TITLE: Days of Future Past AUTHOR: Linda Phillips RATING: R SPOILERS: Redux, ReduxII CLASSIFICATION: S / R / A KEYWORDS: MSR SUMMARY: An evil from the past uses Scully for Mulder- bait, and Mulder goes off the deep end over the suffering he's caused her. Can he ever let go of the past long enough to see what's right in front of him? A veritable Angst-O-Rama! DISCLAIMER: X-Files and it's characters belong to 1013 Productions, Chris Carter, and Fox Television. No infringement intended. ~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^ About 3 a.m. Sirens. "Thank God" Scully let out in a murmured breath. She looked down at Mulder, his upper body cradled in her arms, and blood, so much blood... his eyes were shut, his face pasty white. His breaths were coming in short gasps, with a catch in the rhythm before letting out each gulp of air, a second in time that felt like it stretched to infinity. catch...exhale catch...exhale catch...exhale Silence. "Mulder!" catch...exhale The mantra repeated itself relentlessly in her mind. He was so heavy. Scully's body ached with the weight of holding him up. But she knew that he would breathe easier like this than lying flat on the cold concrete. Her left arm was beneath his neck, his lower back lying against her kneeling legs. Her injured right arm was across his chest, her blood soaked hand struggling to stay put on the sucking wound over his left ribcage. Suddenly, Mulder opened his eyes. "Hurts...Scully..." "I know. Hang on, hang on, the ambulance is coming. Hang on Mulder." He reached one hand up and grabbed tight onto her arm that lay on his chest, and Scully let out a moan of pain. His eyes widened, focused on hers, panicky, the way she had seen patients get when they couldn't get enough air into their lungs. She felt tears sting her eyes. She spoke evenly and firmly, belying her own escalating fear. "Mulder, listen to me. It's gonna be okay. The bullet went through your lung, that's why you're having a hard time catching your breath." She took a deep breath to steady her voice.. "We can fix that, okay? You're gonna be alright." Scully's eyes left his for a brief moment as she watched the pool of blood that had been gathering under him break through its self made barrier. It began to trickle in a slow, narrow stream toward the center of the room. catch...exhale.... catch...exhale... ********************* 5 hours earlier... He was having a hard time staying quiet. Every time he thought his plan through, he wanted to chuckle. Hand over his mouth, he watched through the crack he'd left in the door. It was cramped in the closet, and his legs were starting to ache. He shifted his weight just a bit. His heart jumped as he saw her go into the bathroom. This was perfect! He could see right into the bathroom from here. And right on time too. This chick was nothing if not predictable, he thought, as his vigil over the last few days had proved. 10 p.m., bathroom light on. 10:45 p.m., bathroom light off. He watched as she started her bath water. As the tub filled, she looked in the mirror and brushed her hair. Such lovely hair it was too. Her back turned to him, she unzipped her slacks. He licked his lips as she pushed them down over her hips, dropping them to the floor. An ache rose in his groin as she leaned over to pick them up, and he got a view of that lovely satin covered ass. It was almost time. His adrenaline pumping, he slowly, silently pulled up to a crouch, poised like a wound spring. Knife in a steel grip. Eyes clear and wide open. Ready. She started to unbutton her blouse. One button. Two. Go. He barely caught the look on her face as she spun around. But he didn't need to see it. It was a look he knew all too well. The look he lived for. Fear. In a split second of time, he was at her, throwing her back against the wall with a loud thud. His forearm came up against her throat with just enough pressure to make her gasp a little. The other hand brought the glinting metal up to her cheek. Her eyes huge with alarm, she didn't say a word. He leaned a little harder into her neck, until she choked and gulped for air. He smiled at her. "Agent Scully, I presume?" The look in her eyes turned from fear to anger. He let the pressure off enough for her to speak. "What do you want?" her voice hoarse, but strong. "Oh what a little spitfire! I love redheads!" The man's face was inches from hers. She could smell his breath, rank and sour. "What do I want?" he continued. "Well, you'll find out soon enough. Soon enough." "How did you get in here?" Scully's eyes darted around the room, taking in any possibilities of escape. . "Your super was only too happy to give me the key to your apartment, after I...gave him a little motivation." He noticed her eyes brighten with hope. "But he won't be calling the cops for you. He's sort of...dead." He smiled again, a cruel twist of his lips that made a chill run up Scully's spine. "Agent Scully, you can stop looking around for a way to save yourself. You're not getting away from me." He brought the knife up near her right eye, resting the tip against the tender flesh next to it. A little pressure...just a little...and a drop of blood welled and spilled down her cheek. Scully didn't move a muscle, didn't flinch with the pain. "My, the stories about you are true aren't they!" His eyes gleamed. "You're something else! If the circumstances were different, I might take the time to find out...a little more about you." Scully kept her eyes firmly on his as he slowly dropped the arm that had been against her throat, the hand crawling down her chest and stopping to rest between her breasts. "What do you want from me?" Pushing down her panic, Scully was trying to memorize everything she could about his face. Light blue eyes, blond hair, balding, front bottom tooth missing. Small scar on right cheek. Acne scars. About 8 inches taller than she. His hand lightly touched her right breast, caressing it, and Scully felt the bile rising in her throat. He matched her stare as his hand continued on it's travels, down her abdomen, finally reaching around to her buttocks. He gave her a squeeze and let out a little sigh. "Oh, my. Well, as fine a specimen as you are, I am on a rather tight schedule, doctor. So, I'm afraid there won't be any hanky panky." He leaned in closer to her. Scully turned away as she felt a wet tongue slide up the side of her face. "Not right now anyway," he whispered into her ear. He brought the knife to her throat. Suddenly his voice was deadly serious. "Put your pants on babe. We've got things to do." Scully slowly leaned over to retrieve her slacks off the towel rack where she had left them, the knife tight at her throat all the time. One leg, two. Zip. With his free hand, the man grabbed her roughly by the arm and pulled it up behind her back until she let out a soft moan. He pushed her toward the bedroom, and Scully felt the panic rise as she tried to decide how hard she would fight him. They stopped near the head of the bed, and she closed her eyes for a moment, anticipating his next move. He suddenly turned her toward the bed and pushed her forward, pinning her arms behind her as she lay face down. Over the pounding in her ears, Scully heard the quiet squeak of the drawer in her bedside table as it opened. She knew immediately what he was after. Her gun. She hoped he couldn't hear her voice trembling. "Look, you don't have to..." "Shut up!" And she felt her arms being yanked back until she was standing upright. He again anchored her left arm behind her back, and this time she felt the blunt hardness of a gun barrel in her ribs. They maneuvered to the living room, and over to her desk. He motioned to the telephone. "Push the speaker button." With her free hand she did as he said. "Now dial Mulder's number. And I have it memorized, so if I see you push one wrong button, well, let's just say you won't be happy with your new face." His eyes were steely, the eyes of a madman. She hesitated for a moment, and he showed a fraction of the savagery that Scully could tell lurked just beneath the surface. "Don't fuck with me Scully! You don't know me, but when you do, you'll see that I'm not known for my patience!" "Ok, Ok, I'm dialing." Scully dialed the familiar number with a trembling hand. "Good girl. Now don't speak until I say so, you got that?" She nodded. One ring. Two. Three. Scully closed her eyes and prayed. "Mulder." She couldn't see the smile spread over the face of the man standing behind her, couldn't see his eyes light up. "Hello? Is anybody there?" "What's the matter Mulder, don't you have caller ID?" the man snarled. "Who is this?" "Why, it's an old friend of yours Agent Mulder." His voice dripped with venom. " An old, old friend. I've been away for a while. But you'll recognize me when you see me." On the other end of the line, something in the man's voice made Mulder snap to attention. He'd had his share of crank calls before, but his number was unpublished, and this was obviously someone who had access to information about him. He couldn't place the voice, but somewhere in his unconscious mind an alarm button went off. He cursed himself for the hundredth time for never having that caller ID installed. Something told him that he'd better play along for now. "And why will I be seeing you?" Mulder asked. "Because I have something you want. And if you'd like to get it back, you'll have to come and get it personally." Mulder's mind was racing now, trying to find the voice in the myriad of connections that was running through his mind. He kept his voice calm. "Look, friend. I'm not in the mood to play games." The man's voice was a hiss on the other end of the line. "Neither am I, Mulder. Neither am I." What Mulder heard next made him go numb. A small moan. Then her voice. "Mulder..." "Scully?" Mulder fought his escalating alarm. "Alright, what the fuck's going on? Who are you and what do want?" "Think back, Mulder. Your first big case. I'm so disappointed that you don't recognize my voice! I *made* you, Agent Mulder! Put you on the fast track!" Mulder was suddenly nauseous. "Jackson?" "Finally! I knew you could do it, Mulder." Mulder ran his hand over his now perspiring face, willed himself to think. "Jackson, it's me you want to settle the score with. Leave her out of it!" He was scrambling now, grasping for straws. Mulder knew damn well that Jackson wouldn't let her go. "Oh, I don't think so, Agent Mulder. I've already invited her to our little soiree. It wouldn't be nice of me to leave her behind now, would it?" "Alright, alright! Just tell me what you want!" Buddy Jackson smiled. He had Mulder by the balls, and they both knew it. Oh, this was going to be sweet! "Listen carefully. You wait twenty minutes. Then you leave your place and go to 156 South Drummond Street. And be alone, 'cause I'll be watching. If you're not, she gets a facelift. You understand me, Mulder? One wrong move..." "Alright!" "Good. I'll be waiting." Jackson jerked his head toward the phone, motioning for Scully to push the off button. As she leaned toward the phone, she quickly whispered, "Mulder, don't..." Jackson pulled up on the arm behind her back. Scully bit her lip but couldn't keep a groan from escaping. It was the last sound Mulder heard before the line went dead. He slammed the phone down and struggled to keep from tearing it out of the wall. He looked at the clock. 9:32. Twenty minutes. Mulder grabbed his weapon, holstered it. He strode quickly into his bedroom and yanked open a drawer in a little used dresser. Rummaging through with his hand, a relieved sigh escaped as he found what he was looking for. Pulling up the leg of his sweats, he strapped on a leg holster and tucked the small gun into it. Pacing... 