From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org
Date: 24 Jul 2002 01:11:36 -0000
Subject: Leaving Mulder by dtg
Source: direct

Reply To: dgoggans@earthlink.net


Title:    Leaving Mulder
Author:   dtg
Email:    dgoggans@earthlink.net
Website:  http://home.earthlink.net/~dgoggans/
Rating:   PG
Spoiler:  The End, references to Emily and Redux
Category: post ep vignette
Keywords: MSR, MT, Sk/M/S friendship
Archive:  Sure, just let me know first.
Disclaimer: Anyone you recognize belongs to Chris
          Carter, 1013 and Fox. No copyright 
          infringement intended.
Summary:  "You're confusing love and loyalty. I 
          almost made the same mistake myself."
Author's Notes: The story picks up with the final
          scene of The End, which was a lead-in to 
          the movie. In the movie's famous hallway 
          scene, it seemed to me that Scully was
          moved by Mulder's declaration to a much
          greater degree than the words alone would
          warrant. This is my version of why.

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

Leaving Mulder  by  dtg

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


Scream, Mulder. Pick up the nearest sopping piece of 
rubble and throw it. Push me away. Do something to 
let me know you're in there.

Anything.

She raised her head from his chest, not fooled by his 
calm heartbeat. His expression was blank, his eyes 
dark with shock. 

"Mulder?" Scully tightened her grip on his arms. "We 
have to get out of the way and let them finish up in 
here." She tugged gently, surprised when he allowed 
her to lead him from the room. 

He had yet to make eye contact with her or anyone 
else, but he followed her to the stairs and up to the  
first floor hallway. Skinner was waiting there. When 
he saw Mulder's face, he looked quickly at Scully, 
the question clear in his eyes: Is he all right?

Mulder sidestepped them both and kept moving.

Scully paused in front of Skinner, but her focus 
remained on her partner. "I'm taking him home. I'll 
call you later." 

Mulder was in his car with the engine running when 
she caught up to him. He had the car moving before 
she even got the door closed. Scully snapped on her 
seat belt and turned to watch him. His full attention 
seemed to be on the road, but she knew better. 

"Mulder, I know what you must be feeling--"

His glance in her direction was brief but so filled 
with fury that it froze her in mid thought. And then 
he turned back to the road, hiding from her once 
again. They spent the rest of the drive in silence.

She'd left her car parked in front of his building. 
Mulder pulled up behind it, but he left the engine 
running. "Go home, Scully." 

They were the first words he'd spoken since they'd 
walked into the Hoover building a little over an hour 
ago.

"What are you doing?" She reached for his hand, but 
he pulled it away. 

"I need some time to think. I'm going for a drive." 
He formed his lips into the shape of a smile. "It's 
okay. Really."

He was beginning to scare her. "I'm not leaving you 
alone, Mulder."

The empty smile vanished and his voice turned to ice. 
"Get out of the car." His knuckles were white from 
gripping the wheel. 

"Come upstairs. I'll make some tea and--" 

He barked out a laugh that was more chilling than his 
smile had been a moment ago. "Yeah, that ought to 
make it all better. Tea. Maybe you could tuck me into 
bed with a good book." 

Truly frightened now, she reached for his hand on the 
wheel. It felt like marble, equally cold and hard.
And just as unresponsive.

"Mulder, you're scaring me. Please come upstairs and 
talk to me."

"You don't live here, Scully. I do. Go home." 

She shook her head, dislodging a tear that streaked 
down her face. She swiped it away with the hand that 
had been trying to warm his. As soon as she moved her 
hand, he cut the engine and got out of the car. 
Scully rushed to follow him.

"Where are you going?" She had no hope of catching 
him if he ran, which he seemed on the brink of doing.

Mulder stopped and turned to face her. "I need to be 
alone, Scully. If I can't drive, I'll walk." 

He was walking away, and something inside her started 
to come apart.

"Mulder, you're not the only one who's lost 
everything!" 

He stopped walking but didn't turn around. "You 
haven't lost it all, Scully. Not yet. And I'm going 
to make sure you don't." He took a few steps, then 
turned around. "Please, just go home." 

She covered the distance between them and took his 
hand. Her throat was so tight that she could barely 
get the words out. "I need you to talk to me, Mulder. 
Please don't do this." His eyes were in shadow from 
the street light behind him, but she heard the hitch 
in his breath. His fingers curled around hers.

"It's over." His voice was as thready as hers now, 
and his rigid posture had begun to sag under the 
weight of his grief.

