From: Frances Hartman Date: 30 May 2000 20:35:46 -0700 Subject: Story submission Source: direct Title: Faith Author: Frances Hartman E-mail: fhartman@altavista.com Rating: R (for disturbing content) Category: SRA Spoilers: Milagro Keywords: Mulder/Scully romance Summary: Prompted by Padgett's insight into Scully's character, Mulder tries to move the relationship between the partners forward, only to be thrust into a struggle for his sanity, his heart, and his life; discovering that the only way to move on is to break the cycle. Disclaimer: The characters depicted in this work (hereinafter referred to as "parties of the first part") are not the intellectual, creative, or real property (hereinafter referred to as "property") of this author (hereinafter referred to as "broke and indigent"). Any similarity noted herein is purely intentional and is intended with no malice, and come to think of it, very little aforethought. No aliens were harmed in the making of this work, but Elvis was recently seen hovering over a swap meet in Iowa. Fox Broadcasting and Chris Carter hold sole rights to the characters and concepts depicted on the X-Files ("hereinafter referred to as "par-tay") and no profit is intended or expected from this endeavor, and thereto I plight thee my troth. So there. Author's Note: To buy this, you have assume that the events of "Triangle" never occurred. Go with it, Scully. "The things one feels absolutely certain about are never true. That is the fatality of Faith, and the lesson of Romance." --Oscar Wilde It wasn't finished. One would think that by this point in his career, Mulder would be well used to unanswered questions. And he was, but he couldn't shake the feeling that this time, it wasn't a question unanswered, but one unasked. And for a man who had made a lifetime's crusade out of asking the most uncomfortable of questions, this was not a feeling he was at all used to. Carefully, analytically, he ran over the events of the case in his mind. He still didn't know how Padgett had communicated his instructions to Ken Naciamento. Hell, he didn't even know if Naciamento was the man who had attacked Scully. The man had, after all, been dead for two years. And generally speaking, the dead didn't return to life quite so literally. A sudden image of Scully, lying pale and motionless, drenched in her own blood, flashed behind his eyelids. Mulder winced and sat up. Best to revisit that philosophical question another day. No, he mused, padding off to the bathroom. The mystery of Padgett and his writing would remain unsolved this night, and that suited Mulder just fine. There was something else. Another moment. Another question he had to ask. He just couldn't put his finger on it. Flipping on the bathroom light, Mulder splashed water on his face and straightened, staring at his sleep- deprived reflection. he wondered. The question gnawed at him, creating a persistent ache in his gut that he knew better than to ignore. He knew that ache. Tired of the prodding, his eidetic memory finally flared to life as he stared sightlessly beyond the mirror, the images playing in his brain like a slide show. - Click - "He showed her a pretty picture of herself, so unlike the face reflected back by the medical examiners, the investigators, and the lawmen who dared no such utterances." Mulder shook his head as if to clear it. He would have, should have, remembered that line from Padgett's manuscript. Shouldn't he? - Click- "Well, let's just say it ends with you and the stranger doing the naked pretzel on a bed in an unfurnished fourth floor apartment." There was a long, strained pause. "I'm assuming that's a priori as well?" He frowned. He hadn't noticed the harshness in his voice or the tautness in his stance. And he hadn't noticed the slightly hurt expression in Scully's eyes. "I think you know me better than that, Mulder." At the time, Mulder had just thought he had been a clod, muttered that she should read the rest of the manuscript, and made a hasty exit. Now he wasn't so sure his boorishness was the whole reason behind Scully's distress. - Click- "Are you saying he got inside your head? That what he wrote about you is true?" "Mulder, of course not." Scully refused to meet his eyes. Now that he should have noticed. Scully was a terrible liar, but it wasn't the first time he had chosen to believe her prevarications when they suited his purposes. God. If Padgett was inside her head, he would have been right about so much. Scully's loneliness. Her insecurities. Her deepest thoughts. Padgett said himself that to write about someone, he had to know them better than they knew themselves. So well, Mulder mused, that he felt compelled to correct any character errors, even if it meant having to destroy his prized manuscript. His creation. Mulder didn't believe that for one moment Scully was in love with "the stranger." Padgett had admitted as much... - Click- Mulder didn't pause long enough to dwell on the final image. He didn't need to. He simply bolted from the apartment, jacket in one hand, keys in the other, knowing exactly the one question he hadn't asked. Scully's Apartment Georgetown, MD If her stomach hadn't been in knots, she would have smiled at the sound of harsh pounding on her door. Glancing at the clock, she raised an eyebrow. "He's early," she murmured whimsically, letting Mulder inside the apartment. "I couldn't sleep, Scully. I kept thinking-" He broke off, suddenly noticing that she was fully dressed. "What are you doing up? It's 1:15." "Feeling cheated that you didn't roust me out of bed, Mulder? I couldn't sleep either," she confessed, taking pity on him. "What's bothering you?" "It just didn't make sense, Scully. Why the hearts? Why Ken Naciamento? And more importantly, how? I just kept thinking there's too much question and not enough answer to go around." Scully relaxed marginally. This was safe ground. "Mulder, we may never know. If Padgett-" He cut her off. "But what was bugging me, Scully, is why were those things keeping me awake? Lots of things keep me up at night, but rarely questions like that. Especially when the suspect is dead. We knew Padgett was responsible. What we didn't know was how, but either way, the murders would stop. So why lose sleep over it? Why not think about it tomorrow? "So I went back to something basic I learned in profiling. If you don't have the right answer, it's because you didn't ask the right question." Scully's head came up, like a wolf scenting the wind. "And then I realized what it was, Scully. It wasn't the lack of answers that was keeping me awake. It was the lack of questions. One question, really. One very important question that I never asked." For one brief moment, she had thought her secret was safe. That she was safe. In that instant, she had relaxed her guard, the illusion of security her undoing. She could do no more than stand paralyzed as Mulder advanced on her, stride purposeful, gaze intent. "So who is it, Scully?" he asked softly, deliberately encroaching on her personal space, eyes never leaving hers. "He was right about everything else. Wasn't he?" Half-mesmerized, half-terrified by this dark, forbidding stranger wearing her partner's face, she could only stare at him. Helplessly. Silently. "Wasn't he, Scully?" Shutting her eyes against the heat of his stare, she simply nodded. "So who is it?" Unable to help herself, she trembled and kept her face averted, but stoically maintained her silence. "Look at me, Scully." The words were peremptory, but the tone was softer, gentler. Putting a hand underneath her chin, he turned her face up to his and waited. "Scully," he murmured. Waiting. Slowly, unable to hide any longer, she opened her eyes and bravely returned his gaze. Tears hovered, and she grimly blinked them back. she admonished herself, bracing against his next words as if waiting for a blow. He stared at her for a long, endless moment, a fine tremor in the fingers that lingered on her jaw. When he spoke again, the words were more breath than sound. "Scully. Is it me?" She shuddered, the involuntary reaction almost a flinch. Shut her eyes. And nodded. "Say it." The command was harsh, coming from someplace needy and raw in his darkened soul. "I'm in love with you, Mulder." The words were barely a whisper, but to Scully, it was as if she were firing a cannon into the mist, having no idea where it would land. "Ah, Scully," he murmured, shaking his head ruefully. "Why didn't you tell me?" There was a shocked pause. For some reason, his seemingly casual reply sent a jolt of anger through her unresponsive limbs. "Why?" Her voice sounded unnaturally shrill as she pushed his hand away from her face and walked a few paces away from him. "I must admit, Mulder, for all the times I've imagined saying those words to you, I never once pictured that response." She was still shaking, dimly realizing that now, it was from suppressed fury. "Trust you to do the unexpected." she added silently, keeping her back to him. "From the very start, you told me that nothing mattered but your search for your sister. For the truth. And you've never given me any reason to think that's changed. Why should I have told you? To ruin our partnership? To feed your ego? Give me one reason why I should have told you." There was a long silence. Then, "It would have saved me six years of hell, Scully." She whirled, an angry retort on her lips, and