From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org
Date: Thu,  5 Nov 2009 13:38:28 -0600 (CST)
Subject: The Quiet Limit of the World (1/4) by Namarie
Source: direct

Reply To: pomme_noire@hotmail.com


Title: The Quiet Limit of the World
Spoilers: Tithonus to Per Manum
Keywords: MSR, AU.
Category: SRA
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Scully deals with the aftermath and implications of the
Fellig case.
Disclaimer: I do not own The X-Files or its associated characters.
Feedback: Would be welcomed, at pomme_noire@hotmail.com
Archive: Sure, but please ask me first.
Author's Note: Major thanks go out to Agent, my wonderful beta.
~~~~
"I just think that death only looks for you once you seek its
opposite." - Fox Mulder, "Tithonus"

Part 1
~
NYU Medical Center

She comes to gradually; the quiet rhythms of hospital machinery,
the familiar sterile scent of her surroundings, and the warmth of
a hand holding hers combine to draw her from drug-induced sleep -
those, and a dull ache in her belly, which she can tell will only
get worse when consciousness fully returns. This does not deter
her. She knows who is holding her hand, and she needs to see him.
She guesses he needs to see her just as much.

As her eyes open, she hears Mulder shift in his seat next to her,
and feels his hold on her hand tighten.

"Scully?" There he is, his gaze focused on her, a slight smile
spreading across his face as she continues to look at him. "How
are you feeling?" His voice is quiet, tender - a tone that she
knows from other unguarded moments like this.

She clears her throat and tries to swallow. In seconds, Mulder
has lifted a cup of water with a straw to her lips. He cautions
her to only drink a sip, doctor's orders. It only takes a few more
seconds for her to understand why: even that small amount of water
causes a very noticeable increase in pain when it reaches her
stomach, and she frowns and closes her eyes briefly against it.

"Been better," she answers. Her voice is weak.

"Let me get the nurse," he says, putting down the cup and
standing. Turning back, he presses a chaste kiss to her temple.
"Hang in there, okay, Scully?"

She nods, as memory starts to return like consciousness before it.
She remembers a blinding light filling the dark room, a searing
agony in her gut, Agent Ritter's frantic shouts, and...she
shivers. Fellig's words to her. She doesn't think she actually
saw a figure standing over them - he said it was Death - but she
did as Fellig told her, anyway. And she is alive.

She blinks slowly. Now is not the time to go into the possible
implications of that fact, not when the pain in her gut is
steadily getting worse. Thankfully, it is only a few seconds
before Mulder returns with a nurse who introduces herself, and
adjusts her pain meds. She starts to tell Scully something about
how she can control the release of the medicine herself, but
Scully is already slipping back under.

~
The next time she wakes, Mulder is gone from his seat. There is a
doctor talking to her mother, who now occupies the chair.

"Mom?" Scully says, and her mother instantly breaks off her
conversation, moving to take her daughter's hand.

"Dana," she greets her, smiling anxiously, "how are you feeling,
sweetheart?"

Scully considers. The pain is not so bad this time. "I'm okay,"
she tells her. "When did you get here?"

"Yesterday morning," her mom answers. Then, perhaps realizing
that doesn't mean too much to Scully at this point, she adds,
"You were brought here two days ago, and you've been recovering
from surgery since."

"Mm. Thanks." She is glad to see her mom, of course, but she is
still so groggy. Nevertheless, she wants to know some more about
her condition before she drifts back into drugged slumber, so she
turns to the doctor. "Surgery?"

"Yes, you came through it very well," he says. "Fortunately, the
bullet passed through without too much damage to your intestines.
You have quite a few stitches, and I'm afraid you're in for a
long recovery period, but I'm very pleased with your progress so
far."

Scully thanks him, resolving to read her chart later when she's
feeling more alert.

"You're welcome, Miss Scully. I'll leave you two alone for now."
The doctor departs after flashing them both a smile.

"Where's Mulder, Mom?" Scully asks.

"He went to get some lunch." She smiles again, affection coloring
her voice. "He wanted to stay here, but he was obviously
exhausted, so I told him I'd take this shift."

She smiles fondly, too. Her thoughts of her partner are
interrupted by a yawn, and her mother pats her hand. "Get some
more sleep, Dana. We'll be here when you wake up."

"'Kay. Thanks, Mom." Once again, it is very few seconds before
sleep overtakes her.

~
This time it is an unwise attempt on her part to try to shift her
position that brings her out of sleep suddenly, with a gasp at
the resulting sharp pain. She puts her hand over the wound site
reflexively and tries to breathe.

"Lie still, Scully." Mulder is already standing over her, taking
both of her hands in his. "You don't want to pull out your
stitches."

Her mother enters the room as the pain is slowly receding to a
more bearable level. She is carrying a large bouquet of flowers,
and stops for a moment at the sight of Mulder holding her
daughter's hands. Mulder steps back slightly, but, Scully is
pleased to note, does not let go.

"Dana, honey, you're awake!" She sets the vase down on the table
next to the bed, and then stands next to Mulder. "Feeling any
better?"

"She just almost pulled out her stitches," Mulder says, "so I'm
guessing not, at the moment."

Mrs. Scully frowns in concern. "What?"

"I just tried to change my position a little in my sleep," Scully
explains, trying not to sound defensive. "I'll try not to do that
again." Before her mom can say anything else, she changes the
subject. "Those are beautiful flowers - thank you, Mom."

"They're actually from Fox, honey." Mrs. Scully looks at him with
a small smile. "I just went to get a vase for them."

Mulder ducks his head, but Scully just squeezes his hands.
"Mulder, they're beautiful. Thank you."

"Just you wait, Scully," he replies, grinning, "I have it on
good authority that Frohike's planning to go all-out with his
bouquet."

"Oh, great." Scully returns the smile. If she were a little more
energetic, she thinks, she would have thrown in an eye-roll for
good measure... but she hopes it goes without saying.

The nurse comes it at that moment and, with some reluctance,
Scully lets go of Mulder's hand to allow the nurse to have
access to everything she needs to check, and so that her bandage
can be changed. The nurse, too, comments that Scully seems to be
healing very well. Scully nods in reply, trying not to wonder if
she should be worried by this, in light of Fellig's last words to
her. She catches Mulder watching her closely during this exchange,
and knows he has not missed her lackluster response.

Feeling somewhat like a coward, Scully asks the nurse to show her
the mechanism for controlling her own pain medicine flow again,
and the woman does so. She apologizes to her mother and Mulder.
"I'm gonna fall asleep again as soon as the dosage is increased,
most likely."

"Don't worry about it, sweetheart," her mom says, smoothing her
blankets carefully. "We just want you to feel better."

Mulder nods. "Go to sleep, Scully." It is the last thing she
hears for a while.

~
Several days pass in a similar manner. Mulder and her mother
mostly take turns spending time with her, though more often than
not, he hovers in the background during her mom's bedside vigils
as well.

She still sleeps a lot. When she is awake and it is just Mulder
and her, they talk a little. With some gentle urging from Mulder,
she has told him exactly what happened in Fellig's darkroom, even
Fellig's words to her before she lost consciousness. However, she
still refuses to dwell on the implications of it - if there even are
any implications, her rational mind points out. It isn't
possible that the man really was immortal, after all, so it
definitely isn't possible for such a thing to be passed on. But
even so, she can't help but be reminded of Clyde Bruckman's odd
comment to her years ago. And the man had been right about so
many things...

The doctor continues to be pleased and baffled by her progress:
barely a week after the shooting, Scully is able to eat solid
food, though only in small, bland quantities. It still hurts to
move, so she doesn't move much - but if she stays still, there is
little need for more than a baseline level of painkiller.

Between her mother, Mulder, Frohike (just as extravagant as
promised), and even Skinner, not a day goes by without a fresh
bouquet of flowers sent to her room. The only one that is less
than welcome is the arrangement sent by Agent Ritter. When the
nurse brings it in from the reception desk, Scully watches
Mulder's jaw tighten and wonders idly if he's planning to commit
violence on the innocent vegetation. He leaves it alone, although
he makes sure that it is pushed to the back of her bedside table.
She isn't too surprised that Ritter hasn't actually shown his
face in her room. Whenever he is mentioned or alluded to - which
admittedly is not often - Mulder doesn't bother to disguise his
anger.

However, Ritter's conspicuous absence does not last. During a
rare moment when neither her mother nor Mulder are in the room,
there is a quiet knock on her door and Agent Peyton Ritter steps
inside.

Scully looks at him, saying nothing. He meets her eyes for a few
seconds, but then looks down and clears his throat, shuffling
over to stand in front of her. He clears his throat again.
Finally, he speaks.

"Agent Scully, I... I know I can't possibly apologize enough."

She feels a twinge of pity for the young agent and waits without
comment.

"There is no excuse for-- for my behavior, but I just wanted you
to know..." He swallows, raising his eyes to hers briefly. "I
just wanted you to know that I'm terribly sorry, and that I'm
accepting full responsibility for my actions. And uh, I... I wish
you all the best, in your recovery and... everything."

Scully nods and says a few almost-meaningless words. She has
forgiven him; he is not worth the effort of a grudge, and Mulder
doesn't need the added encouragement of her anger to induce him
do something foolish. He is already waiting outside her room.

Agent Ritter looks at her one last time and turns to leave,
shoulders slumped. She watches as Mulder speaks to him and sees
that whatever he says causes Ritter's posture to become even more
dejected. Thankfully, though, Mulder leaves it at those few words
and then returns to her room.

It still hurts too much for Scully to raise her arms past a
certain distance. Mulder stands very close to take her hand, so
she only has to lift it a few inches. He smiles at her warmly.

The silence is broken after a moment as Mulder informs her of the
coroner's report on Alfred Fellig. "Says he died of a single
gunshot wound," he relates, sitting down with care on the edge of
her bed. "That's all it said."

Scully looks at him, furrowing her eyebrows. That was it?

He changes the subject. "I talked to your doctor, and he says
you're doing great." He smiles again. "You're making the fastest
recovery he's ever seen."

She feels her heart sink further at his words. "Yeah." She decides
it's time to get it out in the open, at least somewhat. "Mulder,
I don't even know how I entertained the thought. People don't
live forever."

"No, I-- I think he would have," Mulder says quietly. "I just
think that death only looks for you once you seek its opposite."

She meets his eyes silently, then looks at their joined hands.
"Do you think that... if he was immortal, could he have passed it
to me somehow, by telling me not to look?" She has tried to keep
her voice level, but it wavers slightly.

Mulder tightens his grip on her hand, then touches her cheek with
his other hand. "I don't think he passed it on to you, Scully. I
think Fellig realized it wasn't your time yet, but that it was
finally his. And I'm thankful to him for that."

Scully closes her eyes, leaning into his touch. "He was so
lonely, Mulder... so completely alone in the world." She sighs.

"But you weren't afraid of death like he first was," Mulder
points out, "were you? You weren't trying to hide."

"No, I wasn't," she agrees, thoughtful. She had thought she was
dying when Fellig told her to close her eyes - not seeking death,
but almost expecting it. If she is going to allow herself to
believe that immortality is possible, she reasons, that fact
would still seem to make it unlikely that it had passed to her.
It isn't too far-fetched, after all, that she could be recovering
quickly, even from a serious injury such as this.

There is another short period of silence. Finally, Scully smiles,
finding herself reassured at least for now. "Thanks, Mulder."

He smiles in return. "Hey, any time you want to talk about
immortality, I'm your guy."

~
Washington, DC.
Friday

Scully tries to hold onto this reassurance a week or so later,
when her physical therapist back in DC tells her with surprise
and pleasure that she has exceeded all expectations, and won't
need to come back unless something changes drastically.

