TITLE: "Laid Bare" (1/3) BY: Ten E-MAIL ADDRESS: kristena@ocean.com.au CATEGORY: MSR, MT, S, A, H RATING: R for adult situations and some naked flesh SUMMARY: Let us NOT slow pan up up and away from that crater hug... TIMESPAN/SPOILER WARNING: Moviefic. Mentions "Detours". ARCHIVE INFO: It goes to Gossamer through the xff list. Can be archived anywhere as long as my name, addy and disclaimer stay intact. FEEDBACK: Love it. THANKS: To Ngaire for going willingly to the movie instead of being dragged, then cheerfully accepting my interrogation about the spaceship's effect on seismographs! And to everyone else who looked at it for me - especially Gerry and Suzanne. DEDICATION: To Jaime; thanks for your stories, your friendship, and those e-mails! 'One' was written by Harry Nilsson; Unichappell Music Inc. (BMI). 'Walking After You' was written by Dave Grohl; M.J.-Twelve Music (admin. by EMI Virgin Songs, Inc.) (BMI). 'Joy to the World' is copyright Three Dog Night. DISCLAIMER: The X-Files and the characters of Mulder and Scully belong to Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions and Fox Broadcasting, and are used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended, no profit will be gained. The X-Files: "Laid Bare" (1/3) by Ten, August-October 1998 Running. Dropping. Landing. Sliding. Falling. Landing. Lying. "Scully! Scully, you gotta see this!" Not now, Mulder, I've got a headache... Where did the sun go? It was so white and bright and Mulder was making me run. Oh, I'm face down in snow. That explains it. "Scully..." Mulder, I would if I could... The only thing I can move is my eyeball. It finds Mulder. He's gazing at something...something in the sky. Big. Dark. Ouch! There's the sun again... I drop my head back down - and find no escape. The reflection from the snow and ice robs me of shadows. I close my eyes, seeking blessed, undemanding blackness...but get a world of pink from my eyelids... I open them. Now Mulder is gazing at me again. He's got a look on his face. Boyish, amazed, delighted. I nearly laugh. His hand grips mine tightly. Then, within seconds, everything fades from his expression. The joy. The life. His fingers go limp. His eyes close, and his head comes to rest a few inches from mine in the snow. Like he's fallen asleep. Permanently. Only a faint hint of frosted breath proves otherwise. I try to speak his name, but nothing comes out. Heat is suffusing me, waking me up. But he looks so exhausted and cold... I squeeze his hand, then grab his wrist, shaking his whole arm. Nothing. Desperate, I pull myself up on my knees and gather my partner to me, turning him over into my lap, cradling him, wrapping my arms around his neck to ward off the cold. But what about the rest of him? Those gloriously long legs? That swimmer's torso? Can I wind him around myself to keep him warm? Let's not go there... I kiss his hair, rubbing my face in it as I rock him, feeling the texture against my lips. My lips find their way down to his forehead and cheek, pressing desperately, lovingly. Why does one of us always have to be unconscious for this to happen? His stubble creates friction under my lips and fingertips, fingers I should be losing sensation in, but am not. Then I see the long, ugly mark on his forehead and gasp. A bad graze. A BULLET graze... And I remember the bee stinging me, the paramedics coming, the gurney moving, how it was hard to breathe, Mulder's voice... "I want to go with her! ...What hospital are you taking her to?" A gunshot. So close I would have jumped if I could. Then no Mulder hovering over me. Just faceless men. Where was he? Then nothing. "Oh God..." I hold him closer as I struggle to absorb this. While I watch him breathe, I'm aware that my head aches, my throat is scraped and sore, my stomach... Frantically I look around for help. We're surrounded by ice and snow and a massive crater. I can't think about the latter now. About the nightmare world I woke up in and that Mulder dragged me through. I'm wearing only thick socks, ski pants and a fur lined parka. But I'm incredibly HOT. And alert - when I should be succumbing like you are. This must be one hell of a coat, Mulder... Oh God, and you're stripped down to your undershirt and jeans... You're drenched. What you robbed from yourself to clothe me in is the waterproof gear. Neither of us is wearing gloves. It hits me. I was naked. You've seen me naked. If I wasn't already hot, that thought would stir some heat. Embarrassment, arousal...whatever. All this air rushing past us to fill the crater is beginning to die down. What was in that crater? Dark shape in the sky... Don't think of that now. Just be glad there is no more wind and it won't be as cold. We have to get out of here. Dying together is fine by me, but not until we're in our hundreds in bed in a nice home for the elderly. Together! Not until we've at least had a decent kiss, dammit. "Mulder?" My voice is raw, but I manage to make the right sounds. I shake him. "Mulder!" Nothing. This calls for more drastic measures, but first I check his face to make sure there is no frostbite to aggravate. Clear. I slap his