"We'll find a way, Mulder. But you have to let me 
help you." She took his arms as she had in the 
basement, resting her head against his chest. "Please 
don't push me away."

He let her hold him for a moment, then she felt his 
body tighten again and he stepped back, disengaging 
himself gently. He cleared his throat.

"I'll go inside, but I need to be alone." He touched 
her face with icy fingers. "It's gonna be okay."

He turned his back to her, and this time she let him 
go. She watched until he was inside before she got 
into her car. She waited until the lights came on in 
his apartment. He appeared at the window a moment 
later, waiting for her to drive away.

With a feeling of utter helplessness, she started the 
car and did what he wanted.

***

Sleep was proving to be impossible. She'd left him 
alone at the worst possible time for no reason other 
than that it was easier than fighting him. Sometimes 
the hurdles were just too damn high, and this was one 
of those times.

Scully kicked free of the covers and swung her legs 
over the side of the bed. The digital clock read 2:20 
am, and he had been alone for three hours now. She 
glared at the phone sitting mute on her night stand. 
Never since she'd known him had Mulder weathered a 
crisis without calling her in the wee hours of the 
morning. Despite his insistence that she leave him 
alone, she'd been expecting the phone to ring since 
she got home. She'd even picked it up a few times to 
reassure herself that it was still working. It was, 
but it remained stubbornly silent.

She could call him, of course. He wouldn't even be 
surprised, but somehow it just felt wrong-- like an 
intrusion into a grief so profound that she could 
barely fathom it.

He needed her to trust him with this. She would see 
him at work tomorrow, although where that would be 
now, she had no clue.

She rolled over, placing her back to the phone, and 
closed her eyes.

***

FBI Headquarters
7:40 am

Skinner had arranged for temporary quarters in a 
small unused office on the third floor. The computers 
were installed and the phones were working. All that 
was missing was Mulder... and five years worth of 
their sweat, blood and tears.

Scully worked through her emails with one eye on the 
clock. By 10:00, she had finished not only the emails 
but several weeks worth of interoffice bulletins that 
would normally have gone straight into the trash. At 
10:30, she gave up any pretense of working and 
reached for the phone. 

Twenty minutes later, more than a dozen fruitless 
calls to his apartment and cell phone had turned her 
unease to panic. She left the office and drove to 
Alexandria with her heart in her throat. 

His car was still parked in front of the building.

Scully parked behind it, the reverse of their 
positions last night. She shut off the engine and sat 
staring at Mulder's windows, so filled with dread 
that she could barely breathe.

*He's overslept. He was exhausted and in shock, and 
sleep is the best thing, really.*

*He was teetering on the brink, and you left him 
alone.*

She pulled out her phone and called his apartment one 
more time, watching the windows with an irrational 
hope that she'd see him when he came to answer the 
phone on his desk. When the machine picked up again, 
she closed the phone and got out of the car.

She stood at his apartment door with her key in the 
lock, praying for a sound from inside. Anything. The 
television... water running... With every passing 
second, she became more certain of what she would 
find.

It had all finally become too much for him, and she  
knew it last night. She had a sudden horrifying 
flashback of the man Mulder had killed, sprawled on 
the floor in front of the couch with his face blown 
away. *It's him.*

She turned the key and pushed the door open.

The blinds were open and the room was filled with 
sunlight. And Mulder was not on the floor in front of 
the couch. Her knees actually shook with relief, 
until a quick search told her that he wasn't in the 
apartment at all.

Where the hell could he be-- she glanced at her 
watch-- at 11:18 in the morning? She returned to the 
bedroom and started poking around. He hadn't taken 
any clothes with him, wherever he was. His familiar 
suitcase was sitting in the corner. Jogging clothes? 
Another quick search revealed that his sweats and 
jogging shoes were missing, which did nothing to 
reassure her. If he'd been jogging all this time, 
he'd be halfway to Baltimore. 

Something had happened to him. She was sure of it 
now. She walked slowly to Mulder's desk phone and 
punched in Skinner's number.

She told him what little she knew, making no attempt 
now to hide her alarm.

"And you haven't heard from him since late last 
night?" The surprise in his voice was clear, as was 
his unspoken thought: And you're just NOW becoming 
concerned? 

"Yes, sir. He said he needed some time by himself and 
I... " There was no excuse for what she'd done.

"I understand." Clearly, he didn't. "I'll make some 
calls. Get back here as soon as you can."

Calls. To hospitals and morgues. 

She locked Mulder's apartment and ran to her car.

