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 This author's e-mail address has changed to: ebonyun@telusplanet.net
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                           NIGHTWATCH

                by Eleanore, the Canadian Coyote

EXTRACT:  Scully suffers from a sleep disorder and Mulder tries to
          convince her to get psychiatric help. She resists until
          a near disaster occurs. An illustration of Mulder's
          protective feelings for Scully... even when she is being
          her own worst enemy. Rated: General.  7140 words.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created by Chris
            Carter et al. No copyright infringement is intended.


                           NIGHTWATCH

     Mulder was half watching a movie with the sound turned down
very low. At times he dozed off but he couldn't seem to stay
asleep. Whenever his mind was working overtime on a problem he had
trouble sleeping. What he didn't want to do was think about the
problem. He knew from experience that it was better to relax and
let his subconscious mind do that. He got up to pee and had a drink
of water. Then he did a few stretching exercises, rearranged the
bedding and tried again... this time lying on his side. He
concentrated on the movie for a while.
     Someone was yelling. He'd seen the movie before but he didn't
remember this part. It was a woman's voice. She was angry ... but
frightened, too. 
     Mulder woke up with a start. He could still hear the yelling
and it was coming from Scully's room. Without hesitation he was out
in the hall, gun in hand. There were people gathered outside
Scully's door: the night manager of the Bayside Motor Lodge and a
few guests in various stages of undress. The travelling business
people looked angry. The vacationing couples looked concerned. When
they saw Mulder's gun most of them went quickly back to their
rooms.
     Mulder banged on the door. "Scully? It's me. What's going on?"
     The manager had out his master keys. "I have been knocking and
calling but she doesn't respond. I can't open the door because she
has the night lock on. Are you a friend of hers?" 
     "Yeah. I'm her partner. We're with the FBI." Mulder reached
for his I.D. card but realized that it was in his suit jacket back
in his room. He was wearing cotton pyjama bottoms and a soft old
sweatshirt with the sleeves ripped off. The manager, Tom Kincaid
according to his badge, seemed willing to take Mulder's word for
it.
     "Do you know if there is anyone in there with her?"
     "Not that I know of," Mulder replied. It did seem as if Scully
was shouting at someone. It sounded like: "No. Get away from me. I
won't. No. Leave me alone." Then there would be sounds like moans
or sobs and a little later she would start yelling again. For a
moment Mulder wondered if she might have invited a man into her
room for the night. Scully wasn't actually calling for help. There
wasn't any noise of a struggle. No other voice. But whatever
else... she did sound frightened. 
      "Is there another way into this room? A connecting door or a
balcony?" asked Mulder. They were on the third floor.     
     "No. The only other way in would be to break through the
window. But I already checked outside. Everything looks okay. If
she won't open the door and she won't be quiet I'll have to call
the police." 
     "Scully? It's me, Mulder." This time he used a calmer tone of
voice. "I'd like to talk to you. Could you open the door?"
     Her voice stopped. But the door didn't open. After a few
seconds the shouting started up again.
     "C'mon, Scully. It's alright. It's just me. I don't want to
break the door in. Let me in, please."  
     Tom Kincaid shook his head. "She sounds as if she's not in
control of herself. Does she take drugs?"
     Mulder snorted in amusement. Scully taking drugs was even less
imaginable than Scully having a man in her room. But Kincaid was
right. The cyclic pattern of her yelling and moaning was odd. Like
she was in delirium. Mulder had a brainwave.
     He went back into his room to get his cellular phone. He also
picked up his door key, shutting the door behind him as he came
back out to the hall. "What's the number of the hotel?"
     Kincaid gave him the number and they waited while Mulder
dialled the hotel and went through the switchboard. At last they
heard the phone ringing stridently in Scully's room. 
     It worked... sort of. The yelling and sobbing stopped but she
didn't answer the phone. Mulder hung up and went back to knocking
on the door. "Scully? It's me, Mulder. Open the door." 
     Finally there was a scraping noise as the deadbolt was drawn
back. The door was opened about a foot and Scully's face appeared
in the space. She looked confused. Her eyes were huge and her skin
pale and damp. "Mulder?" She slowly registered the knot of people.
She swallowed. "What...?"
     Mulder pushed the door wide open. He and the manager took a
quick survey of the room and its bathroom. There was nobody there.
Scully was still standing rooted to the spot. Her tailored black
satin pyjamas were a little too big for her and her hair was all
mussed up. Mulder had never seen her look more like a little girl.
He went up to her, put an arm around her and brought her back into
the room out of sight of the curious eyes of the people in the
hall. "Did we wake you up, Scully? Were you dreaming?"
     "I don't... the phone rang. Did you want something, Mulder?"
Her voice had none of its usual confidence.
     "She doesn't look well," said Kincaid. "Do you want me to call
a Doctor?"
     "No, no. I think she must have been having a nightmare.
Talking in her sleep. I'll look after her." She certainly wasn't
herself. Usually Scully would have been spitting like a cat by now.
She didn't like being routed out of bed in the middle of the night.
Mulder knew this from experience. And she definitely would not have
tolerated being the centre of a public spectacle. She acted as if
she was in shock.
     Kincaid must have read his mind. "I'll get rid of the crowd.
How about a little brandy? Or a pot of tea?"
     Mulder gratefully accepted the offer of tea. Kincaid went out
and shut the door after himself. Mulder could hear him shooing the
rubberneckers back to bed. 
     "You'll get cold standing about. Why don't you get back into
bed, Scully?" She obediently sat crosslegged in the middle of the
bed. Mulder pulled the covers up around her. He got her bulky
sweater out of her suitcase and put it on her.
     He sat on the edge of the bed beside her. "Were you having a
nightmare? Can you tell me about it?"
     She shook her head `no' but she had a sort of hunted look
about her. Mulder didn't press it. Kincaid was soon back with the
tea. He brought it right in and laid the tray on the foot of
Scully's bed. Mulder suspected that the man was having second
thoughts about leaving Scully alone with him but didn't like to
come right out and say so.    
     "Could you pour her a cup while I get some stuff from next
door? I'll be right back." When Mulder reappeared he was wearing
the hotel's complimentary bathrobe and a pair of socks. He showed
Kincaid his I.D. and Scully's I.D. Then he thanked him for his help
and saw him out the door. He was a kind man who took the
responsibilities of his job seriously.
     Mulder cajoled Scully into drinking two cups of sweet tea. Her
colour improved but she didn't say anything. After a while Mulder
moved the tray and she stretched out and went to sleep. He didn't
know what to do. He didn't want to leave her. There were two double
beds in the room so with a shrug he pulled back the covers of the
other bed and crawled in.
                                *
     