face. Once. Twice. Hard. "Mulder, come on! I've had more than enough of nursing you through hypothermia!" He groans. I slap again. "Sc...?" "Mulder -" His eyes flicker open, then shut to slits. "Run!" he gasps, pushing weakly at me. "Run! Go..." I hold a hand up to keep the glare out of his eyes, keeping one arm around him for reassurance and support. "Mulder, how did you get here? How do we get out of here? Please!" "Run!" "Mulder, there's nowhere to run to! Tell me how you got here! And while we're at it, where the hell are we - Alaska?" "Antarctica..." I gape. He came all this way. Injured. For me. "Snowcat... Over ridge..." he continues, flopping a hand in the direction of a ridge of rock half covered with snow that we are very close to, and now I think I can see a line of footprints there. Not sure. Hard to make out in this glare. Good - we can get over that within a minute or so. The longer he's in damp clothes, the faster he'll freeze, so every minute counts... "But...screwed up...nearly out of fuel...I'm sorry..." "Nearly or completely?" "Nearly..." "Then we can start the heater. Will someone come looking for you?" "Told base where I was going... Told 'em to come looking if I wasn't back in..." He trails off. Rescue - thank God. But WHEN? "How long?" He grimaces, straining to remember, then shakes his head. Then something occurs to him. "Radio in cat..." Thank GOD. "We can contact them. Come on, get up - I can't carry you." "Go." He is passive in my arms. This is not my Mulder of the thousand hospital beds, where even when lying down his every thought and desire was on getting up and out. "I'm not leaving you. Get up!" "Can't... Ordering...you... Go." I seize him by his bright red collar and stare into his startled eyes. "Don't you DARE pull rank on me! We're equals. We are either equally alive or equally dead." Something occurs to me. "Besides, Skinner has my resignation, so officially you CAN'T order me around. But I want to get back to D.C. and set fire to that letter." No response. Time to play dirty. "I am NOT leaving without you. If you can't get up, then we are going to be stuck here. I'll die. Do you hear that Mulder? I'LL DIE if you don't get up off your butt." He stares, panicked. "After all this effort to save me, Mulder, at least go the distance!" I WILL make up for this yelling and abuse, I promise, but for now I'm doing whatever it takes to get him to safety. This heat I'm feeling is beginning to ebb...is it because of this liquid I'm coated in? When I awoke to Mulder pulling that THING out of my throat, I was freezing. But once I was made to move, I really began to heat up. I felt toasty, gradually got more and more alert. Is this substance acting like insulation, amplifying temperature - the cold of the thing I was kept in...then the heat I produced straining through the tunnels? Don't look a gift horse in the slush, go with it. I definitely have to keep moving then. With my help, he sits up. Then we manage to stand, supporting each other every inch of the way. And we move off like entrants in a three-legged race. I've found his gloves in the pockets of this coat, and put them on him. He weakly protests until I reassure him that I can tuck my hands up in the long sleeves. And I've squeezed some of the goo out of my hair and smeared it over his exposed cheeks, ears, etc. It's worth a shot. I'd give him his coat back, but he'd fight to the death and I'd be topless. Nope. I'm hoping all this unresolved sexual tension we generate together will keep us warm. I have to get him to the snowcat quickly and out of those drenched clothes. No speaking. Just like when he was making me climb that wall. The glare is bad - could lead to snowblindness, so I tell him to close his eyes and I'll guide, I'll just keep this hood over my face to cut it down. And he has to remember to lift his feet. Tromp tromp tromp tromp up the ridge and over. There's the snowcat down below. Thank God. But something looks... Uh oh. There are a second lot of cat tracks in the snow leading to and away from it. And one of the treads is listing very noticeably. Sabotage. Well, we weren't planning on driving it on low fuel anyway. But hopefully they left the engine and radio alone. Then, like a chainsawed tree, Mulder goes down, dragging me with him. I'm practically in his face. "Get up!" He raises one hand to touch my cheek. I can see how much of an effort that is. He is staring at me with such love that I'm awed, then his eyes flicker closed. Terror electrifies me. I can practically read his thoughts: /Scully is safe, now I can die./ He must have used up every single bit of adrenalin his body could manufacture for the next ten years. I kiss him. That gets the eyes open. I kiss him again and, sure enough, he responds. I knew he wasn't THAT far gone. "Okay, here's the deal. Every few feet you manage, you rack up another kiss, to be delivered when we're settled in the snowcat. Reaching the snowcat will give you the bonus prize of some heavy necking, and a guarantee that when we get home, you'll get much, much more." He blinks and gapes. I guess I don't look my sexiest at the moment, but my voice is damn husky. "So, that warmed you up enough?" We make it to the snowcat. Now I know how to keep him from ditching me in the future... I should have worked out long ago that incentives are much more effective than threats... The radio is dead. Smashed beyond repair. But the fuel tank was left alone. Guess they thought there wasn't enough left to make a difference, or that we'd die back there. The tank is on the last mark before empty. Better than I'd been braced for... I get the keys out of the coat. Now if the engine will just defy odds and start... Thank you, God. I turn the heaters on full blast to start with. Mulder is slumped against the passenger side door. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." he slurs. I stroke his face. "Not your fault. They'll come looking for you soon. You rest. It's my turn to take care of you." I'm tired, but full of a determined energy that always carries me along when I'm in full SaveMulder! mode. I search the snowcat cabin. Under the seats I find some blankets and supplies. Medicine kit. Food. I send up plenty more prayers of thanks. I peel the sopping socks off and check my feet. A lot of goo is caught between my toes and all feels warm, but I dry and wrap them up to make sure. Now we can hold each other close under some blankets and wait for rescue. I unzip his down vest. Damp. The cold and our inadequate clothes have prevented us from building up enough body heat to sweat, but we're still wet from the melting snow in that shaft and everything. Some of it has frozen on our trek, but the heater will just rethaw it. I have to get him undressed and dry. Check for signs of hypothermia and frostbite. And with chance of frostbite, anything that could be constricting has to be removed. Frostbitten flesh is extremely sensitive and can be traumatised easily. Could lead to gangrene. At least that's my medical excuse to strip him. Now, realistically, the cabin should be stinking to high hell...but there's nothing. I can't really smell anything. I don't know if it's the cold or whether the goo is acting like some odour neutraliser...gee, we should bottle it, Mulder, and make a fortune... I begin to carefully peel the few layers of clothes off him and drop them on the floor. I'll spread them out properly later to dry. He stares at me in bewilderment. "I thought...the 'get lucky' part...was when...we get back home...?" I explain around a bemused grin. He nods and doesn't resist. I use one blanket as a towel and dry him carefully. Examine him from top to toe. Can't see any beginning signs of the very white flesh of frostbite. Though I can see a myriad of bruises. "My God, Mulder...what the hell did you do to your back? Slide all the way to the bottom of the world on it?" He chuckles. "It WAS a long slippery dip..." I'm the one who gasps as I finger a spectacular bruise on his shoulder. "Fell down the shaft hole." He's too exhausted and cold to feel sore. I start to wrap him in blankets, wanting to warm him gradually so not to rush it and make things worse if he is getting hypothermic. The bullet wound and all he must have gone through as well as his previous bouts of hypothermia have made him more susceptible. "Fell down the hole? Lucky you didn't get killed." "No - I was more lucky that the vaccine vial didn't break... Bones didn't matter..." Once upon a time he told me that his sister was the only thing that mattered. He is mute and dozing now. Suddenly I am scared. "Hey, partner, stay awake for me, okay?" "Tired." "I know, but I want you to stay awake to keep me company." "...'k..." I keep the tremor out of my voice. I have seen the bruises on his head and am terrified that one of them may have aggravated his bullet graze - started him bleeding between his brain and skull. And I NEED him awake. If these are our last moments on earth... I check his pupils as best I can in this light. They're equal. They react to light. I make him follow my finger. Check his orientation by asking questions. He's a bit fuzzy on the date. "September...middish...1998." "Okay, where are we?" "Bottom of the world, Ma! Ice Capades." He grins. That's my boy. "Who's the President?" "Hillary Clinton." Can't fault him on that one. "What's happening around us?" "Lots of white. You're safe. Yadda yadda..." I know he wants to sleep, but I'm not finished. "Squeeze my hand." I compare his left and right grips to make sure he isn't getting weak on one side. Both hands have reassuring strength. His response to my voice and touch is: "I don't wanna arm wrestle. I'll lose... Are you gonna do this every hour?" "Yep." "Oh, joy..." Might as well be thorough. I manage to shuffle around to find and unwrap one of his feet and run my finger up the bottom of it to see if his toes flex. Those reflexes are fine. He is swathed in the blankets. I hold him closely to me for a long moment - I'm still in the ice-stained coat. I press kisses onto his forehead, a shadow of what I promised. Then I finally notice - he's hot. And not just from the warming up. Fever. Damn. It's not a symptom of subdural hematoma or bleeding, concussion or fracture, but worrying enough on its own... I'm getting cold. Despite