Her mother drives her back to her apartment, glancing at her
worriedly when she gives little to no response to attempts at
conversation. When they arrive, Maggie Scully parks the car and
turns to her daughter. "Dana, is everything all right? Did
something happen during your session today?"

"No. Everything's great, Mom," Scully tells her, keeping the
irony out of her tone with effort. "In fact, I don't have to go
back unless I start feeling worse."

Her mom looks at her in confusion. "Well, isn't that cause for
celebration?"

Scully looks at her mother and thinks about life dragging on so
long that you forget your family, and anyone who ever loved you.
She tries to smile. "You're right. Are you free for dinner
tonight?"

~
According to recently-established tradition, Mulder calls late
the next morning to let her know he's on his way over. He has
been coming over on the weekends and most evenings to help his
shut-in partner keep herself from going crazy with nothing to do.
This time, however, Scully almost wishes he were too busy. She
knows he'll almost certainly notice her depression and doesn't
want to deal with his questions.

"So, I was thinking we should celebrate you being done with your
PT," he says, sounding lighthearted and casual on the phone. "I
know for a fact you're getting bored of being cooped up in your
apartment."

"That's definitely true," she says wryly. "Did you have anything
in particular in mind?" This could be good. It's highly likely
that being stuck inside for this long has added to her bleak mood,
after all. Perhaps going out will help her shake off her
foolishness.

Now he sounds somewhat unsure. "Well, um, it's pretty nice
outside for January, so I was thinking maybe lunch in the park?"

She walks over to her window to look out. The sun is shining,
albeit in a wintry kind of way. "Sounds like a plan, Mulder. I'll
put on a sweater."

"Be there in a few minutes."

When he knocks on the door, Scully takes the cane that she no
longer has to use with her to the door, just so she can toss it
away theatrically upon ushering Mulder inside. He chuckles as he
closes the door. "Ready for your return to the outside world, I
see."

She looks expectantly at the bag Mulder is carrying. "Yep. Just
let me grab my coat."

The meal is exactly what she needed. They find a quiet area of
Constitution Gardens - not that there are many people around at
this time of year to compete with - and sit on a low rock wall to
eat. They are mostly silent, though as usual Mulder regales her
the latest highlights from work, such as they are. Most
importantly, Scully manages to forget almost completely about her
earlier melancholy.

It is only when she has thanked Mulder for the outing and closed
her door after him that she feels her depression return. There is
no way that she should have been able to walk around as much as
she did today without even the faintest twinge from her injury.
Mulder was careful to make sure she wasn't exerting herself too
much, Scully knows, but he had followed her lead when she hadn't
show any sign of tiring.

Scully sits down heavily on the couch. If it is true - if she is
doomed to the same longevity as Alfred Fellig - there will come a
time when she will forget moments like today, and even who she
shared them with.

She takes a deep breath and rubs a hand across her face. This is
absurd, she tells herself. She is drawing too many conclusions
from several coincidences and events that are actually perfectly
logical in themselves. So she healed quickly. Why is she letting
herself worry about this so much?

It's the trauma from the gunshot wound, she decides, from yet
another near-death experience. And sure, she had been disturbed
by Fellig's tale. It wasn't a pleasant thought, to imagine being
as alone as he described, but the man had chased death for years;
he was bound to be morbid.

Feeling slightly better, Scully heads toward the kitchen to put
away the leftovers from lunch. The last thought she spares on the
whole issue is to take it as another lesson that life is to be
cherished. To start, she knows she wants to continue doing more
with Mulder, outside of work.

She does not allow herself to dwell on the thought that it is the
idea of someday losing her memories of Mulder that has been
upsetting her the most.

~
It is weeks later - after the disaster at El Rico, and after
their first case back on the X-Files - that Scully is forced to
question the possibility of her immortality again.

Nothing extraordinary brings it up again, especially in
comparison to all the other things they have experienced together
over the years. They are stuck in stop-and-go traffic on the way
to lunch with Mulder at the wheel. His eyes are on the road,
though he and Scully are discussing some mundane details left
over from a past case. Mulder rounds a corner, not knowing that
traffic is at a dead stop in front of them. Thankfully, he reacts
in time and slams on the breaks before they crash into the car
ahead of them - but the car following them is not as quick.
Scully hears brakes squealing frantically, locks eyes with Mulder
for a second, and tries to brace herself.

The impact isn't too severe. She is jerked against the seatbelt
roughly, and her right arm slips from where she has braced it,
striking against the catch of the glovebox.

Scully recovers from the shock quickly and turns to her partner.
"Mulder, are you okay?"

He looks dazed but unharmed as he pulls the car over as best he
can. "Yeah, I think so. You?"

There is something wet on her arm, right where it hit the catch.
"I--" she starts to say, but is interrupted by the approach of
the driver who just rear-ended them.

"Are you guys all right? Oh my God, I'm so, so sorry!" the young
woman says, wringing her hands. "I should have been watching-
it's totally my fault... Don't worry, though, I have insurance!"

Between the ensuing conversation and making all the proper
arrangements (including calls to arrange alternate transport back
to work), not only is lunch forgotten, but Scully doesn't get a
chance to look at her arm until a good half hour later. She goes
into the restroom at work and rolls up her sleeve. There is not a
single mark on her. Her arm no longer aches, either. The only
proof she has that she did not imagine the injury in the first
place is the dried blood on the inside of her sleeve.

Mulder looks at her in concern when she reenters the office.
"Scully, are you sure you're okay? You look a little pale."

She shakes her head. "I'm fine, Mulder. Just still a little
shaken, I guess."

He doesn't look completely convinced. "All right. Let me know if
you feel like you need to go home early or anything, though. I'm
sure Skinner would understand." After another moment watching
her, he drops the subject.

Scully feels guilty for how relieved she is that he isn't pushing
the issue. But it makes it much easier to hold onto her last few
shreds of hope that this is all just a string of bizarre
coincidences, still explainable in some non-supernatural way.

Not since she saw an image of a murdered college student has
Scully wanted so strongly to find a rational explanation.
Ironically, then she had been terrified of her mortality; now she
is terrified of its opposite.

Later that day, as she is musing on this similarity, she
remembers the pain and anger in Mulder's eyes when she finally
told him what she had seen. She wonders how long it will take
before she reveals this to him.

~
As it turns out, the catalyst for this revelation comes only two
weeks later, when Scully is made to experience more agony than
she could have ever imagined at the hands of a man who should not
even have existed. The pain is worse than when she was shot,
even. She struggles and screams, but there is no way to fight him
off. Finally, just as the pain is becoming more than her body can
handle, as she feels his hands closing around her heart, he
just... disappears. She cannot begin to comprehend this before
passing out.

She comes awake when someone looms over her. In her stark terror
it takes a second to recognize Mulder, but when she does, she
grabs for him fiercely. He holds her, and she sobs harder than
she has in years. It's Mulder. He's here, she's safe now.
She tries to tell herself this over and over, but the fear is
slow to leave her.

She has no idea how long she cries into his shoulder, but as she
gradually calms, she finds herself leaning against him as he
supports her. They have moved to the couch. She takes as deep a
breath as she can manage, though she is still shaking.

"Scully?" His voice is almost a whisper. "You okay?"

For a moment, she doesn't respond. She knows that he knows she is
not okay. Taking another shuddering breath, she whispers,
"Mulder, take me home."

"Are-- are you sure, Scully? There's a lot of blood, don't you
need--"

She shakes her head, still pressed against his chest. "No. Just
take me home, please." Her throat hurts, along with every other
part of her. She swallows with difficulty.

Mulder helps her stand up, arm around her waist as she sways a
little on her feet. She can't help but look at the blood staining
his floor. It is, as he observed, a lot of blood. Her shirt is
sticky with it. Mulder's sweater is, as well. Scully closes her
eyes and leans against him as another wave of dizziness hits. She
touches a hand to her sternum. As she expects from examinations
of the previous victims in this case, she encounters no wound. It
isn't - it *isn't* - because of Fellig's parting gift, she tells
herself.

One arm still wrapped around her, Mulder leads her over to the
coat rack next to his door. He pulls his leather jacket off and
quickly drapes it over her. "Let's go, Scully."

Before she can reply, the door is thrown wide open, and policemen
begin to pour in around them. Scully shuts her eyes tightly. She
can't deal with this right now.

Everything is a blur for a few minutes. She hears Mulder talking
to the police in a low voice, explaining the gunshots which no
doubt brought them here in the first place.

Only once does she have to speak, when an officer asks her in
concern, "Ma'am, are you sure you're all right? We can get an
ambulance here right away--"

"No." She shakes her head in dismissal. "I'll be fine, thank
you." Her voice is stronger, and she meets the man's eyes
steadily.

Mulder hasn't taken his eyes off her this whole time, she notes
in a detached way. He says a few more words to the man who spoke
to her, and then he ushers her out of the room once more.

~
Hours later, she has showered and changed into pajamas. Mulder
has taken off his bloodstained sweater and is preparing to spend
the night on her couch; his apartment is a crime scene. He stands
when she emerges from her bedroom.

"Hey, Scully, can I get you anything?"

"No thanks, Mulder." She tries for a smile. "I think I just want
to go to bed."

"Okay. You're sure you're all right?" He takes one step towards
her.

Without conscious thought, she reaches to touch where the wound
would be. Should be. She falters. "I'm fine. There's-- there's no
injury... It's healed, just like with the other victims..." She
bites her lip and turns away quickly.

"That's good," he says, in that same gentle tone. He comes
closer, but doesn't crowd her. "But that's not really what I
meant."

Her heart aches, despite the lack of visible wound. It's hard for
her to tell if the pain is psychosomatic, or if it's emotional.
She turns to Mulder, her eyes still on the ground.

"Scully, if you don't want to say anything right now," Mulder
continues, "I understand. I know you're tired, but I also know
you need to talk about what happened today."

Sighing, she looks up at him. He thinks it is the attack today
that is causing her distress - and it is, but not only in the way
he assumes. She doesn't know if she can explain it so he'll
understand. Then again, she thinks, this is Mulder. He often
understands more than she would have thought.

With another sigh, Scully walks over to the couch, sitting down
next to the stack of blankets Mulder will be using later. Mulder
sits down next to her.

"Do you remember the car accident a few weeks ago?" She meets his
eyes again, and sees his puzzlement. This obviously was not what
he was expecting.

"Of course." He opens his mouth to say more, but evidently
decides against it.

Scully shifts her attention to her hands in her lap. "I didn't
get a chance to mention to you that I'd cut myself when the car
hit us. Nothing serious, and there were more important things to
do at the time." She cannot make herself look at him now. "But
when we got back to work, I went to check on the cut in the
bathroom, and - it was gone. I mean completely gone, not just
scabbed over. The only thing left was some dried blood on my
sleeve."

She hears him take a deep, slow breath. Although she has managed
to relay the incident without faltering, her composure is now
perilously close to collapse. She knows if Mulder is angry at her
for hiding this - which wouldn't surprise her at all - she won't
be able to keep it together.

"And you're worried about this because of what Alfred Fellig said
to you."

She nods.

He shifts slightly closer to her. "You're still worried that by
preventing you from looking at Death, he made you immortal."

When he puts it into words, it sounds absurd, of course. She
gives a weak almost-laugh. "It's stupid, I know. And then, when...
I was attacked today, it was completely unrelated, but it brought
it all back... He didn't leave a mark on me, Mulder." She sniffs.
The ache in her chest has faded somewhat, but it's still
noticeable.

"When were you going to tell me?" Once again, his voice is
surprisingly mild and when she finally looks up, anger is not one
of the emotions clear in his eyes.

Scully gives a light shrug. "I don't know. I guess I just hoped
it wouldn't come up."