     "Mulder! Mulder, wake up. What the hell are you doing here?"
Obviously Scully was her old self again. Mulder sat up and rubbed
his face and scalp leaving his hair standing on end. Scully looked
annoyed but she couldn't help smiling. "What's the matter? Were
there monsters under your bed?"
     Mulder raised his eyebrows at the irony. "It was you who had
the heebie jeebies last night. You were having nightmares. Don't
you remember letting me in?"
     "No. I definitely do not. I don't remember dreaming about
anything last night. Now, how did you really get in here?"
     Mulder was a little ticked off. This was the thanks he got for
playing White Knight. "You can ask the manager if you don't believe
me. He brought us a pot of tea because you seemed a little shocky.
He thought you were on drugs."  
     Scully eyed the tea tray with its two dirty cups. She didn't
look convinced.
     "You were shouting in your sleep. Woke up all the guests. Mr.
Kincaid was nearly ready to call the cops when I got you to open
the door."
     Scully sat down abruptly on the edge of her bed. She looked
stunned and embarrassed. "You've got to be joking. But I don't
remember anything. Did I tell you what I had been dreaming about?"
     "No, but you sounded angry and frightened. When you opened the
door you were disoriented and subdued... hardly said boo. I thought
we had woken you up but maybe you were still asleep. Have you ever
done any sleepwalking, Scully?"
     "Not that I know of." She looked uncomfortable. Mulder waited. 
He knew that her innate honesty would force her to come clean.
     She cleared her throat. "Actually, there have been a couple of
times that I have found myself up in my apartment and I don't
remember how I got there... I don't remember getting out of bed."
     "How many times? When?"
     "Just twice... in the last month or so."
     "Were you frightened? Did you remember having a nightmare?"
     "No. Nothing. I just felt surprised... and a little..." She
searched for an accurate word. "... disturbed."   
     Mulder looked at her. He was very concerned but he knew Scully
wouldn't welcome his interpretation of events. "Well, it's time we
were up and doing. I'll meet you in the restaurant in twenty
minutes." 
     Scully was left alone. She knew from his abrupt change of
subject that Mulder wasn't finished with this sleepwalking thing.
He'd better not try to put one of his paranormal interpretations on
it. Everyone had bad dreams sometimes. As she went into the
bathroom there was a stubborn set to her jaw.
     Over breakfast they discussed their current case. It was only
after they had eaten and were on their third cups of coffee that
Mulder mentioned the nightmare again.
     "Scully, this nightmare and the sleepwalking. You know what's
causing it, don't you?"
     Her face closed up. She wasn't going to help him.
     "You know that it must be suppressed memories of what happened
to you when you were abducted. They are starting to work their way
up into your consciousness."
     "No. I don't know any such thing. I only have your word that
I even had a nightmare. What was I saying?"
     "Shouting. Things like: "No. Get away. Leave me alone." Then
you would make some unhappy noises. Unless you have a very naughty
phantom lover you were having a nightmare."
     Scully blushed but she had no comeback.
     "You were scared but not really terrified. You sounded like
you were trying to hold off fear by getting angry. A normal coping
mechanism for you. You're doing it right now."
     Damn this man. He knew her too well. She tried to keep her
voice calm and reasonable. "Mulder, I really think that you are
blowing a bad dream all out of proportion. You want it to be
suppressed memory because part of you is just itching to know what
happened to me. I don't want to know. Just leave it alone, please.
If I had a bad dream it's probably just because of stress on the
job."
     "Okay. But would you promise me something? The next time you
wake up and you've been sleepwalking would you call me? Right
away?"
     "Mulder... " She sounded exasperated. "Alright, I'll call
you."
     "Scully, I think you had your fingers crossed. Promise me you
really will call."
     She had to laugh. "Okay, okay. I really will call. Now can we
get back to earning a living?"
                                *

