be ready. Don't get 
distracted.>

        It was almost time. His adrenaline pumping, he 
slowly, silently pulled up to a crouch, poised like a wound 
spring. Knife in a steel grip. Eyes clear and wide open. Ready.

        She started to unbutton her blouse.

         One button. 

        Two.

        Go.

        He barely caught the look on her face as she spun 
around. But he didn't need to see it. It was a look he knew all 
too well. The look he lived for.

        Fear.

        In a split second of time, he was at her, throwing her 
back against  the wall with a loud thud. His forearm came up 
against her throat with just enough pressure to make her gasp 
a little. The other hand brought the glinting metal up to her 
cheek. Her eyes huge with alarm, she didn't say a word. He 
leaned a little harder into her neck,  until she choked and 
gulped for air. He smiled at her.

        "Agent Scully, I presume?" 

        The look in her eyes turned from fear to anger. He let 
the pressure off enough for her to speak. 

        "What do you want?" her voice  hoarse, but strong.

        "Oh what a little spitfire! I love redheads!" The man's 
face was inches from hers. She could smell his breath, rank 
and sour. "What do I want?" he continued. "Well, you'll find 
out soon enough. Soon enough."

        "How did you get in here?"  Scully's eyes darted 
around the room, taking in any possibilities of escape. <Keep 
him talking...keep him talking...>.

        "Your super was only too happy to give me the key to 
your apartment, after I...gave him a little motivation." He 
noticed her eyes brighten with hope. "But he won't be calling 
the cops for you. He's sort of...dead." He smiled again, a cruel 
twist of his lips that made a chill run up Scully's spine.  "Agent 
Scully, you can stop looking around for a way to save 
yourself. You're not getting away from me."  He brought the 
knife up near her right eye, resting the tip against the tender 
flesh next to it. A little pressure...just a little...and a drop of 
blood welled and spilled down her cheek. Scully didn't move a 
muscle, didn't flinch with the pain. 

        "My, the stories about you are true aren't they!" His 
eyes gleamed. "You're something else! If the circumstances 
were different, I might take the time to find out...a little more 
about you."  Scully kept her eyes firmly on his as he slowly 
dropped the arm that had been against her throat, the hand 
crawling down her chest and stopping to rest between her 
breasts. 

        "What do you want from me?"  Pushing down her 
panic, Scully was trying to memorize everything she could 
about his face. Light blue eyes, blond hair, balding, front 
bottom tooth missing. Small scar on right cheek. Acne scars. 
About 8 inches taller than she.

        <Bastard. No fear, show him no fear...>

        His hand lightly touched her right breast, caressing it, 
and Scully felt the bile rising in her throat. He matched her 
stare as his hand continued on it's travels, down her 
abdomen, finally reaching around to her buttocks. He gave 
her a squeeze and let out a little sigh. 

        "Oh, my. Well, as fine a specimen as you are, I am 
on a rather tight schedule, doctor. So, I'm afraid there won't 
be any hanky panky."  He leaned in closer to her. Scully 
turned away as she felt a wet tongue slide up the side of her 
face.  "Not right now anyway," he whispered into her ear. He 
brought the knife to her throat. Suddenly his voice was deadly 
serious. "Put your pants on babe. We've got things to do."  
Scully slowly leaned over to retrieve her slacks off the towel 
rack where she had left them, the knife tight at her throat all 
the time. One leg, two. Zip.

        With his free hand, the man grabbed her roughly by 
the arm and pulled it up behind her back until she let out a 
soft moan. He pushed her toward the bedroom, and Scully felt 
the panic rise as she tried to decide how hard she would fight 
him. They stopped near the head of the bed, and she closed 
her eyes for a moment, anticipating his next move. He 
suddenly turned her toward the bed and pushed her forward, 
pinning her arms behind her as she lay face down.

        <Oh God Oh God Oh God...>

        Over the pounding in her ears, Scully heard the quiet 
squeak of the drawer in her bedside table as it opened. She 
knew immediately what he was after. Her gun. 

        She hoped he couldn't hear her voice trembling. 
"Look, you don't have to..."

        "Shut up!"  And she felt her arms being yanked back 
until she was standing upright. He again anchored her left arm 
behind her back, and this time she felt the blunt hardness of a 
gun barrel in her ribs. They maneuvered  to the living room, 
and over to her desk. He motioned to the telephone.

        "Push the speaker button."

        With her  free hand she did as he said.

        "Now dial Mulder's number. And I have it memorized, 
so if I see you push one wrong button, well, let's just say you 
won't be happy with your new face." His eyes were steely, the 
eyes of a madman.  She hesitated for a moment, and he 
showed a fraction of the savagery that Scully could tell lurked 
just beneath the surface.  "Don't fuck with me Scully! You 
don't know me, but when you do, you'll see that I'm not known 
for my patience!"

        "Ok, Ok, I'm dialing."

        Scully dialed the familiar number with a trembling 
hand. <God, don't let him be home.>

        "Good girl. Now don't speak until I say so, you got 
that?"  She nodded.

        One ring. Two. Three. Scully closed her eyes and 
prayed.

        "Mulder."

        <Oh shit.>

        She couldn't see the smile spread over the face of the 
man standing behind her, couldn't see his eyes light up.

        "Hello? Is anybody there?"

        "What's the matter Mulder, don't you have caller ID?" 
the man snarled.

        "Who is this?"

        "Why, it's an old friend of yours Agent Mulder." His 
voice dripped with venom. " An old, old friend. I've been away 
for a while. But you'll recognize me when you see me."

        On the other end of the line, something in the man's 
voice made Mulder snap to attention. He'd had his share of 
crank calls before, but his number was unpublished, and this 
was obviously someone who had access to information about 
him. He couldn't place the voice, but somewhere in his 
unconscious mind an alarm button went off. He cursed 
himself for the hundredth time for never having that caller ID 
installed. Something told him that he'd better play along for 
now.

        "And why will I be seeing you?" Mulder asked.

        "Because I have something you want. And if you'd 
like to get it back, you'll have to come and get it personally."

        <Damn!> Mulder's mind was racing now, trying to find 
the voice in the myriad of connections that was running 
through his mind. He kept his voice calm.

        "Look, friend. I'm not in the mood to play games."

        The man's voice was a hiss on the other end of the 
line. "Neither am I, Mulder. Neither am I."  What Mulder heard 
next made him go numb.

        A small moan. Then her voice. "Mulder..."

        "Scully?" Mulder fought his escalating alarm. "Alright, 
what the fuck's going on? Who are you and what do want?"

        "Think back, Mulder. Your first big case. I'm so 
disappointed that you don't recognize my voice! I  *made*  
you, Agent Mulder! Put you on the fast track!"

        Mulder was suddenly nauseous.

        "Jackson?" 

        "Finally! I knew you could do it, Mulder."

        <Oh Jesus!> Mulder ran his hand over his now 
perspiring face, willed himself to think.

        "Jackson, it's me you want to settle the score with. 
Leave her out of it!" He was scrambling now, grasping for 
straws. Mulder knew damn well that Jackson wouldn't let her 
go.

        "Oh, I don't think so, Agent Mulder. I've already 
invited her to our little soiree. It wouldn't be nice of me to 
leave her behind now, would it?"

        "Alright, alright! Just tell me what you want!"

        Buddy Jackson smiled. He had Mulder by the balls, 
and they both knew it. Oh, this was going to be sweet! "Listen 
carefully. You wait twenty minutes. Then you leave your place 
and go to 156 South Drummond Street. And be alone, 'cause 
I'll be watching. If you're not, she gets a facelift. You 
understand me, Mulder? One wrong move..."

        "Alright!"

        "Good. I'll be waiting." 

        Jackson jerked his head toward the phone, motioning 
for Scully to push the off button. As she leaned toward the 
phone, she quickly whispered, "Mulder, don't..."

        Jackson pulled up on the arm behind her back. Scully 
bit her lip but couldn't keep a groan from escaping. It was the 
last sound Mulder heard before the line went dead. He 
slammed the phone down and struggled to keep from tearing 
it out of the wall.

        <Jesus, Jesus, Jesus....>

        He looked at the clock. 9:32. Twenty minutes. Mulder 
grabbed his weapon, holstered it. He strode quickly into his 
bedroom and yanked open a drawer in a little used dresser. 
Rummaging through with his hand, a relieved sigh escaped as 
he found what he was looking for. Pulling up the leg of his 
sweats, he strapped on a leg holster and tucked the small gun 
into it.

        Pacing...

        <Think, Mulder, think!>
 
        9:39.

        Jackson. His first major case as a profiler, it had been 
almost seven years since Mulder had last set eyes on Edward 
"Buddy" Jackson as the man was being led off to prison. But 
Mulder would never forget the way Jackson looked at him 
across the courtroom. His eyes were piercing, and his mouth 
turned up in a sneer. Mulder knew the man wanted a piece of 
him. And as with most psychopaths, Jackson had felt no 
remorse for his heinous crimes, and he blamed Mulder for the 
fact that he would spend the rest of his contemptible life 
locked up.

        Mulder's skin suddenly went cold, his arms covered in 
gooseflesh. He had no doubt that Jackson would do exactly 
as he threatened, and more. Jackson was a man with no 
conscience, as his previous misdeeds had proven. The crime 
scene photos flashed through Mulder's mind. An entire family 
wiped out,  father, mother, two young daughters. But not 
before the two girls had been tortured and sexually assaulted. 
And that case was only the last in a spree of viciousness that 
had lasted for over 2 years. The man was a monster. 

        9:43.

        Jackson was supposed to spend the rest of his life in 
prison, rot there, die there. The world was safe from one more 
maniac. But obviously something had gone terribly wrong. 
And now he was back, to take his revenge against Mulder. 

        And, once again, Scully was being used to get to him. 

        Drummond Street. Mulder tried to picture that part of 
town, remembering it as a run down section of buildings, 
mostly a vacant industrial area. A perfect hiding place. It was 
closer to Scully's apartment than to Mulder's, Scully and 
Jackson would be there in no time, waiting for him.

        9:47.

        "Fuck!"

        <Hang on, Scully> was Mulder's last thought before 
he ran out the door.

        **********

        The lantern sat just to the right of Scully, the small 
flame casting a dim glow around her still form. Her shadow 
loomed off to the left, and she stared into it, trying to form 
some kind of plan. But Jackson had orchestrated this well, 
and at first glance he seemed to have covered all of his 
bases. For him to have planned this so calculatingly, he 
obviously had help from the outside. From his conversation 
on the phone with Mulder, Scully had been able to put 
together a little about what had brought Jackson to her 
apartment that night. He had it in for Mulder, and she was to 
be the bait. She had said prayer after silent prayer as they 
waited, hoping Mulder would think with his head instead of his 
heart and not rush in to rescue her.