the heater, the goo is still insulating me, and since I'm not moving around or exerting myself, it's generating cold. It's making the inside of the coat all damp. I'm going to have to strip and dry myself. Then join Mulder in a naked hug in a cocoon of blankets. Dana does Antarctica... When the rescue party comes, I pray they don't have a camera. Then again, I don't care if they bring Steven Spielberg's entourage, as long as they COME and come SOON. END PART ONE OF THREE TITLE: "Laid Bare" (2/3) BY: Ten E-MAIL ADDRESS: kristena@ocean.com.au XxX I am now naked under the blankets and against Mulder's skin too. Not that he's noticed in his condition. I have gotten him to drink and eat a little and will keep trying at regular intervals. I've tended to us as best I can with the med kit. Not enough time has passed for another Neuro check, but I keep rousing him. ("Quit poking me...") He needs to sleep. I need him to be awake. I've fashioned myself 'slippers' out of bits of blanket, and I can move all my toes. Same with my fingers, miraculously. We seem to have avoided hypothermia and frostbite by the skin of our teeth... The world is white and blue around us. And I thought the desert was barren... I read once that Antarctica was so vast and lonely that eons of the world's silence had stacked up here. It swallows time too. We haven't been in the cabin long, according to the clock on the dash, but it seems like an eternity. "Sing something." This time I am the one to say it. Mulder's eyes flicker open. "What?" "Sing something so I know you're awake." He's together enough to show irony. "I can't sing." "I don't care." Silence. A long pause. He starts to sing - whisper - 'One'. 'The loneliest number. It's just no good anymore since you went away.' I'm sure you wouldn't be singing this now if you weren't feverish. And I wish it had a few more varied lines to it... But, yeah, it is a damn lonely number. We are two though. We may not have entered the world as two joined, but we're either going to die that way or live that way. I will never be one again. And I'll make sure you aren't either. I stare out at the snow while my every other sense is focused on his breathing and heartbeat. The feel of our bare skin. I've given up on keeping him awake, just nudging him every so often to get him to mumble something or other to prove that he hasn't slipped into a coma. Well, the fevered talk I'm getting shows me he's half in dreamland anyway... He tells me that the President is an alien. Not much time passes before he stirs restlessly in my arms. "Cross..." he mumbles, "Cross... Scully..." "Shhhh, Mulder, I'm not cross at you. I know I slapped you and yelled, but I didn't mean it. That was just to get you moving. I'm sorry. I'm not angry. Thank you so much for saving me." "Don't leave me, please..." "I won't, I promise. Now get some rest. Sorry I can't find anything decent on the radio." I begin humming 'Joy to the World' to work my way up to singing. He stirs against my breast, then opens his eyes. He's more lucid because his eyes nearly pop out when he realises he's in my naked embrace. Mulder pulls back slightly, looks around, then directly into my face - no lower - and fumbles for words. "Um, I must have been great, because I can't remember it..." His voice has an uncertain 'is she going to kill me' quality to it. "You said it yourself once - best way to get warm is to crawl naked into a sleeping bag with someone who's already naked. Had to make do with blankets, but when we get back to D.C., you will get lucky, G-man." I stroke the hair off his forehead. The bullet wound is the most colourful thing in the cabin. "Your cross!" He pulls away from me and I automatically go to clutch the blanket to my revealed breasts. "No, I'm not cross -" He's rummaging through our drying clothes on the floor, not listening to me. Some of his blankets ride down and I get a glimpse of some flesh I can't help noticing is pale, bruised, and tight... "Mulder, you can't put those clothes on, they're still wet! I'm not embarrassed to hold you. I like it. Please, you've got a temperature, you have to keep -" "No, YOUR cross!" I realise I misheard him as he produces my necklace and cross pendant. Oh God - how did he ever find - ? "I don't want the rescue team to leave it or dump it in the trash," he says, face flushed from fever and panic. I smile. I miss the feel of his skin on mine already. "Come back here and put it on me." He can't though - his fingers fumble and I end up doing it. But then he is in my embrace again. Three important things have been restored to me. My faith, Mulder and my life. For everything that has been taken away from me, I am a whole person at this moment. I wake up as the heater begins to die down. I wondered for how much longer we'd have the pleasure of a semi-warm snowcat. He's hotter. Damn, where's our rescue? My gaze is drawn to the bullet graze again. He was very lucky it was just a graze and that he doesn't have a fractured skull or a subdural hematoma. At least, I hope not. I can't see any stitches that would indicate the latter. I stroke the damaged skin gently, checking it. How