***

"Yes, the description matches." Skinner looked up to 
find Scully standing frozen in his doorway. There was 
no need to ask if she'd heard what he just said. He 
motioned for her to come in, then watched her 
unsteady steps to the chair in front of his desk. 
"We'll be there in twenty minutes." He hung up and 
came around the desk to take Mulder's seat next to 
her.

"Where is he?" Her voice was surprisingly steady.

"George Washington has a John Doe in the ICU. Hit and 
run accident a mile from Mulder's apartment. There 
were witnesses who provided a description of the car 
and a partial plate. They'll find the driver." He put 
his hand on her shoulder. "It does sound like 
Mulder."

She bowed her head for a moment and took a deep 
breath. When she met his gaze again, the pain in her 
eyes made him wince. "Let's go find out."

***

George Washington Hospital 
Intensive Care Unit
12:10 pm


The attending physician was a stranger to Scully, 
which was surprising in view of the amount of time 
she and Mulder had spent in this hospital over the 
past five years. There were at least a dozen other 
doctors who would have known Mulder on sight, ID or 
not.

Dr. Mandell was at the foot of Mulder's bed, reading 
from his chart. Skinner was just inside the door, and 
Scully sat at Mulder's side with his right hand 
clasped between both of hers. 

"The spinal cord swelling is the greatest concern at 
this point. We're treating him with steroids-- 
specifically methylprednisolone-- in an attempt to 
reduce it before the damage becomes permanent. 
Generally, treatment has to begin within the first 
thirty minutes for maximum benefit, and we were a bit 
outside that window."

Skinner spoke for the first time since they'd entered 
Mulder's room. "Then the paralysis is reversible?"

"It may be, yes. The next twenty-four hours will give 
us a better picture."

For a moment, the only sound in the room came from 
the heart monitor and the respirator. Scully kept her 
focus on Mulder as she spoke. "And if the swelling 
doesn't go down..."

"Then the damage will most likely be permanent. He'll 
be paralyzed below the fourth cervical vertebra." 

"Respirator dependent." She squeezed his hand between 
both of hers. "He doesn't even know I'm holding his 
hand." 

Skinner cleared his throat for no apparent reason and 
swiped at his nose. "Thank you, Doctor." He moved to 
Scully's side and placed one hand on her shoulder. 

Doctor Mandell nodded and left them alone with 
Mulder.

"Scully, do you want me to call your mother?"

"No, sir. I'm fine. You can go back to the office. 
I'll call you if there's any change." She hadn't 
taken her eyes from Mulder since they'd entered the 
room.

"I think I'll stay."

She finally turned to look up at him. "Sir, I'm fine. 
There's nothing you can do here, and we're not going 
to know anything more until he wakes up."

He withdrew his hand from her shoulder and stepped 
back. "I'll follow up with the police to see what 
progress they've made in locating the driver."

Scully nodded absently. The only crime the driver had 
committed was leaving the scene of the accident. All 
the witnesses agreed that Mulder had come out of the 
trees and crossed the street directly in front of the 
car. "Thank you."

She could feel Skinner's reluctance as he finally 
turned to leave, and his gentle pat on Mulder's knee 
made her heart clench. Although they hadn't always 
been able to trust him, there was no doubt in her 
mind that Skinner sincerely cared about his agents.

"Mulder, it's me." She let go of his hand and began 
to stroke his stubbled cheek, the only area of his 
body that could still feel her touch. "I know you can 
hear me." She stopped for a moment to get control of 
the tremor in her voice. "I spent all morning setting 
up our new office. We finally made it out of the 
basement, partner. You're gonna love the view. Right 
out onto the courtyard." The relentless hiss of the 
respirator was her only response. "I know you're 
scared, Mulder. You probably don't remember what 
happened, but you went jogging last night after I 
left." He probably didn't remember her leaving. He 
might not even remember the fire, she realized. 
Trauma like this often erased the past twenty-four 
hours, sometimes even more. She suddenly wished she 
hadn't mentioned the new office. If he didn't 
remember the fire...  Change the subject.

"I've got some vacation time coming-- not as much as 
*you* do, of course." She smiled at her own joke. "I 
think I'll use some of it to keep you company when 
you get out of here. We can even watch those Bill 
Murray movies you're always trying to get me to 
rent." It was a long-standing joke between them: She 
enjoyed character drama, ('chick flicks' in Mulder's 
lexicon), but he'd always suggest Caddyshack or  
something equally sophomoric. Male humor. Benny Hill. 
Monty Python. She smiled again, despite the tears 
blurring her vision. "You get to pick. All you have 
to do is wake up so we can get the hell out of here."