     The first call came five days later. "Mulder, it's me. I've
been sleepwalking again and I've called you as promised. Now what?"
     "I can be there in twenty minutes."
     "I really don't think there's any point in that. I'm fine. If
I hadn't promised to phone you I'd probably be back asleep by now."
     "Were you having a nightmare?"
     "Not that I remember."
     "How are you physically? Is your pulse normal? Or are you
having an adrenalin rush? Are you cold and shivery or hot and
sweaty?"
     "Cold and shivery. Pulse normal." She was humouring him.
     "Where were you when you woke up?"
     Scully didn't answer right away. Mulder figured that meant the
answer was important. She gave a little laugh.
     "I was scrunched up behind the sofa."
     "You were hiding?"
     "Not necessarily, Mulder. Maybe I was looking for something.
Maybe I was trying to get warm. There's a hot air vent back there.
That's why I have to keep the sofa out from the wall."
     "Do you know what woke you up?"
     "No."
     There was silence on the line. There didn't seem to be any
point in continuing the conversation. "Thanks for calling me,
Scully. I'm glad you're okay. Sleep tight."
     "Good-night, Mulder."

     Scully called him to report sleepwalking episodes one week
later and three days after that. Mulder kept a journal with times
and details. He didn't tell Scully about the journal. She probably
would have stopped calling him if she had known. At work between
episodes she acted completely normal and never referred to them. 

                                *

     There was an interval of five days before the next call. 
     "Mulder." There was no sound on the line. "Scully, is that
you?" He thought he heard a whimpering sound. "Scully? Talk to me."
Faint shuffling noises. "I'll be right over."
     Mulder didn't bother ringing. He had a key and let himself in.
The ground floor flat was dark. He stood still for a minute to let
his vision adjust to the dark and to get his bearings. Somewhere a
telephone was off the hook and complaining with an electronic tone.
He followed the sound to the bedroom and hung up the bedside phone.
Scully wasn't there or in the bathroom. 
     "Scully? It's me. Where are you?" He had a pretty good idea
where he'd find her but he wanted her to hear his voice so that she
would know he was coming. He didn't want to startle her. He went
into the living room talking quietly all the time and looked behind
the sofa. Scully's big blue eyes stared up at him but she wasn't
seeing him.
     "Hi there. You okay?" He crouched down beside her. Her hands
were cold. She was trembling. She reminded him of a wild animal
hiding from a predator. "C'mon, Scully. Let's go back to bed.
You're cold." He put a hand under her elbow and tried to get her to
stand up. She slipped out of his grasp and huddled back down. He
tried again to pull her gently up and out but she started to
struggle and lash out. He wished he could see what she was seeing.
Whatever it was she wasn't going to take a chance on being caught
out in the open.
     "Alright. You stay there. I'll get us some blankets."
     He sat on the floor beside her and wrapped her up in a
blanket. She was wearing a long nightgown of cream coloured lace
that left her freckled shoulders bare. Mulder regretted that this
was not the time or place to really appreciate such apparel. He put
an arm around her to keep her close to his body heat. She tolerated
his presence but never acknowledged him. And so they sat until they
both fell asleep, leaning on each other.