9:39. Jackson. His first major case as a profiler, it had been almost seven years since Mulder had last set eyes on Edward "Buddy" Jackson as the man was being led off to prison. But Mulder would never forget the way Jackson looked at him across the courtroom. His eyes were piercing, and his mouth turned up in a sneer. Mulder knew the man wanted a piece of him. And as with most psychopaths, Jackson had felt no remorse for his heinous crimes, and he blamed Mulder for the fact that he would spend the rest of his contemptible life locked up. Mulder's skin suddenly went cold, his arms covered in gooseflesh. He had no doubt that Jackson would do exactly as he threatened, and more. Jackson was a man with no conscience, as his previous misdeeds had proven. The crime scene photos flashed through Mulder's mind. An entire family wiped out, father, mother, two young daughters. But not before the two girls had been tortured and sexually assaulted. And that case was only the last in a spree of viciousness that had lasted for over 2 years. The man was a monster. 9:43. Jackson was supposed to spend the rest of his life in prison, rot there, die there. The world was safe from one more maniac. But obviously something had gone terribly wrong. And now he was back, to take his revenge against Mulder. And, once again, Scully was being used to get to him. Drummond Street. Mulder tried to picture that part of town, remembering it as a run down section of buildings, mostly a vacant industrial area. A perfect hiding place. It was closer to Scully's apartment than to Mulder's, Scully and Jackson would be there in no time, waiting for him. 9:47. "Fuck!" was Mulder's last thought before he ran out the door. ********** The lantern sat just to the right of Scully, the small flame casting a dim glow around her still form. Her shadow loomed off to the left, and she stared into it, trying to form some kind of plan. But Jackson had orchestrated this well, and at first glance he seemed to have covered all of his bases. For him to have planned this so calculatingly, he obviously had help from the outside. From his conversation on the phone with Mulder, Scully had been able to put together a little about what had brought Jackson to her apartment that night. He had it in for Mulder, and she was to be the bait. She had said prayer after silent prayer as they waited, hoping Mulder would think with his head instead of his heart and not rush in to rescue her. But she already knew which would prevail. Jackson had said little on the way here. He just sat next to her in her car as she drove, gun shoved in her side, eyes wide and watchful as he told her which way to turn. She had quickly disposed of her idea to crash the car when he refused to let her put on her seat belt. "You think I'm an idiot, Scully?" he'd snorted. "You just drive like a good little girl and maybe you'll come out of this alive." So she did, hoping along the way that someone would notice her panic stricken face through the car window. But, of course, no one did. Any passer by that gave a quick glance in their direction probably took them for a romantic couple who couldn't sit close enough together. The thought made her want to vomit. Scully's heart sank as they pulled up in front of the hulking shell of a building. The entire area was dark with broken street lamps and the skeletons of decaying brick structures. There would be no one to notice them here, and if she dared to scream, the sound would dissipate into the night unheeded. So Scully sat on the cold floor, legs drawn up, a pair of old handcuffs around her wrists, waiting, her mind frantically trying to come up with a plan. She wouldn't be able to make any verbal appeals to Jackson, she was already painfully aware that he was not going to respond to that. The best she could hope for was that he would make a mistake somehow, lose his focus for a moment, and she and Mulder would have to be ready to act on it if they could. She turned her head just slightly to the right, enough to see the glint of the gun trained on her from several feet away. Jackson stood back behind some abandoned machinery, a quiet ghostly shadow, waiting to meet his old enemy. Scully drew in a sharp breath as she heard a noise. It was deathly silent in the old building, the slightest sound sent echoes glancing off the high ceiling and walls. There was no way Mulder would be able to sneak in. Slow footsteps sounded on the metal stairway that Scully had also climbed to reach here. They stopped just short of the top. She heard Mulder's voice call out. "Alright, Jackson, I'm here. Now what do you want? Jackson spoke from the shadows, eerily calm. "Come and join us Mulder. Don't keep me waiting." "Where's Scully?" "She's right here, at the end of my gun. Say something, Doctor." Scully swallowed hard, her mouth a desert of sand. "Mulder, don't..." "That's enough! Now get in here, Mulder. We've got unfinished business." Mulder's voice was an angry boom from the darkness. "You send her out here, Jackson, and you can have me free and clear!" Jackson laughed. "You're a regular knight in shining armor, aren't you Mulder? She's not going anywhere, and you know it. Now get your ass up here!" Silence rang out from the stairway where Mulder waited. Scully listened for any sound, but all she heard was the roar of her own heartbeat in her ears. After what was surely only a minute, but seemed like a hundred, Jackson growled out an order. "Stand up, Scully." For a split second as she rose, Scully's spirit lifted. Then she turned to face him, and saw the look in his eyes as he moved forward just enough so that she could make out his face. The gun was straight out in front of him, steadied in both hands, as his thumb slowly pulled back the hammer. It was pointing right between her eyes. "Mulder, I have your pretty partner in front of me, bravely standing like a good soldier awaiting her fate. If you are not in this room in five seconds, I will start with her left arm, and work clockwise until she is a quadriplegic. Scully, tell him I mean it." An image of Donnie Pfaster flashed before her eyes, and Scully knew she was once again staring at pure evil. She stood silent, bracing her trembling knees for what was to come. Jackson's face contorted as he spat out his order again. "Tell him, you bitch!" "Wait!" Scully closed her eyes at the sound of Mulder's voice, then opened them and willed herself to watch Jackson for a chance to run. Jackson turned his head a bit toward the sounds of Mulder's footsteps entering the room, still keeping the gun on Scully in his peripheral vision. Jackson motioned for her to sit back down, and her knees buckled as she lowered herself. She squinted her eyes to make out Mulder's figure as he entered across the room, his gun drawn. His eyes immediately settled on her face, the blood dried in a trail from the small cut near her eye. Even in the dimness she could see the line of his jaw tighten at the sight. Jackson remained in the shadow of the machinery, out of Mulder's view. "Are you alright?" Mulder asked quickly. She nodded. Jackson's voice echoed out from the darkness. "Put your gun down, Mulder." Scully met Mulder's eyes, silently pleading with him not to do it. Mulder swung his gun in the direction of Jackson's voice. "I said, put it down." "Not until you let her go." A flash, a crack like thunder... ...Mulder's voice... "No!"... ... then the burn. Scully looked down at where she felt the fire, surprised to see blood welling from a spot halfway between the shoulder and elbow of her right arm. She looked back up at Mulder as he ran toward her, her mind momentarily foggy. Her mouth opened to speak, but no words would form. Before Mulder could reach her, Jackson stepped out from his hiding place with the gun now squarely aimed at his nemesis. Mulder skidded to a stop, gun at his side, his eyes flaming. "I told you to put down your gun, didn't I? This is your fault, Mulder." Mulder slowly leaned down and placed his gun on the floor. "Now, kick it over here." Mulder did as instructed. Jackson reached down, grabbed the gun and pocketed it. Scully made a soft noise, and Mulder turned his attention back to her. "For God's sake, Jackson, let me go to her!" Jackson curled up his lip and snorted. "Yeah, why not. Lemme see one last lover's embrace." In one stride Mulder closed the last few feet between them and knelt down. He looked in her eyes, and was relieved to see them clear again. He gingerly touched the arm, his fingers coming away wet with her blood. Scully held her hand tightly over the wound to slow the bleeding, her other hand locked close in the cuffs. "I'm alright, Mulder. I think it just went through the tissue - I can move it, I don't think the bone's broken." Mulder looked intently into Scully's eyes. She was calmed by it, and recognized the expression. It said 'I am going to get us out of here.' She believed him. Mulder turned away from her and stood to face Jackson again. When Mulder spoke, his tone was menacing. "There's no way you will get away with this." A slow smile spread across Jackson's face. "Mulder, I am *not* going back to prison. They'll have to kill me first. So you see, I have nothing to lose." He paused for a moment, the smile vanishing. "I may die today. But not before I see you suffer." "Fine. But let her go. She's done nothing to you." Jackson cocked an eyebrow at Mulder. "Not yet. I don't think I'm quite done with her. She's a juicy little peach - I may just have to take a bite." Mulder's vision blurred and he felt rage boil up in him like he'd never felt before. His mind was spinning. He forced himself to breathe slowly, every exhalation a dagger aimed at Jackson's heart. He coerced his voice to speak. "At least let me help her lie down over there." Mulder jerked his head toward a row of boxes a few yards away. "Let her get off the cold floor. She's going to go into shock." Jackson hesitated a moment before he consented. "Yeah, fine. Hurry up." Mulder turned back to Scully and knelt down in front of her. He locked on her eyes once again, and she held onto them. Mulder gently pulled her hands away from the wound and brought them down. Scully winced at the movement but kept her eyes on his. He held her hands between his own and spoke slowly. "It'll be okay, Scully." He guided her hands to brush against his pant leg near the ankle, and instantly she knew. "It'll be okay," he whispered again. She glanced over Mulder's shoulder at Jackson. He was about five feet away, his attention and gun still on Mulder. She would have one chance. If she blew it, they were both dead. Her hands slid up under Mulder's pant leg and wrapped around the handle of the gun. She and Mulder locked eyes one more time. He pretended to struggle a bit to help her up, then she felt him put a little upward pressure on her forearms. She went up to a crouch, then snapped her arms up over Mulder's right shoulder and fired. Scully felt Mulder suddenly lean forward as she emptied the clip into Jackson's midsection. The madman's expression changed to one of surprise as his gun dropped and fell to the floor with a clatter, and for a moment he swayed on his feet. Then Buddy Jackson crumpled to the floor and was silent. In a matter of a few seconds, their nightmare was over. Or so Scully thought. Mulder slumped past her right shoulder and fell forward on his hands. As if in slow motion, Scully watched him drop slowly to the floor, his face coming to rest against the concrete. She reached to him. "Mulder?" No response. She heard his breathing, short raggedy gasps. "Oh my God... Mulder!" Her mind screaming against the pain in her arm, she pulled him onto his back. His eyes were open, and he stared vacantly at the ceiling. Even in the dull light, she could see a stain spreading across the left side of his sweatshirt. For a moment she simply stared at the budding dark