A nurse entered the room with a tray which she sat on 
the table next to his bed. While she switched IV bags 
and checked Mulder's vitals, Scully had to step back 
to give her room to work. It gave her a new 
perspective on his visible injuries, and her heart 
sank all over again.

The left side of his face was one large purple bruise 
with an abrasion running down the center, probably 
where he'd hit the pavement. His broken ribs were on 
the left side as well. That he hadn't broken his neck 
was a miracle in itself, though the damage he *had* 
sustained was more than enough. 

Respirator-dependent quadriplegia. His body might 
survive it, but his spirit never would. She would 
gladly spend the rest of her life caring for him, but 
she knew it was not an option. He would die before he 
would allow her to do that, not because he didn't 
value life, but because he loved hers more than his 
own.
 
"There are indications that his coma is lightening. I 
think he may be waking up soon." 

Scully jumped slightly at the voice. She'd all but 
forgotten the woman was in the room. "Thank you," 
was all she could manage. As soon as the nurse left, 
Scully resumed her seat. She took Mulder's hand 
purely for her own comfort, pressing his lifeless 
fingers to her lips in a soft kiss. Then she sat back 
to wait.

Less than an hour later, he opened his eyes. His 
expression went from drowsy to panicked before she 
could get out of her chair to lean over him.

"Mulder, it's okay. I'm right here. Try to relax." 
His head was immobilized by the cervical collar, so 
there was nothing he could move but his eyes. The 
respirator made speech, or even sounds, impossible. 
He was terrified. 

"You're hurt, Mulder, but you're in the hospital and 
you're going to be fine." The wild increase in his 
vitals must have set off an alarm at the nurses 
station. Scully could hear the hurried footsteps 
approaching. "You're going to be all right."

Two nurses rushed into the room, one going to either 
side of his bed. Scully stepped out of the way but 
tried to keep herself in Mulder's line of sight while 
they checked him over.

"Please step out of the room," one of the nurses 
called over her shoulder.

Scully held her ground, and the nurse was apparently 
too busy to notice. When the alarms began to sound, 
Scully's entire body jerked in response.

"He's in V-fib." 

More hurried footsteps approached and Scully was 
shoved out of the room practically into Skinner's 
arms. 

"What's going on?" He grabbed Scully's arms, looking 
closely at her face, then over the top of her head 
into the room.

She kept tugging against his grip, trying to turn 
back to follow his gaze. "I didn't see it coming. He 
was waking up, and I knew he was frightened, but I 
thought he was listening to me. I don't know what 
happened." Her voice trailed off as Skinner loosened 
his grip enough to allow her to turn. 

The alarms were silent now, and the people gathered 
around Mulder's bed were still. All motion, all 
sound, had ceased.

"No..." Then, just as her world began to collapse 
around her--

"I've got a pulse."

Skinner had renewed his hold, and it was the only 
thing keeping her upright.

Dr. Mandell emerged from Mulder's room a few minutes 
later behind the crash cart and its attendants. 
Scully hadn't even seen him go in. 

There were chairs against the wall behind them, and 
the doctor motioned for them to sit. "We have him 
stabilized." He looked directly at Scully. "I'm sure 
you know as well as I do that this was unexpected. We 
already checked for heart damage because of the chest 
trauma, and everything looked good."

Scully took a deep breath, but she still sounded like 
someone who'd just had the wind knocked from her 
lungs by a hard punch to the stomach. "Dr. Mandell, 
something happened last night that upset Agent 
Mulder, and I'm afraid I may have reminded him of it. 
I think that's what precipitated the arrhythmia. 
Maybe I should stay out of the room until his 
condition improves."

Mandell frowned. "Of course you'll have to use your 
best judgment. When the patient becomes more aware of 
his condition, he's going to need the support and 
reassurance of someone he trusts. If that isn't you, 
Dr. Scully, then I strongly suggest you get the right 
person here as soon as possible." He stood, and 
Skinner followed suit. "I'll be checking back hourly 
until we know which way he's going to go. I'll make 
sure you're kept informed."

When the doctor was out of ear shot, Skinner sat back 
down next to Scully. "He needs you. No matter what 
you may be thinking, Mulder needs you with him right 
now."

Scully was quite certain now that the opposite was 
true. "Yes, sir. I just need to get myself together 
before I go back in there. Would you mind sitting 
with him for a few minutes?"