     Scully's alarm went off in the bedroom. She jerked awake and
reached to her left to turn it off but it wasn't there. She opened
her eyes and started to struggle. 
     "Easy, Scully, easy. It's just me."
     She stopped struggling but pulled away from his protective
embrace. "What's going on, Mulder? What are you doing here?" She
realized that she was behind the sofa again. "I've been
sleepwalking. But why are you here?"
     "You called me, but you couldn't talk to me. I had to come
over to see if you were alright. You were hiding here and you
wouldn't come out. So I just bedded down with you. You really don't
remember any of this?"
     "Nothing." She glanced down at her nightgown and wrapped the
blanket more closely around herself. "You mean this time I called
you while I was sleepwalking?"
     "Seems so. I'm glad. It means that there is some part of you
that does want help. I wish you would go to see a psychiatrist
about this, Scully. With hypnotherapy he could bring all this
repressed stuff out into the open so that you could deal with it
and get past it."
     "No. I am past it." She got up and went to turn off the alarm.
Mulder stood up and stretched out the kinks. Scully reappeared in
her dressing gown looking business-like and unapproachable. "How
did you get in, Mulder?"
     "I have a key. Your mother gave it to me."
     "When? While I was missing?"
     "No. After you came back. She thought I might need it if you
were ever in trouble again. And she was right."
     "You've had a key to my place all these months and you never
let on! I've got to have a talk with my mother."
     "What's the big deal, Scully? You have a key to my place."
     "To feed your fish! Do you see any fish around here?"
     Mulder bit back a reply. She was manufacturing an argument to
cover up her anxiety and to keep him from pressing her about the
psychiatrist. Talk about stubborn.
     "Well, since you are obviously alive and kicking I'll see you
at the office later."
     Scully felt like a shit as she watched him go but she couldn't
say anything. He took entirely too much upon himself. He was trying
to run her life. All she needed was a vacation and fat chance of
that with the work load they had lately. She started to get ready
for work.
                                *

     Over the next two months Scully called him twelve times.
Sometimes they would sit and wait it out in silence. Other times
she would weep, or swear and shout out defiance at her invisible
persecutors. After the first two or three times she no longer was
angry or surprised to wake up in Mulder's arms but she never wore
the nightgown again.
     When she first woke up was when she was the most receptive to
Mulder's urging that she get psychiatric help. They could talk
quietly about the problem and her feelings. But after a few minutes
she would literally stiffen up and close Mulder out.
      Between episodes she continued to act as if nothing was
wrong. Her work began to suffer. She had trouble concentrating
especially on the day before an episode. Mulder got so that he
could read the signs and predict when she would call. As time went
by the nightmares came more frequently and seemed more complex and
frightening. She never admitted to it but Mulder suspected that she
was remembering some of the dreams now. The only concession she
made was that if they had to go out of town she would let Mulder
sleep in the other bed in her room.  
     She was like an alcoholic in denial... refusing help, refusing
even to admit to having a problem, until they had reached bottom.
Mulder kept on doing what he was doing: keeping the lines of
communication open and maintaining as non-threatening and
supportive an environment as he could. He just hoped that
"bottoming out", when and if it happened, wouldn't be too
destructive.
     Mulder enlisted the help of Scully's mother in the hopes that
her advice would carry more weight than his. That had been a
mistake. Scully had been white hot with anger. After blasting him
for upsetting her mother she had hardly spoken to him for days.
Mulder had been afraid that she would stop calling. But no matter
how fiercely Scully repelled his other efforts to help she still
called him in the night and she still seemed glad of his support
when she first woke up.
      Those brief morning conversations, cuddled up together in
blankets, were the only times when they both felt like they were on
the same side. It was during those times that Scully did finally
tell him what some of her specific fears were:

     "I don't want people to look at me and instead of seeing Dana
Scully all they see is an X-File. People take one sensational
incident out of your life and blow it all out of proportion so that
they can't see the real person behind it any more. I've worked hard
to become what I am. I don't want to be seen as an X-File. I want
to be me."
     "Scully, you are vibrant and fascinatingly complex. I defy any
one with any sensitivity at all to spend a day in your company
without discovering that you are a three dimensional person. You
have quite a forceful personality, to put it mildly." Mulder
grinned. "I'm sure you would soon set them straight." 
     Scully grinned back. 