bloom, her mouth open, her mind a blank. Jesus, where would she find help in this God-forsaken place? Then, hoping against hope, she patted Mulder down. A relieved rush of air left her lungs as her hand felt the familiar rectangular bulk of his cell phone, clipped on the inside of the waist of his sweatpants. Quickly, Scully removed it and dialed 911. It took a few moments for her to describe the area where they were, the address she'd heard hours ago long lost to her frazzled mind. Then, tossing the phone aside, she hurried over to where Jackson lay. Blindly, she stuck her hand in one of his pockets and groped to the bottom of it. Nothing. "Shit shit shit!" Another pocket, and her hand came out with a wad of cash. She threw it aside and, grunting, rolled him over to check his back pockets. Finally- the keys! She twisted her hands awkwardly to get at the lock of one cuff and swung it free, then the other. Mulder groaned, and she rushed back and leaned over him. He was still conscious, his eyes blinking repeatedly. He looked confused, as if he'd awakened in a strange place and was trying to make sense of how he'd arrived. Tears welled in Scully's eyes, and she blinked them back, not wanting to frighten him. Instinctively, she converted to doctor-mode, pulling up Mulder's shirt and assessing his wound. He was struggling to fill his lungs, and she quickly saw why. The bullet had torn through his lung, and with each breath he took, air was rushing into the normally vacuous non-space between the lung and the pleura, effectively causing the lung to collapse. She carefully pulled his upper body up to rest across her knees, cradling him in her arms as best she could while trying to keep her hand over the wound. He closed his eyes, and she focused on his breathing, her own catching in her throat with each of his. He would not die this way, not on a dirty cement floor in the middle of a cold night. No! She would not let him die. She would not. "Mulder..." She struggled to keep her voice even. "Stay with me. Stay with me." Were those sirens she heard wailing far in the distance? Or her own pleading cries? "Stay with me, Mulder...stay with me..." ************************************* "I want to see Agent Mulder." "Are you his wife?" the clerk at the desk asked, not looking up from her paperwork. "No," Scully said, then silently berated herself. The young woman looked up at Scully. "I'm sorry, ma'am. He's still in recovery. You're not allowed back there." Scully closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, blowing it out between pursed lips. After 4 hours in the emergency room, x-rays, blood work, cleaning and dressing the wound on her arm, giving statements to the police, all the while worried and trying to find out about Mulder's condition, she was in no mood for this. "Look, I'm a doctor. I'm also Agent Mulder's partner. I need to see him." "Ma'am, I'm sorry, I told you...Hey! You can't go back there! Hey!" Scully strode purposefully past the woman at the desk and pushed open one of the double doors that said 'No Admittance'. Turning left, she followed the voices that she heard until she found the post-surgical recovery area. Several faces turned to look at her, and suddenly she realized what a fright she must look. She ran her hand through tangled hair and looked down at her clothes. Not only was she the only person standing who was not dressed in green scrubs, but her sweater and jeans were stained with dried blood. As she looked up again, a woman approached her. "Can I help you?" The gray haired woman's eyes were full of concern. "I'm Agent Scully with the FBI. I'm also a medical doctor. Agent Mulder is my partner. I'd like to see him, please." The woman looked at her a moment, then nodded. "Sure. Come this way." She led Scully down to the end of a row of stretchers where a figure lay swathed in blankets, tubes and monitors surrounding him. Scully slowed to a stop a few feet away. "Oh, Mulder..." It came out in a sad breath. "Agent Scully?" She turned with a start as a tall dark haired man in surgical scrubs approached her. He carried a chart in his hands and was flipping through it as he walked. "Yes, I'm Dana Scully." "I'm Dr. McIntyre. Dr. Warren and I did the surgery on your partner." He motioned for her to step away from Mulder's bedside, and she followed him a few yards away to a small desk. He pulled a chair out for Scully, then sat down across from her. Dr. McIntyre leaned back in the chair and folded his arms over his chest as he let out a sigh. "Well, removing the bullet was a fairly straightforward procedure. As I'm sure you knew, it punctured his left lower lobe and also broke a rib. But he had already lost an awful lot of blood, and we had difficulty keeping him stabilized during the surgery..." Scully sat completely still, her face impassive as she listened to technical details of the surgery. But in her lap, she squeezed her hands together tightly to stop the trembling. Scenes flashed in her mind; Jackson going down and Mulder falling, blood everywhere, and Mulder's face as she held him, so frightened. "...Agent Scully, are you okay?" She blinked a few times and took a deep breath. "Yes, yes I'm fine." "Well then, umm, as I was saying, we had to give him several units of blood, and his pressure is still somewhat unstable, but I think he'll be alright. I'm admitting him to the ICU from here." "Yes...yes, that's good," Scully said absently, her eyes focused over the doctor's shoulder on Mulder's still figure on the stretcher. 'I think he'll be alright...' They were the only words she really heard. Her shoulders slumped, and her eyes closed for a moment. Suddenly she was exhausted. She opened her eyes and forced herself to look at Dr. McIntyre, giving him an appreciative smile. "Thank you, so much." They both stood, he to turn his attention to other patients and she to return to Mulder's side. A nurse was at his bedside, checking monitors and IV's, then slipping her stethoscope beneath the sheet to listen to Mulder's chest. When she finished, Scully reached out to the nurse. "May I?" The nurse looked at her a little oddly, then smiled and handed Scully the stethoscope. Scully slipped the earpieces on and pulled the sheet back just a bit. Mulder's heartbeat was strong and regular, a repetitive reassurance that, once again, they had cheated that dark angel that so often stalked them. A wave of relief washed over her, and for a moment she felt her knees go soft. Leaning against the stretcher, she took the stethoscope off and gave it back to the nurse. Scully studied Mulder's pale face for a moment, and her hand reached up tentatively to touch his cheek where a smudge of blood remained. She bent and kissed him gently on the forehead, then turned again to the nurse nearby. "I'm going to go home and get cleaned up. If he wakes up, tell him I'll be right back, ok?" "I will. Drive carefully." Scully smiled weakly and walked away. She made it to the parking lot before she remembered that she had come here in an ambulance and her car was somewhere in the bowels of the city, or by now perhaps towed to the police station for evidence. Walking back in to the ER desk, she asked them to call a cab for her. An hour and fifteen minutes later Scully opened the door to Mulder's apartment, after explaining to the super some bare details of what had happened. She couldn't bear the thought of going home right now, such as it was. By now there likely was a yellow police tape across her door, and with the knowledge that monster had been lurking there and that investigators had by this time completely invaded her privacy, it made her nauseous to even think of returning. Scully went directly to the shower and turned it on, letting the water become hot and steamy. She dropped her bloody clothes to the floor and hoped that she would be able to find something in Mulder's closet that she could wear. Stepping into the shower, she let the water drench her, over her hair and face, and she clenched her teeth as it soaked the dressing on her arm and stung the wounded flesh beneath. The water swirled pink around her feet as Mulder's blood mingled with her own and was washed away. Every muscle in her body ached, every nerve screamed out for rest. But she had to hurry and get back to the hospital, she didn't want Mulder to wake up with no one there. She washed her hair and soaped her body, scrubbing and scrubbing until her skin was an angry pink and tears began to burn her eyes, tears that bled like an open vein and would not be stopped. She dropped the soap and leaned her face against the cool tile as she wept and her body shuddered and trembled, and a cry escaped her in a voice that she did not recognize as her own. ********************** There were faces, and voices. They would ebb and flow like a swirling sea, and Mulder sometimes wondered if he were drowning. Darkness would overtake him, and the pain would ease. Then he would reach and claw and struggle to the surface, and the light hurt his eyes, and sometimes he would see faces he didn't know and it frightened him. The panic set in, and he felt his heart racing. He tried to cry out, "Where am I?", but he could never hear his own voice. Then he felt a warm hand touch his head, and heard a soothing voice he recognized, and he would sleep again. Then one time he broke the surface, and he stayed. Mulder blinked his eyes several times, taking in his surroundings. He quickly realized he was in a hospital room. He took a deep breath, and the stabbing pain in the left side of his chest suddenly brought the memories rushing back. His hand fell against something on his bed, and he looked down to see Scully leaning on the mattress, asleep, her head resting on her folded arms. His movements woke her, and for a moment she looked into his eyes and said nothing. Then a slow smile started to spread across her lips, and she moved closer to the head of the bed. Mulder's hand went up instinctively and lay against her cheek, his fingers feeling the planes of her face as he tried to discern what was real and what was part of the nightmare that he'd been in. A soft laugh escaped her, and she covered his hand with her own. "Yes, it's me Mulder." "Are you..." He tried to speak but discovered his throat was sore and horribly dry. Scully reached for a small cup and brought the straw to his lips. "Here, have a drink... just a sip." Mulder drank the heavenly water and cleared his throat. Then he looked at her again as he spoke. "Are you alright?" His voice was raspy and hoarse. "Yes, I'm fine. It barely got me, they just bandaged me up and sent me on my way with antibiotics. I didn't put on quite the show that you did." "Sorry," he croaked. "Oh, sure. You're always trying to get attention." Mulder's mouth started to turn up in a weak smile, when he suddenly remembered. His eyes grew wide as he turned to Scully. "Jackson?" "He's dead, Mulder. It's over." Mulder closed his eyes and let out a sigh. "What day is this?" he asked. "It's Wednesday. You've been pretty much out of it for the past 3 days. Your lung was punctured, and they removed the bullet in surgery and put a chest tube in. That's why it's still hurting so much. But you're gonna be ok." He opened his eyes and looked at her again. "You've been here the whole time, haven't you? I remember..." Scully just smiled. She looked so tired, he thought. Dark shadows were smudged beneath her eyes, and her normal peaches and cream skin was drawn and pale. "Scully, you go home and get some sleep." "I'm fine, Mulder." "Please? I'll just worry about you if you stay." "And I'll worry about you if I go." Mulder closed his eyes again. His eyelids were so heavy, he was having a hard time keeping them open. He reached his hand out, and she took it in hers. "Scully, listen to me..." his