it was then that she realized Mulder was crying. Odd, she thought blankly. She'd seen him sobbing, wracked by tears, barely able to form words, but this...His voice sounded perfectly normal; in fact, from his body language, she would have bet that he wasn't even aware he was crying. But the tears trickled down his face, leaving silvery tracks that caught the light as he spoke. "Mulder-" "You know me so well, Scully. Like Padgett, you could have written me. I always thought, I guess, I don't know, assumed, that you knew. And if you said nothing, well, I figured that was its own answer." "Mulder..." "But you didn't, did you? Anymore than I knew how you felt, because you never told me. I never told you how many times what kept me up at night was...you. Worrying about you, thinking about you, even fantasizing about you. Some of those nights on the road, even watching you when I couldn't sleep. I never told you, because I just figured we were in each other's heads, we knew each other so well, that you just knew." He shrugged, his voice still calm, the tears still dropping, one after the other. "I guess when what we want most is right before our eyes, that's when we refuse to see. Just in case we're wrong." Scully crossed to stand before him, inwardly marveling at his control. But almost immediately, she realized that what some might take for control was actually detachment. He was forcibly separating himself from his emotions; his feelings affecting him on such a deep, visceral level that distancing was the only way he could cope. He was so afraid to break apart that he was tucking the vulnerable parts of himself away, and only showing the pieces that he thought were under his control. But Scully didn't want the pieces, she wanted the whole man. It was her turn to be strong. She studied his face in silence for a moment, reaching up to brush her fingers through his unruly hair. Gravely, he returned her scrutiny. , she thought. "Say it, Mulder," she commanded softly. He blinked. "I'm being as honest as I know how to be here, Scully. I don't-" She silenced him with a finger to his lips. With her other hand, she brushed his cheek, catching teardrops on her fingertips, and raised her hand to show him. He swallowed. Hard. "Say it, Mulder." For the first time, she heard his voice waver. "Scully...I...I can't-" "You can." Reaching up on tiptoe, she pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. "Say it, Mulder. I need to hear it." She kissed both his eyelids, tasting the tears that were seeping out faster than he could stop them. "I need you." "Scully...please..." She gazed into his eyes, her heart shivering as she saw the naked terror reflected there, lurking behind the mute plea for understanding. "It's okay, Mulder." She brushed her lips over his cheek, feeling him tremble beneath her touch. "Let it go," she whispered. "Say it." Mulder struggled to maintain his composure, but it was sliding through his hands like wet rope. "I thought I...could...but...you don't...I'm..." His voice broke as he gasped for air. She kissed his cheek. "Say it." "I...Sc...I c-c-can't..." Violent tremors wracked Mulder's body as he finally did break apart, swallowing his words in a paroxysm of sobbing. His frame bent double with the force of his pain, driving him to his knees at Scully's feet as he dissolved into tears, bowing before the storm of his emotions. Shocked, Scully could do no more than stare for long moments. Slowly, she dropped to her knees beside him, reaching out a gentle hand to him. "Mulder?" she queried, touching him lightly on the shoulder. To her horror, he recoiled violently, knocking her hand away. "Stay away from me," he snarled, before balling himself up tightly with his back to her, arms wrapping around his knees as he rocked back and forth. "Mulder, what's wrong with you?" Scully scrambled around in front of him and paled slightly. His face was contorted with anger, pain, rage, and grief, and his eyes were wide and unfocused, tears still flowing. It was obvious that he wasn't aware of her at all. "Mulder." She purposely made her voice soft, unthreatening. "Mulder, talk to me. Please. It's okay." Hesitantly, she reached out to touch his hair. Locked in his irrational state, Mulder only saw the hand coming toward his face. Savagely, he knocked it away, the force of the blow tumbling Scully backward. In an instant, he was on top of her, panting, pinning her shoulders with his large hands and trapping her slight body with his much larger frame. His eyes were wild and unseeing as they stared down at her, his chest heaving. . "Mulder, stop it!" she cried, struggling against him, but whatever demons were driving him lent him preternatural strength. "Mulder, it's me. Look at me, Mulder. It's Scully." she thought in panic as the power of his grip increased, sending waves of pain through her body. Ineffectually, she pushed at his chest, feeling terror begin to blur the edges of her mind. "You're hurting me, Mulder, please, don't do this..." His hands slipped, encircling her throat, and tears began to leak from the corners of her eyes. "Dammit, Mulder, look at me," she gasped out. "Look at me!!!" Slowly, his eyes focused and he blinked once, then twice, staring down at her. "Scully?" he muttered hoarsely, disoriented. His grip loosened, and she wriggled out from his unresisting grasp. He stared at her dumbly for a moment. "It's me, Mulder." She carefully laid her hands on his upper arms, studying his face worriedly. "It's Scully. You're okay. It's just me." He murmured her name on another sob, pitching forward in her embrace, holding on to her like a drowning man. His shoulders shook with renewed weeping. Gently, she stroked his hair. "I've got you, Mulder," she crooned, rocking him like a small child. "It's okay. It's just Scully, and I'll take care of you. I'm not going to hurt you." His arms tightened around her, and she enfolded him protectively, resting her cheek on the top of his head. "I'm not going to let anyone hurt you." They stayed like that for a very long time, curled up on the living room floor, and Scully's knees began to ache. Still, she refused to move, not daring to release him for fear that Mulder would slip away from her again, back to that terrifying, tortured place he had so recently visited. She stroked his hair, his back, his arms, whispering words of comfort and safety to him, shielding him from the darkness. In truth, Scully was scared. For the life of her, she couldn't figure out what had provoked such a horrible emotional convulsion in her partner. She knew that he had his vulnerabilities, but this was completely beyond her experience. Despite the weak spots in his armor, Mulder was very strong; he had to be, to survive all he had gone through. She hadn't known that the damage went this deep, hadn't known how raw some of his wounds really were. She could only hold him, love him, and hope that it would be enough to get him through this. Finally, the worst of the storm passed and he lay quiescent in her arms. Unable to ignore the cramping of her muscles any longer, she shifted his weight slightly, and panicked, he clutched at her. "Shh, Mulder, it's okay. I'm not going anywhere." She kissed his forehead. "Let's just go into the bedroom, okay? I just want to lie down, so I can hold you." Gently, she tugged him to his feet, wincing as the circulation returned to her protesting limbs. "I won't leave you, I promise." Docilely, he followed her to the back of the apartment, letting her undress him and guide him into bed next to her. Immediately, she wrapped herself around him, warming his too-cold body. Reflexively, he shivered. "Cold?" Numbly, he shook his head, but burrowed into her embrace, running his hands up and down her arms over and over, almost as if to reassure himself that she was still there. After a long while, he spoke, voice groggy and hoarse from his bout of crying. "I hurt you." His tone was overflowing with self-loathing. "You stopped, that's the important thing." Scully hugged him tighter, as if she could stop the tide of guilt from washing over him by sheer force of will. "Mulder, don't. It's okay." "It isn't." His voice was flat, and Scully wished she could read his expression in the darkness. After a moment, he continued. "It isn't okay, Scully. You can't...It's never okay to let someone hurt you and excuse it because you love them. That's not...it's a dangerous cycle to start, Scully. One that's almost impossible to break." Oh, my God. The signs had been there all along, but she had refused to see. Mulder had been abused. . She knew she had to be very, very careful in the way she answered him, or she could do a lot of damage. "It is okay, Mulder, because it wasn't me you were hurting." Lightly, she brushed the hair off his forehead. "Was it?" There was a prolonged silence, and for an awful few minutes, Scully feared she had said the wrong thing. At last, he responded. "No, it wasn't," he said in a small voice. Haltingly, tearfully, the child in him began to speak, and Scully couldn't stop her own tears as he told her of the years of abuse, physical and sexual, he had suffered at the hands of his grandfather. "They used to ask him to baby-sit for us, and I was terrified," he whispered. "He told me it was either me or Sam, my choice." "Oh, Mulder..." "He lived right down the street, and sometimes, if Mom and Dad were out late, he would