     Another time she spoke about loss of privacy:

     "It makes me squirm to think of strangers pawing through my
private thoughts. I wouldn't have control over what came out under
hypnosis. Mulder, you know me. I never have more than two drinks at
a party because I hate not being in control."
     "Nothing would leave the psychiatrist's office unless you
wanted it to."
     "What about you? You above all the others will want to know
what happened to me."
     "Yes, I would like to know. But if you don't want to tell
me... I will have to accept that."
     Scully was quiet for a minute. She swallowed. Something big
was forcing it's way out. 
     "Mulder, what if I did something under duress, something
really horrible, that I couldn't live with? What if I did something
that would make you hate me?" Her eyes threatened tears.
     "Everyone is capable of horrible things if the conditions are
right. Sometimes we have no choice. Then we have to learn to
forgive ourselves." Mulder tightened his arm around her shoulders.
"Scully, there is nothing in this whole wide world that could make
me hate you. You are a part of me. That's why we make such a good
team. Our strengths and weaknesses dovetail so neatly that we
function like one. I would be more likely to cut off my own leg
than cut myself off from you."     
     She cried with relief.

     She needed to hear Mulder refute her fears out loud. She
needed to hear his reassuring logic and cleansing sanity. Neither
of them commented on the fact that this was a role reversal for
them, that it was usually Mulder who was imagining things and
Scully who pinned him back down to reality.  