"Of course. Take all the time you need." Skinner gave 
her a paternal pat on the shoulder and went to 
Mulder's side. 

She watched him pull back the chair that the crash 
team had knocked out of the way. He sat down, elbows 
resting on his widely planted knees, both hands 
clasped in front of him. He was vigilance 
personified.

Scully turned and headed for the elevator with the 
soft beep of Mulder's heart monitor sounding 
reassuringly in her ears.

***

4:46 pm

"Can I get you anything, Mr. Skinner?"

He was stretching the kinks out of his back, but he 
stopped to look over his shoulder at the smiling 
nurse. Her name was Brenda, so he'd found out when 
she came on duty at 3:00, and she seemed to have 
taken a decidedly non-professional interest in his 
welfare. 

"Coffee, if you've got some handy." He'd been sitting 
here for nearly five hours without a break. Where the 
hell Scully had gotten off to, he had no idea.

"Just made a pot in the nurses' lounge. I'll get you 
a cup on my way back with his meds."

Guilt washed over him and he turned back to Mulder. 
"How's he doing?" Keep your eye on the damn ball, 
Walter.

Brenda turned her attention to her patient, but 
Skinner saw a slight flush on her lovely cheeks. He 
wasn't the only one feeling the inappropriateness of 
the moment they'd been having. "There are signs that 
he's trying to breathe on his own. I'm going to page 
Dr. Mandell and let him know."

"That's good news?"

She smiled. "It's excellent news, Mr. Skinner."

Mandell appeared a short time later, followed by 
Brenda. She handed Skinner a styrofoam cup of coffee, 
and he took it into the hall to give them room to 
work. He finished the first cup and was working on a 
second from the vending machine when the doctor came 
out into the hall. He was smiling broadly.

"I think we've turned the corner. He's making rather 
amazing progress, in fact. The medication is doing 
its job, and Mr. Mulder is doing his. Whatever you've 
been saying to him, please continue." He glanced up 
and down the hall. "Dr. Scully has left?"

Skinner's smile faded. "She needed some time to 
regroup."

Mandell nodded. "Well, let her know that the news is 
all good." He gave Skinner a friendly slap on the 
shoulder and headed off down the hall.

Where the hell *was* Scully? Skinner had been 
wondering that very thing for the past couple of 
hours. He'd told her to take her time, but he'd fully 
expected her to run downstairs, grab some coffee and 
be back to shove him out of his seat in a matter of 
minutes. But five hours later, she was still missing. 
Not even a phone call to see how Mulder was doing. It 
was completely unlike her, and he was beginning to 
worry. For all she knew, Mulder could be dead. 

He pulled out his cell phone and called hers. He left 
a message when her voice mail picked up, letting her 
know that Mulder's condition had improved, asking her 
to call him. His call to her apartment yielded the 
same results, and his bewilderment grew.

Where the *hell* was she?

***

Maggie Scully's residence
Annapolis, Maryland
6:04 pm

Maggie Scully felt utterly drained, both physically 
and emotionally. She'd just left the side of a fellow 
parishioner whose husband of sixty-four years had 
died the night before. The woman had no family and 
few friends, no one to help her through this. Maggie 
had made some calls for her, and gone with her to 
make the funeral arrangements. They'd spent most of 
the afternoon going through the man's papers in 
search of insurance policies. She'd left the woman 
only when another parishioner came to make her dinner 
and spend this first awful night holding her hand.

Her mind was filled with the sad images from her day, 
so she was nearly in her driveway before she saw 
Dana's car parked at the curb in front of the house. 
There was no sign of her daughter. When she entered 
her house through the garage door, she found Dana 
sitting at the kitchen table, her face streaked with 
tears. When she saw her mother, she stood so quickly 
that the chair tipped over behind her.

"Mom--" Her voice cracked and failed, and the sobs 
began in earnest.

All Maggie could do was hold her. They stood in the 
kitchen until Dana's knees began to buckle, then 
Maggie led her daughter to the den and held her on 
the sofa until the harsh, gasping sobs tapered off to 
hitching breaths and soft sniffles. Maggie handed her  
a handful of tissues from the box on the coffee table 
and sat back until Dana had gotten herself more or 
less together.

"Something's happened to Fox." There was no need to 
phrase it as a question.

Dana nodded and took a shaky breath.

"Is he dead?" She was surprised by how much that 
question hurt her own heart.

"Not when I left him." 

"Sweetheart, where is he? Why aren't you with him?"