the hell could he get this far - or out of hospital - if he'd been shot in the head? Then again, even if he'd been beheaded, he would have staggered out of the morgue to come after me. All this way. All this effort. For both of us to die. I kiss his forehead to take his temperature and reassure the both of us. But he wriggles frantically. "No! N-n-no! Don't... Don't touch me! You get hurt. You always get hurt. I'm poison... I shouldn't have tried to kiss you!" He suddenly buckles against me, dry heaving. I hold him until it passes, telling him over and over that it's okay. "My head...hurts... Dizzy." Then he suddenly becomes a bit clearer. "They here yet?" "No. Not yet." "Should have brought more fuel. But...getting antidote to you was more important than getting back. Didn't think it was so far. Thought I could radio..." "They sabotaged the treads, Mulder. We're going to get out of this." I swear it on a hot Mulder. Which is very damn distracting...under the right conditions. I don't remember much of the rescue. Just that they came. In time. The noises. Voices: "It's the FBI guy! And some chick!!!" "Shit! Where did SHE come from?" "Where'd all that ice and snow GO?" I didn't want to let Mulder out of my arms, but I knew they'd never be able to move or treat him if I didn't. So I loosened my hold and he was taken from me. I kept my radar on alert though, using as much strength as I could muster, so that I would be up and running if we were separated by more than a few metres of distance. The feeling comes of being bundled up more, and then being quickly and efficiently transferred from the cat to the copter/plane/whatever. "Scully...?" I tug my hand free and feel out for him. I hear his voice again, getting panicky. A man is leaning over Mulder, trying to reassure him. Then he sees my hand flailing and hesitates. If this stranger tries to tuck it back in and strap me down, he'll get a black eye. I communicate this with a look. He is fortunately a wise man. He takes my hand and guides it to Mulder's. My partner stops his weak thrashing. "Keep some of the goo...on our clothes...for analysis," I tell the man. He nods uncertainly. I zone in and out a little. So tired. I wake up when my hand is removed from Mulder's. "It's okay," another man tells me. "He's right here. We've just arrived at base. We're getting you both into the hospital." Awake again. A nurse leans over me and begins to cheerily tell me in an Australian accent that I'm okay. My look tells her that I don't care if I've lost all my toes and fingers, but if one of Mulder's fingernails is so much as broken, I'll have them up for malpractice. "Is he okay?" "Yes, just a bit feverish. You both need rest. You're safe. We've been in contact with your boss - is there anyone else you want us to contact?" I shake my head; Skinner will be handling that. Poor Mom. I look around. The room is as blank and bare as the icescape. "Where's Mulder?" "Just a few rooms down. He's fine. Now sleep. There's plenty of time later on to tell us what happened." "I want him in here with me. Now." "Ma'am..." She looks at me like I've asked for the suite with the queen-sized vibrator bed. "He's just down the hallway, asleep. I assure you he's fine. I'll have the Doctor come in and tell you himself. After more of a rest you can get in a wheelchair and pop down to check him out." I don't have time for this. "You don't understand - he came from D.C. to Antarctica to find me. He moved continents to reach me. I will move this whole blasted hospital around to ensure that our beds are in the same room. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?" She backs away, startled and flustered. Guess she didn't think such a noise could come from such a small source. "Um, I'll get the doctor." He comes. Hears my request. Okay, my demand. "Are you husband and wife?" "He's..." How do I put it? Our partnership cannot be programmed, categorized or easily referenced. "He's my partner. We've been through quite an ordeal, and it would be best if we were kept together." The doctor is giving me a patronising expression. He's saying no, oh-so-reasonably outlining rules and regs and reassurances. I'm tired and I'm getting angry - I've had enough of people trying to keep us apart. No more. I cut him off. "I was abducted from the US and brought here." I pray they don't press for details. "It took a bullet to my partner's head to stop him from coming after me right away. Then I'm pretty damn sure he got out of the hospital against medical advice - if he wakes up and I'm not in the room, then he'll panic. He'll try to come looking for me. I'm just saving you the trouble." The Doctor is staring at me like I'm delusional. Okay - the big guns then. "Look, I'll call my boss - he's an Assistant Director at the FBI if you recall... Or I'll get out of bed the moment your back is turned and go looking." Mulder is transferred into my room. He is still feverish and hasn't woken properly, but his temperature is dropping. He's catching up on about a week's worth of sleep. Neither of us got a decent night's rest since the bomb blew up in Dallas. Now that the world is again