                                *

     The phone rang. "Mulder." He looked at the clock. 2:30 A.M.
"Scully, is that you?" Silence. Mulder hung up and sighed. This was
the third night in a row that she had called. Frankly, he was tired
and would prefer to stay where he was. 
     He let himself into Scully's place. He had it down to a
routine: into bedroom, hang up phone, turn off alarm clock, gather
up blankets and pillows, go looking for Scully, talking quietly all
the way. This time she wasn't behind the sofa or in any of the
other places he had previously found her. Finally the only place he
hadn't checked was the small second bedroom that Scully used as an
office. He opened the door. 
     The bullet missed him by only centimetres. It chipped wood off
the door frame which flew at him and cut his face. He closed the
door and went down just before another bullet came through the door
at chest height. He felt his face and his hand came away all
bloody. "Jesus, Scully! You shot me!"  
     He wriggled backwards on his stomach away from the door. A
quick look in the bathroom mirror told him it was only a small gash
in his cheek. He held a wad of paper over it and sat on the toilet
to think. How was he going to get that gun away from her without
calling in a SWAT team?  
     He hoped no one had heard the gunshots and called the police.
The second floor flat in Scully's house was empty just then. On the
third floor lived an elderly couple. With a little luck no one
would have been disturbed enough to do anything about the shots.
     The bleeding was nearly stopped. He supposed he could just
leave her alone until she either fell asleep or snapped out of her
dream state. But he knew he wouldn't do that. Some part of her
always called him when she started to sleepwalk and he couldn't
refuse to go to her now. She must be feeling pretty desperate to
shoot wildly like that. He wanted to be with her. For her own
safety.
     He wasn't going to risk talking through the door but there was
a phone in that room. He went looking for Scully's cellular. It was
in her briefcase which she had dumped on a chair in the kitchen.
     Come on, Scully, answer the phone. It rang and rang. He hung
up, waited about half a minute and dialed again. Please answer the
phone. He hung up, waited, dialed again. Finally she picked up the
reciever but didn't speak. There was a thump as she put it down.
     "Scully! It's me, Mulder. Talk to me. Talk to me on the phone.
Scully!" He had to get her attention before she got too far away
from the phone to recognize his voice.
     "Mulder?" 
     He took a second to steady himself. "Hi, Scully."
     "Where are you?" She sounded suspicious.
     "I'm outside your room. I'd like to come in."
     "A very good imitation. But I know it's just another of your
sensory illusions." Her voice was flat and resigned. "Mulder would
have been here before now if it was possible."
     Mulder flinched. She had felt abandoned. Beyond all hope of
rescue. Well he was here now. "Scully, can I come in?"
     She laughed. It sounded very unpleasant. "Got one of you,
didn't I? I heard one of you fall down when I shot through the
door. That surprised you didn't it? You didn't know that I had a
weapon this time."
     "Scully. Listen to me. This is Mulder. I want to come in. But
you have to put the gun down."
     "No. I'm not going to play your little games. I've had enough.
I'm hanging up now."
     "No, wait, Scully! I can prove it's really me. Ask me
something only Mulder would know."
     There was silence on the line except for her breathing. Then,
in a dull voice she said, "You've probably downloaded the entire
contents of my mind by now. There's nothing I know that you won't
know, too. If you really are Mulder tell me something I don't
know."
     "Something about myself that you don't know? But Scully, I
could make up anything. How would you know whether it was true?"
     "Try me."
     "Boy, I wish I had this conversation on tape. I'd love to be
able to play it back to you the next time you're shooting down my
theories because you think they're illogical."
     "Mulder?" Her voice had a new note in it. A spark of hope. 
     "Yes, Scully?"
     She had to clear her throat. "What took you so damn long?"
     "Sorry about that. The crosstown traffic is murder at this
time of day. And I had to stop off to buy some fishfood."
     "It must be you. No one else has quite your flair for the
inane. Where are you?"
     He smiled. She was starting to sound like his Scully. 
     "I'm right outside your room. Put the gun down and I'll come
in. I don't want to get shot."
     "I can't do that, Mulder. I need the gun. Just in case it's
not you." 
     "Alright. I'm going to reach in and turn on the light. Then
you'll be able to see that it's me. Okay?"
     "Okay. Give me a minute to get used to the light before you
come in."
     "Right." Mulder was standing outside the office door again. He
hung up the phone and turned on the hall lights. Then he took a
deep breath and opened the door a crack. So far so good. He reached
in, found the light switch and turned it on.
     "Let me know when you're ready, Scully."
     "Just a sec... okay." Her voice was tight.
     "Easy, Scully. I'll open the door slowly."
     She was backed into the far corner. The phone was on the floor
close by and her gun was aimed at his chest. Her body was so tense
the gun was shaking.
     Mulder stayed where he was. "You okay?"
     "More or less. Come closer. Slowly."
     He moved towards her, his hands open at his sides.
     "That's close enough. Now take of your shirt."
     Mulder carefully removed his old grey sweatshirt and held it
out towards her. She took it in one hand, held it to her face and
smelled it. Her eyes filled with tears... but she smelled it
carefully again before she lowered the gun and slumped down to the
floor.
     Mulder was down beside her, his arms around her. There was
nothing he could say that would be adequate. He just held her
tight.
     When she stopped shaking he loosened his hold so he could see
her face. "Give me the gun, Scully."
     "No." Her voice was just a whisper. 
     "Why not?"
     She looked up at him for the first time. "I believe it's you.
My senses tell me it's you. But they're very clever. They've fooled
me before. I may still need the gun."
     "Where did you get it anyway? It wasn't with you when you were
abducted."
     "No. I found it. It looks like my gun but it has to be a
replica. But it really shoots."
     "I know."
     Scully looked puzzled.
     "Never mind that for now. So... if I'm not really me, what are
you going to do with the gun?"
     "Take out as many of them as I can. But I have to save the
last bullet."
     "Why?" His throat was tight. He knew why.
     "Because I've had enough, Mulder. If you're not real this
time, that's it. I give up."
     "Well, that's not going to happen, Scully. I'm real. You can
keep the gun. You won't need it." He wanted to give her some
confidence.
     "Skinner knows you're here, doesn't he? He's sending back-up?"
     "Yes. But they won't be here for a while. They will probably
wait till daylight before coming in." It went against the grain to
lie to Scully. Under any circumstances.
     He wanted her to relax and go to sleep. He didn't have the
blankets and pillows. They were on the floor in the hall where he
had dropped them. There was an afghan on the back of an old
armchair by the window.
     "Why don't you put my sweatshirt on, Scully, and I'll get that
afghan to put around us." He started to get up. Scully brought the
gun into view.
     "Just move slowly, Mulder. It occurs to me that if you're not
really you... you're still really something. You might make a good
hostage."
     Lovely. He got the afghan and sat down beside her again. She
still had the sweatshirt clutched to her chest in her left hand. He
took it from her gently and she let him put it on her. The afghan
was big enough to go around their shoulders and cover most of their
laps. He hoped the warmth would help her fall into a natural sleep.
So far tonight had been different from all the previous times. He'd
never been in her nightmare before. He felt like Alice through the
Looking Glass. Who knew what might happen next.
     It took a long time. Mulder nearly fell asleep himself a
couple of times before Scully started to nod. He shifted her around
so she could lean across him. She snuggled in. Finally he was able
to remove the gun from her limp hand. He clicked on the safety and
skidded the gun across the floor. It came to rest out of sight
under a filing cabinet. Good enough. He gave himself up to sleep.