voice trailing off in a whisper as a drugged slumber overtook him again. "I am, Mulder," she whispered. "I am." ********************* Time drifted, and Mulder drifted with it, in and out of hours and days. When he opened his eyes, Scully was usually there. His mother was often there too, and she would lean over him and stroke his hair like she had when he was a little boy. Then he would float away again, back through memories and images that were as far away as he could remember, and as close as yesterday. Samantha, and friends from school, and making snowmen and ice castles. Then time would jump, and he would see Scully looking at him with frightened eyes and he heard the gunshot and he was sure that she was dead... And then he would awaken, heart pounding, and he would turn his head and see her there reading a book or napping in the chair. Once he was so relieved he started to cry, much to his embarrassment. Scully was asleep and hadn't seen the terror in his eyes. But he felt it. He felt it every time he looked at her, mingled with relief and gratitude. As the days wore on, Mulder regained his strength and was recuperating at a quick pace. Soon he tired of the hospital food and the odor and sounds of sick people, and he informed the doctor in no uncertain terms that he was ready to go home. The chest tube had been out for several days, and he was doing well. And he hoped that maybe, once he got home, the nightmares would fade. So he was discharged with a prescription for pain pills and strict orders to rest. Scully drove him home, and when he walked in he was surprised to find the floor free of dirty clothes and old newspapers. There was fresh fruit on the table, and if he'd opened the refrigerator door he would have found milk, juices, and some fresh sliced ham. The cupboard was stocked with canned goods, and there were even clean dishes to eat on. Mulder turned to her in amazement. "Scully..!?" Scully shrugged. "Well I couldn't very well let you come home to dirty underwear and 3 month old bread." "Wow, thanks. You shouldn't have, you're supposed to be resting." Scully waved a hand at him. "I'm fine, Mulder. It's practically healed. Stop worrying so much." Yeah, right, he thought. Stop worrying so much. If she only knew how much he wanted to. But the image of her on the floor in that dark building, handcuffed, completely at the mercy of that animal... it was all he thought about. The scenes invaded his nights as well as his days. And always, with the reminder thudding in the back of his head that it was all because of him. One more thing to add to the list. He'd had a lot of time in the hospital to think, or maybe a better phrase would be to stew, about this latest disaster. It felt like a weight on him, and as he dragged it along it was getting heavier and heavier. When he looked in Scully's eyes the deep blue sea enveloped him, and he couldn't imagine not seeing them every day. But now when they were apart, those same eyes haunted him. "Mulder?" He turned to her. "Hmm?" Scully tilted her head a bit, studying him. "You ok?" "Uhh... yeah, yeah, I'm fine." He turned away again. Scully moved into the kitchen and called to him over her shoulder. "Why don't you sit down and I'll make you something to eat?" "Umm, no, Scully," she heard him reply. His voice sounded strained. "I think I'm just going to take a pain pill and go to sleep for a while. Why don't you go home and get some rest, too." Scully backed out of the kitchen to see Mulder standing at the window, his back to her. "Mulder, are you sure you're alright?" "Yeah, I'm just tired." He didn't turn around. "Well... ok. If you need anything, you'll call me, right?" "I will." "Alright, well, I'll check on you later." She picked up her coat and went to the door. Her hand on the doorknob, she paused and turned back once more. "Bye Mulder." "Thanks, Scully." She watched him for another moment before opening the door and walking out. In the hallway, she leaned against the door and sighed. Something was wrong. He'd been acting strange for several days now. Then she shook her head. No, she was overreacting. He was just tired , that's all. He'd been through a lot, and he needed some uninterrupted rest, not the kind you get in the hospital. With one more backward glance at the door, she walked away. Inside the apartment, Mulder heard Scully's footsteps retreat slowly down the hall. He turned and went to the kitchen. Actually, he *was* kind of hungry. On the table was a plate of homemade cookies covered in plastic wrap, a note taped to the top. He pulled it off and unfolded it. 'Fox- Here's a little something to make you feel better. Get well soon. Love, Maggie Scully' Mulder sighed and sat down at the table. Peeling the wrap back from the plate, he pulled out a large chocolate chip cookie and took a big bite. He closed his eyes as an appreciative "mmmmm" escaped. , he thought. Here he was, chowing down on cookies that were a gift from a woman he respected and admired and cared about immensely. A mother who's heart had been broken too many times to count, mostly by his foolish actions. A woman who had already suffered so much because of him. A woman who's face he couldn't have borne to look at if her daughter had succumbed to the crossfire that had yet again caught her in the middle. His throat was tight as he tried to swallow. What was wrong with this picture? ******************************** Scully stared at the phone for a moment before setting it down in it's base. Mulder wasn't home. Or just wasn't answering. Again. She glanced at the clock. 10:26 p.m. Kind of odd for him to be out and about at this time of night unless he was working on a case. Which he wasn't, to her knowledge. He wasn't due back in the office for another week. She had been calling him regularly since his release from the hospital nearly 2 weeks ago. At first it was just out of concern, to check on him and see if he needed anything. Later, when she was back at work, it was to ask his opinion on different aspects of cases that she was working on. But something wasn't quite right. The first few times, he seemed happy to hear her voice. But soon she felt a... distance. Something between them that hadn't been there before. He would come up with excuses to end her phone calls quickly. When she would stop by his apartment, he seemed reluctant to let her in, and when she did come in, he often wouldn't look her in the eye. Then he just stopped answering the phone altogether. She left messages, he didn't call back. Something was slipping between her fingers, and she had no idea how to hold on to it. Scully had tried to get back into a routine. She went to the office every morning since she'd received her medical release to return to work. She had a couple of cases active right now, and she had thought that it would be easier to work without Mulder's constant interruptions and his papers scattered everywhere. At first she had worked diligently in the silence, but soon enough the utter stillness felt like a weight threatening to crush her. Then she would hurry outside and walk the mall, until she came to a familiar small bench that overlooked the reflecting pool. She'd spent quite a bit of time there in the last few days, remembering, and trying to figure out how to keep her grasp on something that she couldn't quite define. A hot bath. That would soothe her nerves. Scully went into the bathroom and turned on the water, heating it until steam came wafting up from the tub. Add a few drops of fragrant oil, and she was ready to soak off the worries of the day. She slid in and closed her eyes, letting the water come up to her chin, barely aware of the soft music playing in the background. It had been only in the past week or so that she had been able to relax in her own bathtub again, and she forbade herself to give in to the anxiety that still presented itself every time she walked into her apartment. She refused to be a prisoner to fear. As she knew all too well, life was made up of an allotted number of days and the unthinkable could happen anytime. She tried to greet each new day as a gift, and she would not be cowed by the some mutant of the human race. But she couldn't completely free her mind of the pictures that followed her. The image of Mulder in her arms, the look in his eyes, would come to her at unexpected moments. Like now. A shudder ran through her, even as her skin was flushed pink by the hot water. This was a time when she wished that she were able to express herself more freely to Mulder. She missed him terribly, and it was so often on the tip of her tongue to tell him that. But the words just wouldn't come. Even as she felt him pulling away from her, she wanted so much to say... something. Anything. The right thing, whatever that was. But instead the emotions stuck in her throat, just as they always had. To tell him how she really felt would be to expose her most intimate self. More than any psychotic killer, it was what she feared the most. ************************ "Mulder?" Scully stood in front of him, her hands cuffed, her eyes wide. "Mulder, help me!" He looked down at his feet and tried to move them, but they were frozen in place, like trying to lift them from cement. His heart was racing and he looked up at Scully with panic-stricken eyes. "I can't move!" he called to her. He saw the glint of metal from a gun and shouted, "Run! Scully, run!" But she just stood there, pleading with him. "Mulder, help me!" A gunshot, and again, and again... Scully's body twitched with each shot he heard, until finally she collapsed. "Oh, God! Oh, God Oh God..." Mulder's own cries woke him, and he bolted upright on the sofa. His heartbeat was throbbing in his ears, his face wet with sweat. He took a deep breath, ignoring the stab of pain it brought to do so. How fucking long was this going to go on? Night after night, he was afraid to close his eyes for fear of what sadistic tricks his mind was waiting to play on him. He went to the kitchen sink and splashed cold water on his face, then slurped some from cupped hands. His hands gripped the edge of the counter, and he leaned his forehead down against them as he waited for his heart to slow to a normal rhythm. It had been over four weeks since the shooting. Scully had been back to work for a while now. She had investigated a couple of cases on her own, as well as doing some of the mundane but necessary tasks that he himself was always so quick to overlook. She was doing a fine job taking care of things without him, from the sound of it. He would have liked to tell her that. He would have liked to tell her a lot of things. But, more and more, he was becoming convinced that he needed to tell her something that he dreaded. The thought of going back to work with her, of continuing on the way things had been, had suddenly seemed incredibly selfish. The notion had been growing in his mind since his early days in the hospital. It started as a fleeting thought, which he dismissed immediately as he had every time in the past that his conscience started to weigh on him about his place in her life. But, as time had gone on, it germinated into a truth he could not deny any longer. Every day he would think about how much he missed her, and he would picture her, her smooth creamy skin and beautiful mouth, her small strong hands, her eyes - oh, those eyes. If he closed his own eyes sometimes he could even imagine that he smelled her perfume. And Mulder would convince himself that they could go on the way they were, for the thought of separating from her was as unimaginable as cutting off his own arm. Then night would come, and he would wake in terror, and he would look at his face in the mirror and know that for once in his life he needed to put someone else ahead of his own self-indulgence. But, God, it