He smiles, reaching for her hand. "You didn't think immortality
or rapid healing would ever come up in our line of work?"

She only partially succeeds in returning his smile. "Well,
Mulder, it's-- it's not like I wanted to go out and test my
theory."

"No." He turns serious at that. "No need to follow the scientific
method in this instance." He sighs before continuing, "So, what
happens next, Scully? What do you want to do?"

Before she can formulate a reply, she yawns suddenly and hugely.
God, she's exhausted. She had already been falling asleep on
Mulder's couch during their surveillance of Padgett earlier today,
and her energy is just about nonexistent by now. "Can I get back
to you on that in the morning, Mulder?"

Mulder squeezes her hand. "I'll be here."

Almost as soon as her head hits the pillow, Scully begins to
drift off to sleep. Despite the events of the day, she has a
strong feeling she will sleep well. Perhaps it is because of
unburdening herself to Mulder.

~
In the morning, when Scully wakes, it is to the sound of her
shower running. Lazily, she turns over to look at the clock by
her bed. It is past nine.

Blinking, Scully sits up and runs a hand through her sleep-mussed
hair. Even as tired as she was, she hadn't expected to be able to
sleep this late. She vaguely remembers Mulder telling the police
last night that she would give them her statement today. The
thought causes her a twinge of something that might be either
guilt or panic, and she quickly gets out of bed.

The shower stops as she goes into the kitchen to start making
coffee. A few minutes later, Mulder emerges, wearing a different
t-shirt than he had on yesterday and towel-drying his hair.
"Morning, Scully. You sleep okay?"

She can't help but smile as she returns the greeting. "Very well,
thanks. Was the couch all right?"

He nods. "Good enough to get my beauty sleep."

Hiding her grin, Scully turns back to the coffee machine. "Right.
Well, I'll shower while the coffee brews." She walks out of the
kitchen, then turns back to her partner. "Mulder, did you give
the police a specific time for my statement on the attack?"

Mulder looks faintly surprised - perhaps he hadn't thought she
had heard that detail. "No. I just told them it would be today."

"Okay." She leaves him standing there. She knows he will be
wanting to hear the answer to the question he asked last night,
and she hopes that when he asks again, she'll know what to say.

Author's Note: This fic was originally written for the Livejournal
community xf_bigbang. I encourage those who are interested in more
long fics to go over to LJ and check it out!

Part 2
~
She is walking down a long, dimly-lit hallway. She has no idea
where she is, but that isn't particularly important. What is
important is that she can't find Mulder. *He has to be here
somewhere,* she thinks, trying not to panic as she stops at each
room along the hall and finds each one empty.

She turns a corner. The lighting is even worse here, she notes,
and the walls and carpet look dirty and ancient. Something about
these surroundings is alarmingly familiar, but Scully pushes the
thought away. Mulder. She has to find him.

Finally coming to the end of the hallway, Scully sees one
partially-open door spilling somewhat brighter light into the
gloomy passage. She sighs in relief: Mulder has to be in there.

"Mulder?" She pushes open the door. The smile on her face dies
away into a gasp of horror at what she sees.

Mulder is there, all right. He is in a bed near the curtained
window, eyes closed, each breath rasping in his throat. His
thinning hair is stark white, his skin wrinkled and the fragile
texture of paper. He cannot be younger than ninety.

Heart pounding, Scully looks down at herself, at her hands. Her
skin is as smooth and flawless as it ever has been. She crosses
the room quickly for the mirror next to Mulder's bed and picks it
up. There she is, unchanged from the last time she looked into a
mirror - unchanged except for the emotionless, dull quality of
her eyes. An expression that she recognizes and remembers...

*No.* Scully steps back and drops the mirror, hearing it hit the
floor and shatter.

Beside her, Mulder startles awake. His eyes are clouded and
watery, but his searching gaze finds Scully without difficulty.
"Scully," he says weakly, smiling.

He reaches for her, but Scully is frozen in dismay. How can he
still want to see her in this state?

"Scully?" Mulder looks distressed now, at her lack of response.
"What's wrong?"

*What's wrong?!* Scully wants to say. *You can't see it?* She
takes another step back, her hand over her mouth.

Mulder opens his mouth to say something, but only manages half a
syllable before he is silenced abruptly. The monitors next to his
bed begin their rapid alarms. He gasps, his hand dropping back
onto the bed and his eyes fluttering closed. The beeping
increases until it becomes one steady piercing tone.

He is dying right in front of her, she realizes with a cold
deluge of shock. The realization galvanizes her to action, and
she rushes forward to his side, but his bed seems much farther
away than it was just a few seconds ago... and there is someone
holding her wrists, keeping her from him. She struggles and cries
out, trying desperately to dislodge the hands restraining her,
but it is no use. The wailing of the heart monitor continues, and
in the distance there are people surrounding Mulder's bed. She
knows they are taking him away, and where he's going, she can't
follow. She will be alone now, forever.


With a gasp, Scully jerks awake, finding herself tangled in her
sheets and drenched in sweat. She endeavors to take several deep
breaths, but her heart is still pounding too hard for her to be
able to calm down. She manages to disentangle herself. Throwing
off her sheets, she staggers out to the kitchen for a glass of
water.

It takes a few minutes, but she does finally calm herself-
physically, at least. Although she has already forgotten some of
her dream, much of its imagery has remained. She resists the urge
to run into the bathroom to check her reflection for any signs of
the dull, haunted look in her eyes that had reminded her so
vividly of Fellig. It was just a dream, she tells herself. A
nightmare. Not some kind of portent of her future.

Shivering, Scully sets down the glass and walks out to the couch.
Despite the promise she'd made to Mulder weeks ago that she would
live her life as normally as possible with the full expectation
that it would come to a natural end, her fear is obviously
lingering. She will find something to read or to watch on TV, and
hope it distracts her enough to fall back asleep.

At least, she reflects gloomily, tomorrow is Saturday. She will
not have to go to work and face Mulder's concern about the
obvious hallmarks of sleep deprivation on her face.

~
As it happens, her exhaustion must have been enough to let her
sleep through the rest of the night - and late into the next
morning, as well. She only wakes when her phone stops ringing and
Mulder's voice comes over the answering machine.

Scully sits up with a yawn, catching the end of his message.

"-- you must still be sleeping," he is saying. "That's fine,
that's good. Uh, anyway. Don't feel like you need to come out
here with me. There's probably nothing else to see. Talk to you
later."

This brings her to alertness. Where is he running off to now? She
stands up quickly and moves to replay the entire message. Her
burgeoning frustration and worry is almost extinguished by what
she hears: thankfully he is just going back out to the allegedly
haunted house just outside of town. They had gone there together
to investigate yesterday and the night before, and had turned up
nothing. But Mulder is nothing if not thorough when looking into
an X-File, she thinks with a smile.

She looks at the clock - it is close to ten. Taking a deep breath,
Scully walks to the window and pulls back the curtains. The day
is bright, and the sight chases away the vestiges of her dark dream.
She shakes her head and decides she will spend some time
outside today. Her mother has invited her to go shopping, and she
knows her acceptance of the invitation will make her mother happy.

When she returns home several hours later, Scully is surprised to
find that her answering machine has not recorded another message
from Mulder. Surely he can't still be out investigating?

Frowning, Scully sets her shopping bags down on the couch and
dials his home number. There is no answer. What would be keeping
him at that creaky decrepit old house for this long? She calls
his cell phone. Not only does he not answer, but the call is cut
off after only two and a half rings. Her phone then informs her
that the number is no longer available.

Scully's heart sinks. This is a very bad sign. Hastily, she grabs
her gun and her keys, glad that this time at least she has a good
idea of where to start looking.

Arriving at the old wooden house, her mouth sets in a grim line
at the sight of Mulder's car parked at the end of the gravel
driveway, and a second vehicle parked further back from the house.
Someone else has to be here. The question is what they are doing
to Mulder - or what they have already done.

The front door of the house is closed but unlocked, although it
is so ancient that Scully doubts she would have had any trouble
opening it regardless. She goes inside as quietly as possible,
wincing at the creak of the old floorboards under her heels.
Scully stops moving for an instant, listening.

From upstairs, she thinks she hears an answering movement and
decides to risk it. "Mulder?"

There is no response, and Scully moves toward the staircase. She
does her best to stay quiet, hoping that any potential assailant
will at least not be able to tell where she is yet, and pauses
every time her feet encounter more loose boards.

She reaches the second floor and is about to try the nearest
bedroom when a muffled thump sounds from the end of the hall. The
stairs to the attic are at that end, Scully recalls from her last
trip out here with Mulder. She waits again, but the sound is not
repeated.

Readying her weapon, Scully creeps up the last few stairs to the
attic door, stopping just behind it. The attic is not all that
large, she knows. She puts her ear to the thick wooden door, but
hears nothing. *Well,* she thinks, *here goes.*

She kicks in the door, her gun drawn, and takes in the situation
at a glance. Mulder sits, bound and gagged in a chair across the
room, a young man standing behind the chair holding Mulder's gun.
Mulder stares at her, eyes wide, as the man presses the weapon to
her partner's neck.

"FBI!" Scully yells, resolutely fixing her gaze on the suspect.
"Drop the gun!"

The man appears indecisive but no less dangerous for that fact,
as he alternates between aiming the gun at Scully and at his
captive. "Don't come any closer," he calls out, "or I'll shoot!"

Scully takes a few steps forward, ignoring the unstable
floorboards under her feet. "Drop the gun, right now!"

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Mulder widening his eyes
and shaking his head urgently. She glances at him for a second-
but the suspect has apparently made a decision about who he
should aim at. The gun is now pointing directly at Mulder's
already-bruised temple. Scully cocks her gun and takes one step
forward.

Over the increasingly loud cracks of the floor beneath her,
Scully hears the distinctive sound of the other gun being cocked.
Mulder's eyes are still panicked as he tries to speak through the
gag, but Scully has to keep her attention on the young man who is
clearly losing control.

"I'll do it!" he warns again. "Stay back!"

Suddenly, the entire attic shudders, and Scully and the armed man
fight to maintain their balance. As the suspect steadies himself,
he casts a desperate look around him, aims the gun at Mulder
again, and tightens his grip on the trigger.

Scully doesn't hesitate, firing off one round directly into the
man's chest. An instant later, the attic floor gives way entirely.
*Mulder!* She has no time to think of anything beyond that before
something strikes her and the world goes black.

~
A hand touching hers, and then moving to the pulse point on her
wrist, brings Scully slowly to consciousness. She hears Mulder
speaking, anxiety plain in his voice. It takes a few more seconds
before she can begin to distinguish individual words.

"Come on, Scully, we've gotta get out of here. Scully, can you
hear me?"

She groans, suddenly aware of the pain in her right hand, her
ribs, and in her head. Still, she forces her eyes open and
reaches for Mulder who is kneeling next to her. There is a thin
trickle of blood on the side of his face, but he is focused on
her. "Scully." He looks relieved that she is awake.

"Mmm." She blinks a few times. "What happened?"

Mulder smiles. "The floor collapsed after you busted in to save
me."

She raises an eyebrow. "Mulder," she says in a dangerous tone,
"are you insinuating that I need to lose weight?"

"Never," Mulder answers, with a laugh that becomes a painful-
sounding cough.

Scully quickly turns serious. "Are you all right, Mulder?"

"Not really," he answers her, returning her concerned gaze. "But
neither are you. Your hand's bleeding, and you probably hit your
head pretty hard in the fall."

Frowning, Scully takes his offered hand in her uninjured one and
slowly pulls herself into a sitting position. As she waits for
the rush of dizziness to pass, she takes stock of their situation
for a moment.