stay over. They had him stay in my room, with me." Scully inhaled sharply. "He said he'd kill me if I told anyone, and I believed him. When I'd try to fight, he'd beat the hell out of me, then tell my parents I'd fallen out of a tree, or gotten banged up playing football, or something. They always believed him, Scully." He shivered, his tone plaintive. "Why did they always believe him?" "People see what they want to see, Mulder," she told him, but he continued as if she hadn't spoken. "I begged them not to send us to him. That night..." he choked on his words for a moment, "...the night Sam was...I told my parents I'd take care of her...they didn't have to worry about us...anything so they wouldn't leave us alone with him again...I just couldn't..." He broke off, beyond speech, but Scully understood and her heart broke at the revelation. He had sacrificed so much for his sister, to save her, and the one time he tried to protect himself from unspeakable abuse, she had been taken. "And...and the worst...the worst part of it, Scully...for just a moment...I was glad she was gone...because then I....I wouldn't have to..." He couldn't finish, and Scully wrapped her arms around him again, holding him tightly. "Mulder, sweetheart, it's okay. No one should have had to go through what you did. No one. You protected Samantha the best you could, and paid a terrible price for it. No one could blame you for feeling what you did. You were just a child." "And the whole time...every time he did it...he made me tell him I loved him. Over and over. Over and over..." His voice cracked, and fresh sobs spilled from his lips. What was left of Scully's heart shattered as the final puzzle piece fell into place. ? "Mulder, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry..." She rocked him as he cried, her tears mingling with his. * * * * * Scully woke up alone. Her eyes were puffy and swollen, her throat sore from crying, and it took long moments for her fatigue- clouded mind to piece together the reasons. Her arm stretched out across the bed, and her outflung hand brushed a folded piece of paper. Drawing it to her, she saw her name scrawled across the outside in Mulder's distinctive hand, and the events of the previous night rolled over her in waves. Her confession of love for her partner. Her demand for his response. The violent flashback. His revelation of his history of abuse. And her realization of just what had triggered that vicious trip into his darkened past. She had. She had pushed Mulder too far, and he had snapped under the strain. Heart in her mouth, she unfolded the note and quickly scanned the contents. Scully, I bet for all the times you imagined saying those words to me, you never imagined that response, either. The best answer I can come up with this morning is "I'm sorry." You gave me an incredible gift last night...one I never, ever dreamed of receiving, or of being worthy of receiving...and words can't describe how sorry I am that I repaid you in that fashion...or how sorry I am that I can't accept that gift. I do care about you, Scully. I can't properly express how much I do care, but I can tell you this much. Because I care, I know that you deserve better than I can ever give you. I can't say the words you need to hear. I can't promise that what happened last night won't happen again...that I won't hurt you again. Physically or emotionally. I care too much to take that risk. What you saw last night, Scully, was a man with something broken inside...something that I'm not sure can ever be fixed. I came over here last night hoping that wasn't true, but what happened proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that emotionally, I'm little more than damaged goods. Knowing me the way you do, it probably didn't come as much of a surprise, but I wish I hadn't chosen such a terrible way to demonstrate it. I know that you'd stay with me anyway, Scully, and I just can't allow that. Your pity would be more than I could handle, and you're too noble to leave, after what I've told you. You're stubborn as hell, too, which is why I'm taking that decision out of your hands. This will make you angry, Scully, and I'm sorry for that too. Just carry this with you: I can count on one hand the times in my life when I've been truly happy, and they've all been with you. And I've never been happier than last night when you told me you loved me. For a moment, I had a glimpse of what paradise must be like. As a condemned man, that's more perfection than I deserve. You gave that moment to me, Scully. And regardless of the consequences, promise me that you will never, ever, blame yourself. Be happy, Scully. Mulder Scully was shocked senseless. Mulder was telling her goodbye. That sonofabitch. Did he really think that she couldn't love him after what happened? Was his martyr complex that strong that he thought she shared it...that she would stay with him simply out of pity? With a determined air, Scully threw back the blankets, glancing at the clock. 10:56 a.m. Damn, damn and triple damn. They were due in Skinner's office to give their final report on the Padgett case almost two hours ago, and she'd overslept. With any luck, Mulder had covered for her, but more likely, he had shown up at the office only to turn in his resignation, rather than face her. She hurriedly dressed. Purse in hand, she was halfway out the door when her cell phone rang. "Scully." "Agent Scully, this is Assistant Director Skinner." Damn. "Would you care to explain why neither you nor Agent Mulder saw fit to be present for our 9:00 meeting this morning?" "I apologize, sir. I overslept and-" She broke off suddenly. "Sir, are you saying Agent Mulder didn't come in either?" "Nor is he answering his cell phone or apartment phone. Do you have an explanation for this, Agent Scully?" Breaking out in a cold sweat, Scully assured her boss that she would do her utmost to locate her partner quickly, and hastily got off the phone. With shaking hands, she unfolded Mulder's note again and finally placed what had unsettled her so. It wasn't that Mulder was saying good-bye. It was the finality of that goodbye that suddenly struck her. "Promise me that you will never, ever blame yourself." With a dread certainty, she realized what Mulder was intending to do. * * * * * When she finally found him, Mulder was barely breathing. Scully didn't know how she knew he would go to the summer house in Quonochataug, but she drove north like a woman possessed. She spent the ride alternately calling his cell phone, trying to reach his mother, and putting together what she was going to say to him when she found him. It never entered her mind that she'd be too late; she refused to even consider the possibility. As it was, she just made it. With fingers numb from shock, she dialed 911 and gathered Mulder's cold, unconscious body in her arms, cradling him as she waited for the ambulance. Apparently, he had overdosed on sleeping pills, and for that, she was grateful. Had he decided to shoot himself or cut his wrists, he would surely have bled to death before she got to him. Tears streaming down her cheeks, she pulled his body closer, keeping her hand on his chest to monitor his heartbeat and breathing. "Thanks for trying to ditch me again, partner," she whispered brokenly. "When we get out of this, I may kill you myself." Angrily, she dashed the wetness away from her face. "Why, Mulder?" she cried. "Did you really think I couldn't be strong enough to help you through this?" She gulped back a sob. "Did you really think you couldn't make me as happy as you said I made you? And if you honestly thought you had to leave me, why did it have to be this way? Can you really hate yourself that much?" Scully closed her eyes and prayed with all her strength to her God to pull them through this, because she honestly didn't think she could survive without the man she now held close to her heart. Dimly, she heard the wail of sirens in the distance, and knew that the Gods of science were coming to her side as well. She just hoped it would be enough. * * * * * For the first time since he was six years old, Mulder felt safe. He was cocooned in blackness, but the dark was warm and comforting. He tried to focus, but all around him was more of the same...just an eternal, gentle nothingness. He tried to move his arms, to see if he could see his hand in front of his face, and was mildly surprised to note that he was paralyzed. Curiously, this didn't frighten him. He strained to listen, to see if he could detect some movement, some sound in the emptiness, but there was nothing. He could dimly hear his own heartbeat, so he knew he wasn't deaf. There was just the absence of sound, an all-encompassing quiet that calmed his soul. It was a bone deep silence that enveloped him in serenity. In peace. A light fragrance teased his nostrils, and for a brief moment, he could feel gentle arms encircling him. He recognized the scent and relaxed. Of course. That was why he felt so safe. Scully was with him. Protecting him. He could rest. The sound of his heart became slower and slower. Gradually, it gave way to utter silence as he murmured her name with the last of his strength. Finally, he could rest. * * * * * "Scully..." Terrified, she froze as Mulder whispered her name softly, and stopped breathing. "Mulder!!" Frantically, she felt for his pulse. Nothing. She pushed his body on the