was going to kill him to do it. How, how, how would he ever make her understand? How could he ever make her realize that watching her suffer because of him was tearing him apart? How would he be able to send her away when she was the most important thing in the world to him? Somehow, he had to. It could not go on like this. She would listen. And beneath her denial, she would understand. But she would never accept it. He had to make a break, for his own sake, and especially for hers. This last incident was enough to finally make a crack in his own shell of denial. Everything before, somehow he'd been able to convince himself that they were in it together. That the threats she faced belonged to both of them. But he could find no such excuse now. She had been used simply to get to him. Just like all the other times. The fact that he loved her with all his heart just made him that much more dangerous to her, and he knew the love he so longed to give her would only wind up hurting her in the end. Maybe even killing her. His presence in her life had only caused her heartache, and he just couldn't do it anymore. *********************************** At the knock on the door, Assistant Director Skinner looked up from the work on his desk. "Come in," he called. The door opened, and Mulder peered inside. "I'm sorry for barging in like this, sir, but your secretary wasn't at her desk..." Skinner rose and walked toward the door. "No, no, come in Agent Mulder. I'm glad to see you looking so well. I wasn't expecting you back until next week." Mulder entered the office and shut the door behind him. He stood near the door, silent, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. Skinner picked up on the tension. "Sit down, Agent Mulder," he said, motioning to the chairs in front of his desk. Mulder did so, his hands gripping the armrests now, leaving damp fingerprints in the black leather. Skinner walked in front of his desk and leaned back against it. "What did you need to see me about?" the Assistant Director asked, removing his glasses and placing them on the desk. Mulder looked straight ahead and pressed his lips together. Skinner waited. Finally Mulder spoke. "I need to speak to you... off the record..." ************************************** A knock. Mulder looked toward the door, chose to ignore it. Knocking again, louder this time. Then a jangle of keys, and Mulder braced himself for what he'd known was coming for several days. Scully didn't seem surprised to find him home. Instead, she strode angrily toward the sofa where he sat, and threw a folded sheet of paper on his lap. "I'd ask you what the hell this is all about, but I guess if you wanted me to know, you would have told me already," she spat, her voice on the edge of fury. Mulder didn't look at her. He picked up the paper and unfolded it, silently reading the first few lines. '...you have been reassigned to the Violent Crimes Section, effective immediately...' Mulder sighed and folded the paper again. "Look at me, you bastard!" Slowly, he raised his eyes to hers. At first flinty with anger, Scully's eyes suddenly softened with the pain of her perceived betrayal. "Mulder..." her voice was choked. She stopped, took a deep breath, steadied herself. "Just tell me why?" "I think you know why." "Damn you! Don't play games with me! I want to hear what you have to say, I think I deserve that much!" Mulder sighed again, and pressed the palms of his hands to his eyes. "You deserve a lot more than that, Scully." He uncovered his eyes, stood and turned to face her. "I can't do it anymore, Scully. I can't do it!" His voice was a plea. He turned away and walked a few feet toward the window. Scully straightened her spine, closed her eyes. She would approach this calmly, reasonably, she thought. She would make him see that this was not the answer. "Mulder... talk to me. Please." "I never told you this, Scully, but..." His voice went hoarse with emotion. He continued in a near whisper. "I found my sister." "What?!" "She's been nearby all along. Cancer Man... he had her, raised her as his own, at least that's the story they gave me. She doesn't want to see me, she doesn't want me in her life." He turned to Scully, hands outstretched, his eyes pleading her understanding. "All along... she was here... so close... and now I found her, and for what? What I've lived my life for, everything, the searching, the pain... for this?" He went to her, took her hands in his. His eyes burned with unshed tears, remaining dry as a desert. "While I was lying in the hospital, I couldn't stop thinking about it, her, and.. I don't know, everything. I've been willing to give everything up for this... crusade of mine. My father, my mind, you..." Scully shook her head in confusion. "Mulder... what..." "Scully, look at yourself! You've been through hell, because of this, because of me. Everything that's happened is because of me! I can't do this anymore - I don't want to know the truth anymore, Scully! It won't change anything, I can't take back the years that were stolen from my family... I can't change what's happened to you... it'll only cause more pain, don't you see?" Scully pulled her hands away from him and took a step back. She was stunned, seared to the bone. She couldn't take her eyes off the man before her, this man she thought she knew so well, now seemingly a stranger. Her mind refused to stop spinning, and the words tumbled out without rhyme or reason. "Your sister... you didn't tell me? You didn't... I thought you trusted me... " Mulder brushed at his eyes with the back of his hand. He moved toward her, but she backed away again. "Scully... please..." "What about me, Mulder?" Her voice rose an octave, rage starting to push against the ache in her heart. "What about me? What if *I* still want to know the truth? This isn't just about you, damn it! But you always seem to forget that, don't you?" Mulder stood silently, his head down, hands clenched at his sides. He spoke again, quietly, slowly. "I'm trying to do what's best for both of us, Scully." "How dare you? How dare you presume to make decisions for me like this? Like I'm some interchangeable sidekick, 'If she doesn't fit in slot A, we'll just put her in slot B'!" She choked back her tears, and her voice trembled. "I thought... we had... Is that all I've been to you, Mulder?" He looked up, and the agony in her eyes nearly brought down his resolve. "God, Scully, no... God, no..." He reached his hand out and touched her arm, and she flinched as if she'd been burned. Then she did something that tore through him like another bullet. She wiped her face with her hands, and stood ramrod straight, facing him like a soldier at attention. Her voice was barely a whisper, but steady as a rock. She looked at him, blinking to stop the tears. "Then I guess this is good-bye, Mulder. You won't have to worry about watching my back anymore. You can go on alone." Scully turned toward the door, stopped, and turned back. "But I guess that's what you've always wanted, isn't it?" Mulder lowered his head, refusing to give anything away with his eyes. Refusing to give, and refusing to take. That was the way she left him. ******************************* Scully pulled the blanket tighter around herself and leaned her head back in the big overstuffed chair. The light from the television flickered across her face, as an unwatched movie provided background noise for her numb mind. She had been sitting here for hours trying to make sense of what had happened tonight. But, try as she might to find reason and logic in Mulder's actions, her thoughts were overshadowed by base emotion. He didn't want her anymore. Oh, her mind gave her all the right arguments. His finely tuned sense of guilt had pushed him to do this. He was punishing himself. The Mulder Self-Loathing technique in high gear. But it always came back to this. He hadn't trusted her. He didn't need her. He didn't want her anymore. Silently, the tears started again. Here in her safe haven, Scully let them fall where they would. She'd never felt so completely betrayed; by Mulder, by her own obviously misplaced loyalties, and by her own foolish heart. She had so stupidly let herself love this man, not realizing it until it was too late. She had thought she was a part of him, and he of her. Without words, they knew each other so well. At least, she'd thought they did. She was as angry at herself as she was at him. She had let this happen, let herself care for him too much. She had stayed when every intelligent nerve in her body had told her to run. Once again, she had fallen into her old habits; always the pleaser, dutiful daughter, helpful friend, strong shoulder. She had let herself be taken in by those hazel eyes that silently pleaded with her not to leave. Hell, she had welcomed it. It felt so good to have someone to care for. And this is where it left her. Battered, bruised, and dropped on her ass. Damn him. Damn him to hell. *************************************** Mulder shifted restlessly on the barstool. This was not a place he was comfortable in, never had been. But tonight, it was preferable to sitting in his apartment. Here, the noise, the crowd, the lights, all worked to keep his senses occupied by something other than a small red haired woman. And what little awareness there was left, he was well on his way to drowning out with the brown bottles steadily collecting in front of him. He tipped up the newly opened brew and slugged back a long swallow, keeping his eyes straight ahead. The long mirror behind the bartender did nothing to help his mood. Try as he might to avoid his own reflection, he was drawn back to it again and again, and each time a small wave of revulsion ran through him at what he saw. Mulder tipped his head back again, and this time when he brought his gaze down he saw another reflection seated next to him, her eyes holding his. "You look like you could use a friend." Her voice was strong enough to be heard over the din behind them, but soft at the edges. Large brown eyes stared at him in the mirror. Mulder dropped his gaze to the droplets of moisture on the counter in front of him. "I'm afraid I wouldn't be very good company," he said. The woman was silent for a moment. He turned to face her. Her hair was long and dark, framing tanned skin and an aquiline nose, the wide eyes almost startling in their intensity. "Well, do you mind if I sit here anyway?" Mulder smiled. "No, of course not." The woman ordered a drink and turned to face the bar. Mulder felt her steal a few glances his way. Finally he turned to her again. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound like such a jerk." She smiled slightly, and nodded. "That's OK. I know someone mending a broken heart when I see it. I didn't mean to intrude." "Yeah, I wouldn't want someone to break up my pity party." She looked down and laughed understandingly, then met his eyes again. "My name's Julie. I'll just sit here and stand guard in case somebody tries to make you laugh or something." Mulder offered his hand, and she took it in her own. "Fox Mulder." "Interesting name." "Yeah, I guess my mother thought so." They sat quietly for a few moments, sipping their drinks. Julie was turned to watch the action on the floor, while Mulder continued his assessment in the mirror. He ordered another beer, and took a long drink. Julie was turned half away, but he could see much of her reflection. Her hair looked soft and curled a little around her shoulders. Her features were sharp, angular, but attractive in a classic way. She suddenly turned and caught him watching her. He didn't look away. She held his eyes in the mirror. "So, tell me, Fox Mulder, what's a solitary guy like you doing in a place like this?" He turned to her. "Oh, I thought it would be a good place to ponder the mysteries of life." She chuckled, and Mulder smiled back at her. "Well, have you had any fascinating new insights yet?" He thought for a minute before responding. "Well, I always thought The Fonz said it best. 