In halting fragments, Dana told her about the fire in 
their office and Mulder's reaction to it, her efforts 
to get him to talk about it, and what she saw as her 
total failure as his partner to help him deal with 
the incalculable loss of his life's work. When Dana 
finally described his accident and his injuries, 
Maggie felt her own eyes fill with tears, for her 
daughter as well as for the man Maggie had come to 
care for as one of her own children.

"Dana, I know how badly it must hurt you to see him 
like this, but he needs you to..." Dana was shaking 
her head. "Then *what*? Sweetheart, you have to tell 
me what's going on. I don't understand."

Dana swiped angrily at fresh tears. "He's never 
needed me, Mom. All I've done for five years is throw 
obstacles in his path. I thought I was helping, but  
I've just been doing exactly what they wanted me to  
when they assigned me to work with him: keep him from 
finding the truth." She reached blindly for another 
tissue, and Maggie placed the box in her hand. "There 
was a woman he worked with before I came. They sent 
her away because she was helping him in ways I'll 
never be able to do. She shared his beliefs. I saw 
the way he responded to her--" Several minutes passed 
while Dana worked to get herself back under control.

"You saw them together?" The pieces were suddenly 
falling into place.

"She worked on a case with us over the past few days. 
He... trusts her in ways he'll never be able to trust 
me. She was shot yesterday while guarding a witness 
we were protecting." Dana laughed shortly and without 
a trace of humor. "I just realized she's in the same 
hospital he's in right now."

Maggie didn't quite know how to ask her next 
question. "Do  you think he's been seeing her outside 
of work?"

"No, but I think he wanted to. I think maybe he 
should have." 

The pain in Dana's voice said more than her words, 
and Maggie pulled her into an embrace. Maggie had not 
seen the two of them together in months, not since 
Emily's funeral, but she could not believe what Dana 
was implying. She had watched Fox during Dana's 
illness last fall, and there was no doubt in her mind 
that-- at least back then-- Fox had been in love with 
her daughter. "Dana, you must know by now that Fox 
loves you very much."

That filled Dana's eyes once again. "He feels 
responsible for me, Mom. He feels responsible for 
everyone and everything in his life. It's just the 
way he is. You're confusing love and loyalty. I 
almost made the same mistake myself."

Maggie was utterly perplexed as to how to proceed. It 
was clear that Dana thought Fox would be better off 
without her, and it was equally clear how much pain 
that belief was causing her daughter. What it failed 
to explain was why she had left him alone on what 
could well be his death bed. "Even if you're right, 
and I am in no way suggesting that I agree with you, 
how can you leave him alone like this when he's 
hurt?"

"He was unconscious, Mom, and I was talking to him 
about what happened. He went into cardiac arrest 
because of what I said. All I do is remind him of 
what he's lost. Even the doctor agreed that I should 
stay away. I asked A.D. Skinner to stay with him, and 
I left the hospital. I drove around for a few hours, 
and then I came here." 

None of this made any sense to Maggie, but she had to 
admit that there was probably no one on earth who 
knew Fox Mulder the way her daughter did. Was it 
possible that she'd misread the man so completely? 
The only thing she knew with total certainty was that 
Dana had to return to the hospital. If Fox died with 
these issues unresolved, she shuddered to think of 
the emotional consequences for her daughter.

"Dana, you have to go back. If not for Fox, do it for 
yourself... and for me."

Maggie recognized the look that came over Dana's 
face, and her heart sank.

"I can't do that to him, Mom. I won't."

"Dana, what if his injuries are permanent? What if he 
*is* paralyzed? Do you want him to think that's why 
you're staying away? *Is* that why you're staying 
away?" She knew that wasn't the truth. She was hoping 
to make Dana think about what she was doing. 

Dana's reaction was not at all what she expected.

"If he is paralyzed, he'll die rather than let me 
stay with him. If he's alone, he may be angry enough 
to fight."  Dana's smile was heartbreaking. "So you 
see, no matter what happens... I can't see him. Not 
now. Not ever."

***

George Washington Hospital
8:04 pm


Mulder had regained consciousness a few minutes ago, 
and Skinner could read the question in his eyes. Not 
about his own condition, or about what had happened 
to him... but 'where is Scully?'. Skinner wished he 
had an answer.

Mandell was checking him over now, preparing to 
remove the breathing tube. They had been steadily 
reducing the amount of assistance the respirator 
provided as the swelling in his spinal cord receded. 
Mandell had disconnected the machine completely a 
moment ago, and Mulder was now breathing totally on 
his own. Those questions in his eyes would soon be 
spoken, and Skinner had no idea what he was going to 
say in response.