        But she already knew which would prevail.

        Jackson had said little on the way here. He just sat 
next to her in her car as she drove, gun shoved in her side, 
eyes wide and watchful as he told her which way to turn. She 
had quickly disposed of her idea to crash the car when he 
refused to let her put on her seat belt. 

        "You think I'm an idiot, Scully?" he'd snorted. "You 
just drive like a good little girl and maybe you'll come out of 
this alive."

        So she did, hoping along the way that someone would 
notice her panic stricken face through the car window. But, of 
course, no one did. Any passer by that gave a quick glance in 
their direction probably took them for a romantic couple who 
couldn't sit close enough together. The thought made her 
want to vomit.

        Scully's heart sank as they pulled up in front of the 
hulking shell of a building. The entire area was dark with 
broken street lamps and the skeletons of decaying brick 
structures. There would be no one to notice them here, and if 
she dared to scream, the sound would dissipate into the night 
unheeded.

        So Scully sat on the cold floor, legs drawn up, a pair 
of old handcuffs around her wrists, waiting, her mind 
frantically trying to come up with a plan. She wouldn't be able 
to make any verbal appeals to Jackson, she was already 
painfully aware that he was not going to respond to that. The 
best she could hope for was that he would make a mistake 
somehow, lose his focus for a moment, and she and Mulder 
would have to be ready to act on it if they could.

        She turned her head just slightly to the right, enough 
to see the glint of the gun trained on her from several feet 
away. Jackson stood back behind some abandoned 
machinery, a quiet ghostly shadow, waiting to meet his old 
enemy.

        Scully drew in a sharp breath as she heard a noise. It 
was deathly silent in the old building, the slightest sound sent 
echoes glancing off the high ceiling and walls. There was no 
way Mulder would be able to sneak in. Slow footsteps 
sounded on the metal stairway that Scully had also climbed to 
reach here. They stopped just short of the top. She heard 
Mulder's voice call out.

        "Alright, Jackson, I'm here. Now what do you want?

        Jackson spoke from the shadows, eerily calm. "Come 
and join us Mulder. Don't keep me waiting."

        "Where's Scully?"

        "She's right here, at the end of my gun. Say 
something, Doctor."

        Scully swallowed hard, her mouth a desert of sand. 
"Mulder, don't..."

        "That's enough! Now get in here, Mulder. We've got 
unfinished business."

        Mulder's voice was an angry boom from the darkness. 
"You send her out here, Jackson, and you can have me free 
and clear!"

        Jackson laughed. "You're a regular knight in shining 
armor, aren't you Mulder? She's not going anywhere, and you 
know it. Now get your ass up here!"

        Silence rang out from the stairway where Mulder 
waited. Scully listened for any sound, but all she heard was 
the roar of her own heartbeat in her ears. After what was 
surely only a minute, but seemed like a hundred, Jackson 
growled out an order.

        "Stand up, Scully."

        For a split second as she rose, Scully's spirit lifted. 
<He's gonna let me go!> Then she turned to face him, and 
saw the look in his eyes as he moved forward just enough so 
that she could make out his face. The gun was straight out in 
front of him, steadied in both hands, as his thumb slowly 
pulled back the hammer. It was pointing right between her 
eyes.

        "Mulder, I have your pretty partner in front of me, 
bravely standing like a good soldier awaiting her fate. If you 
are not in this room in five seconds, I will start with her left 
arm, and work clockwise until she is a quadriplegic. Scully, tell 
him I mean it."

        An image of Donnie Pfaster flashed before her eyes, 
and Scully knew she was once again staring at pure evil. She 
stood silent, bracing her trembling knees for what was to 
come.

        Jackson's face contorted as he spat out his order 
again. "Tell him, you bitch!"

        "Wait!"

        Scully closed her eyes at the sound of Mulder's voice, 
then opened them and willed herself to watch Jackson for a 
chance to run. Jackson turned his head a bit toward the 
sounds of Mulder's footsteps entering the room, still keeping 
the gun on Scully in his peripheral vision. Jackson motioned 
for her to sit back down, and her knees buckled as she 
lowered herself. She squinted her eyes to make out Mulder's 
figure as he entered across the room, his gun drawn. His eyes 
immediately settled on her face, the blood dried in a trail from 
the small cut near her eye. Even in the dimness she could see 
the line of his jaw tighten at the sight. Jackson remained in 
the shadow of the machinery, out of Mulder's view. 

        "Are you alright?" Mulder asked quickly. She nodded.

        Jackson's voice echoed out from the darkness. "Put 
your gun down, Mulder."

        Scully met Mulder's eyes, silently pleading with him 
not to do it. Mulder swung his gun in the direction of Jackson's 
voice.

        "I said, put it down."

        "Not until you let her go."

        A flash, a crack like thunder...

        ...Mulder's voice... "No!"...

        ... then the burn. Scully looked down at where she felt 
the fire, surprised to see blood welling from a spot halfway 
between the shoulder and elbow of her right arm. She looked 
back up at Mulder as he ran toward her, her mind 
momentarily foggy. Her mouth opened to speak, but no words 
would form. Before Mulder could reach her, Jackson stepped 
out from his hiding place with the gun now squarely aimed at 
his nemesis. Mulder skidded to a stop, gun at his side, his 
eyes flaming.

        "I told you to put down your gun, didn't I? This is your 
fault, Mulder."

        Mulder slowly leaned down and placed his gun on the 
floor.

        "Now, kick it over here."

        Mulder did as instructed. Jackson reached down, 
grabbed the gun and pocketed it. Scully made a soft noise, 
and Mulder turned his attention back to her.

        "For God's sake, Jackson, let me go to her!"

        Jackson curled up his lip and snorted. "Yeah, why not. 
Lemme see one last lover's embrace."

        In one stride Mulder closed the last few feet between 
them and knelt down. He looked in her eyes, and was relieved 
to see them clear again. He gingerly touched the arm, his 
fingers coming away wet with her blood. Scully held her hand 
tightly over the wound to slow the bleeding, her other hand 
locked close in the cuffs.

        "I'm alright, Mulder. I think it just went through the 
tissue - I can move it, I don't think the bone's broken."

        Mulder looked intently into Scully's eyes. She was 
calmed by it, and recognized the expression. It said 'I am 
going to get us out of here.'  She believed him.

        Mulder turned away from her and stood to face 
Jackson again. When Mulder spoke, his tone was menacing. 

        "There's no way you will get away with this."

        A slow smile spread across Jackson's face. "Mulder, I 
am  *not*  going back to prison. They'll have to kill me first. 
So you see, I have nothing to lose." He paused for a moment, 
the smile vanishing.  "I may die today. But not before I see 
you suffer."

        "Fine. But let her go. She's done nothing to you."

        Jackson cocked an eyebrow at Mulder. "Not yet. I 
don't think I'm quite done with her. She's a juicy little peach - I 
may just have to take a bite."

        Mulder's vision blurred and he felt rage boil up in him 
like he'd never felt before. His mind was spinning. He forced 
himself to breathe slowly, every exhalation a dagger aimed at 
Jackson's heart. He coerced his voice to speak.

        "At least let me help her lie down over there." Mulder 
jerked his head toward a row of boxes a few yards away. "Let 
her get off the cold floor. She's going to go into shock."

        Jackson hesitated a moment before he consented. 
"Yeah, fine. Hurry up."

        Mulder turned back to Scully and knelt down in front 
of her. He locked on her eyes once again, and she held onto 
them. Mulder gently pulled her hands away from the wound 
and brought them down. Scully winced at the movement but 
kept her eyes on his. He held her hands between his own and 
spoke slowly.

        "It'll be okay, Scully."

        He guided her hands to brush against his pant leg 
near the ankle, and instantly she knew. 

        "It'll be okay," he whispered again.

        She glanced over Mulder's shoulder at Jackson. He 
was about five feet away, his attention and gun still on 
Mulder. She would have one chance. If she blew it, they were 
both dead. Her hands slid up under Mulder's pant leg and 
wrapped around the handle of the gun. She and Mulder 
locked eyes one more time. He pretended to struggle a bit to 
help her up, then she felt him put a little upward pressure on 
her forearms. She went up to a crouch, then snapped her 
arms up over Mulder's right shoulder and fired.

        Scully felt Mulder suddenly lean forward as she 
emptied the clip into Jackson's midsection. The madman's 
expression changed to one of surprise as his gun dropped and 
fell to the floor with a clatter, and for a moment he swayed on 
his feet. Then Buddy Jackson crumpled to the floor and was 
silent. In a matter of a few seconds, their nightmare was over.

        Or so Scully thought.

        Mulder slumped past her right shoulder and fell 
forward on his hands. As if in slow motion, Scully watched him 
drop slowly to the floor, his face coming to rest against the 
concrete. She reached to him.

        "Mulder?"

        No response. She heard his breathing, short raggedy 
gasps.

        "Oh my God... Mulder!"

        Her mind screaming against the pain in her arm, she 
pulled him onto his back. His eyes were open, and he stared 
vacantly at the ceiling. Even in the dull light, she could see a 
stain spreading across the left side of his sweatshirt. For a 
moment she simply stared at the budding dark bloom, her 
mouth open, her mind a blank.

        <Help... get help...>

        Jesus, where would she find help in this God-forsaken 
place? Then, hoping against hope, she patted Mulder down. A 
relieved rush of air left her lungs as her hand felt the familiar 
rectangular bulk of his cell phone, clipped on the inside of the 
waist of his sweatpants. Quickly, Scully removed it and dialed 
911. It took a few moments for her to describe the area where 
they were, the address she'd heard hours ago long lost to her 
frazzled mind. Then, tossing the phone aside, she hurried 
over to where Jackson lay. Blindly, she stuck her hand in one 
of his pockets and groped to the bottom of it. Nothing.

        "Shit shit shit!"

        Another pocket, and her hand came out with a wad of 
cash. She threw it aside and, grunting, rolled him over to 
check his back pockets. 

        Finally- the keys! She twisted her hands awkwardly to 
get at the lock of one cuff and swung it free, then the other. 
Mulder groaned, and she rushed back and leaned over him. 
He was still conscious, his eyes blinking repeatedly. He 
looked confused, as if he'd awakened in a strange place and 
was trying to make sense of how he'd arrived. Tears welled in 
Scully's eyes, and she blinked them back, not wanting to 
frighten him. Instinctively, she converted to doctor-mode, 
pulling up Mulder's shirt and assessing his wound. He was 
struggling to fill his lungs, and she quickly saw why. The bullet 
had torn through his lung, and with each breath he took, air 
was rushing into the normally vacuous non-space between the 
lung and the pleura,  effectively causing the lung to collapse. 
She carefully pulled his upper body up to rest across her 
knees, cradling him in her arms as best she could while trying 
to keep her hand over the wound. He closed his eyes, and she 
focused on his breathing, her own catching in her throat with 
each of his. He would not die this way, not on a dirty cement 
floor in the middle of a cold night. No! She would not let him 
die. She would not.