'Ya live fast, ya die young, ya leave a good lookin' corpse.'" This time her laugh was infectious, and he had to admit to himself that it felt damn good. "Can I buy you a drink, Julie?" She moved a little closer to him. "You certainly can, Fox." ******************************* Three hours later, they were pulling up in front of his apartment in Julie's car. "Thanks for the ride," Mulder said. "You can probably tell, I don't drink much." "No!" Julie smiled again. He chuckled. Reaching for the door handle, he turned to her. "Thanks again." "Aren't you even going to invite me in for coffee? You could use some." Her eyes were clear and bright, and her words cut through the fog in Mulder's mind. "Julie..." "Look, Fox. I'm not asking for anything more. I'm lonely. You're lonely. Nothing more than that." "It's not that simple." Julie leaned over in her seat, her face inches away from his. "Tonight, it can be." Her breath was warm and sweet on his face. She leaned in a little further, grazed his cheek with her mouth. "Let it be simple tonight, Fox." As if possessed, his arms went around her and he kissed her long and hard. When he pulled away, he just looked at her. "Yes," she whispered. "Yes, I'm sure." They barely made it to the sofa before clothing was being tossed to the floor. Mulder pulled her onto him and held her face in his hands as he probed her pliant mouth. Julie finally pulled back and looked into his eyes. "Slow down, Fox. Slow down." Her hands caressed his face, and he closed his eyes. "There's no rush. We've got all night." She kissed him gently, on the forehead, cheeks, and finally a soft brush on his mouth. He moved his hands more slowly, touched her everywhere. She was tall and long, her tanned skin so different, so unlike... Julie's hand brushed across the freshly scarred wound on his chest. She looked at him. "Wow. What happened?" "Occupational hazard." The look on his face told her not to ask for details. She gently ran her fingers across the irregular tissue. "Does it still hurt?" He looked away for a moment. Did it still hurt? He couldn't imagine that the pain would ever cease. It throbbed to his very essence, an ache that would never be soothed. "No. I'm fine." Julie leaned over him and kissed the scar, and Mulder drew in a sharp breath. She kept her face close to his belly, and left a trail of kisses across his abdomen, up the center of his chest, nuzzling into his neck. She reached down into her purse that had dropped next to the sofa, and pulled out a condom. Sitting back for a moment, she opened it as Mulder reached for it. She pulled her hand back. "Ah, ah, ah... " she said, teasing. "I'll do it." "I like a woman who's prepared for anything." She just smiled and he caught his breath as she touched his swollen member. Mulder's fingers found Julie's tender center, and she moaned and arched into him. He brought her to a shuddering peak, then quickly turned so that he was above her, and entered her hard and thrusting. Her nails dug into him, and she whispered to him, urging him on. He closed his eyes and felt her warmth, her softness. With each surge of his body into hers, her name filled his mind and soul, her breath became his... ********************************** Mulder woke with a start, lifting his head to look around the dark living room. It took him a moment to collect his thoughts, and remember what had happened earlier in the evening. His head was spinning and he felt nauseous, whether from the beer or from self-disgust he wasn't quite sure. Julie was gone, he vaguely recalled the loss of her warmth in his arms as she got up and dressed. She had come back to sit beside him as he lay on the sofa, and she leaned down and gave him a soft kiss. His hands had gone up and clasped her arms, holding her there, but they both knew it was want and not need that drove him. She'd pulled back and smiled sadly, and he thought he'd seen a glimmer of wetness in her eyes as she told him goodbye. And then she was gone, leaving him to feel like the dirtball that he was. "You've sunk to a new low this time, Mulder," he said out loud, and leaned back with his arm across his eyes. Then he thought, But it wasn't quite convincing. He sighed, and suddenly his stomach was reminding him what an idiot he'd been. He bolted upright and ran to the bathroom, barely making it for a fitting end to this miserable night. ************************************** Scully unlocked the door and walked into the office for what she knew would be the last time. It was Friday morning, and she'd come in early to avoid running into anyone. She didn't want to have to explain why she was leaving with her pitifully small accumulation of things from the office in a box. On Monday she would be unpacking the box in another office, one with a desk with her name on it for a change. She sighed as she set the empty box down on a chair, the one she usually sat in across the desk from Mulder. She shook her head, and closed her eyes tightly as tears threatened again. She still couldn't believe that it was going to end like this. And the worst part was, there was not a damn thing she could do about it. No way to fight it. Oh, she'd considered it of course. At first, she was so angry that she was ready to march into Skinner's office and ask him why the hell he was letting Mulder dictate to him this way? But, obviously, Mulder had done a bang up job of convincing Skinner that he could no longer work with her, and she'd be damned if she would beg to stay. And since the X-Files had always been Mulder's baby, well, what else could Skinner have done? Her heart ached anew as she repeated the thought that had rang in her mind since last night. She was expendable. Replaceable. God, that hurt. As Scully gathered up her meager belongings in the office, she couldn't stop the tears. Damn it to hell! Crying was for babies, for weaklings... She dropped into Mulder's chair, cradled her head on the desk, and sobbed. ************************************ Mulder thought he heard a light knock on his door, and turned toward it, straining to hear. Again, *tap-tap*, just barely audible. It was late, and he wasn't expecting anyone. He took a deep breath and steeled himself, thinking that Scully was about to give him hell again. He walked to the door and peered through the peephole, the breath catching in his throat. Samantha. Mulder opened the door without a word. She stood in the hall, twisting the strap of her purse between her hands. She leaned a bit to the side, her eyes darting around the interior of his apartment, then looking up at him. "Are you alone?" she asked. He nodded. "May I come in?" "Yes," he answered, finally able to force a word from his stunned mind. He backed away from the door, and Samantha stepped in hesitantly. She glanced around, not meeting his eyes, and Mulder didn't speak for fear that one errant sound would send her scurrying back out into the night. So many questions were on the tip of his tongue! But her expression told him that this was not the time. She seemed to have something to say. He waited. "I have a friend, a very good friend, who works at the hospital you were in." Her words came in short bursts, as if she needed to get them out quickly or they may never come out at all. "She's the only person I've confided in, she knows about you... she called me when she saw that you'd been admitted." Samantha walked to the window and looked out to the street below. "I haven't stopped thinking about you, Fox," she continued quietly. "I wanted to know that you were alright, but I was afraid to go to the hospital - I didn't want to see... anyone..." She breathed deeply before beginning again. "I called my friend every day, to check on you..." She turned to face him, her eyes glistening. "I guess we're still connected somehow... aren't we?" Mulder nodded, a hint of a smile on his lips. "You live here alone?" He nodded again, and followed Samantha's eyes as she looked around. "Good help's so hard to find, you know," Mulder quipped. She smiled, and seemed to relax. "You always could make me laugh, Fox." She looked back at him again. "You've never married?" "No." "Why not?" He tried to think of a way to answer, and finally just shrugged and turned up his palms. Samantha turned away to the window again, her gaze cast across the landscape outside, over distance and through time. Her voice was quiet. "I can't imagine what it was like for you, wondering all those years... did you... did you really look for me?" "I never *stopped* looking for you, Samantha." She turned her head just slightly toward him, and Mulder could see a tear travel down her cheek and over the curve of her lips. "Somehow, I always knew that, Fox." And she smiled. Mulder walked up behind her and stopped a few feet away. "Samantha...", Mulder said, an edge of urgency in his voice. Samantha shook her head and put her hands up, palms facing him. "No, Fox... please, not yet." She squeezed her eyes tight for a moment, then opened her eyes and faced him. "I'm not ready. I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..." He stepped closer and took her hands in his. She didn't pull away, but there may as well have been an ocean between them. "I won't push you, Sam." She bit her lower lip, and dropped her gaze again. "I needed to see you, to see for myself... that you were alright." Mulder leaned his head down until he captured her eyes with his. "I'm fine. I am, really." Her expression became earnest, pleading. "Promise me something, Fox." "If I can." "Stop looking back. I can see it in your eyes. You can't stay there anymore... don't let your life pass you by while you try to get back something that can't be... nothing can change what's in the past, Fox. All we can hope for is to go on from here. Promise me you'll try." "What about you?" She dropped his hands and looked away. "I'm trying... there's so much to absorb, so much... I think the worst part is, somehow I always knew there was more. I would imagine that you and mom and dad were still out there, searching for me, but I was always told that was a common fantasy for orphaned children." She turned to him again, a hint of a smile on her sad face. "But somewhere inside, I just knew..." Samantha reached into her purse and pulled out a small envelope. She carefully removed a photo, and handed it to Mulder. "These are my kids. Two boys, age six and nine." A smile slowly spread over Mulder's face as he looked into familiar eyes. His nephews! Samantha pointed to the younger boy. "I always thought he looked like you," she said. He'd noticed that right away. "Yeah, he does, doesn't he?" he said, looking up at her again. "I have them to hang onto, Fox. I know that, no matter what, they're the most important things in my life. Whatever I find out about my past ...our past ...this-" she pointed again to the photo, "-is what matters to me now. Do you understand what I'm saying? They're real." Tears glistened in her eyes again. "I hug them and I look into their eyes and I know that the shadows from the past can't hurt me anymore." Mulder nodded slowly. He handed the picture back to Samantha, but she shook her head. "No, you keep it Fox. I'll bring them to see you - soon. I promise," she said as she smiled through her tears. "Thank you," Mulder said. He felt like crying himself. "Well, I should go." She suddenly clutched her purse to her side, and the moment they'd shared disappeared. "Be patient with me, Fox. I do want to know you again. Just... be patient." He nodded silently. Samantha walked to the door with her head down, then hesitated