arranged to my satisfaction, I finally focus on what the doctor has to say. I'm on soft, non-hot food until my throat gets better. Jello...ice cream... Ah well. I have some mild frostbite on my face. I think that's where it scraped against the snow when I was heavily face down. Removed the goo, injured the skin. Because Mulder's face is fine apart from the bullet wound and some bruises. I ask the doctor to run CAT and MRI scans on Mulder to make sure he doesn't have any brain injury, but they don't have that equipment here - Dr Gesner says they've kept him under observation for the usual period just in case, and he seems okay. I try to make noise about transferring him somewhere that has the best care, like another continent, asap, but Gesner is fed up with accommodating me and walks out. And I'm so tired that it's all I can do to get out of my bed and into my partner's. But that is more than enough. "Doctor Gesner?" "Yes?" "Um...our FBI guests..." "What is it this time?" "Um, they're sleeping together." "Yes, that's right - we transferred him into her room to avoid World War III." "No - I mean, yes, that's correct, I know. But...they're SLEEPING together." "It isn't half obvious! That's why she kicked up such a stink. They practically have 'lovers' branded on their foreheads." "Doctor...I mean, SHE is currently in HIS bed. In this hospital. While he's in it!" "Ah. Right... Well, I doubt we'll be able to prise her away. Sleep together is probably all they'll do. I doubt they're capable of getting up to anything else. If they do, good on him!" "Yes, Doctor..." "Just tell the nurses to knock before they go in." I wake up in bed in Fox Mulder's arms. Life is good. His temperature is better. My touch wakes him up. I smile. "Hey." "Hey." He blinks, takes in our position and location. "I still can't remember getting lucky..." "Good, 'cause neither do I! It's something I'd like to remember. Guess we'll have to wait until we're back in D.C." I give him some water and burrow back against his side, managing not to tangle any lines or tubes. "We're at the research base, Mulder. Safe." He moves slightly, then winces and stops. "We're rescued. Safe. And you're still in bed with me...?" "Yeah." "Too bad we never get hospitals back home that are THIS relaxed. Now I know what continent to get hurt on from now on. Or is there a bed shortage? "You were too far away for my liking. How are you feeling?" "Sore." "I'm no lightweight to cart around." Lying here against his side isn't doing him any favours either. I should move. I really should. His eyes tell me exactly who he thinks the burden is. "I'm feeling okay," he amends, regretting his slip. "Are you okay?" "Yeah, fingers and toes all accounted for. Same with yours. We only had mild hypothermia. This base doesn't exactly have high tech equipment for scans, but you've shown no signs of severe head or spinal trauma, and I appear to be all right." He pulls me closer, and I stroke his back gently. "The scientists here picked up seismograph readings - 4.5 on the Richter scale. Surface waves. Pretty astonishing for such a stable continent. They realised it was in the area the crazy FBI agent had headed into..." "- so came and fished us out. The ship... You saw it, Scully?" "I saw something..." I remember running through whiteness, then everything going dark. It could be just that I blacked out, but the darkness seemed to be a shadow... Yet I know from the time spent hauling Mulder to the snowcat that the reflection from the ice and snow meant there were NO shadows... We didn't have any. So something above us had temporarily blocked the sun... "And they're going to analyse the goo." "Now you know why the Ice Capades traumatised me so much..." Suddenly he looks VERY traumatised. "Oh, Scully - your face..." "Mild frostbite. That's all. And what about YOUR face?" I touch his forehead just under the bullet wound. "Don't you know how much that scared me?" He gives a look that is a shrug, sleepy again. Then his hand comes up to check my neck and he is relieved it encounters the cross. I close my hand over his. "Thank you for coming after me." His eyelids are drooping. "Had to. You're my...one in five billion..." We sleep some more, hold some more, and wait for one of the nurses to order me back into my own bed. We've been allowed quite a few hours of this luxury - necessity - as far as we can tell... "Maybe every time they've come in, we're asleep and they haven't wanted to disturb us." Mulder's theory is whispered right into my ear, sending out shockwaves no Richter scale can record. And is disproven five minutes later when a nurse comes in. She simply checks us both in turn and records our vitals on our charts, asks if we need anything, then leaves as if nothing is amiss. "Okay, maybe that nurse is a romantic, or she's waiting for the doctor to give you your marching orders." An hour later Dr. Gesner comes in. "Agent Scully, would you be mind getting up for a little so I can examine Agent Mulder? Then I'll do you and you can both get back to it. Though a word of advice - shift around a bit. Don't lie in the same clutch all the time. Try a few different