        "Mulder..." She struggled to keep her voice even. 
"Stay with me. Stay with me."

        Were those sirens she heard wailing far in the 
distance? Or her own pleading cries?

        "Stay with me, Mulder...stay with me..."

        *************************************

        "I want to see Agent Mulder."

        "Are you his wife?" the clerk at the desk asked, not 
looking up from her paperwork.

        "No," Scully said, then silently berated herself.

        The young woman looked up at Scully. "I'm sorry, 
ma'am. He's still in recovery. You're not allowed back there."

        Scully closed her eyes  for a moment and took a deep 
breath, blowing it out between pursed lips. After 4 hours in the 
emergency room, x-rays, blood work, cleaning and dressing 
the wound on her arm, giving statements to the police, all the 
while worried and trying to find out about Mulder's condition, 
she was in no mood for this. 

        "Look, I'm a doctor. I'm also Agent Mulder's partner. I 
need to see him."

        "Ma'am, I'm sorry, I told you...Hey! You can't go back 
there! Hey!"

        Scully strode purposefully past the woman at the desk 
and pushed open one of  the double doors that said 'No 
Admittance'. Turning left, she followed the voices that she 
heard until she found the post-surgical recovery area. Several 
faces turned to look at her, and suddenly she realized what a 
fright she must look. She ran her hand through tangled hair 
and looked down at her clothes. Not only was she the only 
person standing who was not dressed in green scrubs, but her 
sweater and jeans were stained with dried blood. As she 
looked up again, a woman approached her.

        "Can I help you?" The gray haired woman's eyes were 
full of concern.

        "I'm Agent Scully with the FBI. I'm also a medical 
doctor. Agent Mulder is my partner. I'd like to see him, 
please."

        The woman looked at her a moment, then nodded. 
"Sure. Come this way." She led Scully down to the end of a 
row of stretchers where a figure lay swathed in blankets, tubes 
and monitors surrounding him. Scully slowed to a stop a few 
feet away.

        "Oh, Mulder..." It came out in a sad breath. 

        "Agent Scully?"

        She turned with a start as a tall dark haired man in 
surgical scrubs approached her. He carried a chart in his 
hands and was flipping through it as he walked.

        "Yes, I'm Dana Scully."

        "I'm Dr. McIntyre. Dr. Warren and I did the surgery on 
your partner." He motioned for her to step away from Mulder's 
bedside, and she followed him a few yards away to a small 
desk. He pulled a chair out for Scully, then sat down across 
from her. Dr. McIntyre leaned back in the chair and folded his 
arms over his chest as he let out a sigh.

        "Well, removing the bullet was a fairly straightforward 
procedure. As I'm sure you knew, it punctured his left lower 
lobe and also broke a rib. But he had already lost an awful lot 
of blood, and we had difficulty keeping him stabilized during 
the surgery..."

        Scully sat completely still, her face impassive as she 
listened to technical details of the surgery. But in her lap, she 
squeezed her hands together tightly to stop the trembling. 
Scenes flashed in her mind; Jackson going down and Mulder 
falling, blood everywhere, and Mulder's face as she held him, 
so frightened. 

        "...Agent Scully, are you okay?"

        She blinked a few times and took a deep breath. 
"Yes, yes I'm fine."

        "Well then, umm, as I was saying, we had to give him  
several units of blood, and his pressure is still somewhat  
unstable, but I think he'll be alright. I'm admitting him to the 
ICU from here."

        "Yes...yes, that's good," Scully said absently, her eyes 
focused over the doctor's shoulder on Mulder's still figure on 
the stretcher. 

        'I think he'll be alright...'

        They were the only words she really heard.

        Her shoulders slumped, and her eyes closed for a 
moment. Suddenly she was exhausted. She opened her eyes 
and forced herself to look at Dr. McIntyre, giving  him an 
appreciative smile. "Thank you, so much." They both stood, 
he to turn his attention to other patients and she to return to 
Mulder's side. A nurse was at his bedside, checking monitors 
and IV's, then slipping her stethoscope beneath the sheet to 
listen to Mulder's chest. When she finished, Scully reached 
out to the nurse.

        "May I?"

        The nurse looked at her a little oddly, then smiled and 
handed Scully the stethoscope. Scully slipped the earpieces 
on and pulled the sheet back just a bit. Mulder's heartbeat was 
strong and regular, a repetitive reassurance that, once again, 
they had cheated that dark angel that so often stalked them. A 
wave of relief washed over her, and for a moment she felt her 
knees go soft. Leaning against the stretcher, she took the 
stethoscope off and gave it back to the nurse. Scully studied 
Mulder's pale face for a moment, and her hand reached up 
tentatively to touch his cheek where a smudge of blood 
remained. She bent and kissed him gently on the forehead,  
then turned again to the nurse nearby.

        "I'm going to go home and get cleaned up. If he 
wakes up, tell him I'll be right back, ok?"

        "I will. Drive carefully."

        Scully smiled weakly and walked away. She made it 
to the parking lot before she remembered that she had come 
here in an ambulance and her car was somewhere in the 
bowels of the city, or by now perhaps towed to the police 
station for evidence. Walking back in to the ER desk, she 
asked them to call a cab for her.

        An hour and fifteen minutes later Scully opened the 
door to Mulder's apartment, after explaining to the super 
some bare details of what had happened. She couldn't bear 
the thought of going home right now, such as it was. By now 
there likely  was a yellow police tape across her door, and with 
the knowledge that monster had been lurking there and that 
investigators had by this time completely invaded her privacy, 
it made her nauseous to even think of returning. Scully went 
directly to the shower and turned it on, letting the water 
become hot and steamy. She dropped her bloody clothes to 
the floor and hoped that she would be able to find something 
in Mulder's closet that she could wear. Stepping into the 
shower, she let the water drench her, over her hair and face, 
and she clenched her teeth as it soaked the dressing on her 
arm and stung the wounded flesh beneath. The water swirled 
pink around her feet as Mulder's blood mingled with her own 
and was washed away. Every muscle in her body ached, 
every nerve screamed out for rest. But she had to hurry and 
get back to the hospital, she didn't want Mulder to wake up 
with no one there. She washed her hair and soaped her body, 
scrubbing and scrubbing until her skin was an angry pink and 
tears began to burn her eyes, tears that bled like an open vein 
and would not be stopped. She dropped the soap and leaned 
her face against the cool tile as she wept and her body 
shuddered and trembled, and a cry escaped her in a voice 
that she did not recognize as her own.

        **********************  

        There were faces, and voices. They would ebb and 
flow like a swirling sea, and Mulder sometimes wondered if he 
were drowning. Darkness would overtake him, and the pain 
would ease. Then he would reach and claw and struggle to 
the surface, and the light hurt his eyes, and sometimes he 
would see faces he didn't know and it frightened him. The 
panic set in, and he felt his heart racing. He tried to cry out, 
"Where am I?", but he could never hear his own voice. Then  
he felt a warm hand touch his head, and heard a soothing 
voice he recognized, and he would sleep again.

        Then one time he broke the surface, and he stayed.

        Mulder blinked his eyes several times, taking in his 
surroundings. He quickly realized he was in a hospital room. 
He took a deep breath, and the stabbing pain in the left side 
of his chest suddenly brought the memories rushing back. His 
hand fell against something on his bed, and he looked down 
to see Scully leaning on the mattress, asleep, her head 
resting on her folded arms. His movements woke her, and for 
a moment she looked into his eyes and said nothing. Then a 
slow smile started to spread across her lips, and she moved 
closer to the head of the bed. Mulder's hand went up 
instinctively and lay against her cheek, his fingers feeling the 
planes of her face as he tried to discern what was real and 
what was part of the nightmare that he'd been in. A soft laugh 
escaped her, and she covered his hand with her own.

        "Yes, it's me Mulder."

        "Are you..." He tried to speak but discovered his 
throat was sore and horribly dry. Scully reached for a small 
cup and brought the straw to his lips.

        "Here, have a drink... just a sip."

        Mulder drank the heavenly water and cleared his 
throat. Then he looked at her again as he spoke.

        "Are you alright?" His voice was raspy and hoarse.

        "Yes, I'm fine. It barely got me, they just bandaged 
me up and sent me on my way with antibiotics. I didn't put on 
quite the show that you did."

        "Sorry," he croaked.

        "Oh, sure. You're always trying to get attention." 

        Mulder's mouth started to turn up in a weak smile, 
when he suddenly remembered. His eyes grew wide as he 
turned to Scully.

        "Jackson?"

        "He's dead, Mulder. It's over."

        Mulder closed his eyes and let out a sigh. "What day 
is this?" he asked.

        "It's Wednesday. You've been pretty much out of it for 
the past 3 days. Your lung was punctured, and they removed 
the bullet in surgery and put a chest tube in. That's why it's 
still hurting so much. But you're gonna be ok."

        He opened his eyes and looked at her again. "You've 
been here the whole time, haven't you? I remember..."

        Scully just smiled. She looked so tired, he thought. 
Dark shadows were smudged beneath her eyes, and her 
normal peaches and cream skin was drawn and pale.

        "Scully, you go home and get some sleep."

        "I'm fine, Mulder."

        "Please? I'll just worry about you if you stay."

        "And I'll worry about you if I go."

        Mulder closed his eyes again. His eyelids were so 
heavy, he was having a hard time keeping them open. He 
reached his hand out, and she took it in hers.

        "Scully, listen to me..." his voice trailing off in a 
whisper as a drugged slumber overtook him again.

        "I am, Mulder," she whispered. "I am."

        *********************

        Time drifted, and Mulder drifted with it, in and out of 
hours and days. When he opened his eyes, Scully was usually 
there. His mother was often there too, and she would lean 
over him and stroke his hair like she had when he was a little 
boy. Then he would float away again, back through memories 
and images that were as far away as he could remember, and 
as close as yesterday. Samantha, and friends from school, 
and making snowmen and ice castles. Then time would jump, 
and he would see Scully looking at him with frightened eyes 
and he  heard the gunshot and he was sure that she was 
dead...

        And then he would awaken, heart pounding, and he 
would turn his head and see her there reading a book or 
napping in the chair. Once he was so relieved he started to 
cry, much to his embarrassment. Scully was asleep and 
hadn't seen the terror in his eyes. But he felt it. He felt it every 
time he looked at her, mingled with relief and gratitude. 