floor, pulling open his shirt as she commenced CPR, barely aware as the paramedics forced their way in the door downstairs. "Up here!" she screamed, counting the chest compressions determinedly, pausing only to force air into his motionless form. "Damn you, Mulder," she muttered, pumping his chest furiously. "Don't you dare die on me! Don't you dare..." Like a wild thing, she struggled as the ambulance crew pulled her back. "No! I have to-" "We've got him, ma'am." Working with smooth efficiency, two of the EMTs took over resuscitation procedures, administering oxygen and pulling out the portable electroshock unit. "300 joules. Clear!" Mulder's body jerked, then fell limp as the charge shot through him. Scully stood to the side, all medical training deserting her. She could do no more than watch in horror, hand pressed to her mouth, as they labored to save her partner's life. "400. Clear!" The sharp report of the electrical charge cut through the oppressive silence in the room, punctuated by the sound of Mulder's body slamming against the floor. The acrid smell of singed flesh filled the small space. "Again. We're not going to lose him. Clear!" The sickening sound echoed a third time, but it was enough. "We've got a pulse," one of the men reported. There was a pause. "BP is 80 over 40. Pulse 45 and sluggish. We'd better move, ladies and gentlemen." Smoothly, they lifted Mulder's unconscious body onto a stretcher and moved to the stairs. Numbly, Scully followed them. "Are you the person who called this in?" one of them asked as they navigated their way to the ambulance. Scully nodded. "He took sleeping pills," she said quietly, tears clogging her throat. Pulling the empty bottle from her pocket, she handed it to the technician. "I don't know how full the bottle was, or when he took them. He stopped breathing just before you got here." She was very aware that all of her training, her medical detachment, had completely flown. For as many times as she had seen Mulder close to death, by far, this situation had hit her the hardest. Was it because of what they had so recently shared, or because of the manner in which he had come to this point? "You can ride with him." They levered the stretcher up into the back of the ambulance, and Scully climbed up after, settling herself next to Mulder. "Are you his wife?" Scully bit her lip, taking her partner's hand. "Not yet." She smiled sadly, studying his still, pale features. In the background, she vaguely heard the lead EMT on the radio. "White male, late thirties, apparent overdose of Seconal. Resuscitated once, one 300 charge and two 400. Vitals..." "What?" Scully's eyes widened at the voice in her head. "Melissa?" The EMT eyed her curiously. Scully ignored him. She swallowed hard, fresh tears smarting at the corners of her eyes. she asked silently, awestruck. "But..." She bit her lip. Scully became conscious of a change in her surroundings, and realized that they had come to a stop at the hospital. There was a flurry of activity around her as they transferred Mulder to a gurney and whisked him into the emergency room. Galvanized, she followed them, refusing to leave his side. "I'm a medical doctor," she insisted, some of the old forcefulness back in her voice. "I know his full history. Prepare a drip of..." Gradually, she slipped into professional mode, energy flowing through her as the familiar commands passed her lips. She was going to save him, dammit. * * * * * At last, it was quiet. Quiet, except for the rasp of the artificial respirator and the incessant beeping of the monitors showing Mulder precariously clinging to life. They had pumped his stomach, but the doctors told her that he was in a full coma, with very little brain activity. The next forty-eight hours were crucial, she knew. If there was a likely to be change in his condition, it would be now. Either he wouldn't make it through the night, or he would. And if he made it through the next forty-eight hours without waking up, the chances were good that he would never wake up at all. Exhaustion threatened to overwhelm Scully, but she ruthlessly pushed it aside. It had taken most of her emotional strength not to break down as she called Skinner and told him what had happened. Thankfully, he had agreed to take on the delicate task of calling Mulder's mother. "I'm not sure what to do, sir," Scully confessed. Without divulging the precise nature of the events prior to Mulder's attempted suicide, she was at a loss as to how to convey the delicacy of the situation. "Agent Mulder's been through some very traumatic events in the twenty-four hours leading up to his...well, I'm not sure that seeing his mother would be the best thing for him upon coming out of this. But if he doesn't..." She trailed off, unable to complete the thought. "I think I understand, Agent Scully." Skinner's tone was compassionate. "I'll try to tactfully convey that to her. But you do realize that given the severity of Agent Mulder's condition, we can't realistically expect to keep his mother away from him." "I understand, sir, and I would appreciate you doing anything you can. I'm going to stay with him for the time being. The doctors think that hearing a familiar voice might stimulate brain activity." There was a pause. "How are you holding up, Scully?" "I'm fine, sir." And Scully almost believed herself as she hung up the phone. But now, six hours later with no discernible change in Mulder's condition, and her voice raw from speaking, she wasn't so sure. Scully was annoyed. Right at that moment, Scully's heart, as well as the rest of her body, was telling her to sleep. Unable to fight against the inevitable anymore, she succumbed to slumber, her head pillowed on Mulder's arm. * * * * * When Mulder became aware of himself again, he was seated at a plain wooden table in a featureless room. He glanced around, taking in the lack of windows, and wondered briefly where the light was coming from. There were no fixtures visible; indeed, there was nothing but the table, two chairs, and a door across from him. "Aren't there supposed to be three couches and a tacky lamp here?" he wondered aloud. "Guess Sartre's definition of Hell was a bit off the mark." Briefly, he considered opening the door to see where it led, but figured he wasn't quite that brave yet. Best to wait and see if a valet showed up. One thing was for sure. Wherever he was, it wasn't Heaven. Oh, yes, Mulder knew he was dead. With preternatural clarity, he was aware of every moment of the last twenty-four hours of his life, up until the moment when he had lost consciousness after taking the bottle of pills. He figured he would be tortured for eternity with those visions and memories, and that was fine with him. He had no regrets. Except one. He regretted the pain he knew his suicide would cause Scully. Scully. His heart twisted with grief as he thought about his beautiful partner. She didn't deserve what his actions were going to put her through, but he figured it was better than the alternative. A life with him would be nothing but misery; at least this way, she could mourn and go on. Mulder had no doubt that Scully would grieve for him, but in the end, she was better off without him. "And who the hell are you to make that decision for me?" Startled, Mulder looked up to see a very angry Scully standing in the doorway, glaring down at him. "Christ, Scully! What are you doing here?" An awful thought occurred to him. "You didn't-" "No, Mulder, I didn't. I don't have your penchant for the dramatic." Slamming the door behind her, she advanced on him, color high. Her chest was heaving, her face flushed, her hair in disarray. She was totally, gloriously enraged. And to Mulder's eyes, she had never looked more beautiful. She held up a hand. "Don't say it, Mulder. I don't want to have to kick you the rest of the way into the afterlife." He blinked. "The rest of the way? You mean I'm not-" "No, Mulder. I made a vow years ago that you weren't going to ditch me again, and I meant it. Your sorry ass is halfway between this life and the next, and before you go anywhere from here, we're going to have a little chat." Grabbing him by the shirtfront, she hauled him halfway out of the chair and put her face very close to his. "Would you mind telling me just what the hell you think you were doing?" Shoving him back, she released him roughly and prowled around the room. "You know, I'm probably supposed to tell you a bunch of sweet, tender things to make you want to come back, to wake up in my arms, but all I want to do is smack you around. How dare you? How dare you make assumptions about what's best for me? How dare you make my choices for me? What gives you the right to dictate my life for me? "Did you honestly think that some paltry note telling me not to blame myself would make this any easier? Don't blame myself, indeed. The way I see it, two days ago, you weren't considering making an afternoon snack out of a bunch of pills. The only thing that's changed for you is that I told you I loved you. And that was enough to...to..." Tears trembled on her lashes. "Oh, God, Scully, no. That's not-" "Shut up, Mulder. Just shut up." Angrily, she scrubbed her face with the back of her hand. "I know it wasn't that. It was everything that it brought up for you. If I hadn't pushed you...tried to get you to say something that you didn't feel, the flashback....the memories...none