positions, or your arms will get all stiff and achy! Spoon, reverse spoon, that sort of thing. I'm sure you can adapt some positions... Just as long as you don't pull out anything you shouldn't, tube-wise." He ignores our stares. "Agent Mulder, I'll get a nurse to give you a painkiller." Mulder doesn't object. In fact he's trying to cover up relief. Damn - he was in more pain than I thought. MUCH more. I shouldn't have...but he didn't complain! I make sure that the painkiller isn't an NSAID like ibuprofen or aspirin. I don't want his bruising made any worse. "Don't worry, Agent Scully." Gesner looks amused. "Oh, Roger is coming at 2 to get your reports on what the hell you were doing out there. We saved some of that gloop that was all over you and are trying to analyse it. Looks like it's breaking down though. We'll do our best. Oh, we're keeping A.D. Skinner updated. We'll send him Roger's report." Mulder groans. "Maybe we should just stay here." We are checked. Mulder gets the painkiller. We are alone again. But do I get back into his bed? He watches me. "Why didn't you say something?" I try to keep anger out of my voice. Anger at the both of us. He manages to shrug because the medication is taking hold. "They would have moved you. You would have moved yourself." He looks away. His voice becomes so faint I can barely hear it. "And that's gonna happen soon enough." In his apartment hallway when I was leaving, he used words to stop me. Here he used silence. "C'mon, Scully. I'm dosed up. Let's reverse spoon." His eyes twinkle. "And work out what the hell to tell Roger and Skinner!" I mutter as I ease back in. But we don't talk. We just cling together as if it's the last chance we'll ever get. END PART TWO OF THREE TITLE: "Laid Bare" (3/3) BY: Ten E-MAIL ADDRESS: kristena@ocean.com.au XxX On the journey home, Mulder and I hold hands. Then after changing planes, he thinks I've fallen asleep and gently gathers me into his embrace. I snuggle, already missing our long hours of possessive, reassuring holding in bed. A long time later I can hear him humming. Or rather, feel it vibrating through into my skin. I think I can recognise the tune. Then I hear slipped snatches of words and it clicks into place. 'If you walk out on me I'm walking after you.' Back at Georgetown we undergo more stringent tests and scans. We're fine. They had a room all ready and waiting for us - even moved a patient to ensure two empty beds in the same room. "Security," Skinner says. I swear the man then winked. He also gave me back my resignation and brings me a laptop to write my report on. My partner and I stick to our own beds. Just as well, because the Lone Gunmen come. They check the room for bugs, then tell us that the bee is still safe with them. That's a relief, because that goo broke down too far to get anything out of it to use as evidence. Mulder tells me all he was told about FEMA and the virus and what he witnessed while rescuing me. How the aliens were moving inside the host bodies. He says that I must have just been in the 'prepping' stage when he found me, the virus starting to ready my body for alien infestation. I don't know what to say. He's been distancing himself from me since we stepped off the final plane. Not blatantly, but edging steadily away. He doesn't want to lose me through me leaving. He doesn't want me to stay and die because of him. The closeness at the base and on the flights were his last 'drink at the well' that he expects to last him through the rest of his deserted life. I see a pattern emerging here - one of us drops the wall and bares his or her soul, but the other runs scared. We have had so many incidents over the years that would have sent any other couple either poles apart or right into each other's arms. But our professionalism kept us at a parallel distance through those times. Same direction. Parallel paths. Though one is a skeptic and the other a believer, it is the same journey. In sight of each other. Never meeting. Will THIS time change us? So much else hasn't. Perceptibly at least. Each time brings home just how much I need and want him. Here are two people prepared to chase tanker trucks across the globe and infiltrate Government bases, but not willing to set foot in this territory between those lines. We're already way past the point of common sense - do I push further? We are released from Georgetown after overnight observation. Mom wanted to pick us up, but I told her I really needed this time alone with Mulder. She understood. Dressed and ready to go, I make a quick detour to the vending machine room before meeting my partner out in the hospital hallway. I asked Doctor Hainridge to write in the discharge orders that Mulder and I can walk out under our own steam to the taxi, not in his and hers wheelchairs. Since neither of us has any broken bones, he agrees. Mulder stares at the can of soft drink and the large candy bar I'm offering him. "It was my turn to buy, remember?" I say. "Oh. As long as you didn't get any corn chips. I'm off corn for good now." Usually he dives into junk food, but despite my rare blessing, he just sits holding it. I feel a