        As the days wore on, Mulder regained his strength 
and was recuperating at a quick pace. Soon he tired of the 
hospital food and the odor and sounds of sick people, and he 
informed the doctor in no uncertain terms that he was ready to 
go home. The chest tube had been out for several days, and 
he was doing well.  And he hoped that maybe, once he got 
home, the nightmares would fade. So he was discharged with 
a prescription for pain pills and strict orders to rest.

        Scully drove him home, and when he walked in he 
was surprised to find the floor free of dirty clothes and old 
newspapers. There was fresh fruit on the table, and if he'd 
opened the refrigerator door he would have found milk, juices, 
and some fresh sliced ham. The cupboard was stocked with 
canned goods, and there were even clean dishes to eat on. 
Mulder turned to her in amazement.

        "Scully..!?"

        Scully shrugged. "Well I couldn't very well let you 
come home to dirty underwear and 3 month old bread." 

        "Wow, thanks. You shouldn't have, you're supposed 
to be resting."

        Scully waved a hand at him. "I'm fine, Mulder. It's 
practically healed. Stop worrying so much."

        Yeah, right, he thought. Stop worrying so much. If she 
only knew how much he wanted to. But the image of her on 
the floor in that dark building, handcuffed, completely at the 
mercy of that animal... it was all he thought about. The scenes 
invaded his nights as well as his days. And always, with the 
reminder thudding in the back of his head that it was all 
because of him. 

        One more thing to add to the list.

         He'd had a lot of time in the hospital to think, or 
maybe a better phrase  would be to stew, about this latest 
disaster. It felt like a weight on him, and as he dragged it 
along it was getting heavier and heavier. When he looked in 
Scully's eyes the deep blue sea enveloped him, and he 
couldn't imagine not seeing them every day. But now when 
they were apart, those same eyes haunted him.

        "Mulder?"

        He turned to her. "Hmm?"

        Scully tilted her head a bit, studying him. "You ok?"

        "Uhh... yeah, yeah, I'm fine." He turned away again. 
Scully moved into the kitchen and called to him over her 
shoulder.

        "Why don't you sit down and I'll make you something 
to eat?"

        "Umm, no, Scully," she heard him reply. His voice 
sounded strained. "I think I'm just going to take a pain pill and 
go to sleep for a while. Why don't you go home and get some 
rest, too."

        Scully backed out of the kitchen to see Mulder 
standing at the window, his back to her.

        "Mulder, are you sure you're alright?"

        "Yeah, I'm just tired." He didn't turn around.

        "Well... ok. If you need anything, you'll call me, right?"

        "I will."

        "Alright, well, I'll check on you later." She picked up 
her coat and went to the door. Her hand on the doorknob, she 
paused and turned back once more. 

        "Bye Mulder."

        "Thanks, Scully."

        She watched him for another moment before opening 
the door and walking out. In the hallway, she leaned against 
the door and sighed. Something was wrong. He'd been acting 
strange for several days now. Then she shook her head. No, 
she was overreacting. He was just tired , that's all. He'd been 
through a lot, and he needed some uninterrupted rest, not the 
kind you get in the hospital. With one more backward glance 
at the door, she walked away.

        Inside the apartment, Mulder heard Scully's footsteps 
retreat slowly down the hall. He turned and went to the 
kitchen. Actually, he  *was*  kind of hungry. On the table was 
a plate of homemade cookies covered in plastic wrap, a note 
taped to the top. He pulled it off and unfolded it.

        'Fox-
        Here's a little something to make you feel better. Get 
well soon.
                        Love, 
                        Maggie Scully'

        Mulder sighed and sat down at the table. Peeling the 
wrap back from the plate, he pulled out a large chocolate chip 
cookie and took a big bite. He closed his eyes as an 
appreciative "mmmmm" escaped. 

        <I am such a dog>, he thought. Here he was, chowing 
down on cookies that were a gift from a woman he respected 
and admired and cared about immensely. A mother who's 
heart had been broken too many times to count, mostly by his 
foolish actions. A woman who had already suffered so much 
because of him. A woman who's face he couldn't have borne 
to look at if her daughter had succumbed to the crossfire that 
had yet again caught her in the middle. His throat was tight as 
he tried to swallow.

        What was wrong with this picture?

        ********************************

        Scully stared at the phone for a moment before 
setting it down in it's base. Mulder wasn't home. Or just wasn't 
answering. Again. She glanced at the clock. 10:26 p.m. Kind 
of odd for him to be out and about at this time of night unless 
he was working on a case. Which he wasn't, to her 
knowledge. He wasn't due back in the office for another week.

        She had been calling him regularly since his release 
from the hospital nearly 2 weeks ago. At first it was just out of 
concern, to check on him and see if he needed anything. 
Later, when she was back at work, it was to ask his opinion on 
different aspects of cases that she was working on. But 
something wasn't quite right. The first few times, he seemed 
happy to hear her voice. But soon she felt a... distance. 
Something between them that hadn't been there before. He 
would come up with excuses to end her phone calls quickly. 
When she would stop by his apartment, he seemed reluctant 
to let her in, and when she did come in, he often wouldn't look 
her in the eye. Then he just stopped answering the phone 
altogether. She left messages, he didn't call back. 

        Something was slipping between her fingers, and she 
had no idea how to hold on to it.

         Scully had tried to get back into a routine. She went 
to the office every morning since she'd received her medical  
release to return to work. She had a couple of cases active 
right now, and she had thought that it would be easier to work 
without Mulder's constant interruptions and his papers 
scattered everywhere. At first she had worked diligently in the 
silence, but soon enough the utter stillness felt like a weight 
threatening to crush her. Then she would hurry outside and 
walk the mall, until she came to a familiar small bench that 
overlooked the reflecting pool. She'd spent quite a bit of time  
there in the last few days, remembering, and trying to figure 
out how to keep her grasp on something that she couldn't 
quite define.

        A hot bath. That would soothe her nerves. Scully went 
into the bathroom and turned on the water, heating it until 
steam came wafting up from the tub. Add a few drops of 
fragrant oil, and she was ready to soak off the worries of the 
day. She slid in and closed her eyes, letting the water come 
up to her chin, barely aware of the soft music playing in the 
background.

        It had been only in the past week or so that she had 
been able to relax in her own bathtub again, and she forbade 
herself to give in to the anxiety that still presented itself every 
time she walked into her apartment. She refused to be a 
prisoner to fear. As she knew all too well, life was made up of 
an allotted number of days and the unthinkable could happen 
anytime. She tried to greet each new day as a gift, and she 
would not be cowed by the some mutant of the human race.

        But she couldn't completely free her mind of the 
pictures that followed her. The image of Mulder in her arms, 
the look in his eyes,  would come to her at unexpected 
moments. Like now. A shudder ran through her, even as her 
skin was flushed pink by the hot water. This was a time when 
she wished that she were able to express herself more freely 
to Mulder. She missed him terribly, and it was so often on the 
tip of her tongue to tell him that. But the words just wouldn't 
come. Even as she felt him pulling away from her, she wanted 
so much to say... something. Anything. The right thing, 
whatever that was. But instead the emotions stuck in her 
throat, just as they always had. To tell him how she really felt 
would be to expose her most intimate self. More than any 
psychotic killer, it was what she feared the most.

        ************************

        "Mulder?"

        Scully stood in front of him, her hands cuffed, her 
eyes wide.

        "Mulder, help me!"

        He looked down at his feet and tried to move them, 
but they were frozen in place, like trying to lift them from 
cement. His heart was racing and he looked up at Scully with 
panic-stricken eyes.

        "I can't move!" he called to her. He saw the glint of 
metal from a gun and shouted, "Run! Scully, run!" But she just 
stood there, pleading with him.

        "Mulder, help me!"

        A gunshot, and again, and again... Scully's body 
twitched with each shot he heard, until finally she collapsed.

        "Oh, God! Oh, God Oh God..."

        Mulder's own cries woke him, and he bolted upright 
on the sofa. His heartbeat was throbbing in his ears, his face 
wet with sweat. He took a deep breath, ignoring the stab of 
pain it brought to do so. How fucking long was this going to go 
on? Night after night, he was afraid to close his eyes for fear 
of what sadistic tricks his mind was waiting to play on him.

        He went to the kitchen sink and splashed cold water 
on his face, then slurped some from cupped hands. His hands 
gripped the edge of the counter, and he leaned his forehead 
down against them as he waited for his heart to slow to a 
normal rhythm.

        It had been over four weeks since the shooting. Scully 
had been back to work for a while now. She had investigated 
a couple of cases on her own, as well as doing some of the 
mundane but necessary tasks that he himself was always so 
quick to overlook. She was doing a fine job taking care of 
things without him, from the sound of it. He would have liked 
to tell her that. He would have liked to tell her a lot of things. 
But, more and more, he was becoming convinced that he 
needed to tell her something that he dreaded. 

        The thought of going back to work with her, of 
continuing on the way things had been, had suddenly seemed 
incredibly selfish. The notion had been growing in his mind 
since his early days in the hospital. It started as a fleeting 
thought, which he dismissed immediately as he had every  
time in the past that his conscience started to weigh on him 
about his place in her life. But, as time had gone on, it 
germinated into a truth he could not deny any longer. Every 
day he would think about how much he missed her, and he 
would picture her, her smooth creamy skin and beautiful 
mouth, her small strong hands, her eyes - oh, those eyes. If 
he closed his own eyes sometimes he could even imagine 
that he smelled her perfume. And Mulder would convince 
himself that they could go on the way they were, for the 
thought of separating from her was as unimaginable as cutting 
off his own arm. Then night would come, and he would wake 
in terror, and he would look at his face in the mirror and know 
that for once in his life he needed to put someone else ahead 
of his own self-indulgence. 

        But, God, it was going to kill him to do it.

        How, how, how would he ever make her understand? 
How could he ever make her realize that watching her suffer 
because of him was tearing him apart? How would he be able 
to send her away when she was the most important thing in 
the world to him? Somehow, he had to. It could not go on like 
this.

        She would listen. And beneath her denial, she would 
understand.

        But she would never accept it.

        He had to make a break, for his own sake, and 
especially for hers. This last incident was enough to finally 
make a crack in his own shell of denial. Everything before, 
somehow he'd been able to convince himself that they were in 
it together. That the threats she faced belonged to both of 
them. But he could find no such excuse now. She had been 
used simply to get to him. Just like all the other times. The 
fact that he loved her with all his heart just made him that 
much more dangerous to her, and he knew the love he so 
longed to give her would  only wind up hurting her in the end. 
Maybe even killing her. His presence in her life had only 
caused her heartache, and he just couldn't do it anymore.

        ***********************************

        At the knock on the door, Assistant Director Skinner 
looked up from the work on his desk.

        "Come in," he called.

        The door opened, and Mulder peered inside. "I'm 
sorry for barging in like this, sir, but your secretary wasn't at 
her desk..."