                                *

     He felt her stirring and started to rise into consciousness.
     "Mulder, wake up. What happened to you? Your face is all
covered in dried blood." 
     He reluctantly dragged himself awake. It felt like he'd had a
whole five minutes of sleep. He opened his eyes. The sun was well
up. Scully was still lying across his chest looking very worried.
     "I had a hard time waking you up. I was afraid you had a
concussion. What have you been up to?"
     "Not me. You. You shot me."
     "It's not a bullet wound. It looks like you were jabbed with
something rough."
     "You missed."
     "Mulder. You're not making any sense. How did this happen?"
She started to sit up. Mulder put his arms around her and held her
there. Scully froze and stared at him.
     "It's alright." He smiled. "You don't have to look so
suspicious. This is our last morning waking up together and I just
want to enjoy it a little longer."
     "Why is it the last? And where's your shirt?"
     "You're wearing it." That silenced her. She let him hold her
and waited for the explanation. He rested his chin on the top of
her head. He was going to miss these early morning chats.
     "This is the last time because last night you took a shot at
me. You were shooting to kill. Then you told me that you were
saving the last bullet to shoot yourself. So this is where it ends,
Scully. Today you see the psychiatrist."
     She didn't say anything. She couldn't believe her ears.
     "You still there?"
     "Mulder, are you sure you're not the one whose having
nightmares now?"
     Mulder knew he had to be brutally honest. He held her out at
arm's length and looked her in the eyes.
     "You fired two shots. One hit the doorframe, chipping off a
piece of wood which cut my cheek. The other went through the door
at chest height. It would have killed me if I had been any slower
dropping down. You'll find both slugs in the wall on the other side
of the hall. Your gun is under the filing cabinet. You'll find two
bullets have been fired. Your fingerprints are all over the gun."
     He let her up. She went and examined the door and the hall.
She saw the blankets where he had dropped them and the blood on the
floor. She retrieved her gun and checked the clip. She came back to
him and sat beside him. Her face was white.
     She said in a faint voice, "I couldn't have known it was you.
I must have thought you were... someone else."
     "That's true. But I would have been just as dead."
     "You're going to take my gun away from me?"
     "Scully... you were talking suicide. Taking away your gun
wouldn't be enough. Now, you can choose the psychiatrist. I'll
recommend a couple if you want. The guy on the FBI support staff is
actually quite good. But you are not spending another night here
alone. I don't care if you hate me for the rest of your life. You
need to be under protective custody and you need treatment."
     She nodded resignation. "Okay." 
     "Good." He pushed her hair back and tucked it behind her ear
as he had watched her do a thousand times. "Don't look so stricken.
I'm okay. This is a good thing. It's forcing you to accept help.
More help than I can give you... but I'll still be with you every
step of the way."
     She looked like a doll that had lost it's stuffing. She needed
something normal to grab on to. "I could sure use a cup of coffee,
Scully. And some toast. Let's eat first and then you can clean up
my face."
     She lifted her head and looked at his cheek. "It's going to
need a couple of stitches. I've got the stuff right here. We'd
better look after that first."
     "No. Coffee first."
     Scully smiled. It was a small smile but it was a smile.
"Alright, chicken. Coffee first." She got up and then pulled Mulder
to his feet. "Here, you'd better have your shirt back. I'll go get
some clothes on and then I'll make the coffee." Her voice was
stronger. Her chin was up again. She went along the hall picking up
the blankets and pillows as she went. "Mulder, how did you manage
to spread blood over such a wide area?  My three year old nephew
doesn't make this much mess when he fingerpaints!"