Mulder's arm has a large gash on it; blood has soaked through his
shirtsleeve. His face looks pale in the fading light from outside.
They are completely surrounded by fallen debris, and small pieces
of wood from the ceiling continue to fall at odd intervals.

Taking a deep breath, Scully gently touches her partner's arm.
"That doesn't look good."

"Like I said, both of us are a little worse for wear," he
acknowledges. "But I don't know how long this floor is going to
hold, so if you're ready, we need to get out of here."

"Okay." She grips his hand again, and they both stand up. They
are both quite unsteady, but they somehow manage to stay upright
through leaning on each other. Mulder smiles self-deprecatingly
at this. She returns the smile.

A second later, Scully looks over Mulder's shoulder. She barely
has time to register the danger and cry, "Mulder, look out!"
before the heavy piece of wood falls directly towards him - and 
her.

He sees it, but not in time to dodge. They are still holding one
another in support, and so both fall to the ground when it
strikes him in the back.

Scully has the wind knocked out of her, and takes several moments
to compose herself again. Turning to Mulder beside her she sees
with dismay that he seems to be unconscious. She quickly bends
down to his face. "Mulder?"

To her relief, his eyes open immediately. "That... hurt," he
gasps.

"I could tell," Scully tells him softly. "And it looks like you
already had a head injury, so in other circumstances, I'd say you
shouldn't move - but like you said, this house is clearly falling
down around us."

"So I should move," Mulder finishes. He sighs, and takes her
uninjured hand to stand up. This time, he comes even closer to
falling over than he had last time, but she manages to keep him
upright.

"Did you happen to see a good path to the stairs, Mulder?" she
asks.

"No," Mulder says, sounding gloomy. "It all seems pretty blocked
off by debris."

She glances around the large room they have fallen into. It is
shadowed and cluttered, but it is easy to tell that the way to
the hall and then to the stairs will be hard to find. "You're
right." At that point, she catches sight of the man lying in a
pool of his own blood. "My God. Is he still alive?"

"I don't know," Mulder answers, after a pause. He looks
embarrassed and guilty. "I-- I didn't even check. I just..." He
trails off. 

Scully gives him a brief look, squeezing his hand gently. "Come
on, let's find out."

With Mulder still leaning on her heavily, they make their way
over to the fallen man. Mulder  supports himself against a heap
of broken wood and boxes as Scully bends down to feel for a
pulse. There isn't one. "He's gone," Scully reports. "Probably
has been for a while - he's cool to the touch." Her hand throbs,
and her headache continues unabated.

Mulder nods. "That was you who fired your gun right before the
floor fell in, then?"

"Yeah." She sighs. "He was about to shoot."

"You or me?"

"You, actually." She clearly remembers the look of rage on the
man's face as she had come into the room. She shudders, getting
to her feet. "Mulder, what did he want with you?"

"Let's walk and talk," he replies, putting his arm around her for
support and comfort. They start slowly towards the door, picking
their way around piles of debris. "Apparently, the guy liked to
come here every day in the early afternoon to look for one
particular ghost - a woman." Mulder pauses, shaking his head and
wincing as a result. "I interrupted his ghost-watching, which he
didn't take kindly to. He managed to knock me out and tie me up,
like you saw. When I woke up, he was ranting about how he needed
to see 'her'. He left me there for some time, then came back and
waited for his ghost lover to show up."

He pauses as they maneuver past a shattered portrait lying on top
of some wooden shards. "Scully, I know I was dehydrated and not
exactly at my most lucid, but just before you got here, I saw a
woman's ghost in the middle of the attic. Ryan - that was his
name - saw her, too. He called her Anna. She was who he'd been
waiting for."

Scully looks at him, unsure of what to say. She is loath to bring
up the last time he experienced the same delusions as a clearly
unstable hostage-taker. At least this time it isn't likely that
she will end up truly fearing for his sanity as a result. His
self-diagnosed dehydration and stress is a much more acceptable
explanation to her. On the other hand, there was that whole weird
thing at Christmas, that she still can't explain fully...

"Well, in case you were worried, Mulder," she says wryly, "I'm
pretty sure there aren't any more ghosts around, scheming to have
us to shoot each other."

He chuckles at that. "I wasn't worried, but thanks for the
reassurance."

"Anyway, the ghost - or whatever it was - disappeared when you
came into the room. I don't know if Ryan would have just released
me if he'd had enough time with her before you chased her away-"
he looks at her to make sure she knows he's not serious - "but I
do know that despite his obvious instability, he seemed to regret
injuring me. At least, he did before things started to go
downhill for him."

She sighs again. "It sure didn't look like that regret would have
stopped him from shooting you, Mulder."

Mulder turns to allow her to squeeze past him out of the room. By
the faint light of the doorway, Scully notices with dismay how
pale his skin is. He is also shaky on his feet as soon as he
stops leaning on her. "Well, then I'm glad you stopped him."

She begins to reply when her vision swims. Her headache increases
sharply in intensity, and she closes her eyes, stumbling into the
door frame.

"Scully?" Instantly, she feels his stabilizing hand on her arm.
"Are you okay?"

Opening her eyes, she puts one hand to her aching head. "I guess
I must have a concussion, too."

"I'm sorry, Scully." Mulder's voice is quiet as he drops his hand
back to his side. "I shouldn't have come out here in the first
place."

"It's not your fault that the floor collapsed, Mulder," Scully
reminds him. "I'm amazed neither of us noticed how unstable this
place was when we first came out here."

"Some investigators we turned out to be, huh?"

She smiles ruefully. "Yeah."

At that moment, there is a loud cracking noise, and a new piece
of the ceiling breaks away, crashing to the ground inside the
room they have just exited. They both jump.

"We should keep moving," Mulder mutters.

Their progress is still slow, as both are definitely the worse
for wear. Scully has a strong feeling that if they stop moving
for too long, they will simply collapse. Her headache is making
it difficult to concentrate on anything, and Mulder's arm
continues to bleed.

Scully still has enough problem-solving ability to suddenly
remember her cell phone. She is still wearing her jacket, so as
they take a short breather on the landing, she reaches into her
pocket - and pulls out the phone, its battery, and the broken
front panel.

Seeing the remnants, Mulder sighs. "Guess we'll both need to get
new phones after this little adventure. Ryan destroyed mine when
you called."

She puts the pieces back in her pocket. "I think I even have a
cell phone-shaped bruise from landing on mine," she remarks.
Mulder winces in sympathy.

At last, they arrive at the door of the house. Scully reaches out
to tug on the doorknob. It refuses to budge. "Oh, great. It's
stuck!"

"You tried that one on me before, Scully," Mulder says with a
quiet laugh. "I'm not falling for it again."

Scully can't keep a small grin off her face at the memory, but
she sobers quickly. "It's no joke this time, Mulder. The floor
collapsing must have damaged this outer wall enough that the door
frame is bent."

"Let me try." Before she can do more than utter a syllable of
protest, he moves her aside and yanks on the door knob, briefly
closing his eyes at the resulting pain. The door opens, with
reluctance. "After you."

She hurries out of the house into the evening, and Mulder
practically staggers out behind her. "I think the house is about
to collapse completely," he says between deep breaths.

Scully turns to look at him. His face is ashen, and he is swaying
on his feet. "Speaking of collapsing, Mulder, sit down before you
fall down," she says sharply. "I'll try to put my phone back
together, since I don't think either of us should be driving."

With a low groan, Mulder sits down on the ground. He closes his
eyes and takes a few more deep breaths, resting his head in his
hands. This is likely why he doesn't notice immediately when
Scully looks down at the pieces of her cell phone in her hand...
and freezes.

She must have stood staring at her hand for several seconds - long
enough for Mulder to stand up carefully and touch her
shoulder. "Scully, what's wrong?"

Scully inhales slowly and looks up at him. "Look, Mulder," she
whispers. "My hand."

Her right hand is completely free of any injury. There is only a
tiny remnant of dried blood right where her cut had been - the
cut that both she and Mulder saw clearly.

"My head doesn't hurt anymore, either," Scully says dully. It's
true, although now there is a ringing in her ears that has
nothing to do with any concussion. She realizes as if through a
haze that her hand has begun to tremble. *No, no, please, this can't
be happening...*

"Scully. Scully!"

She refocuses on Mulder's face. He is watching her in alarm. She
wonders how many times he called her name before she came back to
herself.

"Scully," he says again. She stares at him, still shaking, and he
swallows. "Scully, we're going to figure out a way to deal with
this." He reaches out to take her hand, and Scully is transfixed
by the sight of the bloodstain on his sleeve. He is probably
still bleeding; he's still in pain.

"I need to try to call for an ambulance," she starts to say, but
then closes her mouth abruptly after the first two words. They do
not need an ambulance. She is uninjured - she can drive her
partner to the hospital herself.

"What?" Mulder asks quietly. "What do you need, Scully?" The
worry in his eyes perversely makes her want to slap him. He
shouldn't be worried about her right now. He should worry about
himself. He's the one who is still vulnerable.

She turns away. "Come on, Mulder," she says. "I'll drive you to
the hospital."

He doesn't protest, although she can practically feel the worry
radiating off him as she helps him to her car. Behind them, the
old house gives an audible groan as it settles and shifts. Mulder
is probably right, she thinks, seizing on this topic readily as a
distraction: the structure will collapse before too much longer.

On the way to the hospital, Scully forestalls any attempts on
Mulder's part to speak by telling him they can talk after he is
treated for his injuries. He agrees to this reluctantly. During
the familiar duties of admittance and filling out paperwork, it
is easy for her to lie and say that she managed to avoid the part
of the attic floor that collapsed. Mulder hears her tell the
admitting nurse this, and only looks at her without speaking. She
knows he will work with this story - in public.

Mulder's concussion is not too severe, thankfully. His ribs are
bruised, the cut on his arm requires six stitches, and he is in
fact slightly dehydrated, but his doctors inform Scully that he
will in all likelihood be released tomorrow morning. Scully
thanks them, and then stands outside his room. She takes a deep
breath before entering, hoping selfishly that he is either
already asleep or too tired to want to talk at the moment.

As it turns out, Mulder is not quite asleep. At his drowsy smile
upon her entering, Scully realizes guiltily that he was waiting
for her. She sits down beside his bed and takes his hand. "Go to
sleep, Mulder."

"'Kay." He closes his eyes, squeezing her hand once. Then he
opens his eyes briefly, suddenly serious. "Try not to worry about
it, Scully. We'll talk later."

Scully nods. She watches his eyes slip shut, and tries hard not
to liken this scene to the one from her nightmare. Mulder is
*not* dying.

~
Despite not wanting to discuss the events of the previous day
with Mulder, Scully does not find it a hard choice between going
to Mass and taking Mulder home from the hospital. Her thoughts
about God and her faith have once again been thrown into chaos by
this development.

Mulder is irritable on the way home from his forced lack of
sleep. Although he has been concussed often enough to know the
routine, he complains, it doesn't make it any less annoying to be
woken up every few hours and asked the same set of questions.
Scully can't help but smile a little at his grumpiness. She
suspects it is mostly put on to distract her, but she appreciates
it nonetheless.

When they arrive at his apartment, she helps him make it to the
fourth floor. He is much better than he was yesterday, but he
still sighs in relief upon reaching his couch. Scully waits for
him to get settled and then asks, "Do you need anything else,
Mulder?"

"No, thanks," he says, looking at her steadily. "But if you're up
for it, I'd like it if you stayed for a while, Scully."

She exhales heavily, and moves to sit down next to him.