of this would have happened. How can you possibly tell me not to blame myself? How can you tell me it's not my fault?" "Because it's not!" He ran his hand through his hair in exasperation. "First of all, Scully, it isn't that I don't feel...what you want me to feel. I do. I...I...dammit." He pinched the bridge of his nose and blew out a harsh breath. "Even now I can't say it." He looked up at her with lost eyes. "I can feel it. I can even think it. I can picture myself saying it to you. But every time I try to say the words..." His mouth worked helplessly for a moment. "I...it just won't come out. "But the rest of it, Scully. I said for you not to blame yourself, and I meant it. It isn't you. It's me." "Oh, come on, Mulder," she said sarcastically. "I haven't bought that line since I was twenty-two. When someone says 'it's not you, it's me' it pretty much means 'it's you.' But the rest of it," she threw his words back at him, "is equally bullshit. I don't need to hear those words from you, Mulder. Oh, sure, they'd be nice, but I don't care if you say them. I only care if you mean them." She stared at him silently for a long moment. "Do you?" Solemnly, he nodded, his gaze holding hers. "Then why did you do this to me?" Scully crumbled, giving in to the sobs that had been threatening since the moment she found him unconscious in the loft of the summer house. "Why did you leave me?" "Oh, Scully." Mulder stepped around the table, pulling her into his arms and cradling her against his chest. Gently, he stroked her hair. "Try to understand. It really isn't you. Because I...because of how I feel about you, I can't ask you to live with this. With what I am. But that's because I can't live with it myself." He shut his eyes against the tears that were pinching at him, as well. "It took me so long to push it all down into the past, into a little tiny box deep inside, where I could pretend it hadn't happened. It took years. And in those years..." He paused, struggling for control. "I've been at this place more than once. I knew...after what happened the other night...I was standing at the edge of the abyss, looking down. It was going to start all over again. The nightmares, the flashbacks, the anxiety attacks...the memories," he whispered. "I can't do it again. I don't have it in me anymore." He laid his cheek atop her head. "I'm so tired, Scully," he said softly. "I need to rest." For long moments, they held each other. Finally, Scully stepped back. "Then rest, Mulder," she said tenderly, brushing a lock of hair off his forehead. "And when you wake up, I'll be there with you." Something in her tone arrested him. "What are you saying, Scully?" "I'm saying that what happens next is up to you." "Meaning?" She smiled sadly, taking his hand. "I don't know any other way to prove this to you, Mulder. I told you that you weren't going to ditch me again, and I meant it. I'm going to be right there with you...whether it's in this life or the next." He stared in shock. "You can't be serious." "Oh, but I am." Kissing his wrist, she dropped his hand and stepped back. "I'm not above a little emotional blackmail. If you want to go through with this, go ahead, but that won't get rid of me. It's not that easy, Mulder. This time, damn it, you're taking me with you." She sighed and turned toward the door. "I'm going back now. Where we go from here is your decision. And if you wake up in that hospital bed, with me sitting beside you..." She faced him, hand on the doorknob. "I promise, Mulder, you won't have to go through this alone. We're in this together. Partners." She smiled gently at him. "You're not alone anymore." Stunned, he could do no more than stare as she closed the door quietly behind her. "Scully!" Leaping across the room, he wrenched the door open. There was nothing on the other side. No hallway, no doors, no outer room...and no Scully. In shock, he stumbled to the chair and sat down heavily. Where was he? What in hell was going on? Did he really have a choice? And that conversation with Scully...was it real? Had she really been here? Did it even happen? Mulder knew that he couldn't take the chance that Scully would do something as incredibly stupid as she had suggested, if he died. And if he lived, he knew that he was in for a long, hard road. One that Scully had promised to travel with him. If she had really been here. Mulder was ready to believe in the extreme possibility that she had somehow found a way to come to him in this strange place between worlds. But what she was promising, what she was offering...could he trust in that? In her? At this, the weakest moment in his life, was he strong enough to believe in her? Time stopped as he considered his answer. "I want to believe," he whispered into the silence. * * * * * Scully awoke with a start as Mulder's hand moved under her cheek. "Mulder?" Leaning over him, she quickly pressed the call button and perched on the side of his bed, taking his hand. "Mulder, can you hear me?" Her eyes scanned the banks of equipment next to the bed, coming to rest on the EEG. Hope flared in her as she saw the gradual increase in electrical activity, marking his slow but steady rise to consciousness. "Mulder?" His eyelashes fluttered and his fingers twitched in hers. "....want to believe..." he murmured, so quietly that she had to bend over him to hear. "Mulder, it's me. It's Scully. Can you hear me, Mulder?" Gently, she brushed the hair back off his forehead, eyes fixed on his face. "Scully..." Briefly, his eyes opened and his fingers entwined with hers, clasping her hand fully. "You didn't go..." Unable to help herself, she laughed aloud in relief. "No, Mulder, that was you that tried to take an unauthorized trip, remember?" Her smile faded as she touched his cheek. "I'm not going anywhere, Mulder. I'm staying right here." His gaze held hers, such a wealth of emotion in his lonely hazel eyes that Scully had to blink back a sudden rush of tears. "I'm not going anywhere, Mulder," she repeated in a choked whisper. "I love you." He closed his eyes, a lone tear streaking down his cheek as his hand tightened around hers. Bending down, Scully gently kissed it away. A moment later, she jumped as she felt a hand on her shoulder. Looking up, she saw the smiling, careworn face of Norma, Mulder's night nurse. "I see our boy's finally awake," she said cheerfully. "The doctor's on his way, so if I can just get in here..." Scully returned her smile, releasing Mulder's hand as the other woman gently but firmly moved her out of the way. "You don't have to leave. This will only take a sec-" She broke off in surprise as Mulder's heart monitor began to beep insistently. "Damn," the older woman muttered under her breath. "Pulse and BP's going through the roof..." Meanwhile, Mulder had begun to thrash restlessly on the bed. "Scully," he moaned, his hand grasping at the air, seeking. "Scully! Don't go...Scully!" Quickly, she moved to his side, taking his hand. "I'm here, Mulder. I'm right here. I'm right here." She stroked his hair back off his forehead, and was startled to see that as rapidly as the spike had occurred, his vital signs had settled back down to normal. Puzzled, her eyes met the nurse's. "Well, at least we know he's alive," Norma retorted dryly in answer to Scully's unspoken question. "I guess you're not leaving for a while." "Scully." Mulder's voice was a mere whisper, but his grip on her hand was strong and unrelenting. She smiled softly. "I wasn't planning on it." Her words were directed toward Norma, but her gaze never left her partner. "No matter what he thinks." "Ain't love grand?" the nurse chortled merrily, moving around to Mulder's other side to check his IV. "Let me come to the wedding. I love parties." Satisfied, she made some notations on her clipboard and turned to leave. "He's doing fine. Dr. Whalen will check him out herself, but I bet your young man will be out of ICU within the hour." "And then?" "Well, you know the regulations as well as I do. They're going to move him to a psych ward. That's SOP." Norma glanced down at Mulder's now-sleeping form and back up at Scully. "I'm not going to lie to you, Dana," she said quietly. "Now that he's out of the woods, it's easy to forget what brought him here. You can't do that, or we'll wind up meeting again like this. And next time, he might not be so lucky." "I'm not likely to forget a bit of this, Norma." Scully shuddered. "I think I'll be reliving the last two days in my sleep for years." The nurse nodded sympathetically. "I wouldn't be surprised. He's not the only the only one who's going to need help, Dana. You need to talk to someone about this, if for no other reason than that it's going to be a tough road ahead for Mulder. I don't know exactly what brought him to this point, but whatever it was...He's going to need you. You have to be sure that you're ready to handle it." Scully looked at her plainly. "I don't have any choice." Glancing down at her partner, she touched his cheek gently. "He's my life," she explained. "Where he goes, I go." Her voice took on an undertone of fierceness. "He's not alone anymore." Slowly, Norma nodded. "That's good. But you're still going to need support yourself, Dana. In some ways, what you went through is almost as traumatic as his experience. You have to take care of yourself, if you're going to be able to take care of him." She crossed her arms and regarded