        Skinner rose and walked toward the door. "No, no, 
come in Agent Mulder. I'm glad to see you looking so well. I 
wasn't expecting you back until next week."

        Mulder entered the office and shut the door behind 
him. He stood near the door, silent, his hands clenching and 
unclenching at his sides. Skinner picked up on the tension.

        "Sit down, Agent Mulder," he said, motioning to the 
chairs in front of his desk. Mulder did so, his hands gripping 
the armrests now, leaving damp fingerprints in the black 
leather. Skinner walked in front of his desk and leaned back 
against it.

        "What did you need to see me about?"  the Assistant 
Director asked, removing his glasses and placing them on the 
desk. Mulder looked straight ahead and pressed his lips 
together. Skinner waited. Finally Mulder spoke.

        "I need to speak to you... off the record..."

        **************************************

        A knock. Mulder looked toward the door, chose to 
ignore it. Knocking again, louder this time. Then a jangle of 
keys, and Mulder braced himself for what he'd known was 
coming for several days.

        Scully didn't seem surprised to find him home. 
Instead, she strode angrily toward the sofa where he sat, and 
threw a folded sheet of paper on his lap.

        "I'd ask you what the hell this is all about, but I guess 
if you wanted me to know, you would have told me already," 
she spat, her voice on the edge of fury.

        Mulder didn't look at her. He picked up the paper and 
unfolded it, silently reading the first few lines.

        '...you have been reassigned to the Violent Crimes 
Section, effective immediately...'

        Mulder sighed and folded the paper again.

        "Look at me, you bastard!"

        Slowly, he raised his eyes to hers. At first flinty with 
anger, Scully's eyes suddenly softened with the pain of  her 
perceived betrayal.

        "Mulder..." her voice was choked. She stopped, took a 
deep breath, steadied herself. "Just tell me why?"

        "I think you know why."

        "Damn you! Don't play games with me! I want to hear 
what you have to say, I think I deserve that much!"

        Mulder sighed again, and pressed the palms of his 
hands to his eyes. "You deserve a lot more than that, Scully." 
He uncovered his eyes, stood and turned to face her. "I can't 
do it anymore, Scully. I can't do it!" His voice was a plea. He 
turned away and walked a few feet toward the window.

        Scully straightened her spine, closed her eyes. She 
would approach this calmly, reasonably, she thought. She 
would make him see that this was not the answer. "Mulder... 
talk to me. Please."

        "I never told you this, Scully, but..." His voice went 
hoarse with emotion. He continued in a near whisper. "I found 
my sister."

        "What?!"

        "She's been nearby all along. Cancer Man... he had 
her, raised her as his own, at least that's the story they gave 
me. She doesn't want to see me, she doesn't want me in her 
life."  He turned to Scully, hands outstretched, his eyes 
pleading her understanding. "All along... she was here... so 
close... and now I found her, and for what? What I've lived my 
life for, everything, the searching, the pain... for this?" He 
went to her, took her hands in his. His eyes burned with  
unshed tears, remaining dry as a desert. "While I was lying in 
the hospital, I couldn't stop thinking about it, her, and.. I don't 
know, everything. I've been willing to give everything up for 
this... crusade of mine. My father, my mind, you..."

        Scully shook her head in confusion. "Mulder... what..."

        "Scully, look at yourself! You've been through hell, 
because of this, because of me. Everything that's happened is 
because of me! I can't do this anymore - I don't want to know 
the truth anymore, Scully! It won't change anything, I can't 
take back the years that were stolen from my family... I can't 
change what's happened to you... it'll only cause more pain, 
don't you see?"

        Scully pulled her hands away from him and took a 
step back. She was stunned, seared to the bone. She couldn't 
take her eyes off the man before her, this man she thought 
she knew so well, now seemingly a stranger. Her mind 
refused to stop spinning, and the words tumbled out without 
rhyme or reason.

        "Your sister... you didn't tell me? You didn't... I 
thought you trusted me... "

        Mulder brushed at his eyes with the back of his hand. 
He moved toward her, but she backed away again.

        "Scully... please..."

        "What about me, Mulder?" Her voice rose an octave, 
rage starting to push against the ache in her heart. "What 
about me? What if  *I*  still want to know the truth? This isn't 
just about you, damn it! But you always seem to forget that, 
don't you?" 

        Mulder stood silently, his head down, hands clenched 
at his sides. He spoke again, quietly, slowly.

        "I'm trying to do what's best for both of us, Scully."

        "How dare you? How dare you presume to make 
decisions for me like this? Like I'm some interchangeable 
sidekick, 'If she doesn't fit in slot A, we'll just put her in slot 
B'!"  She choked back her tears, and her voice trembled. "I 
thought... we had... Is that all I've been to you, Mulder?"

        He looked up, and the agony in her eyes nearly 
brought down his resolve.

        "God, Scully, no... God, no..." He reached his hand 
out and touched her arm, and she flinched as if she'd been 
burned. Then she did something that tore through him like 
another bullet. She wiped her face with her hands, and stood 
ramrod straight, facing him like a soldier at attention. Her 
voice was barely a whisper, but steady as a rock. She looked 
at him, blinking to stop the tears.

        "Then I guess this is good-bye,  Mulder. You won't 
have to worry about watching my back anymore. You can go 
on alone." Scully turned toward the door, stopped, and turned 
back. "But I guess that's what you've always wanted, isn't it?"

        Mulder lowered his head, refusing to give anything 
away with his eyes. Refusing to give, and refusing to take.

        That was the way she left him.

        *******************************

        Scully pulled the blanket tighter around herself and 
leaned her head back in the big overstuffed chair. The light 
from the television flickered across her face, as an unwatched 
movie provided background noise for her numb mind. She 
had been sitting here for hours trying to make sense of what 
had happened tonight. But, try as she might to find reason 
and logic in Mulder's actions, her thoughts were 
overshadowed by base emotion.

        He didn't want her anymore.

        Oh, her mind gave her all the right arguments. His 
finely tuned sense of guilt had pushed him to do this. He was 
punishing himself. The Mulder Self-Loathing technique in high 
gear. But it always came back to this. 

        He hadn't trusted her.

        He didn't need her.

        He didn't want her anymore.

        Silently, the tears started again. Here in her safe 
haven, Scully let them fall where they would. She'd never felt 
so completely betrayed; by Mulder, by her own obviously 
misplaced loyalties, and by her own foolish heart. She had so 
stupidly let herself love this man, not realizing it until it was 
too late.  She had thought she was a part of him, and he of 
her. Without words, they knew each other so well.

        At least, she'd thought they did.

        She was as angry at herself as she was at him. She 
had let this happen, let herself care for him too much. She 
had stayed when every intelligent nerve in her body had told 
her to run. Once again, she had fallen into her old habits;  
always the pleaser, dutiful daughter, helpful friend, strong 
shoulder. She had let herself be taken in by those hazel eyes 
that silently pleaded with her not to leave. Hell, she had 
welcomed it. It felt so good to have someone to care for. And 
this is where it left her. Battered, bruised, and dropped on her 
ass.

        Damn him. Damn him to hell.

        ***************************************

        Mulder shifted restlessly on the barstool. This was not 
a place he was comfortable in, never had been. But tonight, it 
was preferable to sitting in his apartment. Here, the noise, the 
crowd, the lights, all worked to keep his senses occupied by 
something other than a small red haired woman. And what 
little awareness there was left, he was well on his way to 
drowning out with the brown bottles steadily collecting in front 
of him.

        He tipped up the newly opened brew and slugged 
back a long swallow, keeping his eyes straight ahead. The 
long mirror behind the bartender did nothing to help his mood. 
Try as he might to avoid his own reflection, he was drawn 
back to it again and again, and each time a small wave of 
revulsion ran through him at what he saw. 

        Mulder tipped his head back again, and this time 
when he brought his gaze down he saw another reflection 
seated next to him, her eyes holding his. 

        "You look like you could use a friend." Her voice was 
strong enough to be heard over the din behind them, but soft 
at the edges. Large brown eyes stared at him in the mirror. 
Mulder dropped his gaze to the droplets of moisture on the 
counter in front of him.

        "I'm afraid I wouldn't be very good company," he said.

        The woman was silent for a moment. He turned to 
face her. Her hair was long and dark, framing tanned skin and 
an aquiline nose, the wide eyes almost startling in their 
intensity.

        "Well, do you mind if I sit here anyway?"

        Mulder smiled. "No, of course not."

        The woman ordered a drink and turned to face the 
bar. Mulder felt her steal a few glances his way. Finally he 
turned to her again.

        "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound like such a jerk."

        She smiled slightly, and nodded. "That's OK. I know 
someone mending a broken heart when I see it. I didn't mean 
to intrude."

        "Yeah, I wouldn't want someone to break up my pity 
party."

        She looked down and laughed understandingly, then 
met his eyes again. "My name's Julie. I'll just sit here and 
stand guard in case somebody tries to make you laugh or 
something."

        Mulder offered his hand, and she took it in her own. 
"Fox Mulder."

        "Interesting name."

        "Yeah, I guess my mother thought so."

        They sat quietly for a few moments, sipping their 
drinks. Julie was turned to watch the action on the floor, while 
Mulder continued his assessment in the mirror. He ordered 
another beer, and took a long drink. Julie was turned half 
away, but he could see much of her reflection. Her hair looked 
soft and curled a little around her shoulders. Her features 
were sharp, angular, but attractive in a classic way. She 
suddenly turned and caught him watching her. He didn't look 
away. She held his eyes in the mirror.

        "So, tell me, Fox Mulder, what's a solitary guy like you 
doing in a place like this?"

        He turned to her. "Oh, I thought it would be a good 
place to ponder the mysteries of life." She chuckled, and 
Mulder smiled back at her.

        "Well, have you had any fascinating new insights 
yet?"

        He thought for a minute before responding. "Well, I 
always thought The Fonz said it best. 'Ya live fast, ya die 
young, ya leave a good lookin' corpse.'"

        This time her laugh was infectious, and he had to 
admit to himself that it felt damn good.

        "Can I buy you a drink, Julie?"

        She moved a little closer to him.

        "You certainly can, Fox."

        *******************************

        Three hours later, they were pulling up in front of his 
apartment in Julie's car. 

        "Thanks for the ride," Mulder said. "You can probably 
tell, I don't drink much." 

        "No!" Julie smiled again. He chuckled. Reaching for 
the door handle, he turned to her.

        "Thanks again."

        "Aren't you even going to invite me in for coffee? You 
could use some." Her eyes were clear and bright, and her 
words cut through the fog in Mulder's mind.

        "Julie..."

        "Look, Fox. I'm not asking for anything more. I'm 
lonely. You're lonely. Nothing more than that."