Silence falls for a moment. Then Mulder reaches across the short
distance between them to take her hand again. Scully tries to
hold back an answering wave of emotion that she does not wish to
interpret. She takes a shuddering breath. "Mulder, I-- I'm glad I
didn't die in that darkroom, but I didn't ask for this. I don't
want it." She grips his hand tightly, once again unable to look
at him. It is frightening enough to be speaking about this out
loud. "I never told you, and I'd almost forgotten about it until
recently... but Clyde Bruckman predicted this. He told me I
wasn't going to die."

"He did, huh?" Mulder sounds thoughtful. "So he was right about
that, too."

She wants a way to block out the truth of this last statement.
But she has nothing. Biting her lip, she brings her other hand up
to her face. She thinks back to the conversation she had with
Fellig, about living forever. She had told him there was too much
to learn and experience to ever have too much life, but she is
now positive he was right: eventually, with no one to share it
with, any amount of knowledge or experiences would become
meaningless.

"I told you that we'll figure out a way to deal with this,
Scully," Mulder says, "and I meant it."

"But how?" Scully interjects with bitterness. "I don't know of
any cure we've discovered for immortality. And I refuse to end up
like Fellig, alone, stalking the dying in the vain hope that I
can someday catch Death's eye."

He is quiet for so long following her outburst that Scully
eventually does raise her eyes to look at him. He returns her
gaze, though his eyes retain the familiar faraway look that tells
her he is deep in thought.

"I still don't think your situation is the same as Fellig's,
Scully," he says at last, focusing back on her. "I think it was
some kind of accident that he gave you this, uh, gift-" Mulder
pauses to emphasize the irony in his tone - "and that like we
said earlier, it has to mean something that you weren't trying to
avoid Death when it happened."

She sighs. "You may be right, Mulder, but I can't see what
difference that's going to make."

Mulder gently disentangles his hand from hers, only to put his
arm around her and pull her close. "It will make a difference.
And I know you want to fix this right away, but it might take a
while to find out how to do that."

"I'll try to be patient," she tells him. She attempts a smile.
"After all, I suppose I'm not short on time."

He laughs once. They sit silently for so long then, each lost in
their own thoughts, that Scully begins to relax into sleep. She
thinks perhaps she should rouse herself - Mulder needs his rest,
after all, to recover from his injuries - but Mulder's steady
breathing beside her convinces her that getting up would wake him
unnecessarily. She shifts a little, resting her head more
comfortably against his shoulder. When Mulder stretches and opens
his eyes later in the night, Scully is sleeping so deeply that
she barely stirs when he stretches himself painfully out along
the length of his couch and pulls her down next to him.

~

Part 3

Mother's Day
1:14 PM

Scully has been quiet for a while before her mother speaks up.
"Dana, is everything okay?"

Scully smiles at her across the restaurant table. "I'm fine.
Sorry. Just got a little lost in thought."

Maggie Scully returns the smile, and resumes telling her about
Bill's phone call this morning: how Matthew seemed to know it was
a special day, but obviously thought it was about him, not about
Tara - and how he wanted to eat the chocolates that Bill bought
her. Scully laughs at the tale, but she is still only partially
paying attention.

Selfishly, she is glad that Bill and Tara could not make a trip
out to visit. The holiday itself is already a painful enough
reminder of her brief motherhood and loss of all future
opportunities for the same, without having to maintain her
equilibrium in front of her young nephew and his mother. However,
what has kept her thoughts occupied during the majority of lunch
is an idea that occurred to her early this morning.

She has not been to the doctor since New York - there has been no
reason for her to do so - but she thinks she has a reason to make
an appointment now. There is still no way of knowing exactly how
her 'gift' from Fellig has affected her physically, but perhaps
something has changed enough that she may no longer be infertile.
It is a distant, perhaps foolish hope, she knows, but the idea
will not leave her alone.

"Well," her mother says, smiling and reaching for her purse,
"this was lovely, honey - thank you again."

"You're welcome, Mom. Happy Mother's Day."

It is only when they are outside the restaurant walking to the
car that Mrs. Scully addresses one issue that has been on her
daughter's mind. "Dana, I just wanted you to know that I
appreciate you celebrating today with me - especially in light of
what you told me about your own health, and-- and your experience
with Emily. I know it must be hard for you."

Scully meets her eyes and then looks away. She nods, not trusting
herself to speak. Thankfully, this statement made and
acknowledged, her mother changes the subject.

At work the next day, Scully knows her preoccupation has not gone
unnoticed by Mulder. They don't have a case to otherwise occupy
them; Mulder is still recovering from his impromptu brain
surgery, so they are office-bound. Though she is fully aware he
has nothing else to focus on but his partner, she can't get her
impending doctor's appointment (for which she is getting out of
work a half hour early) out of her mind. She is trying her
hardest not to get her hopes up. After all, even if the
appointment goes well, she won't know anything concrete for
another few weeks, after the exam is repeated.

When she stands up to leave, Mulder looks up in mild surprise.
"You off early today, Scully?"

"Yeah." She goes to pick up her jacket, trying not to let her
nervousness show. "I've, uh, I've got an appointment. It's
nothing serious."

As soon as she says the last three words, she wishes she could
take them back. Now she's sure to have gotten her partner's
attention. Turning to gauge his reaction, she sees that he is
staring at her with the question clear in his eyes. She sighs.
"I'll tell you about it tomorrow, okay?"

Mulder nods. "Okay."

Giving him a small, placating smile, Scully leaves the office.

~
Scully walks out of the clinic guardedly hopeful. After hearing
about her past diagnosis, the doctor has given her a medical
regimen to follow for the next three weeks. She warned Scully
that there are no guarantees - something that Scully already
knows, of course, but she finds herself optimistic nonetheless.

At work the next day, Scully waits until lunch to tell Mulder
what she has determined to say. "The appointment was at a
fertility clinic," she says, rubbing at the condensation on the
side of her glass of ice water. "I'm-- I'm still pursuing my
options. I have another appointment in three weeks."

Mulder blinks. He opens his mouth, and then just nods. "I...
that's great, Scully. I hope it works out."

Scully is sure he was about to say something else entirely, but
she does not press the issue. They eat in silence for several
minutes before Mulder brings up a detail from one of the reports
they've been working on, and the matter drops for the moment.

~
Three Weeks Later

The news is not good. Scully leaves the clinic fighting back
tears, angry at herself for even thinking that her body could
have been so dramatically changed that good news would be
possible. *None of this was based on any scientific evidence,* she
thinks, stalking out to her car. *So why am I surprised?*

Her doctor had looked at her with a mixture of pity and
compassion when she informed her of the results. The exam's
findings were the same as before. Of course. If what Mulder told
her last year about the cause of her infertility is true, it only
makes sense. No simple medical regimen could make up for the
violation and loss she experienced during her abduction.

The next day at work, when she is quiet and withdrawn, Mulder's
worry becomes obvious again. He doesn't press her on it until
they leave for lunch. He glances around the elevator, which is
empty, and then asks, "Was your appointment yesterday? How did it
go?"

Scully sighs shakily. "Not well."

Mulder just looks at her.

She decides to get it over with. Drawing it out will only make it
more painful for them both. "It's just that I thought maybe
the... discovery we made recently about my health was enough of a
change that it could have counteracted my inability to have
children. But, um, it hasn't. Nothing changed."

He is stricken. "Oh, Scully... I'm sorry."

The elevator doors ding, and they exit. Scully nods, accepting
his attempt to offer sympathy. She is still lost in her thoughts
enough that she doesn't notice his similarly pensive expression
until they have left the Hoover building. She maneuvers them out
of the way of pedestrian traffic, and looks up at him silently.

It's his turn to sigh as he stops next to her. "There's, um,
there's something else I haven't told you about when I discovered
what had been done to you during your abduction. I hope you can
forgive me, and try to understand why I kept it from you."

"What?" She stares at him, remembering how he had reacted when
she told him about her first appointment. This does not sound
good.

He continues, "During my investigation into your illness, I found
out that your ova were taken and stored in a government lab."

She can hardly believe her ears. He shuffles his feet, and it
dawns on her what he hasn't yet said. "And you found them?"

"I-- I took them directly to a specialist who would tell me if
they were okay." His voice is quiet, and he stares intently down
at the sidewalk.

"I don't believe this." Scully crosses her arms and waits for the
rest to come out.

"Scully," he pleads, raising his eyes to hers, "you were deathly
ill, and I... I couldn't bear to give you another piece of bad
news."

"Is that what it was?" she demands, keeping her voice low with
difficulty. "It was bad news?"

Mulder nods once. "The doctor said the ova weren't viable."

Scully stands as straight as she can. "Well, I want a second
opinion." She glares at him. "Where are they?" She can't believe
she has to ask this question, much less ask it of *her partner.*

Hanging his head, Mulder mutters, "I'll get them to you."

Her appetite has vanished. She turns to go back into the
building, leaving Mulder staring after her forlornly.

~
One Week Later

*A good chance.* Scully hears those words repeated over and over
in her head as she leaves Dr. Parenti's clinic. Her mood could
not be more different than when she left the other clinic last
week. Dr. Parenti has told her that there is a good chance that
she could become pregnant, if they don't delay. Now all she needs
to do is try to ask Mulder. Finding an anonymous donor is an
unthinkable option for her - but she doesn't know how to even
broach the subject with him. Something of this magnitude...It
will be the most important, personal thing she has ever asked
Mulder to do for her, and she knows it cannot help but change
things between them. But maybe that's a good thing. Their
relationship has already been changing for a while now, after
all.

She has in the past week forgiven Mulder for keeping this
information from her. He truly had thought he was protecting her
from more heartbreak, and as misguided as that attempt was, she
believes he has learned from his mistake.

Somehow, she makes it home through the haze of her happiness and
bewilderment. After a leisurely dinner, she pours herself a glass
of red wine and tries to relax in front of the TV. But she is too
keyed up, too occupied with the thought of how she will ask
Mulder - her best friend, her partner, the person she knows best
in the world and who knows her just as well - to take this step
with her. She grimaces. They haven't even gone on what any normal
person would consider a date. And yet, part of her knows that he
would never refuse her this. Maybe that in itself helps explain
why the idea of asking him makes her so nervous.

Her thoughts chase themselves around in circles in her head for a
few more minutes before Scully decides she's had enough. With a
loud sigh, she turns off the TV, sets down her wineglass, and
stands up. Better to just get it over with. No time like the
present, she tells herself.

Doing her best to ignore the adrenaline that has begun to surge
through her, Scully picks up the phone and dials Mulder's number.
She only thinks to glance at her watch after the line is already
ringing, but thankfully it is still relatively early in the
evening.

Mulder picks up after two rings. "Mulder."

"It's me."

"Hey, Scully," he greets her, sounding cheerful. "What's up?"

She takes a breath. "Um, can I come over?"

"Sure," Mulder says. A hint of worry has crept into his voice
when he continues, "I ordered a pizza a little while ago - do you
want me to save you some?"

"No, thanks, I already had dinner," Scully replies. "Besides,"
she adds, trying to keep things light, "if I ate the rest of it,
what would you have for breakfast tomorrow, Mulder?"

He laughs. "You have a point."

There is a brief pause. "So... I'll be right over, then."

"Okay. See you in a few minutes."

Scully puts on a light jacket and is out the door. She does her
best to think about anything else on the drive over, just so she
will not appear as nervous as she is when she arrives. She thinks
she has mostly succeeded - until Mulder opens his apartment door,
and her anxiety-fueled adrenaline returns.

"Come on in, Scully." He stands aside, and Scully walks into the
middle of the room.

Mulder closes the door. He asks her something, but Scully doesn't
quite catch it. She's too busy trying to organize her thoughts.
"Sorry, what was that, Mulder?"

He is regarding her carefully. "Do you want to have a seat?" he
repeats, gesturing to the couch.