the younger woman levelly. "Promise." "Norma..." "Promise, or I'll sing karaoke at your wedding reception. And trust me, you don't want that. Now promise." Laughingly, Scully held up her hands in surrender. "Okay, okay." She sobered. "But there might not be a wedding, you know." She sighed, shaking her head ruefully. "Guess I'm a lot more sure about us than he is, or we wouldn't be sitting here." "Oh, I wouldn't sell him short, Dana." The older woman's eyes twinkled. "I've kept a pretty close eye on your partner over the last twenty-four hours, and something's happening to him that I don't think he expected." Something in the other woman's tone brought her head up, and she studied Norma carefully. "I'm not sure I know what you mean." "Being in that state can bring you a lot of clarity, don't you think?" To Scully's astonishment, the other woman's face blurred, and just for an instant, she saw the sweet, gentle countenance of Nurse Owens. "Sometimes you see things you never thought you'd see. And sometimes, you see the things...the people...you saw all along in a new way. You have to break the cycle." At the door, Norma/Nurse Owens paused and looked back. "I've invested too much in you two to want to see it slip away now." She smiled. "I have the strength of my beliefs, you see." * * * * * thought Mulder absently, Unquestionably, this was a dream. With an odd sort of clarity, Mulder knew that he was lying in a hospital bed, sleeping a deep healing sleep, and yet here he was. It wasn't that his surroundings were that interesting, mind you, just that they were so clear. As near as he could tell, he was in a long, reasonably featureless hallway, not unlike the one outside the room he and Scully had so recently occupied. Only this time, there were a series of doors in front of him. Mulder didn't know how he knew this, but he figured he was supposed to open each one and look inside. Gamely, he tried the first knob and it turned easily under his hand, the door swinging inward. It was Scully's apartment. And there, on the couch, lit by romantic firelight, was a slightly tousled, very relaxed, and if he wasn't mistaken, just a bit intoxicated Scully, laughing and talking to...him. Mulder's hands flexed. He knew this scenario. Scully thought it was him, but it was actually... Wait a minute. Obligingly, the scene before him froze, all action halting. Mulder was too caught up in a sudden rush of thought to even notice. Scully thought it was him. He marveled at his own carelessness in never thinking this through. * * * * * Scully shook her head ruefully. "Marcus was the twelfth grade love of my life." She took a brief sip of her wine. "I can't believe I'm telling you this." "I can't believe you've never told me before." She shook her head again. "I'm seeing a whole new side of you tonight, Mulder." He held her eyes with his. "Is that a good thing?" She studied his face for long moments, then looked away shyly. "I like it," she whispered, hiding behind her wineglass. He tilted his head thoughtfully. "When you think about the kind of person you wanted to be when you were a kid...how far off did you wind up?" "Career wise? Miles off track." He hesitated, looking away for a moment. "Did you ever wish...if you could do it all over again...that you would do things differently?" She looked at him in surprise. "Do you?" Slowly, he nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. Carefully, he slid across the couch next to her, leaning over Scully and inclining his head toward hers. Her eyes widened as he lowered his mouth to hers... * * * * * Mulder closed the door abruptly. He knew what happened next. Still, he took long moments to process what he had just seen. The significance of the moment hadn't hit him before now, but suddenly it struck him. He believed that Scully loved him, sure. But nothing in her actions had given her away before "the Padgett incident". Yet after one evening and a bottle of wine, she had been ready to...with...Mulder couldn't even finish the thought. Instead, he focused on what he could assimilate. What was it that Scully found so attractive, so...approachable...about the other man? Certainly, Eddie had made a move on her, something Mulder himself had never done. But it was more than that. Van Blundht had listened to her, talked to her, and cared about getting her to open up on a level that suddenly made Mulder look like a superficial swine. The other man had treated her like the lovely, desirable woman she was. Struck with inspiration, Mulder opened second door. Sure enough, there sat Eddie in his "Superstar" baseball cap, waiting for a visitor in the jail. "Is, uh, Agent Scully here?" Eddie's tone was hopeful, and for a moment, Mulder was thrown off stride. This was the middle of their conversation, after all. Still, he was willing to play along. Whatever was happening here...in this dream, this vision...all the chaff had been cut out and the important stuff was being shown to him. The truth was in here, and Mulder was going to find it. "What did you want to talk to me about, Eddie?" The words came easily to his lips, and Mulder didn't even need his famed eidetic memory to help him. This conversation, strangely humiliating, had stuck in the agent's consciousness for months. Eddie shook his head, smiling. "I just think it's funny. I was born a loser, but you're one by choice." "On what, exactly, do you base that astute assumption?" "Experience." Eddie leaned forward. "You should live a little. Treat yourself. God knows I would...if I were you." The words popped unbidden into his brain, and instinctively, he responded. "What do you mean, Eddie? If you were me, what would you do?" Suddenly, Mulder deviated from the script, wanting to see what would happen. Worst case, nothing. Best case, maybe some questions would finally be answered. Eddie nodded toward the door. "I mean Agent Scully." He shrugged. "I just give women what they want, is all. Any man can do that. Most just don't. So I give them what they want...from the man they want it from." "Meaning me, in this case." Mulder pursed his lips thoughtfully. "She worships you. A fool could see that." Eddie studied the man opposite him. "Then again, maybe not. But she does. All I did was listen to her, Agent Mulder. Treated her like she was somebody important. Like she mattered." Mulder was aghast. "And I don't?" Eddie shrugged again. "Obviously not." He eyed the other man levelly, his gaze suddenly wise. "It usually takes more than a bottle of cheap wine and a bit of conversation, Agent Mulder. Agent Scully must be-" "Be very careful what you say next, Eddie," he said softly, eyes narrowing. "...used to not even getting that, if that's all it took." He looked up at Mulder. "I wasn't going to cast aspersions on her character, Agent Mulder. Just on yours." Eddie shifted in his chair. "Can I go now?" Taken aback, the agent could do no more than nod as the short, pudgy man got up and crossed to the door where the guard waited. "She loves you, Agent Mulder," said Eddie, and again, his gaze was strangely knowing. "And if I could get her to open up with so little effort, you must have already done most of the hard work. Do you really want someone else to enjoy the fruits of your labors?" * * * * * Gently, Mulder closed the door behind him and stood in the hallway, chewing indecisively on his lower lip. The smallest bit of encouragement, and Scully could have been his long ago. Eddie had a point. Scully was no easy mark; she wouldn't have fallen into just anybody's arms that easily. If she hadn't found Mulder...the real Mulder...attractive to begin with, it would have taken more than an evening to get her to the point where he had found the two of them. Then again, maybe not. Exactly how battered a self- esteem did Scully have, anyway? After all, Eddie had also pointed out the Mulder didn't treat her with the utmost respect. Maybe the point was that after the way he himself had primed her, she was susceptible to any man with a soft gaze and a good line. So which was the truth? Pensively, he slowly walked to the next portal and pushed it open, stepping into the FBI's crime lab. Glancing around, the place appeared to be deserted, and Mulder frowned. What was the point of this scenario? "What do you want, Agent Mulder?" Spinning around, his jaw dropped at the sight of Agent Pendrell in his ubiquitous lab coat, leaning against a workbench. Mulder blinked. He could have sworn there was no one there a minute ago, but for that matter, he could have sworn that Pendrell was dead. He also was disturbed to note the grim, forbidding expression on the other man's usually open and friendly features. "It's also the place where you get answers to questions you haven't learned how to ask yet, isn't that right, Agent Mulder? Isn't that one of your wise, pithy sayings?" Pendrell turned away in disgust, examining a rack of test tubes. "About time you got around to thinking about questions like this." "Now, hold it. How did you know I said that?" Mulder was genuinely confused, both by the other agent's words and manner. "And for that matter, why are you acting like I pissed in your Cheerios?" "Agent Scully told me. She told me just about everything you ever said, Agent Mulder, with that glazed, hero-worshipping look she gets whenever your name comes into the conversation. If she isn't busy defending you from some well-earned abuse, that