        "It's not that simple."

        Julie leaned over in her seat, her face inches away 
from his. "Tonight, it can be." Her breath was warm and sweet 
on his face. She leaned in a little further, grazed his cheek 
with her mouth. "Let it be simple tonight, Fox."

        As if possessed, his arms went around her and he 
kissed her long and hard. When he pulled away, he just 
looked at her.

        "Yes," she whispered. "Yes, I'm sure."

        They barely made it to the sofa before clothing was 
being tossed to the floor. Mulder pulled her onto him and held 
her face in his hands as he probed her pliant mouth. Julie 
finally pulled back and looked into his eyes.

        "Slow down, Fox. Slow down." Her hands caressed 
his face, and he closed his eyes. "There's no rush. We've got 
all night." She kissed him gently, on the forehead, cheeks, 
and finally a soft brush on his mouth. He moved his hands 
more slowly, touched her everywhere. She was tall and long, 
her tanned skin so different, so unlike...

        <No! Not tonight... not tonight...>

        Julie's hand brushed across the freshly scarred wound 
on his chest. She looked at him.

        "Wow. What happened?"

        "Occupational hazard."

        The look on his face told her not to ask for details. 
She gently ran her fingers across the irregular tissue. "Does it 
still hurt?"

        He looked away for a moment. Did it still hurt? He 
couldn't imagine that the pain would ever cease. It throbbed to 
his very essence, an ache that would never be soothed. 

        "No. I'm fine."

        Julie leaned over him and kissed the scar, and Mulder 
drew in a sharp breath. She kept her face close to his belly, 
and left a trail of kisses across his abdomen, up the center of 
his chest,  nuzzling into his neck. She reached down into her 
purse that had dropped next to the sofa, and pulled out a 
condom. Sitting back for a moment, she opened it as Mulder 
reached for it. She pulled her hand back.

        "Ah, ah, ah... " she said, teasing. "I'll do it."

        "I like a woman who's prepared for anything." She just 
smiled and he caught his breath as she touched his swollen 
member.

        Mulder's fingers found Julie's tender center, and she 
moaned and arched into him. He brought her to a shuddering 
peak, then quickly turned so that he was above her, and 
entered her hard and thrusting. Her nails dug into him, and 
she whispered to him, urging him on. He closed his eyes and 
felt her warmth, her softness. With each surge of his body into 
hers, her name filled his mind and soul, her breath became 
his...

        <Scully...
        
        Scully...

        Scully...>

        **********************************

        Mulder woke with a start, lifting his head to look 
around the dark living room. It took him a moment to collect 
his thoughts, and remember what had happened earlier in the 
evening. His head was spinning and he felt nauseous, 
whether from the beer or from self-disgust he wasn't quite 
sure. Julie was gone, he vaguely recalled the loss of her 
warmth in his arms as she got up and dressed. She had come 
back to sit beside him as he lay on the sofa, and she leaned 
down and gave him a soft kiss. His hands had gone up and 
clasped her arms, holding her there, but they both knew it was 
want and not need that drove him. She'd pulled back and 
smiled sadly, and he thought he'd seen a glimmer of wetness 
in her eyes as she told him goodbye. And then she was gone, 
leaving him to feel like the dirtball that he was.

        "You've sunk to a new low this time, Mulder," he said 
out loud, and leaned back with his arm across his eyes. Then 
he thought, <Screw it! It's not like she didn't know up front.>  
But it wasn't quite convincing. He sighed, and suddenly his 
stomach was reminding him what an idiot he'd been. He 
bolted upright and ran to the bathroom, barely making it for a 
fitting end to this miserable night.

        **************************************

        Scully unlocked the door and walked into the office 
for what she knew would be the last time. It was Friday 
morning, and she'd come in early to avoid running into 
anyone. She didn't want to have to explain why she was 
leaving with her pitifully small accumulation of things from the 
office in a box. On Monday she would be unpacking the box 
in another office, one with a desk with her name on it for a 
change.

        She sighed as she set the empty box down on a chair, 
the one she usually sat in across the desk from Mulder. She 
shook her head, and closed her eyes tightly as tears 
threatened again. She still couldn't believe that it was going to 
end like this. And the worst part was, there was not a damn 
thing she could do about it. No way to fight it. Oh, she'd 
considered it of course. At first, she was so angry that she was 
ready to march into Skinner's office and ask him why the hell 
he was letting Mulder dictate to him this way? But, obviously, 
Mulder had done a bang up job of convincing Skinner that he 
could no longer work with her, and she'd be damned if she 
would beg to stay. And since the X-Files had always been 
Mulder's baby, well, what else could Skinner have done? Her 
heart ached anew as she repeated the thought that had rang 
in her mind since last night.

        She was expendable. Replaceable.

        God, that hurt.

        As Scully gathered up her meager belongings in the 
office, she couldn't stop the tears. Damn it to hell! Crying was 
for babies, for weaklings...

        She dropped into Mulder's chair, cradled her head on 
the desk, and sobbed.

        ************************************

        Mulder thought he heard a light knock on his door, 
and turned toward it, straining to hear. Again,  *tap-tap*, just 
barely audible. It was late, and he wasn't expecting anyone. 
He took a deep breath and steeled himself, thinking that 
Scully was about to give him hell again. He walked to the door 
and peered through the peephole, the breath catching in his 
throat.

        Samantha.

        Mulder opened the door without a word. She stood in 
the hall, twisting the strap of her purse between her hands. 
She leaned a bit to the side, her eyes darting around the 
interior of his apartment, then  looking up at him.

        "Are you alone?" she asked. He nodded. "May I come 
in?"

        "Yes," he answered, finally able to force a word from 
his stunned mind. He backed away from the door, and 
Samantha stepped in hesitantly. She glanced around, not  
meeting his eyes, and Mulder didn't speak for fear that one 
errant sound would send her scurrying back out into the night. 
So many questions were on the tip of his tongue! But her 
expression told him that this was not the time. She seemed to 
have something to say. He waited.

        "I have a friend, a very good friend, who works at the 
hospital you were in." Her words came in short bursts, as if 
she needed to get them out quickly or they may never come 
out at all. "She's the only person I've confided in, she knows 
about you... she called me when she saw that you'd been 
admitted."  Samantha walked to the window and looked out to 
the street below. "I haven't stopped thinking about you, Fox," 
she continued quietly. "I wanted to know that  you were 
alright, but I was afraid to go to the hospital - I didn't want to 
see... anyone..." She breathed deeply before beginning again. 
"I called my friend every day, to check on you..." She turned 
to face him, her eyes glistening. "I guess we're still connected 
somehow... aren't we?"

        Mulder nodded, a hint of a smile on his lips.

        "You live here alone?"

        He nodded again, and followed Samantha's eyes as 
she looked around. "Good help's so hard to find, you know," 
Mulder quipped.  She smiled, and seemed to relax.

        "You always could make me laugh, Fox." She looked 
back at him again. "You've never married?"

        "No."

        "Why not?"

        He tried to think of a way to answer, and finally just 
shrugged and turned up his palms.

        Samantha turned away to the window again, her gaze 
cast across the landscape outside, over distance and through  
time. Her voice was quiet. "I can't imagine what it was like for 
you, wondering all those years... did you... did you really look 
for me?"

        "I never  *stopped*  looking for you, Samantha."

        She turned her head just slightly toward him, and 
Mulder could see a tear travel down her cheek and over the 
curve of her lips. "Somehow, I always knew that, Fox."  And 
she smiled. Mulder walked up behind her and stopped a few 
feet  away.

        "Samantha...", Mulder said, an edge of urgency in his 
voice.

        Samantha shook her head and put her hands up, 
palms facing him. "No, Fox... please, not yet." She squeezed 
her eyes tight for a moment, then opened her eyes and faced 
him. "I'm not ready. I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..."  He stepped 
closer and took her hands in his. She didn't pull away, but 
there may as well have been an ocean between them. 

        "I won't push you, Sam."

        She bit her lower lip, and dropped her gaze again. "I 
needed to see you, to see for myself... that you were alright."

        Mulder leaned his head down until he captured her 
eyes with his.

        "I'm fine. I am, really."       

        Her expression became earnest, pleading. "Promise 
me something, Fox."

        "If I can."

        "Stop looking back. I can see it in your eyes. You 
can't stay there anymore... don't let your life pass you by while 
you try to get back something that can't be... nothing can 
change what's in the past, Fox. All we can hope for is to go on 
from here. Promise me you'll try."

        "What about you?"

        She dropped his hands and looked away. "I'm trying... 
there's so much to absorb, so much... I think the worst part is, 
somehow I always knew there was more. I would imagine that 
you and mom and dad were still out there, searching for me, 
but I was always told that was a common fantasy for orphaned 
children." She turned to him again, a hint of a smile on her 
sad face. "But somewhere inside, I just knew..."

        Samantha reached into her purse and pulled out a 
small envelope. She carefully removed a photo, and handed it 
to Mulder.

        "These are my kids. Two boys, age six and nine."  A 
smile slowly spread over Mulder's face as he looked into 
familiar eyes. His nephews! Samantha pointed to the younger 
boy. "I always thought he looked like you," she said.

        He'd noticed that right away. "Yeah, he does, doesn't 
he?" he said, looking up at her again.

        "I have them to hang onto, Fox. I know that, no matter 
what, they're the most important things in my life. Whatever I 
find out about my past ...our past ...this-" she pointed again to 
the photo, "-is what matters to me now. Do you understand 
what I'm saying? They're real." Tears glistened in her eyes 
again. "I hug them and I look into their eyes and I know that 
the shadows from the past can't hurt me anymore."

        Mulder nodded slowly. He handed the picture back to 
Samantha, but she shook her head. "No, you keep it Fox. I'll 
bring them to see you - soon. I promise,"  she said as she 
smiled through her tears.

        "Thank you," Mulder said. He felt like crying himself.

        "Well, I should go." She suddenly clutched her purse 
to her side, and the moment they'd shared disappeared. "Be 
patient with me, Fox. I do want to know you again. Just... be 
patient."  He nodded silently. Samantha walked to the door 
with her head down, then hesitated before she stepped out of 
his life again. She turned back to him.

        "Please remember what I said - don't keep looking 
back. There's more happiness ahead than behind us." Then 
she opened the door and was gone.