Scully nods. When she doesn't move immediately, Mulder puts a
hand on her back and guides her over. "What did you want to talk
about?"

Taking a deep breath, Scully smooths a wrinkle in her jeans, and
then looks up at him. "I went to another fertility clinic today,
to get the second opinion I told you I wanted. And I got some
good news." She looks away for a moment, then turns to him again,
a pleased smile on her face. "The doctor told me he thinks
there's a good chance that through IVF - in vitro fertilization-
I could become pregnant."

Mulder takes a moment to process this news, and then smiles
broadly. "That's wonderful, Scully! I'm so glad to hear it."

She smiles again, nodding. "The thing is, I need to get started
right away. The chances of success decrease the longer I wait.
And..." She swallows. "And even though I don't know how - or if-
my... condition may affect this, I don't want to risk it. I want
to get started as soon as possible."

Mulder nods. "That makes sense." He clears his throat and begins,
"If you need to take some time off from work for this, you don't
need to worry about--"

"No, that's-- that's not why I wanted to talk to you, Mulder,"
she interrupts. *Here goes.* "I wanted to ask if you would do
something for me."

"Okay." He sounds faintly confused.

She directs her gaze at his hand, which rests lightly on her
knee. "I wanted to ask you if you would be the father. Of my
child."

Dead silence falls, and Scully nearly panics - even the sound of
Mulder's breathing has ceased. When she looks up, she sees that
his jaw has dropped and that he is staring at her with an almost
comical look of shock on his face. After a moment, he takes a
breath and closes his mouth partway, but still seems unable to
speak.

"I don't need an answer right away," Scully hastens to add. "And
I know this is a huge thing to ask. But... there's really no one
else I would choose." Her voice has dropped almost to a whisper,
and she looks down at her own hands in her lap.

"Scully..." His voice is choked, and she hears him swallow.

"Just-- just think about it for a while, okay?" She forces
herself to breathe evenly. The hardest part is past, and it's up
to him now. "I don't want to pressure you. But I do want you to
know that I would be honored if you decided you wanted to be
involved in this child's life, if we were successful."

Mulder sits forward, exhaling slowly. She watches as he rubs a
hand across his face.

"I'll give you some time," she says, standing and beginning to
walk toward the door. She can't help but feel some distress at
his lack of response, even though she has told herself it
wouldn't make sense for him to say much right away.

Before she reaches the door, his voice stops her. "Scully."

Heart pounding again, she turns to him. He is still seated on the
couch, but he is looking directly at her. In the dim light from
his window and one table lamp, she can see that his eyes are
shining. "I am going to give this the amount of thought it
deserves," he says, "but... I want to tell you right now that the
fact that you asked me this - asked *me*...well, it means
everything."

She grins, a slow, shy smile that he returns.

~
Saturday - One Day Later

Scully wakes up absurdly early the next morning, and is
irrevocably awake the instant she opens her eyes. She cannot get
her mind off the subject of Mulder's decision. After an endless
fifteen minutes of trying to get back to sleep, she sighs and
gets out of bed. Perhaps she can distract herself with some other
activity.

Two hours later, she has cleaned every room in her apartment,
done her laundry, and is now trying to focus on reading a novel.
But after realizing she has read the same paragraph at least four
times without comprehending it, Scully gives up and puts it down.
It's a beautiful early summer morning, and the air outside is
most likely still cool enough to be comfortable. A walk, she
decides, would pass the time more pleasantly.

She takes her cell phone - just in case, although Mulder is in all
likelihood still in bed - and succeeds in relaxing and enjoying
the quiet city streets. As she walks she allows herself the
indulgence of imagining a little bit of what it would be like if
the IVF is successful, even of trying to envision what her child
might look like. But her hopes have been crushed so many times
that the indulgence is very brief. This is all still theoretical,
she reminds herself.

When she arrives back at her apartment, she slips off her shoes
and curls up on the couch, intending to give the novel another
try. She is asleep in minutes, the paperback lying forgotten on
the edge of the couch.

Hunger pangs wake her, several hours later. Scully looks at her
watch and is surprised to see that it is almost time for lunch.
She opts for a quick shower before breaking her fast.

The knock on her door that comes as she is finishing her
scrambled eggs startles her. She almost drops her fork before
recovering and calling out, "I'll be there in a second!"

She has a good idea of who it is and why he's here. Her hands
shake a little as she puts her dishes in the dishwasher, and she
takes some steadying breaths.

Opening the door, she greets Mulder with an uncertain smile. "Hi."

"Hi."

"Come on in."

"Thanks."

As she closes the door behind him, Scully notices that he hasn't
made a move to take off his jacket. "Can I take your coat?" she
asks, keeping her tone neutral.

Mulder fidgets, and answers, "No, I can't stay long. I, uh...
Actually, the guys have something they've been after me to come
check out."

Scully nods. She wonders if it's true, but doesn't blame Mulder
for having the excuse either way. There is a short pause.
"Obviously, you've had some time to think about my request," she
says at last.

"Um, it's-- it's not something that I get asked to do every day,"
he says, with a small smile. "But yes, I've thought about it."

Scully drops her eyes from his as he continues.

"What's weird is - and this sounds really weird, I know, but - I
just," he hesitates, "I just wouldn't want this to come between
us."

Scully's heart plummets. He's saying no, but trying to let her
down gently. "Yeah. I know. I-- I understand. I do."

She is staring at the floor in front of him, fighting back her
tears as hard as she can. Then she looks up, as he moves toward
her. "Scully... the answer is yes."

Shock, joy, and other fleeting and unidentifiable emotions rush
through her. She bites her lip, and then breaks into a wide smile
as she reaches to embrace Mulder. There are no words exchanged,
but she knows he understands her gratitude.

Scully clears her throat and says, "Well, um... I'll call Dr.
Parenti. I assume he'll want to meet you, and-- and go through
the donor procedure."

Mulder nods. "At that part, I'm a pro."

Scully has to laugh a little at that. They gaze at each other for
another few seconds, and then Mulder heads for the door. He
pauses, giving her another shy smile before he leaves.

As the door closes behind him, Scully exhales and sinks onto her
couch. She will call Dr. Parenti, but first she needs to try to
settle her thoughts. This is actually going to move forward. She
rubs a hand over her neck. She knows there is merit to the worry
Mulder mentioned, but she also believes they can still be...
whatever they are, partners, friends, through this process. He
seems to believe this, as well. With that thought in mind, she
reaches for the phone.

~
The process is arduous, and emotionally exhausting for both
Scully and Mulder. When the first try fails, Dr. Parenti is
realistic but continues to remain positive. "I told you at the
start that we might not succeed with the first cycle," he says.
"But if you're up for trying again, Dana, I still think the
chances are good."

Scully nods. "I'm not ready to give up yet," she tells him,
trying to sound as certain as she should be. Mulder is in the
waiting room, and she is glad when Dr. Parenti accompanies her
out to pass on the news. She isn't sure she could have told him
without crying; whether that feeling is a result of hormones or
only discouragement she can't tell.

They are both quiet in the car, as Mulder drives her home. When
they arrive outside her apartment building, Mulder turns to look
at her. "Do you-- do you want me to stay?" he asks, touching her
shoulder lightly.

Scully shakes her head, smiling and reaching to hold his hand.
"No, thanks." She opens the car door and gets out. "But, um," she
continues, turning to him, "thank you for being willing to stick
this out with me, Mulder. It means a lot."

He meets her eyes and answers with absolute sincerity, "Whatever
you need, Scully. Just let me know."

The second time the IVF fails, Scully cannot keep a few tears
from escaping in the doctor's office. She listens numbly as Dr.
Parenti encourages her to try one more time, noting that even he
has reduced his optimism noticeably. Still, the idea of giving up
her chance to have a child is even more painful to her than the
possibility of another failure, so she agrees to try again next
month.

This time, Mulder is tied up at work and cannot drive her home.
He had been regretful and apologetic, while simultaneously making
her promise to let him know the results as soon as she could.
Scully calls him as soon as she leaves the clinic. "Mulder, it's
me."

"Scully." He sounds like he might have stood up and walked a few
feet, perhaps seeking a safer location to talk. "How did it go?"

She sighs. "Uh... not well. But I-- I've decided to try one more
time."

"Oh, Scully. I'm sorry." He takes a slow breath, and Scully
considers, not for the first time, that these ups and downs must
be difficult for him, too. "But if you want to try again, I want
to try again."

Swallowing, Scully almost whispers, "Thank you. I'll see you at
work."

The third and last time, Scully tells Mulder she wants to go to
the clinic alone. Mulder agrees, but says he'll be waiting for
her at her apartment. He is firm but gentle as he explains, "I
don't think you should be alone after you find out, whichever way
it goes." Then he pauses, and looks down. "And whatever happens,
it's important to me, too."

"I know, Mulder," Scully tells him softly, crossing the room and
putting a hand on his arm. "Make yourself comfortable, and I'll
be back soon."

She is glad Mulder agreed not to come. She struggles to contain
her grief, as Dr. Parenti tells her in a quiet voice that she
could still try again if she feels strongly about it, but there
is every indication, unfortunately, that further attempts will
not be effective. Scully tunes out the rest of his well-meaning
platitudes. She is already berating herself for wasting so much
time and effort and resources, so much emotional energy (on both
her and Mulder's part) on a foolish dream.

Somehow, she makes it home without losing control. She opens the
door to her darkened apartment, and Mulder stands up from her
couch, blinking blearily in the gloom.

"Scully?" he says. "I guess I must have dozed off."

Scully just looks at him without speaking. Mulder's eyes darken,
his face grave. "It didn't take, did it?"

She has to look away before she answers. "I guess... it was just
too much to hope for."

Mulder opens his arms, and Scully all but collapses against him,
finally starting to sob. He holds her tightly, and she puts her
arms around him. She is utterly exhausted, in every sense. "It
was my last chance," she chokes out.

He continues to hold her to himself. Then he pulls back, his
hands on her shoulders, and kisses her forehead. Moving to rest
his forehead against hers, he murmurs, "Never give up on a
miracle."

Scully takes a few ragged breaths. She wants so badly to believe
that there is still reason to hope. For now, though, she will
borrow the strength that her partner is freely offering. Touching
one hand to the back of his neck, she presses a kiss to his
cheek, to the corner of his lips, to his jaw. Then she buries her
face against him as he embraces her fiercely.

It is impossible for her to tell how long they stay in each
other's arms. Eventually, after her breathing has calmed, she
pulls away a little - just enough to look into his eyes.
"Mulder--" she tries to say, but her voice catches.

Mulder rubs her back in slow, soothing motions. "Shh, Scully," he
whispers. "I'm not going anywhere."

Wondering how he knew, Scully sighs and leans back against him.
Crying has exhausted the rest of her energy, and she wants
nothing more than to sleep, and forget about the day for a while.

"Let's get you to bed," Mulder murmurs. She tries to smile up at
him and, Mulder half-carrying her, they make their way to her
bedroom. Scully sits down heavily on the edge of the bed, taking
off her shoes as Mulder does likewise. Pulling down the sheets
she just about falls onto the pillow, weariness overtaking her.
Her eyes slide shut as Mulder wraps himself and the blankets
around her.

In the early hours of the morning, Scully comes halfway awake to
the sound of quiet sobs beside her. It takes her a while to
comprehend that it is Mulder, allowing himself to grieve. She
covers his hand with hers, where it rests on her stomach.

"I'm sorry, Scully," he whispers. "I-- I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's okay, Mulder." She turns over so that she is facing him.
His face is not visible in the blackness of her room, but she
reaches for him and lays her hand on his tear-streaked cheek.
"I'm sorry I made you go through this."