before she stepped out of his life again. She turned back to him. "Please remember what I said - don't keep looking back. There's more happiness ahead than behind us." Then she opened the door and was gone. Mulder dropped into a chair feeling dazed. The photo was still clutched in his hand, and he brought it closer to study it. Samantha was in the center, leaning down to put an arm around each of her two sons who were dressed in soccer uniforms. She was smiling broadly, as was the six year old who flashed a lopsided grin that was missing front teeth. The older boy looked down shyly. Mulder couldn't help but smile at the resemblance that he saw in the younger boy. Suddenly he realized that he'd forgotten to ask their names. He turned the picture over hoping to find them written on the back, but it was blank. He turned it back again, unable to tear his eyes away from the happy family before him. He was glad for her, and so very sad for himself. She'd been able to go on with her life, because she didn't know any better. But she'd said that she knew, somehow, that there was more than what had been told to her. Yet she went ahead, she lived, and loved, and seemed to have a life that he thought he'd never have. he thought. Was it really that simple? His fingers traced the outline of the young boy's face, his own face, and his eyes stung. He sat there for a long time as the silent tears fell. ******************************************** Scully rubbed her eyes as she leaned back from the stack of files on her desk. Her eyes were burning from lack of sleep and reading so much fine print. It was going to take time for her to catch up to speed on all the cases that her division was working on, and her head was already pounding at the thought. It was only 10:45 a.m. on her first day and already she was itching to get away from this desk and DO something. Her reverie was broken by a phone ringing, and it was a moment before she realized that it was coming from the phone on her own desk. She picked it up. "Scully." "Agent Scully, sorry to bother you. This is Assistant Director Skinner." She immediately perked up. "What can I do for you, sir?" "Uhh, well, I was wondering if you'd spoken to Agent Mulder today?" "No. Why?" Scully immediately knocked her forehead with her fist. She didn't want to know why. It wasn't her problem anymore. But old habits die hard. "He was supposed to be back at work this morning," Skinner continued. As much as he tried to hide it, she could hear the concern in his voice. "He hasn't shown up, and I've been unable to contact him. I just thought perhaps you knew..." "No, sir, I haven't heard from him since... umm, have you called his mother?" "Yes, she hasn't heard from him." He paused. "Well, I'm sorry to bother you. I'll let you get back to work." She chewed her lip as she hung up the phone. she told herself. She put her glasses on and went back to the file in front of her. After reading the same paragraph six times, she sighed and threw her glasses down on the desk. Leaning back in her chair, she fought with herself for several minutes before standing up with a disgusted huff and grabbing her jacket. On the way out she told the secretary that she had an emergency she had to tend to. "Oh, nothing too serious, I hope." Scully squinted at the nameplate and saw that the young lady's name was Lisa. "Thank you, Lisa," Scully said with a smile that looked more like a grimace. "I hope so, too." ***************************** As she pulled up in front of Mulder's apartment, Scully was in the middle of reminding herself how stupid she was. She turned off the ignition, but made no move to get out of the car. Her hands gripped the wheel and she stared straight ahead. Scully asked herself for the hundredth time. She sighed and leaned back. "Fine," she said aloud as she opened the door. "I'll see if he's ok, then I'm going back to work." She slammed the car door hard. "This is so ridiculous!" By the time she got to Mulder's door, she was steaming. She banged on the door. No answer. Banged harder. A door down the hall opened and a gray haired woman leaned her head out the door and gave Scully a disapproving look. Scully reached for her keys and opened the door. She called his name. No reply. Scully closed the door and looked around. Nothing looked amiss. It was the same as it had always been, clothes scattered on the floor, books, magazines and newspapers strewn over the sofa and table. She walked from room to room, unsure of what she was looking for. The bathroom counter was clear of his toiletries, so he must have packed a bag. She wandered into his bedroom, and opened the top drawer of his dresser where she knew he usually kept his weapon. It was still there. Back in the living room, she turned on the computer and checked his e-mail, but there was nothing that would lend her any clues. She opened the desk drawer, and there it was. A photo of a woman who looked exactly like the one Mulder had traded for herself on a bridge long ago. It was Samantha. She picked it up and examined it more closely. The woman was smiling, her arms around two little boys, the younger one reminding her so much of Mulder it was, well, spooky. Did Samantha give this to him? Why would she do that if she indeed wanted no part in Mulder's life, as he had said? Scully was convinced that this had something to do with Mulder's disappearance. But should she intrude? Would he want her too? Something serious must have happened to cause him to take off like this. She didn't like the thoughts that were going through her mind. "Oh, Mulder," she sighed. Everything in her heart told her to go and find him. But pride was holding her in the chair like a vise. The same pride that had held her tongue so many times, made her swallow the caring words that she had so often wanted to say. "Dammit to hell," she said quietly and closed her eyes. Something was wrong, and she wanted to rush in and fix it. Again. , a small voice said. Scully sighed again. She thought her heart would crack under the weight of the loneliness she felt. There really was no question to answer. She needed to take this chance. ****************************** Quonochontaug The water was as gray as the cloudy sky. Whitecaps dotted the rough surface as gusts of air tried to whip the unwilling lake into a liquid frenzy. Spring was many weeks away and the trees remained barren, their fleshless skeletons reaching and twisting in the strong March wind. There was a storm coming, Mulder could feel it. The atmosphere was as turbulent as the emotions inside of him. He walked aimlessly through the yard, looking down at his feet and shuffling dead leaves and twigs as he went. Shoving his hands deep in his pockets, his mind traveled a long and circuitous path, back to summer days and fireflies and innocent stars in the night sky. Why did the recall of his life always seem to begin and end here? He was so tired of it, so tired of looking back in sorrow and regret. Samantha had been right, so very, very right. It was time to turn his head and his heart forward to life as he could make it now. It was past time. He laughed derisively at himself. Typical. A day late and a dollar short. And now he had pushed away the best thing that had ever happened to him. Mulder stopped and perched on the edge of a weathered adirondack chair and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. He watched the water furl and slap against the shore line, his face stinging from the cold. He'd always been fascinated by the feeling of an approaching storm. Something about the electricity in the air, the apprehension of discovering what was coming. He'd spent many hours here as a kid doing just this same thing. It was fun then. Now it seemed so terribly lonely. He could still feel her with him, and would sometimes turn and expect to see her standing there before he remembered. He wondered how long that feeling would last. He hoped always. It didn't matter what happened in the future, her mark was on him forever. He closed his eyes and smiled gently. Suddenly his eyelids snapped open. Slowly, he turned back toward the house. A flash of red hair made him catch his breath. Scully walked toward him slowly, hesitantly, eyes cast down. Her hair whipped wildly in the wind. He waited, frozen to the chair, unsure of what to do. She stopped a few yards away and looked at him for a moment before speaking. "I tried, Mulder..." Her eyes welled up and she pressed trembling fingertips against her lips for a moment to keep the dam from breaking. "I really tried." A tear escaped and was blown away. She attempted a watery smile as she shrugged her shoulders and her hands opened to him. "I couldn't do it..." Mulder felt his own eyes burn with sudden salty tears, and he blinked to keep Scully in focus. He opened his mouth, but there were no words. His hand stretched out and, with a sob, she came to him. Her arms went round his neck, and Mulder nestled against her soft sweater as she pulled him close. His arms circled her waist and Scully lay her cheek on the crown of his dark hair, stroking it gently and wetting it with her tears. "I can't leave you, Mulder... I can't..." He lay his cheek against the soft wool and listened in awe as his life beat within her. Around them the storm approached with a howling pitch, but Mulder only heard the soft rhythm of her heart as it pulsed against him. He tightened his arms around her. Scully gently placed her hands on his face and turned it up to look in his eyes. "I'm so sorry..." Mulder began. She shook her head and interrupted him. "No. No more." The rain started then, a few small drops that quickly turned into a downpour. Mulder stood up, grabbing Scully by the hand as they made a dash for the house. They were laughing as they ran through the door. Scully took off her coat and shook the water off, then turned to see Mulder staring at her. "What?" she said, smiling. "You've seen me looking worse." "I've never seen you look better," he replied in a low voice. "I can't believe you came looking for me. How did you know where I was?" "I found the picture," Scully said quietly. Mulder nodded. "I don't know how I knew," she went on, "but something told me to come here. I didn't know if I should..." "But you did." His eyes never left hers. "You knew... that I needed you. Why did I ever think distance could change that?" Scully looked away and hung her coat on the coat tree. The moment broken, Mulder removed his jacket and moved to the fireplace. "Did Skinner call you?" he asked over his shoulder. "Yeah." Mulder nodded as he stirred the embers and stacked new wood on top. "I was going to call him. I just... I don't know. I suppose he's pretty pissed." "He sounded more concerned than anything." Scully looked around, remembering when she was here last, chasing a confused and psychically wounded Mulder. A shudder passed through her. Mulder looked back at the same moment. "Sorry it's so cold. The fire will be going in a minute. The heat here is from LP gas, and the tank hasn't been filled in years. My mother keeps the water on, and the electricity, with some kind of gadget on the pipes so they don't freeze up." He stood up and brushed his hands off on his jeans. "I don't know why she doesn't just sell the place. She refuses to come here." "Sometimes it's hard to part with memories, even when they're painful." Mulder looked into Scully's knowing eyes, and nodded. He felt suddenly awkward, unsure of where to go from here. He searched for a benign subject to put between them. "Coffee?" he asked, picking up a large thermos. Scully arched her brow. "I don't know... did you make it?" Mulder chuckled. "No, you're safe. I got it at the Stop & Save." "In that case, sure." He unscrewed the cap that doubled as a cup, and poured the steaming