        Mulder dropped into a chair feeling dazed. The photo 
was still clutched in his hand, and he brought it closer to study 
it. Samantha was in the center, leaning down to put an arm 
around each of her two sons who were dressed in soccer 
uniforms. She was smiling broadly, as was the six year old 
who flashed a lopsided grin that was missing front teeth. The 
older boy looked down shyly. Mulder couldn't help but smile at 
the resemblance that he saw in the younger boy. Suddenly he 
realized that he'd forgotten to ask their names. He turned the 
picture over hoping to find them written on the back, but it was 
blank. He turned it back again, unable to tear his eyes away 
from the happy family before him. He was glad for her, and so 
very sad for himself. She'd been able to go on with her life, 
because she didn't know any better. But she'd said that she 
knew, somehow, that there was more than what had been told 
to her. Yet she went ahead, she lived, and loved, and seemed 
to have a life that he thought he'd never have. <She made the 
choice,> he thought. <She made a choice to go on.> Was it 
really that simple? His fingers traced the outline of the young 
boy's face, his own face, and his eyes stung. He sat there for 
a long time as the silent tears fell.

        ********************************************

        Scully rubbed her eyes as she leaned back from the 
stack of files on her desk. Her eyes were burning from lack of 
sleep and reading so much fine print. It was going to take time 
for her to catch up to speed on all the cases that her division 
was working on, and her head was already pounding at the 
thought. It was only 10:45 a.m. on her first day and already 
she was itching to get away from this desk and DO 
something. Her reverie was broken by a phone ringing, and it 
was a moment before she realized that it was coming from 
the phone on her own desk. She picked it up.

        "Scully."

        "Agent Scully, sorry to bother you. This is Assistant 
Director Skinner."

        She immediately perked up. "What can I do for you, 
sir?"

        "Uhh, well, I was wondering if you'd spoken to Agent 
Mulder today?"

        "No. Why?" Scully immediately knocked her forehead 
with her fist. She didn't want to know why. It wasn't her 
problem anymore. But old habits die hard.

        "He was supposed to be back at work this morning," 
Skinner continued. As much as he tried to hide it, she could 
hear the concern in his voice. "He hasn't shown up, and I've 
been unable to contact him. I just thought perhaps you 
knew..."

        "No, sir, I haven't heard from him since... umm, have 
you called his mother?"

        "Yes, she hasn't heard from him." He paused. "Well, 
I'm sorry to bother you. I'll let you get back to work."

        She chewed her lip as she hung up the phone. <Don't 
even think about it!> she told herself. <Whatever he's up to, 
he's on his own.> She put her glasses on and went back to the 
file in front of her. After reading the same paragraph six  
times, she sighed and threw her glasses down on the desk. 
Leaning back in her chair, she fought with herself for several 
minutes before standing up with a disgusted huff and grabbing  
her jacket. On the way out she told the secretary that she had 
an emergency she had to tend to.

        "Oh, nothing too serious, I hope."  

        Scully  squinted at the nameplate and saw that the 
young lady's name was Lisa.

        "Thank you, Lisa," Scully said with a smile that looked 
more like a grimace. "I hope so, too."

        *****************************

        As she pulled up in front of Mulder's apartment, Scully 
was in the middle of reminding herself how stupid she was. 
She turned off the ignition, but made no move to get out of 
the car. Her hands gripped the wheel and she stared straight 
ahead.

        <What the hell am I doing?> Scully asked herself for 
the hundredth time. <This is ridiculous! He doesn't want me in 
his life. I don't care what happens to him.> She sighed and 
leaned back. <Then why am I here?>

        "Fine," she said aloud as she opened the door. "I'll 
see if he's ok, then I'm going back to work." She slammed the 
car door hard. "This is so ridiculous!" 

        By the time she got to Mulder's door, she was 
steaming. She banged on the door. No answer. Banged 
harder. A door down the hall opened and a gray haired 
woman leaned her head out the door and gave Scully a 
disapproving look. Scully reached for her keys and opened 
the door.

        She called his name. No reply. Scully closed the door 
and looked around. Nothing looked amiss. It was the same as 
it had always been, clothes scattered on the floor, books, 
magazines and newspapers strewn over the sofa and table. 
She walked from room to room, unsure of what she was 
looking for. The bathroom counter was clear of his toiletries, 
so he must have packed a bag. She wandered into his 
bedroom, and opened the top drawer of his dresser where she 
knew he usually kept his weapon. It was still there. 

        Back in the living room, she turned on the computer 
and checked his e-mail, but there was nothing that would lend 
her any clues. She opened the desk drawer, and there it was. 
A photo of a woman who looked exactly like the one Mulder 
had  traded for herself on a bridge long ago. It was Samantha.

        She picked it up and examined it more closely. The 
woman was smiling, her arms around two little boys, the 
younger one reminding her so much of Mulder it was, well, 
spooky. Did Samantha give this to him? Why would she do 
that if she indeed wanted no part in Mulder's life, as he had 
said? Scully was convinced that this had something to do with 
Mulder's disappearance. But should she intrude? Would he 
want her too? Something serious must have happened to 
cause him to take off like this. She didn't like the thoughts that 
were going through her mind.

        "Oh, Mulder," she sighed. Everything in her heart told 
her to go and find him. But pride was holding her in the chair 
like a vise. The same pride that had held her tongue so many 
times, made her swallow the caring words that she had so 
often wanted to say. 

        "Dammit to hell," she said quietly and closed her 
eyes. Something was wrong, and she wanted to rush in and 
fix it. Again. <But what if I don't?>, a small voice said. <What 
if I go back to work and ignore the whole thing? Tomorrow I 
will wake up and do it again, and the next day and the next. A 
stable, quiet life. No surprises. No heartache.>

        Scully sighed again. She thought her heart would 
crack under the weight of the loneliness she felt. There really 
was no question to answer. She needed to take this chance. 

        ******************************

Quonochontaug

        
        The water was as gray as the cloudy sky. Whitecaps 
dotted the rough surface as gusts of air tried to whip the 
unwilling lake into a liquid frenzy. Spring was many weeks 
away and the trees remained barren, their fleshless skeletons 

reaching and twisting in the strong March wind. There was a 
storm coming, Mulder could feel it. The atmosphere was as 
turbulent as the emotions inside of him.

        He walked aimlessly through the yard, looking down 
at his feet and shuffling dead leaves and twigs as he went. 
Shoving his hands deep in his pockets, his mind traveled a 
long and circuitous path, back to summer days and fireflies 
and innocent stars in the night sky. Why did the recall of his 
life always seem to begin and end here? He was so tired of it, 
so tired of looking back in sorrow and regret. Samantha had 
been right, so very, very right. It was time to turn his head and 
his heart forward to life as he could make it now. It was past 
time. He laughed derisively at himself. Typical. A day late and 
a dollar short. And now he had pushed away the best thing 
that had ever happened to him.

        Mulder stopped and perched on the edge of a 
weathered adirondack chair and leaned forward, elbows on 
his knees. He watched the water furl and slap against the 
shore line, his face stinging from the cold. He'd always been 
fascinated by the feeling of an approaching storm. Something 
about the electricity in the air, the apprehension of discovering 
what was coming. He'd spent many hours here as a kid doing 
just this same thing. It was fun then. Now it seemed so terribly 
lonely.

        He could still feel her with him, and would sometimes 
turn and expect to see her standing there before he 
remembered. He wondered how long that feeling would last.

        He hoped always.

        It didn't matter what happened in the future, her mark 
was on him forever. He closed his eyes and smiled gently.

        Suddenly his eyelids snapped open. Slowly, he turned 
back toward the house. A flash of red hair made him catch his 
breath.

        Scully walked toward him slowly, hesitantly, eyes cast 
down. Her hair whipped wildly in the wind. He waited, frozen 
to the chair, unsure of what to do. She stopped a few yards 
away and looked at him for a moment before speaking.

        "I tried, Mulder..." Her eyes welled up and she 
pressed  trembling fingertips against her lips for a moment to 
keep the dam from breaking. "I really tried."  A tear escaped 
and was blown away. She attempted a watery smile as she 
shrugged her shoulders and her hands opened to him. "I 
couldn't do it..."

        Mulder felt his own eyes burn with sudden salty tears, 
and he blinked to keep Scully in focus. He opened his mouth, 
but there were no words. His hand stretched out and, with a 
sob, she came to him.

        Her arms went round his neck, and Mulder nestled 
against her soft sweater as she pulled him close. His arms 
circled her waist and Scully lay her cheek on the crown of his 
dark hair, stroking it gently and wetting it with her tears.

        "I can't leave you, Mulder... I can't..."

        He lay his cheek against the soft wool and listened in 
awe as his life beat within her. Around them the storm 
approached with a howling pitch, but Mulder only heard the 
soft rhythm of her heart as it pulsed against him. He tightened 
his arms around her.  Scully gently placed her hands on his 
face and turned it up to look in his eyes. 

        "I'm so sorry..." Mulder began.

        She shook her head and interrupted him. "No. No 
more."

        The rain started then, a few small drops that quickly 
turned into a downpour. Mulder stood up, grabbing Scully by 
the hand as they made a dash for the house. They were 
laughing as they ran through the door. Scully took off her coat 
and shook the water off, then turned to see Mulder staring at 
her.

        "What?" she said, smiling. "You've seen me looking 
worse."

        "I've never seen you look better," he replied in a low 
voice. "I can't believe you came looking for me. How did you 
know where I was?"

        "I found the picture," Scully said quietly. Mulder 
nodded. "I don't know how I knew," she went on, "but 
something told me to come here. I didn't know if I should..." 

        "But you did." His eyes never left hers. "You knew... 
that I needed you.  Why did I ever think distance could 
change that?"

        Scully looked away and hung her coat on the coat 
tree. The moment broken, Mulder removed his jacket and 
moved to the fireplace. "Did Skinner call you?" he asked over 
his shoulder.

        "Yeah."

        Mulder nodded as he stirred the embers and stacked 
new wood on top. "I was going to call him. I just... I don't 
know. I suppose he's pretty pissed."

        "He sounded more concerned than anything."  Scully 
looked around, remembering when she was here last, chasing  
a confused and psychically wounded Mulder. A shudder 
passed through her. Mulder looked back at the same moment.

        "Sorry it's so cold. The fire will be going in a 
minute. The heat here is from LP gas, and the tank hasn't 
been filled in years. My mother keeps the water on, and the 
electricity, with some kind of gadget on the pipes so they don't 
freeze up." He stood up and brushed his hands off on his 
jeans. "I don't know why she doesn't just sell the place. She 
refuses to come here."

        "Sometimes it's hard to part with memories, even 
when they're painful."

        Mulder looked into Scully's knowing eyes, and 
nodded. He felt suddenly awkward, unsure of where to go 
from here. He searched for a benign subject to put between 
them.

        "Coffee?" he asked, picking up a large thermos.

        Scully arched her brow. "I don't know... did you make 
it?"

        Mulder chuckled. "No, you're safe. I got it at the Stop 
& Save."

        "In that case, sure."

        He unscrewed the cap that doubled as a cup, and 
poured the steaming brew. Scully walked toward him and 
accepted it.