"I want you to take the deepest breath you can manage 
and hold it. Then I want you to blow out through your 
mouth as hard as you can."

Skinner turned away. He'd seen an extubation before 
and had no desire to watch another, particularly with 
someone who was flat on his back. Even sitting up, it 
was an unpleasant procedure.

After the gagging and coughing abated, Skinner turned 
back to Mulder's bed. The man was gasping for air and 
making an alarming amount of noise doing it. Skinner 
looked quickly at Mandell. "Is he all right?"

Mandell actually slapped the A.D. on the back. "He is 
so much better than 'all right' that I'm halfway 
through my article for JAMA." He turned back to his 
patient. "Mr. Mulder, you are one lucky man. I have 
never seen such a potentially lethal injury turn 
around so quickly. If you keep progressing at this 
rate, you'll be out of that cervical collar within a 
week." He shook his head in wonder as he made his way 
to the door where he paused and threw them a glance 
over his shoulder. "You've made my millennium, Mr. 
Mulder." And he was gone.

The nurse was still cleaning up from the extubation. 
When she had gathered up all the paraphernalia, she 
gave Mulder a rueful smile. "The bad news is, you're 
going to start feeling those broken ribs as the 
numbness retreats." She patted his hand, and Skinner 
was delighted to see Mulder react to the touch. "You 
just buzz me when you're ready for a pain shot, 
okay?" With a wink at Skinner, she left them alone.

Mulder was asking his question as soon as the nurse 
was out of earshot. "Where's Scully?" It obviously 
hurt him to speak, and Skinner immediately regretted 
making him say the words.

"I'm sure she'll be back soon, Mulder. She needed a 
break." It wasn't exactly a lie, but it was a long 
way from the truth. 

Mulder wasn't buying it. Skinner could see his throat 
working up to another question.

"Don't talk, Mulder. Your throat's gotta feel like 
hell." 

Mulder winced again. "Water."

Skinner grabbed the water glass and held the straw to 
Mulder's lips.  He took a few painful sips and tried 
again.

"Heard her leave."

That drew a puzzled frown from Skinner. "Mulder, you 
were unconscious."

"She's upset about--" A fit of coughing cut off the 
rest, and this time the wince turned into a full 
blown grimace. The ribs must be waking up, Skinner 
realized.

"Do you want me to call for the nurse?" He was 
becoming alarmed at the obvious pain his agent was 
feeling now.

The coughing tapered off, and Mulder took a careful 
breath. "Have to talk to her." 

Skinner puffed out a defeated breath and let his 
shoulders sag. "I don't know where she is."

Mulder eyes fixed on him with such intensity that 
Skinner could feel it on his skin. 

"Find her."

***

They had moved back to the kitchen while Maggie made 
them some tea and toast. Dana said she couldn't eat 
anything, but Maggie had to try. The toast was 
sitting untouched on the plate between them, but they 
were on their third pot of tea.

The phone on the wall behind Dana rang suddenly, 
startling them both. Dana nearly jumped out of her 
skin, then gave her mother a look of utter terror. 
Maggie recovered her wits and got up to answer it.

"Mrs. Scully, it's Walter Skinner. Have you heard 
from Dana?"

She looked directly at Dana as she answered him. 
"Yes, she's here with me now. How is Fox?"

"He's going to be fine, Mrs. Scully. He's asking for 
her."

Maggie pressed her hand to her heart and closed her 
eyes. "Oh, thank God." She meant it for all of them. 

Dana turned in her chair to look at her.

"Tell him we'll be there as soon as we can. And thank 
you, Mr. Skinner. Thank you very much."

She replaced the receiver and turned back to Dana 
with a huge smile, but it faded instantly when she 
saw the pain in her daughter's eyes.

"Mom, how could you tell him that after everything we 
talked about?"

Maggie pulled a chair close so she could take her 
daughter's hands. "Sweetheart, do you trust me?"

"Of course, I do. But you don't understand--"

"Let me finish, please. Do you think I would ever do 
anything to hurt you?"

Dana shook her head. "Not knowingly, you wouldn't."

"Honey, I know you believe you're doing what's best 
for Fox, but you're making a terrible mistake. No 
matter how things turn out, you cannot just walk away 
like this. You have got to talk to him. You owe it to 
him, and you owe it to yourself."