Mulder is silent for a few minutes as his breathing steadies. He
sighs deeply, and tightens his grip on her. "Don't be sorry," he
murmurs. "Even though it didn't turn out like we'd hoped, I'm
thankful you asked me, and... and I can't regret that we tried."

Scully swallows past the lump in her throat. "Oh, Mulder," she
whispers, drawing herself closer to him, "I don't regret it,
either. But it hurts."

"I know." He smooths her hair away from her face. "I didn't ever
really tell you in so many words, but I wanted it - I wanted our
child, too."

Tears begin to stream down her face again. "I wanted to be able
to give that to you," she tells him, her words barely
intelligible.

"This was not your fault, Scully," Mulder tells her fiercely,
kissing the top of her head. "This choice was taken from you. You
can't blame yourself."

Scully nods once, knowing he's right but needing to have heard it
nonetheless. They hold each other until sleep claims them both.

~

Part 4

Scully is extremely glad the next morning that she had the
foresight to take this day off from work. Though the night's
sleep has helped a great deal, she still feels too emotionally
taxed to function at the office. She notices Mulder's absence
before she opens her eyes, and is briefly unsettled until she
hears him talking on the phone outside her room. He is calling in
sick, no doubt.

Squinting at the clock by her bed, Scully reads that it is 7:13.
She rolls over and closes her eyes; it's far too early for her to
even contemplate facing the world.

She is just beginning to fall back into slumber when she hears
her bedroom door open quietly. The bed dips under Mulder's
weight, and he pulls away the covers for a moment to slide back
under them. She smiles as he settles her against him, his arm
around her waist. "Sorry to wake you."

"'Sokay," she murmurs. "Just glad you're here."

"I wouldn't be anywhere else."

Scully drifts in and out of sleep for the next two and a half
hours, soothed each time she wakes by Mulder's solid presence and
even breathing. Then, finally feeling rested, she turns over
carefully - to find that Mulder's eyes are open and that he is
watching her with a half-smile.

"What are you looking at, Mulder?" Scully asks, conscious of her
tousled hair and lack of makeup.

"You," he tells her simply.

She returns his smile and raises an eyebrow. "How long have you
been awake?"

"Not too long," he says. "I wasn't bored, if that's what you're
worried about."

Scully laughs. She starts to turn away, to get out of bed, but
Mulder reaches a hand to her chin and gently turns her face back
toward him. He searches her eyes for a moment. Before she can
second-guess herself, Scully leans in and kisses him.

Only surprised for an instant, Mulder closes his eyes and deepens
the kiss. She is becoming utterly lost in the sensations of his
mouth on hers when Mulder pulls back, breathing hard.

"Mulder..." She isn't sure what she's planning to say, other than
to communicate her disappointment at the end of the kiss. Her
breathing is a little ragged, too.

"Scully," he says, brushing his hand across her cheek, "I just--
I just want to make sure you're okay with this happening right
now."

She smiles again as she looks into his eyes, seeing a mixture of
worry, love, and desire. "I'm okay with it, Mulder. More than
okay, actually."

"You aren't going to--"

"Regret it later?" Scully thinks about it, and then shakes her
head. "No, Mulder, I'm not." She looks away for a second. "This
isn't about trying to forget something painful," she says
quietly. "I think... I think it's about moving forward."

He gazes at her. "I can agree with that," he says, and then with
a wicked glint in his eyes, he closes the distance between them.
"We could make some new memories if you want, Scully," he murmurs,
lips almost touching her neck.

She shivers and laughs. "That sounds good."

~
Four Days Later

When Mulder strides into the office holding a file folder, his
eyes alight with excitement, Scully braces herself for a new
case. It's been long enough. She's ready. "What have you got,
Mulder?" she smiles, leaning back in her chair.

"Maryland PD has reported several disappearances out in Garrett
County," he says, sitting on the edge of the desk and handing her
the folder. "Four people, of varying age and ethnicity, all
vanished at night over the course of the past two weeks."

"And we're interested why?" Scully opens the folder.

"A witness gave enough of a description of the suspect that the
sketch artists were able to produce a good working sketch." He
leans forward. "Take a look - there's a copy of it in there."

Scully flips through the report... and stops dead at the
unmistakable image of the man they have come up against so many
times over the years. She looks up up at Mulder, eyes wide.

"I thought you might recognize our bounty hunting friend," he
says, nodding. "I figure if we leave now, we can get out there by
tonight."

She sets down the file without bothering to look at the rest of
it for the moment. "Mulder, I feel like I should remind you,
every time we've confronted this... man, or whatever he is, we
haven't exactly come out on top."

"That's true," Mulder admits, with a wry twist of his mouth. "But
that doesn't mean we shouldn't at least try to see what he's up
to, right?"

"I suppose not," she says. "Are we heading out now?"

Mulder stands. "You have an overnight bag ready?"

Scully rises to her feet and stares at him, hands on her hips. He
laughs and puts up his hands in a placating gesture. "I thought
I'd ask anyway, just to be sure."

~
The drive out to the westernmost county in Maryland is long and
uneventful. They arrive travel-worn and hungry just before nine,
and Scully is glad that Mulder seems quite willing to wait until
the next morning to start the investigation. Mulder leaves a
message for the local police station while Scully checks them in
and orders dinner.

They are quiet through most of their Chinese takeout (the only
readily-available takeout in the area). As she's finishing up the
last few bites, Scully wipes her mouth on a napkin and asks, "So,
what's the plan for tomorrow, Mulder?"

He sets down his chopsticks, having already finished. "Well, I
figure we'll go talk to the local PD, find out where this
eyewitness saw our friend, and go from there." He shrugs. "Should
be simple enough."

Scully gives him a look. "And if our 'friend' doesn't take kindly
to us trying to track him down?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." Mulder picks up
their empty cartons and throws them away.

"Right." *As long as we're adequately prepared,* Scully thinks,
but keeps her sarcasm to herself.

Mulder hides a yawn as he walks over to the connecting door
between their rooms. Perhaps it is because of how tired they were
when they arrived, but he hadn't even made a joke about being
disappointed when she had gotten them two rooms.

The next morning, the two meet with the sheriff after breakfast.
Sheriff Glass strikes Scully as similar to most of the small-town
sheriffs they've encountered: competent, dedicated, and baffled
by the rash of serious crime in his normally peaceful home. "I
appreciate you giving us a hand, Agents," he tells them, after
introductions have been made. "We've been looking pretty hard,
but other than that description Andy Conrad gave us, we don't
have much to go on."

"One of the reasons we came out is that we believe your suspect
might be a person of interest in quite a few of our cases,"
Mulder tells him.

"Really? What kind of cases?" Sheriff Glass asks, looking anxious.

Mulder shoots Scully a glance before she replies, "Mostly in
connection with kidnapping cases."

"Just like what's going on here then, I guess." The sheriff
heaves a sigh. "Well, let me get you the addresses of the
victims."

The five Garrett County inhabitants who have disappeared do not
have anything obvious in common, other than their location. Two
are a young couple who just moved to the area in the past year,
one is a retired schoolteacher who lived alone with his dog,
another is the mother of three children (one of whom is the Andy
who gave the description to the sketch artist), and the most
recent is a seventeen-year-old girl who vanished from a sleepover
at her friend's birthday party.

Mulder elects to visit the husband of the missing woman first.
Mr. Conrad has little to add, though he repeats several times how
grateful he is that the FBI has sent some agents to help look for
his wife. "Andy's at school right now," he tells them, "but I
don't know what else he could tell you, other than what he told
the police."

"That's fine, Mr. Conrad," Scully says. "We might stop by again
once your son is home from school, if that's okay with you.
Meanwhile, can you describe for us again what happened the night
your wife went missing?"

After all the interviews are complete, Mulder follows her out to
their car, so lost in thought that he almost runs into her when
she stops at the passenger side door. "Oops. Sorry, Scully."

"Whoa there, Mulder," she says, raising an eyebrow and giving him
an amused look. "You okay to drive, or should I take the wheel
this time and save us both from wrapping around a tree?"

He grins, looking slightly embarrassed. "No, I can manage all
right - ah, if you don't mind, that is."

Scully stays where she is, gesturing toward the passenger side.
It only rarely bothers her when he just assumes he'll be driving,
and now is not one of those times. "What were you thinking so
deeply about?"

"I was just thinking, most everyone mentioned that the kidnapper
seemed to take off in a general westerly direction," Mulder
answers as he makes his way around to the other side of the car.
"That's the direction of the Savage River, and I have a hunch
that we might find something around there."

"Certainly a promising name for a river," Scully mutters, getting
into the car. "So are we just going to drive up and down the
length of the river, or what?"

Mulder glances at her with a smile. "Just the easily accessible
parts."

"Fine," Scully says, indulging him with a smile of her own, "but
I have to insist that we have lunch first. Otherwise it could be
sometime tomorrow before we have another chance."

"Agreed," Mulder replies.

As it turns out, when they arrive at the river later that
afternoon, they find a good place to park and only have to walk a
short distance before something of interest turns up. There is a
riverboat moored near an old, decaying dock - and although the
boat is silent and still, there is a faint light in one window.

Hastily, the two agents move to the cover of some nearby trees.
"The sheriff told me earlier that there wasn't really a whole lot
to see out here," Mulder whispers. "I guess he didn't know about
this boat. Must not have been here long."

Scully feels uneasiness begin to stir. "Still, it seems awfully
exposed for the bounty hunter to choose it as a base of
operations, don't you think?"

He shrugs. "Maybe. Maybe not." Without waiting to see if she's
with him, Mulder draws his gun and begins to move toward the dock.

Sighing, Scully readies her weapon and follows. Though she starts
after him only seconds later, Mulder is already on the deck of
the boat by the time she makes it to the dock. He glances over
his shoulder at her for a moment, but then strides forward again.

Scully moves as quickly and as quietly as she can to catch up.
She is only a few steps behind when Mulder arrives at the other
end of the boat, where the lighted room had been visible. The
gloomy room is visible through the porthole-like window in the
door, but there is no one in sight. Mulder pauses, briefly
exchanging a glance with Scully. Then he pushes the door open as
soundlessly as possible and stands aside as Scully enters the
room, gun at the ready.

It takes several seconds for Scully to adjust to the dimness of
the boat's interior as she cases the room for immediate threats.
In those seconds, Mulder has already moved on from this room -
which is empty except for some wooden crates against the wall -
into the next room. He stops abruptly, a few feet inside it,
raising his gun to aim at something beyond Scully's sight.

Scully hurries to follow, and quickly raises her own weapon at
the sight of the bounty hunter. The imposing figure is standing at
the other end of the room, in front of two long metal tables. He
regards the two of them with no change of expression.

"Where are the five people you kidnapped from town?" Mulder
demands.

The bounty hunter takes one step closer to them. "They are not
here. And you should leave this place now."

"Not until you tell us where you took them," Scully says. Her
eyes dart from their opponent to the metal tables, and she
suppresses a shudder.

He continues to walk toward them, slowly. "You're far too late to
find them."

"Don't come any closer," Mulder warns, moving to stand partially
in front of Scully without blocking her aim.

Scully shifts out from behind Mulder, aiming for the bounty
hunter's neck as best as she can. She knows that he will not just
let them investigate the area for evidence of his victims. This
is not going to end well.

Almost before she has completed that thought, the bounty hunter
rushes forward brutally and swiftly. Scully is not sure whether
she or Mulder fires first - but it does not matter, since both of
their shots go wide. Before she has time to react, Scully feels
an iron grip on her throat and she is slammed into the wall.
There is an answering burst of pain and her vision darkens.