                                *

     Mulder paused before he entered the sunroom. Scully was
sitting looking out at the garden of the private clinic where she
had been staying for the last week. She was scrunched up with her
arms around her knees... protecting herself. He opened the door. 
     "Hi, Scully." As he went towards her she stood up, consciously
straightening her back, lifting her head and giving him a smile. 
     "Hi, yourself. How was your trip?"
     Mulder had been out of town tying up loose ends on a couple of
cases. Now he had the decks cleared and would be able to stick
around Washington for a while. Today was Scully's first
hypnotherapy session.
     "Good. Just a lot of paperwork left." He dumped his briefcase
and his laptop on a table. "How are you getting along with Dr.
Morrow?"
     "I like him. We've had a session every day. It's getting
easier to talk to him."  Her eyes had dark circles under them.
     "How have you been sleeping?"
     "Not well. Nightmares every night." She lowered her eyes to
study his tie. "I miss you in the mornings."
     Mulder's smile was warm. "I miss you, too." They sat in two
armchairs set at right angles to each other. 
     "Dr.Morrow asked me if I would mind whether a psychiatry
student sat in on the hypnosis sessions."
     "And how do you feel about that?"
     "I met her. Dr.Emily Goldman. I think it'll be okay. You'd
like her. She's a lovely tall brunette."
     He looked at her, small and neat in grey flannel slacks and a
soft dove grey sweater with a deep v-neck. Her face was showing the
strain but her copper hair was glowing as always. He thought
perhaps he had lost his taste for tall brunettes but he was glad
Scully still had enough spirit to tease him.
     "You've been in touch with your mother?"
     "Yes. She should be here later. She's going to stay at my
place for a while. Till I'm over the worst... Mulder?"
     "What?"
     "Dr.Morrow says that it will get worse before it gets better.
He hasn't put it in so many words, but I think he expects me to be
a basket case for a while. I still don't want to do this, Mulder."
She sounded like she was anxiously hoping for a last minute
reprieve. "I wish I could just forget about it." 
     Mulder shook his head. She was still resisting. Losing control
or showing weakness was something she didn't allow herself. When
she was awake, her fear of falling apart was greater than her fear
of the night horrors.
     "Sorry, Scully. The only way out of this one is through the
fire." She nodded stoically and they sat in silence for a minute. 
     "Skinner came to see me."
     "What did he want?"
     "Just to say that he was sorry I had to go through this and
not to worry about how long it took because my job would still be
there for me." She smiled at him. "He knows he'll never find
anybody else foolish enough to take you on as a partner."
     "He's got a soft spot for you Scully. Better be careful."
     "You'll never guess who else came by. Froehicke."
     "No kidding. I hope he wasn't a nuisance."
     "No. I kind of enjoyed his company."
     Mulder raised his eyebrows at that. "You know, Scully, maybe
you should show your vulnerable side more often. It seems to bring 
the men running."
     "I'm considering it." 
     They smiled at each other.
     A nurse stuck her head into the sunroom. "Dr.Morrow will be
ready for you in five minutes, Dana."   
     "Okay, Nancy, I'll be right there."  
     They stood up. No more smiles. Her hands were gripped
together. Mulder reached out and forced her to relax them by taking
each of hers in one of his big, warm ones."
     "Scully. It's not a firing squad."
     "I know... Mulder... I'm sorry I've given you such a hard time
over this. It would have saved you a lot of grief if I had just
taken your advice about the hypnotherapy in the first place. I hope
you know... despite the fact that I fought you all the way, I am
aware of what you've done for me. Thank-you."
     "It's okay."
     She reached up and touched his cheek where the gash was
healing. "Those stitches should come out."
     "I'll look after it."
     "Well, I guess I can't put it off any longer. I'd better go."
     "I'm going to sit right here and work on my reports. Scully,
if you want me... at any level of consciousness... all you've got
to do is ask. The lovely Dr.Goldman can fetch me."  He gave her
hands a squeeze.
     She squeezed back, hard. Then she was gone.
     
     Mulder stood looking at the door. He wished he could make it
easier for her but it was up to Scully and Dr.Morrow now. Mulder
had done his part getting her this far... and it hadn't been easy.
A more stubborn, wilfully uncooperative woman he had never met. He
smiled inwardly. It was no wonder her abductors had sent her back.
They were probably glad to get rid of her. 
     He immediately felt guilty for having such a disloyal thought.