Dana studied her mother's face for a long moment. 
Finally, she closed her eyes and nodded. "I'll talk 
to him, but you have no idea what you're asking me to 
do."

Maggie cupped her daughter's chin and lifted it until 
their eyes met. "Fox would never hurt you, Dana. Just 
talk to him. Tell him what you're feeling and trust 
what he tells you in return. Whatever happens after 
that, at least you'll know the truth."

***

George Washington Hospital
9:18 pm

Skinner was sitting in nearly the identical position 
he'd been in when she left. Mulder, on the other 
hand, looked very different. The respirator was gone, 
his color was better and his right hand was curled 
casually on his stomach. She was trying to deal with 
her emotional response to it all when Skinner 
straightened and looked in her direction. He rose 
quickly and led her back into the hall.

"They gave him a pain shot right after I called you. 
He'll be out for awhile." 

"Thank you, sir." Scully stepped around him to enter 
the room, then hesitated. "I'm sorry for leaving the 
way I did. I should have told you what I was doing." 

"He needed you here, Scully." The accusation in his 
voice was as tangible as a slap.

There was nothing she could say to that. Nothing that 
would make him understand. She simply nodded and 
walked into Mulder's room. 

Skinner watched from the door, looking very much as 
if he had more to say. After a moment, he turned and 
walked away.

Scully stood next to Mulder's bed and watched him 
breathe. After awhile, she moved to the chair Skinner 
had occupied in her absence, her hands moving almost 
unconsciously to take Mulder's between them. Even in 
sleep, his fingers curled into her palm, bringing her 
close to tears once again. And just as she'd known it 
would do, being here with him knocked the props out 
from under her resolve. 

Any lingering doubts she'd had about her own feelings 
had vanished the instant she'd seen Mulder with his 
former partner. Although she'd seen no mention of 
Diana Fowley in Mulder's files, it was clear now that 
they had worked closely together. It was also 
painfully obvious that he had cared for her very 
much. He still did, but that was Mulder: once you 
become important to him, you have a guardian angel 
for life. Beyond life. 

Even if Diana died, which was the most probable 
outcome, she would always hold a place in his heart 
that Scully could never touch. It wasn't just that 
she had been his 'chickadee', (thank you, Melvin, for 
that image), she had been able... or willing... to 
share his beliefs-- something Scully could not do 
without denying everything that made her who she was.

His fingers tightened on hers, and she looked up at 
his face. His head was turned toward her as far as he 
could manage, and his eyes were open. She got up 
and sat carefully next to him on the bed, brushing 
her fingers against the uninjured side of his face.

"Don't try to talk, Mulder. I'm here. You can go back 
to sleep for awhile."

His head shake was almost imperceptible, but even the 
slight movement made him wince. "Slept enough." His 
voice was more breath than sound, and she could 
almost feel the pain in her own throat. "Missed you."

"Mulder, you shouldn't be trying to talk yet." 

He ignored her, as usual. "I'm sorry."

"For what? Mulder, you haven't done anything to be 
sorry for." He was exhausting the little strength he 
had, but it was a toss-up whether shutting him up to 
make him rest would be worse. Instead, she poured him 
a glass of water and held the straw to his lips. 
"Take small sips." He took a few weak pulls from the 
straw, and she set the glass back on the table.

"Is this permanent?" She knew that Mandell had told 
him otherwise, but he apparently wanted to hear it 
from her.

She took his hand in both of hers. "NO, Mulder. It's 
not permanent. You have swelling in your spinal cord 
that's causing the paralysis, but it's going down 
very rapidly. You're going to be fine."

His eyes closed, and his breathing evened out. 
Thinking he'd fallen asleep, she moved to get up.

"Why did you leave?"

Scully froze. "It doesn't matter."

"...matters to me."

She bit her lip, staring down at their joined hands. 
"I thought I was helping you." There were so many 
layers to that statement...

He nodded, his eyes still closed, and she had the 
uncanny sensation that he knew exactly what she'd 
been thinking. 

"Me, too, but I was wrong." He wrestled his eyes open 
one more time. "And so are you."

Before she could find her voice, he was asleep. She 
released his hand and laid it gently at his side, 
then brushed her fingers lightly over his cheek. 

*No, Mulder. The only thing I was wrong about was 
thinking I could leave you.* She leaned down and 
touched her lips to his forehead. Beneath the 
hospital smells, the familiar warm scent of him 
clutched at her heart. 

She pulled her chair up next to his bed and settled 
in for the night, her cheek resting softly on their 
joined hands.


****
End

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