Through this, she is vaguely conscious of the fact that Mulder is
also being held against the wall by his throat. She chokes and
hears her pulse pounding in her ears.

"You will find nothing here," the bounty hunter tells them
dispassionately. With that, he allows Scully to slide to the
floor before punching Mulder squarely in the face with his freed
hand. Mulder is limp in his grip as the man hefts him toward the
window.

Recovering her breath, Scully gasps as she realizes an instant
before it happens what their assailant is planning. She reaches
desperately and half-blindly for her gun - but does not find it
until after Mulder is sent crashing through the window. Then she
scrambles to her feet as quickly as she can and raises the weapon.

At the sound of the weapon being cocked, the bounty hunter turns
impossibly fast and knocks it from her hands. In an instant, she
follows Mulder out of the shattered window.

The shock of hitting the frigid water is almost overwhelming, but
Scully quickly breaks the surface, coughing and gasping as she
scans the dark river frantically for her partner. She finds him
unconscious and facedown in the water a few yards from her. The
current is swift, and he is already being carried farther away.

Taking in a gulp of air, Scully swims to him as fast as she can.
The water is chillingly cold, and her layers of clothing hamper
her movement. Still, she reaches him in seconds and immediately
lifts his head out of the water. It's hard to tell if he is
breathing.

Only the fact that the water is helping to carry his weight
allows Scully to guide Mulder's progress toward the shore with
any kind of speed. He is completely out, and she does her best to
keep his head level with his back and above the water.

Scully heaves a sigh of relief as she finally manages to pull
Mulder out of the river and sees his chest rise and fall. Her
relief is short-lived as she also notes the bloody wound on his
forehead. He is still unconscious, and in clear need of medical
attention. She, of course, is fine - soaking wet and shivering,
but the cuts she'd received during her forced exit through the
window of the riverboat are already almost closed over. For once,
she is glad of her unnaturally quick healing; if she had fared as
poorly as Mulder as a result of their altercation with the bounty
hunter, they would both be unconscious in the water and would
have almost certainly drowned.

She looks up toward the boat. It is still close by; they have
only drifted downstream about a dozen yards. She hopes the bounty
hunter does not pursue them - she doesn't think she can defend
both Mulder and herself from his unrelenting attacks.

Mulder coughs and moans, turning his head slightly. He looks as
though he's trying to open his eyes. "Scully..."

"Don't try to move, Mulder," Scully tells him. She pushes his
bangs out of the still-bleeding head wound. "You're hurt, and you
need to stay still."

He is shivering, and Scully's heart sinks as she considers the
deadly combination of shock, hypothermia, and concussion - not to
mention the water that must be in his lungs. There has to be a
way for her to get him out of here. Her cell phone, of course,
has been rendered useless by its submersion in the river, and she
already knows that the boat is a significant distance from the
nearest town. Their car is on the opposite bank.

If Mulder had been trying to aim for a return to consciousness,
her words have evidently made him decide not to bother. He is
quiet and still, other than his regular breaths and constant
shivering.

Scully bites her lip and comes to a decision. Though it is
dangerous to move him before she knows the extent of his injuries,
it is more dangerous to leave him here. She will have to try to
drag him to dry ground, at least, while jostling him as little as
possible. She peels off her dripping jacket and lays it on the
riverbank, and then moves to stand between Mulder and the river,
judging the route she will have to take.

Scully is so focused on her task that she doesn't see the bounty
hunter exit the boat and move purposefully along the dock to the
opposite shore. Thus, she has barely a second to react when the
whole boat explodes, sending debris flying with incredible force.
Before the shock wave reaches her, she has time to throw her arms
up in front of her face. Then she is propelled forward and the
world goes dark.

Searing pain brings her out of unconsciousness in brief snatches.
At one point, she feels herself being moved, tries and fails to
open her eyes, and cries out in agony when something comes in
contact with one specific area on her back.

"Sorry, ma'am," someone says.

Another voice speaks up, urgently. "Agent Scully, can you hear
me? We need to get you and your partner--"

The voice fades out, though Scully struggles to hold onto it. She
needs to hear what's being done for Mulder. At least it sounds
like he is alive and they have not left him behind. With that
thought, she is enveloped by darkness once more.

~
Garrett County Memorial Hospital

Scully experiences a moment of sheer panic when she begins to
wake up and finds that she cannot move. She is lying on her right
side, and she's tied down. She starts to try to pull free, but
her attempts cause fresh pain in several spots on her back,
including one area in particular near the base of her spine.

"Agent Scully," a man's voice says in a calming tone, "don't
fight against the restraints. You're in the hospital, you're
doing fine, but you have a serious wound on your back that needs
to heal."

Scully opens her eyes slowly. The speaker is standing in front of
her, observing her with a kind but serious expression on his
face. He introduces himself as Dr. Tyler.

"How..." Scully swallows, her throat aching. "How long have I
been here?"

"Today is your third day," Dr. Tyler tells her. "You and your
partner were brought in in serious condition on Tuesday night.
The sheriff was concerned when he tried to call you and wasn't
able to reach either of you."

Blinking, Scully tries to process this information. There is
something important about the length of time she has already been
here and the continuing extent of her injuries, but she discards
the thought for the moment. "Mulder. How is he?"

"Agent Mulder had a concussion, bruised ribs, hypothermia, and
water in his lungs, as well as quite a few scrapes and bruises -
including contusions around his neck, which you also have. But
he's doing well, and will most likely not sustain any permanent
damage. He was asleep last time I checked."

The lingering pain in her back brings Scully to her next question.
"I... What happened to us? I remember an explosion..."

He nods. "Yes, Sheriff Glass tells me you were found near a
riverboat that was apparently rigged with explosives. A piece of
the metal railing was embedded in your lower back, not too far
from your spine," he says, gesturing to the part of her that hurts
the most at the moment, "not to mention several smaller injuries
caused by other debris. It took a long time in surgery to get it
all out. You also sustained a minor concussion when you hit the
ground - but when you fell, you managed to shield your partner
from most of the blast." At that, he smiles. "And you certainly
saved his life by pulling him out of the river."

Scully lets out her breath. "Will you thank the sheriff for me?"

"He said he might be in to check up on you both later today," Dr.
Taylor says, "but I'll be sure to tell him if you don't. Your
boss has also been in to see you." He smiles at her again,
reassuringly. "Now that you're awake, we can take off the
restraints. Be careful not to roll onto your back."

Once she is alone with her thoughts, it only takes Scully a
moment to recognize the possible significance of this hospital
stay. If it has been three days, and she still needs to have her
bandages changed and to be careful to stay on her side... then
she is not healing at an abnormally fast pace. It can't be a
coincidence that her most serious injury is in almost exactly the
same location on her back as the exit wound from Ritter's bullet
almost a year ago.

She feels hope begin to stir. Maybe her life has returned to
normal now - or at least, she amends wryly, back to the usual
brand of insanity.

A nurse knocks on the door and enters, crossing to stand where
Scully can see her. "Good morning, Agent Scully. How are you
feeling?"

"Sore," Scully tells her honestly, "and hungry."

The nurse smiles and nods. "We'll bring you some food after your
bandages are changed."

Scully lies still as the older woman checks each wound. She
reports that everything looks fine, that most of the minor cuts
will most likely heal without any lasting scars, and then
replaces the covering on the major wound. Scully cannot hold back
a wince as the nurse tapes down the bandage.

"I'm sorry, dear," the nurse says, smoothing it down gently. "I
know it's still tender. But there's no sign of infection, and the
stitches are looking good."

"Good," Scully says. She closes her eyes for an instant and
breathes a prayer of gratitude that the nurse has said nothing
about a miraculous disappearance of any of her wounds. "Thank
you."

"You're welcome," the woman says, giving her another smile. "I'll
bring your breakfast - and your medication - in for you right
away."

~
Two Days Later
Dana Scully's Apartment
8:32 AM

She is just beginning the process of getting herself some
breakfast when Mulder shuffles into the kitchen. He has almost
completely recovered from his injuries, but he is still more
stiff than usual.

"Morning, Mulder," she greets him with a smile. "Feeling okay?"

He nods and clears his throat. "Yeah. How about you - did my
snoring keep you awake?"

Chuckling, she shakes her head. "No, I slept just fine."

There is a brief pause, during which they look at each other
somewhat shyly. Last night was their first night out of the
hospital, and they had spent it together. Mulder told her he
wanted to keep an eye on her and make sure she didn't overextend
herself during their time off for recovery - and Scully accepted
his reasoning as the partial truth that it was. They are still
both easily taxed, and so their night together had contained
nothing but sleeping. Still, Scully is fairly certain she slept
better last night than she has in quite a while.

"You want some breakfast?" Scully asks, breaking the silence.

"Sure."

Scully is lost in thought, absently eating her bagel when Mulder
clears his throat again. Though the bruises around his neck have
all but faded, he still speaks with a hint of a rasp. "So, Scully,
are you still healing all right?"

She knows what he isn't asking, and nods slowly. "Everything
seems to be proceeding at a normal pace."

"How do you think it happened?" he asks, watching her intently.
"What caused your change back to mortality?"

She takes a breath. This is the first time they have had to
really discuss the topic since regaining consciousness in the
hospital. "I-- don't know, Mulder. I really don't. All I know is
that I was totally focused on getting you out of that river and
trying to get you to safety." They share a look. "And with all
these close calls and attacks we've had this past year, maybe...
maybe what you told me in the hospital in New York is true, about
seeking the opposite of death," she continues. "I was looking for
any way to make sure you stayed alive--"

"And so death decided to start looking for you again?" Mulder
looks thoughtful. Then he frowns, pinning her with his gaze. "On
that subject, I don't appreciate the human shield act Dr. Taylor
told me you pulled, putting yourself between me and the
explosion."

"Well, it's not like I had a lot of time to think about it," she
says, looking down at her plate. "And I had every reason to think
I was much less at risk than you, anyway."

Mulder shakes his head. "Even so, I thought we agreed you weren't
going to test that theory."

"You would have done the same thing," Scully points out, only the
slightest bit defensive.

"And you wouldn't have appreciated it, either," Mulder returns
without a pause.

She looks up at him then. "You're right. I wouldn't have," she
says softly.

They fall silent again, and Mulder is the first to break their
gaze this time. Then he grins and looks at her again, almost
challenging. "You know, Scully, not too long ago you would have
come up with a way of writing this whole thing off as a series of
bizarre coincidences, now that it seems to be over."

She concedes his point with a faint smile. "Maybe. But I don't
think I would want to deny this experience, Mulder, even if I
could. It's... it's brought a lot of good into my life along with
the bad."

"Not just more scars?" His tone is light, but Scully can hear the
perennial undercurrent of guilt.

"No, not just scars." Scully reaches across the table and takes
his hand. She thinks it fitting somehow that her two newest scars
will mark the beginning and the end of the experience. Mulder, on
the other hand, is clearly practicing his usual
self-recrimination for her suffering. "Mulder," she says,
bringing his eyes back to hers, "do you remember what I told you
a while ago, about moving forward?"

She sees a flash of some unidentifiable emotion in his eyes before
he nods.

"Well, I want us to keep moving forward," she continues, still
holding his hand. "And I think that means not being held back by
guilt or regret. Maybe that's part of what it means to seek life."

Mulder is silent for a few moments. He rubs his thumb across the
back of her hand and then leans in to kiss her with the same
intensity of faith that left her gasping in an Oregon thunderstorm
nearly a decade ago.

"I believe you."



Author's Note 2: Thanks for sticking with this story all the way
to the end!
The title of this fic comes from Tennyson's haunting poem
"Tithonus," which I read upon recommendation from the very astute
Agent. I recommend it to you as well if you haven't already given
it a read. It can be found easily on the Internets.