        "Hope you don't mind sharing my cup," Mulder went 
on, filling the silence with mindless conversation. "There are 
some dishes and stuff here, but they're packed away, and 
God only knows what condition they're in..."

        Scully placed her hand on his arm. "It's ok, Mulder." 
Her eyes told him she was referring to more than the coffee. 
She dropped her hand and her gaze, and turned toward the 
growing fire, sipping the coffee. The flames jumped orange 
and yellow, and she held her unoccupied hand toward the fire 
to warm it. Mulder watched her from a few steps away. It was 
getting dark outside, and the firelight danced across her face, 
the flames reflected in her eyes.

        "Scully..."

        She turned to face him, but didn't speak.

        "I don't know what to say... " he went on.

        "You and I both value the truth, Mulder," she said 
quietly. "Why don't you start with that."

        Mulder sighed and leaned his head back for a 
moment. "Oh, Scully... the truth." He looked at her again, and 
reached out to touch her face, his thumb running softly across 
her cheekbone. "The truth is, when I saw Jackson shoot you, 
something in me just cracked. It haunted me, night and day. 
What could have happened. What's happened before. All the 
pain it's caused you, being with me. I know what I did hurt 
you, but at least it would be the last time. I finally realized 
what a selfish jerk I am, keeping you with me."

        "You don't  *keep*  me with you, Mulder. I stay 
because I want to."

        "I know. And you'll never know how many times I've 
thanked God for that. But I just couldn't bear it any more, 
watching you suffer. You deserve so much more."

        Scully set the coffee cup down on the mantle, then 
pressed her palms together, fingertips against her lips. After a  
moment, she spoke.

        "Mulder, I've lived my life a certain way, planned out, 
goals met and checked off,  all my ducks in a row," she said, 
looking up at him. "Until I met you. How do I make you 
understand... I'm not sure I do myself... " She hesitated, then 
went on. "I've never blamed you, not for a minute. Those 
people, they've used both of us, hurt both of us..."

        "But it was to get at me, Scully! That's what's been 
behind it from the beginning, you know that as well as I do!" 
Mulder's eyes flashed. Scully reached out and caught his 
hands in her own, calming him with a gentle touch.

        "Mulder," she looked down a moment and bit her lip. 
"I know what you're trying to tell me. I understand. But what 
we have... had... " she took a deep breath, "I know with 
certainty that I will never have that again." Scully looked up 
into his eyes, eyes in pain that gave away nothing else. "Tell 
me you don't feel the same way."

        Mulder dropped her hands and turned away. But 
Scully wasn't ready to give up, not after she'd opened her 
heart like this. She grabbed his arm with a determined grip.

        "Tell me, Mulder." She was on the verge of tears, but  
held them back and kept her voice even. She would not beg. 
But she had to know. "Tell me you don't feel the same way. 
Look in my eyes and tell me to go. I will walk out that door 
and never come back."

        Mulder moved just slightly toward her, and she 
tightened her hand on his arm. His hand came up and gently 
pulled hers away, holding it as he turned to her. His other 
hand brushed her wet hair back, and his eyes traveled over 
the contours of her face as if memorizing every rise and fall. 
As he framed her face with both his strong hands, he closed 
his eyes and leaned his forehead against hers. Scully held his 
wrists tight.

        "I want to be here," she whispered. "I  *choose*  to be 
here..."

        Finally he spoke, his voice rough with emotion.

        "Stay with me, Scully... stay with me.."

        He met her lips gently, hesitantly, as a man in the 
desert tastes his first drops of sweet water. They felt soft and 
warm, just as he had known they would. He drank deeper, and 
she responded, caressing his face with her fingertips. Was 
this really happening? So often a dream - but now she was 
here, she was real, touching him, wanting him. Mulder's heart 
was pounding in his ears, every nerve on fire. He pulled back 
just enough to break their kiss.

        "Scully..." He didn't know where to begin. Words were 
so inadequate to express what he was feeling. She leaned 
against him, her smooth cheek against his stubbled one, and 
her hand held his face tenderly against hers.

        "Tell me, Mulder... ", her breath warm on his face. "I 
need to hear you say it."

        "I love you..." He pressed  her small body against 
him, and she went soft in his arms. It was a moment before he 
realized that she was weeping.

        "Oh... Scully, what is it?" Mulder tried to pull back and 
look at her, but Scully wrapped her arms tighter around his 
neck.

        "Just hold me, Mulder," she said, her teary voice 
muffled against him. He pulled her closer and kissed the top 
of her head, smoothing her hair back with his hand. They 
stood that way a long time. The fire crackled and threw 
shadows across the room as the light became dimmer with 
the setting sun. Finally Mulder loosened his hold on her.

        "I have to put some more wood on the fire. Don't 
forget where we were," and he winked at Scully. She smiled, 
and stepped back from their embrace. Mulder bent down in a 
squat in front of the fireplace and carefully lay several more 
logs on the fire. Scully came close and perched next to him, 
her thigh touching his. She felt the need to maintain physical 
contact with him, the feel of him next to her a reassurance 
that this was not an illusion. As he placed the wood on the 
fire, Scully studied his hands. The long fingers and clean skin 
were deceiving, she thought. They spoke only of an 
academic, and not of a man who had dug his hands into 
unimaginable horrors, a man whose strong hands had fought 
with devils and won. Hands that could soothe her like no 
other.

         Satisfied with his work, Mulder stood and walked 
away. Scully watched him as he took the dust cover off of the 
sofa then pulled several throw pillows down and leaned them 
against it. He unzipped a large suitcase he'd packed and 
removed some blankets, arranging them on the floor in front 
of the pillows, then sat down and leaned back against them. 
Finally, he looked over and put his hand out to her. Scully 
rose and went to him, catching his hand as she sat down.

        "Wow," she said. "This feels suspiciously like 
something regular people would do."

        Mulder chuckled and pulled her into his arms, locking 
his hands around her. She was surprised at how easy this felt. 
She lay her head against his chest, and listened to the 
calming sound of his breathing as she watched the flames 
dance. Outside, the wind was a high pitched moan and the 
cold rain rattled on the windows. But nothing could reach her 
here. She felt safe. Scully absently stroked the soft flannel of 
Mulder's sleeve. She wanted to stay here forever.

        "I love you, Mulder."

        She felt him sigh, and he held her closer.

        "Pinch me, Scully."

        She smiled against him. When he spoke again, his 
voice was husky.

        "You know how sometimes things happen, and 
somehow you're aware that it's a life-changing moment? That 
nothing will ever be quite the same?" he said.

        "Mm-hmm."

        "That happened to me the day you disappeared. I felt 
like a part of me had been torn away," he continued, his voice 
subdued. Scully listened intently, but did not interrupt.

        "I went to Skyland Mountain with two things on my  
mind. The first was to find you. And if I couldn't... then I was 
going to find a way to get them to take me too."

        Scully sat up and looked at him.

        "Oh, Mulder..."

        "I was lost, Scully. The thought of going on without 
you... it was too much to even imagine. I wouldn't accept the 
possibility that you might be dead. I refused to even consider 
it."

        She held his hand and waited as he looked down and 
gathered his thoughts.

        "But more than that," he looked at her again, and she 
knew that he was trying to tell her something more than what 
was in his words, "I could  *feel*  you... somehow, I knew you 
were alive. It was the only thing that kept me going. I'd lay in 
bed at night and feel your cross around my neck... I don't 
know. But everything changed for me then. I loved you so 
much."

        "You wore my cross?" Scully felt tears prick the back 
of her eyelids.

        "I never took it off until you came back to me."

        Scully just stared at Mulder, and in some ways she 
felt as if she were seeing him for the first time. Her heart was 
so full of love for him, so full of  *him*, it seemed ready to 
burst from her ribcage. For the first time that she could 
remember, she was truly speechless. 

        So she didn't talk. 

        She leaned in to him and kissed him carefully, 
tenderly, hoping he would feel in this kiss all the words she 
couldn't say. He closed his eyes and let her lead him where 
she would. Scully turned and straddled Mulder's legs, facing 
him. Her fingers glided over the curves of his face, and her 
lips planted light kisses on his nose, his forehead, his closed 
eyelids. He held perfectly still, inhaling her sweet scent and 
surrendering himself to the sensuous nearness of her. His 
body responded almost immediately, and he had to will 
himself to go slow, let her show him where she wanted this to 
go. He didn't have to wait long.

        Scully sat back on Mulder's legs, and he opened his 
eyes at the loss of her touch. She was watching him, her eyes 
holding his, smoldering green emeralds that silently asked his 
reassurance. 

        "You're so beautiful, Scully. Do you know how many 
times I've wanted to tell you that?"

        She gave him a little self-deprecating smile, but her 
eyes showed her appreciation. Then her expression turned a 
bit shy, and she pulled her sweater over her head. With eyes 
down, she unbuttoned her shirt, and only when she'd undone 
the last button did she look up at him again. Mulder brought 
his hands up and drew them down the tender flesh on either 
side of her neck, causing her to draw in a sharp breath and 
close her eyes. His hands continued along her shoulders, 
pulling the cotton shirt away as he went, down over her arms 
and onto the floor. Her satin bra shone in the firelight, her 
smooth skin pale and silky in contrast.

        "Open your eyes, Scully."

        She did, and he locked on them and drew them in as 
he leaned forward and unsnapped the bra clasp behind her. 
He kept his eyes on hers as it fell away. Mulder quickly 
shrugged out of his own shirt, pulling off two buttons as he 
went. He sat forward and brought her to him,  holding his 
breath as their skin touched. Their lips met, with passion this 
time, electricity pulsing between them. He kissed her deeply, 
crushing her to him, and she responded with pliant lips that 
fueled the fire in his groin.

        "God, Scully.." he gasped, pulling back. "Let me look 
at you. I want to see you."

        Scully looked at him, his beautiful face so open to 
her, so trusting. She wanted him to have this. She stood up 
and stepped back a few paces, then pulled her jeans down 
over her slender hips and pushed them away. The last vestige 
of her modesty slipped off with her satin bikinis. She stood 
before him and she felt strong, and fearless, and so very, very 
loved.

        Mulder's eyes were fierce with hunger, and he held 
his hands up to her. She knelt down in front of him with tears 
in her eyes and offered herself, everything she was, with the 
joy of knowing that he would accept her flawed self, and she 
would accept his, completely and without hesitation. 

        Outside, the rain streaked down with icy fingers, and 
the cold wind whipped against itself in fury. But through that 
dark frigid night, a light shone. A fire danced and sparked 
through a window in a small cottage, and inside a woman and 
a man found the missing pieces of their hearts, their souls 
warmed at last by a joy thought lost. A future was redeemed, 
a past put in it's place, and a will to go on was reborn.

~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^

End

Comments to Linda at rn500@ozline.net