is." Pendrell glared at him. "And that should answer both your questions." Mulder was starting to get annoyed. "So you're ticked because Scully didn't want to date you? Is that what this is about?" He spread his hands. "Pendrell, that's hardly my fault." The younger agent slammed his hands down on the table. "Actually, it is, Agent Mulder. Unlike you, I can see past what's right in front of me. I cared about Dana. I wanted her to be happy. I could have dealt with the fact she didn't want to go out with me. I could even have dealt with the fact she didn't because she wanted you. What I couldn't deal with," he punctuated his fury with a sharp poke to Mulder's shoulder, "was how you treated her. "I know all about being in love with someone who doesn't give a rat's ass about you, Agent Mulder. But when that person knows it and uses it to keep you from being happy with someone else, that's a whole other story." His eyes blazed. "And don't tell me you didn't know. I could see it. The whole lab could see it. For Christ's sake, the entire damned headquarters has a pool going to see how long it'll take you to pull your head out of your ass and do something about it! You work with her every damned day, Mr. Hot Shot Profiler...you're trying to tell me you didn't know how she felt about you?" Mulder was completely nonplussed. His mouth opened and closed a few times, until finally, the unedited truth stammered out of him. "I...I didn't know. Honestly, Pendrell. Not until a few days ago." He shook his head in bewilderment. "I had no idea." Pendrell stared at him in surprise. "Seriously?" He shrugged and turned away. "Then you're not just an ass, but a blind ass. I thought...considering how it's always all about you, I never figured you'd miss something that obvious. But then I guess that makes sense." He seated himself at the computer monitor. "You probably would have just used it as an excuse to feel guilty. Always thinking about what her feelings for you were costing her, and never considering what she was willing to give up for you." He glanced up. "If you ever saw her as her own person...as a woman...you wouldn't make that mistake. Please close the door on your way out, Agent Mulder." In seconds, Pendrell was absorbed in his work, seemingly unaware of the other's man's presence. * * * * * Was it true? Had he been viewing Scully's actions through the lens of his own conceit all this time? Yes, he reflected with painful honesty. As much as a part of him wanted to punch Pendrell in the mouth for some of the things he said, the other man was right. Scully was her own woman, and she made her own decisions. he amended. When looked at that way...when he considered all she had given up for him, she was utterly amazing...and her depth of feeling for him was humbling. A hell of a woman who had given him an amazing gift, and after all he done to push it, and her, away, she still chose to stay with him. Why? What had he ever given her? He opened the next door and stepped through into the hallway of his building, just in time to see Scully come walking out of the open door of his apartment. "Scully!" he called, suddenly needing to see her face, to tell her all he had seen. She didn't react, and he was startled to see himself come barreling out of the door after her. * * * * * "If you want to tell yourself that so you can quit with a clear conscience, you can, but you're wrong." She whirled on him. "Why did they assign me to you in the first place, Mulder? To debunk your work. To rein you in. To shut you down." "But you saved me. As difficult and as frustrating as it's been sometimes, your goddamn rationality and strict science have saved me a thousand times. You kept me honest. You made me a whole person. I owe you everything, Scully, and you owe me nothing. I don't want to do this alone. I don't even know if I can. And if I quit now, they win." * * * * * Mulder was stunned. Until that moment, he hadn't realized exactly what he had said to Scully, how much of himself he had revealed to her in those desperate moments. With everything that had come after, it had been easy to forget how nakedly vulnerable his appeal had been. And he hadn't remembered the tears in her eyes, the compassion, tenderness, and yes, love that had flowed back to him at his words. They had been talking about the work, but the message was clear. She completed him. She was his other half. And if she was his other half, and he couldn't go on without her, didn't it stand to reason that the reverse was true? The words had been torn from him, almost against his will. And yet, when put next to all she had done for him, the offering seemed pitifully small. But she had taken them to her heart, just as she had taken him in her arms, and for her, it had been enough. She gave so much, and asked so little of him. He was ashamed. She had given him such trust, such power over her, and she had done it willingly, simply because she loved him. All along, he had the power to make her happy...as happy as she had made him the other night, and he had withheld it. Why? Why did the past have such power over him? Scully was his present and his future. Why couldn't he reach for it? For her? Seeking answers, he opened the last door, and was back at the beginning. Seated before him, in the same featureless room he had been in before, was Phillip Padgett. "Motive is always the hardest," the writer observed, studying Mulder. "Often it doesn't occur to one until later." Mulder stared mutely at the wiry young man, unable to speak. He whirled as a voice rang out from behind him. "Man imagines that he can open up his heart," intoned the hooded figure, "and expose the burning flames of charity, like the Creator himself. But...this is not within his power." As if from a distance, Mulder heard himself speaking. "But I have love in my heart." "Yes! As a thief has riches, a usurer money, you...have...it." Ken Naciamento stepped out of the shadows and pinned Mulder with his gaze. "But Man's only power...only true power...is to destroy it." For long moments, they stared at each other until suddenly Mulder broke the contact, shaking his head. "No. I don't believe that." He turned back to Padgett. "How did you know?" "I misjudged her interest in me. She was only trying to get your attention, and didn't even know it." He smiled ruefully. "The old subconscious at work." His expression faded. "She thinks you're worth it. Even though she thought you didn't notice her, she still wanted you above everyone else. She wanted to let you in." He eyed Mulder shrewdly. "She didn't know how afraid you are of her. Of the power she has over you." Even though he knew this was true, Mulder still panicked at the assessment. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked belligerently. "To open your heart...gives her the power to destroy it. You know this." Mulder was rooted to the spot, held fast by horror as the other man slowly dissected him. "So you destroy her instead, using the power she's given you. You could use this power to rise from the ashes, but your fear holds you frozen. Your terror has blinded you to your own worth; the panic of the child convincing the man that he is unworthy of that power. So you destroy its source before it can destroy you, as it did the last time you opened your heart. "But though the child is part of the man, the man is not the child." Mulder squeezed his eyes shut, images and memories rolling over him in a wave. He swayed in place, weakened by his own emotions. "You've been seeing the man through the eyes of the child," Padgett said quietly, not without compassion. His companion was less gentle. "It is time to see the child through the eyes of the man." Mulder's knees buckled as his consciousness was thrown back almost thirty years. "No," he moaned quietly. "No..." The images held him captive, bending him to their will, as the old man in his memories was doing to the child he held in his power. As if in a trance, he stumbled forward, and though every fiber of his soul rebelled against it, he reached out and opened the door that had just appeared in front of him. * * * * * "Tell me you love me, Fox," the old man crooned, pinning the child's body beneath him. "No! Please, don't..." "Tell me, Fox. You love me, don't you? Just tell me, and I'll stop hurting you. It doesn't have to hurt, Fox. You're making me hurt you." A sharp pain lanced through the child's body, sending reverberations through the soul of the man. "No! Stop..." * * * * * Mulder thrashed in his sleep. "No..." In an instant, Scully was by his side, cradling him against her. "I'm here, Mulder. I'm here." * * * * * "Sh, Fox, be quiet. Don't be such a baby. I'm only doing this because I love you. You know that, don't you?" The child shuddered with mingled pain, fear and grief. "Please..." "Just tell me you love me. Or should I ask Samantha? I bet she loves me." "No! God, no...leave her alone..." "Then stop making me hurt you. You're bringing this on yourself, you know, Fox." "Why?" The child began to cry piteously, the tears streaming down his cheeks. "Why? What did I do? Why are you doing this?" * * * * * Gently, Scully wiped away the wetness coursing down Mulder's cheeks as he struggled in the grip of his nightmares. "I'm here, sweetheart," she whispered to him, stroking his face. "I'm here. It's okay." * * * * * "I told you. You're bringing it on yourself. I'm only hurting