brew. Scully walked toward him and accepted it. "Hope you don't mind sharing my cup," Mulder went on, filling the silence with mindless conversation. "There are some dishes and stuff here, but they're packed away, and God only knows what condition they're in..." Scully placed her hand on his arm. "It's ok, Mulder." Her eyes told him she was referring to more than the coffee. She dropped her hand and her gaze, and turned toward the growing fire, sipping the coffee. The flames jumped orange and yellow, and she held her unoccupied hand toward the fire to warm it. Mulder watched her from a few steps away. It was getting dark outside, and the firelight danced across her face, the flames reflected in her eyes. "Scully..." She turned to face him, but didn't speak. "I don't know what to say... " he went on. "You and I both value the truth, Mulder," she said quietly. "Why don't you start with that." Mulder sighed and leaned his head back for a moment. "Oh, Scully... the truth." He looked at her again, and reached out to touch her face, his thumb running softly across her cheekbone. "The truth is, when I saw Jackson shoot you, something in me just cracked. It haunted me, night and day. What could have happened. What's happened before. All the pain it's caused you, being with me. I know what I did hurt you, but at least it would be the last time. I finally realized what a selfish jerk I am, keeping you with me." "You don't *keep* me with you, Mulder. I stay because I want to." "I know. And you'll never know how many times I've thanked God for that. But I just couldn't bear it any more, watching you suffer. You deserve so much more." Scully set the coffee cup down on the mantle, then pressed her palms together, fingertips against her lips. After a moment, she spoke. "Mulder, I've lived my life a certain way, planned out, goals met and checked off, all my ducks in a row," she said, looking up at him. "Until I met you. How do I make you understand... I'm not sure I do myself... " She hesitated, then went on. "I've never blamed you, not for a minute. Those people, they've used both of us, hurt both of us..." "But it was to get at me, Scully! That's what's been behind it from the beginning, you know that as well as I do!" Mulder's eyes flashed. Scully reached out and caught his hands in her own, calming him with a gentle touch. "Mulder," she looked down a moment and bit her lip. "I know what you're trying to tell me. I understand. But what we have... had... " she took a deep breath, "I know with certainty that I will never have that again." Scully looked up into his eyes, eyes in pain that gave away nothing else. "Tell me you don't feel the same way." Mulder dropped her hands and turned away. But Scully wasn't ready to give up, not after she'd opened her heart like this. She grabbed his arm with a determined grip. "Tell me, Mulder." She was on the verge of tears, but held them back and kept her voice even. She would not beg. But she had to know. "Tell me you don't feel the same way. Look in my eyes and tell me to go. I will walk out that door and never come back." Mulder moved just slightly toward her, and she tightened her hand on his arm. His hand came up and gently pulled hers away, holding it as he turned to her. His other hand brushed her wet hair back, and his eyes traveled over the contours of her face as if memorizing every rise and fall. As he framed her face with both his strong hands, he closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against hers. Scully held his wrists tight. "I want to be here," she whispered. "I *choose* to be here..." Finally he spoke, his voice rough with emotion. "Stay with me, Scully... stay with me.." He met her lips gently, hesitantly, as a man in the desert tastes his first drops of sweet water. They felt soft and warm, just as he had known they would. He drank deeper, and she responded, caressing his face with her fingertips. Was this really happening? So often a dream - but now she was here, she was real, touching him, wanting him. Mulder's heart was pounding in his ears, every nerve on fire. He pulled back just enough to break their kiss. "Scully..." He didn't know where to begin. Words were so inadequate to express what he was feeling. She leaned against him, her smooth cheek against his stubbled one, and her hand held his face tenderly against hers. "Tell me, Mulder... ", her breath warm on his face. "I need to hear you say it." "I love you..." He pressed her small body against him, and she went soft in his arms. It was a moment before he realized that she was weeping. "Oh... Scully, what is it?" Mulder tried to pull back and look at her, but Scully wrapped her arms tighter around his neck. "Just hold me, Mulder," she said, her teary voice muffled against him. He pulled her closer and kissed the top of her head, smoothing her hair back with his hand. They stood that way a long time. The fire crackled and threw shadows across the room as the light became dimmer with the setting sun. Finally Mulder loosened his hold on her. "I have to put some more wood on the fire. Don't forget where we were," and he winked at Scully. She smiled, and stepped back from their embrace. Mulder bent down in a squat in front of the fireplace and carefully lay several more logs on the fire. Scully came close and perched next to him, her thigh touching his. She felt the need to maintain physical contact with him, the feel of him next to her a reassurance that this was not an illusion. As he placed the wood on the fire, Scully studied his hands. The long fingers and clean skin were deceiving, she thought. They spoke only of an academic, and not of a man who had dug his hands into unimaginable horrors, a man whose strong hands had fought with devils and won. Hands that could soothe her like no other. Satisfied with his work, Mulder stood and walked away. Scully watched him as he took the dust cover off of the sofa then pulled several throw pillows down and leaned them against it. He unzipped a large suitcase he'd packed and removed some blankets, arranging them on the floor in front of the pillows, then sat down and leaned back against them. Finally, he looked over and put his hand out to her. Scully rose and went to him, catching his hand as she sat down. "Wow," she said. "This feels suspiciously like something regular people would do." Mulder chuckled and pulled her into his arms, locking his hands around her. She was surprised at how easy this felt. She lay her head against his chest, and listened to the calming sound of his breathing as she watched the flames dance. Outside, the wind was a high pitched moan and the cold rain rattled on the windows. But nothing could reach her here. She felt safe. Scully absently stroked the soft flannel of Mulder's sleeve. She wanted to stay here forever. "I love you, Mulder." She felt him sigh, and he held her closer. "Pinch me, Scully." She smiled against him. When he spoke again, his voice was husky. "You know how sometimes things happen, and somehow you're aware that it's a life-changing moment? That nothing will ever be quite the same?" he said. "Mm-hmm." "That happened to me the day you disappeared. I felt like a part of me had been torn away," he continued, his voice subdued. Scully listened intently, but did not interrupt. "I went to Skyland Mountain with two things on my mind. The first was to find you. And if I couldn't... then I was going to find a way to get them to take me too." Scully sat up and looked at him. "Oh, Mulder..." "I was lost, Scully. The thought of going on without you... it was too much to even imagine. I wouldn't accept the possibility that you might be dead. I refused to even consider it." She held his hand and waited as he looked down and gathered his thoughts. "But more than that," he looked at her again, and she knew that he was trying to tell her something more than what was in his words, "I could *feel* you... somehow, I knew you were alive. It was the only thing that kept me going. I'd lay in bed at night and feel your cross around my neck... I don't know. But everything changed for me then. I loved you so much." "You wore my cross?" Scully felt tears prick the back of her eyelids. "I never took it off until you came back to me." Scully just stared at Mulder, and in some ways she felt as if she were seeing him for the first time. Her heart was so full of love for him, so full of *him*, it seemed ready to burst from her ribcage. For the first time that she could remember, she was truly speechless. So she didn't talk. She leaned in to him and kissed him carefully, tenderly, hoping he would feel in this kiss all the words she couldn't say. He closed his eyes and let her lead him where she would. Scully turned and straddled Mulder's legs, facing him. Her fingers glided over the curves of his face, and her lips planted light kisses on his nose, his forehead, his closed eyelids. He held perfectly still, inhaling her sweet scent and surrendering himself to the sensuous nearness of her. His body responded almost immediately, and he had to will himself to go slow, let her show him where she wanted this to go. He didn't have to wait long. Scully sat back on Mulder's legs, and he opened his eyes at the loss of her touch. She was watching him, her eyes holding his, smoldering green emeralds that silently asked his reassurance. "You're so beautiful, Scully. Do you know how many times I've wanted to tell you that?" She gave him a little self-deprecating smile, but her eyes showed her appreciation. Then her expression turned a bit shy, and she pulled her sweater over her head. With eyes down, she unbuttoned her shirt, and only when she'd undone the last button did she look up at him again. Mulder brought his hands up and drew them down the tender flesh on either side of her neck, causing her to draw in a sharp breath and close her eyes. His hands continued along her shoulders, pulling the cotton shirt away as he went, down over her arms and onto the floor. Her satin bra shone in the firelight, her smooth skin pale and silky in contrast. "Open your eyes, Scully." She did, and he locked on them and drew them in as he leaned forward and unsnapped the bra clasp behind her. He kept his eyes on hers as it fell away. Mulder quickly shrugged out of his own shirt, pulling off two buttons as he went. He sat forward and brought her to him, holding his breath as their skin touched. Their lips met, with passion this time, electricity pulsing between them. He kissed her deeply, crushing her to him, and she responded with pliant lips that fueled the fire in his groin. "God, Scully.." he gasped, pulling back. "Let me look at you. I want to see you." Scully looked at him, his beautiful face so open to her, so trusting. She wanted him to have this. She stood up and stepped back a few paces, then pulled her jeans down over her slender hips and pushed them away. The last vestige of her modesty slipped off with her satin bikinis. She stood before him and she felt strong, and fearless, and so very, very loved. Mulder's eyes were fierce with hunger, and he held his hands up to her. She knelt down in front of him with tears in her eyes and offered herself, everything she was, with the joy of knowing that he would accept her flawed self, and she would accept his, completely and without hesitation. Outside, the rain streaked down with icy fingers, and the cold wind whipped against itself in fury. But through that dark frigid night, a light shone. A fire danced and sparked through a window in a small cottage, and inside a woman and a man found the missing pieces of their hearts, their souls warmed at last by a joy thought lost. A future was redeemed, a past put in it's place, and a will to go on was reborn. ~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^ End Comments to Linda at rn500@ozline.net