you when you're being bad, Fox. If you were a good boy I wouldn't have to hurt you." More pain, a piercing stab of agony. "If I didn't love you, I wouldn't care. I wouldn't have to punish you." The child cried harder. The stabs of pain were faster now, more insistent. "You understand, don't you? Tell me you understand." Stab. "Tell me you know why I'm punishing you." Stab. "Tell me!" The child was sobbing hysterically, tossing his head from side to side. "Stop, please stop..." He turned his face away. * * * * * Mulder began to twist in Scully's loose embrace, hoarse sobs escaping from his lips. "Please, stop," he whimpered, shuddering in her arms. "Oh, Mulder." Her stomach contracted with pain, but she held on. "It's Scully, Mulder. It's just me. I'm here. I'll keep you safe." * * * * * The old man reared back, slapping the child harshly across the face. "Look at me. Look at me!" Terrified, the child obeyed, forcing his eyes open. The agony sweeping over his lower body threatened to consume him. Stab. "You know why I'm punishing you, Fox. Tell me why!" Stab. "Because..." The child was gasping with anguish. "Because I've been bad." Stab. "Yes." Stab. "You've been bad." Stab. "And why are you letting me punish you?" Stab. "Be-because you love me." The child could barely get the words out through his sobs, his thin frame shaking. Stab. Stab. Stab. "Now tell me you love me, Fox." Stab. "Tell me!" Stab. Stab. "I love you..." "Again..." "I love you I love you I love you..." A final, vicious thrust, and it was over. This time. "Remember, Fox, this is our secret." Slowly, the old man began to dress. "Don't make me hurt you more than I have to. Don't prove what a bad boy you really are." The door closed, and the child burrowed into the blankets, weeping as if his heart would break. * * * * * Scully's heart felt as if it would break when she felt Mulder burrow deeper into her embrace, clinging to her desperately as he wept. Slowly, she rocked him. "It's okay, Mulder. It's okay. It's Scully, and I'm here. I'm not going to leave you. I'm right here, and I'm not going to let anyone hurt you ever again. I promise. I'm right here." She kissed his forehead, drawing him closer, wrapping him in her warmth. "I'm right here." * * * * * Mulder stood frozen, paralyzed by terror and grief. Over and over again, soundtrack of self-destruction played in his ear. "I wouldn't have to hurt you if you weren't bad." "You've brought this on yourself." "You're letting me do this." "Don't show anyone what a bad boy you really are." He covered his ears, helpless to stop the sounds. He clawed at his eyes, helpless to stop the visions. Slowly, he was losing his mind...helpless to stop the memories. his mind screamed. Dr. Naciamento's voice sounded in his ear. "Man's only power is to destroy love...but when that love is shared with another, Man ceases to be merely a man. The two create something magical, which confers back upon them the power of the Creator himself. This is how Man must open his heart, to give and receive at the same time." Through sheer will, Mulder forced himself to relax, to open, and a wave of comforting warmth spread over him. He felt her presence within him, surrounding him, supporting him. Helping him through his fear. His warmth. His comfort. His strength. That someone so amazing, so remarkable, could love him blew his mind. If someone so worthy of the best life had to offer would choose him of her own free will...his head spun at the implication. Like the truly phenomenal woman she was, she had achieved the impossible. She had finally broken down the last of his barriers and proved the unthinkable to him. That he was worthy of love. "Yes," the doctor breathed. "You understand. You must learn to receive. Only then can you give, and what the two create will strengthen both." His partner. His love. His life. After a moment, he opened his eyes. He was alone. The room was empty. And before him was one final door. "You're the writer," he said hoarsely, knowing he was alone, knowing what he had to do. Still, he felt compelled to ask for help, for guidance, for validation. "How does it end?" Silence met his query. "How does it end?!" he screamed into the emptiness. "There can be only one true ending," came the voice in his ear. "If it is to be perfect," added the other. Mulder stared at the door, one sentence reverberating loudly in his head. "You see?" the two asked in unison, effortlessly divining his thoughts. "It almost writes itself." Taking a deep breath, he put his hand on the knob. "I..." He swallowed hard to ease the dryness in his throat, and forced the words out. "I...love...you... Scully." Opening the door, he stepped through. * * * * * Mulder's lips moved, and once again, Scully bent over him, putting her ear to his lips. "...love you...Scully..." She sat down with a thump, staring at him wide-eyed. "What did you say?" she whispered in shock. His eyes flicked open, and a weak smile crossed his generous mouth. "You...heard me..." he murmured. A moment later, he drifted off again. This time, there were no dreams. Two years later It had been a long, hard road, but for the first time in decades, the scenery was different. Mulder's sleep was still punctuated by nightmares, but this time Scully was there to soothe him and hold him as he cried. There were weeks when he felt he had spent more time in the therapist's office than at his new job as a Professor of Criminology at American University, but that was okay. He had Scully to come home to. The memories still assailed him at times, the panic attacks still took him unawares, but they were lessening in frequency and duration, and Scully was there to help him through. It had been a long, hard road, but Scully was there beside him every step of the way. It hadn't been easy for her either, Mulder mused. There were nights when she raged at him, cried before him, and sometimes clung desperately to him, seeking comfort and reassurance. And at those times, Mulder was strong for her, giving back as much as he could, drawing on the strength their love had created. He met with her therapists, and she with his. And through it all, she had never given up on him, or on them. They were making it. Nine months ago, he had finally been able to repeat the words that had slipped from his lips in that hospital bed after his journey between worlds. And finally, today, he was going to do what he should have done years ago. On his right, Skinner stood tall and rigid in his tuxedo, somehow managing to make the formal wear look like a military uniform. Behind him and to his left, a misty Maggie Scully sat next to a glowering Bill Jr. and a bemused Charles. Somewhere a few rows back, sat his friends, the Lone Gunmen, slapping hands and exchanging money. Across the aisle sat his mother, looking slightly uncomfortable with the show of emotion permeating the church. Emotions that were running rampant among the few people in the room that knew just how much this couple had gone through to get to this point. Skinner knew. After Mulder had been released from the hospital, it was obvious his career in the FBI was over. It was Skinner who had helped the younger man with the difficult transition, supporting him, bullying him when necessary, and becoming a closer friend than either had ever thought was possible. Privately, he thought of Mulder as the son he never had. And though he would never say so aloud, part of him fervently wished it was true; he would have protected that boy with his last breath from having to go through such pain. And seeing him today, knowing how hard he had worked, how much he had suffered for his happiness, and seeing the grace with which he bore his burdens, Skinner couldn't have been prouder if Mulder had been his own flesh and blood. That pride showed in every line of his stance. Maggie Scully knew. She, too, had come to love Fox as her own son, and like Dana, her heart had broken for the pained young man who loved her daughter so much, and tried so hard to prove himself worthy of her love in return. She had worked hard to get him to accept that simply being the warm, gentle man he was made him worthy. And she had been there more nights than she could count for both of them, holding Dana and supporting her when the burdens became too much, and holding Fox and supporting him when his pain became too great for either of them to bear. They had come so far, and now they had a lifetime together to finish. Her happiness and thankfulness was in every tear that welled in her eyes. But Mulder saw none of this. He only had eyes for his beautiful bride, his Scully, who was walking proudly alone down the aisle toward him. They had teased Bill Jr. about this decision, telling him that if he had accepted Mulder in the beginning, they wouldn't have had to write him out of the ceremony. But privately, Mulder knew that it was Scully's most precious wedding gift to him. Proudly, publicly, she was giving him...herself. He blinked away a haze of moisture as she reached his side and took his hand. "I love you," he mouthed, raising her hand to his lips. She didn't attempt to stem the flow from her own eyes as she gently caressed his cheek, returning his silent affirmation in kind. Quietly, tenderly, they spoke the words that heralded their creation...a life together, and the beginning of the cycle of love. And in the back of the church, Norma Owens smiled.