reversal from our OPR corridor conversation just after the bombing. "You have nothing to feel guilty about, Mulder." "I shouldn't have -" We are both thinking about the hallway. About how my stricken body suddenly plunged us into a grotesque Gothic dance, stumbling our feet across the floorboards as I collapsed against him. "Mulder, if you hadn't come after me into the hallway, that bee could have stung me when I was alone in my car. It could have stung me...or not...at anytime. Better me than some innocent. Better me than you." He shakes his head. "I shouldn't have dragged you through Texas." "At least we know now what we're up against. That there is a way to counter it." I know that what he's seen has only made him more determined to send me far away. But what these men are doing can't be outrun. I touch his knee briefly. "Come on, you're coming home with me so we can relax, watch old movies and talk before this OPR hearing tomorrow." We're on suspension until further notice. "Thanks for the offer, Scully, but I'd better head for my place and sort it out. Left everything in a hurry." Okay, I'll begin our talk right here then. Dive right in. "I heard you humming 'If you walk out on me'. And I'm not going to." "I don't want you to walk," he counters. "I want you to run." "You thought I was asleep. You meant what you said - hummed. I'm not leaving." "We... You don't -" If he won't listen to me, will he listen to his own words? "All I'm telling you is the truth. I owe it to you after all you've done for me. We can't let them divide us on this. This isn't about you or me. It's you AND me." "There can't be a you and me," he says miserably. "You don't owe me anything. Before Antarctica or now. I still owe you everything, and you HAVE to leave me. To have a life. I'm sick of taking that from you. I hate myself for it." "You're quitting? On us?" "For us. Our sanity." His hands are fidgeting and I am reminded of his nervous fumbling with the map of Texas. We're on the verge. Close to something here. THIS is the biggest decision of my life, and I make it. You're not walking out on me, Mulder. Accept surrender. Once I get this OPR hearing out of the way, I'll sort you out. The hearing is over. In the park I have reaffirmed my faith and desire for our work together. Convinced him to let me stay. Tonight I'm going to make sure Mulder understands this is about us just as much - more - than our work or a 'debt' of his rescue. So here I am at his apartment, only to be nearly run over by him on his way out. "Oh - hi. Sorry..." "Hi. Where are you going?" "To see if Byers wants to come with me to pick out a new suit and shirt for him in the late-open sales. Least I can do for the trouble he went to." "Mind delaying that? I'd really like to talk." He hesitates, then escorts me through the doorway, hand habitually on my back even though he's probably trying not to touch me anymore. Once he's shut the door, I turn and manage to kiss him on the cheek - don't have to raise myself up far thanks to my heels. Why else would I keep wearing them? Why else do I risk broken ankles each day? He flinches even as he releases a sigh of longing. "You're not poison, Mulder. Addictive, certainly, but not poison." "Are you drunk, Scully?" he jokes. I raise an eyebrow. "What are you implying?" He's wearing the panic face. Unsure of what to say, so he's hiding behind old words - a nervous game. I can do that too. I'll show him. I need to rework my previous words, to reconfigure us. All is context. "I just wanted to clarify something that I hope I got across to you in the park. But we needed privacy for this. My heart is in the work. We can make a difference. And my heart is in this too." I stand very very close to him and place my hands on his arms. "I was so scared when you were in the vending room with the bomb and I couldn't get to you. I'm sick of locked doors." "I - I -" he says helplessly. I can feel the goosebumps rising. I continue, "We have two choices. Neither is wrong. We admit our feelings and act on them, or admit them and continue as we have, but without the walls. You were right about the bomb. You were right about the kiss. How many times have we been right here? So close? To go back to the beginning acting as if nothing has happened... How many times can we deny it and walk away? After the cancer...the fire...all those cases we only just survived..." I'm choking up. "I don't want to do this alone..." "Neither do I..." he whispers, touched, and reaches out to bring me into his embrace. It feels wonderful. I go to move back slightly so I can speak, but he tightens his hold. "I want a hug that lasts longer than a minute..." He gets his wish. Finally we pull apart enough to stare at each other. His hand runs through my hair and rests on my neck. "Can we defuse this?" Mulder asks. I grin. He's not hiding now - this is a banter challenge, and he's NOT going to beat me. "No. This is no random act of unpredictability. This is inevitability." "So, you mean that unconventional thinking ISN'T going to get me into trouble now?" "Mulder, don't be afraid to look for what IS there." He grins at the duelling. His gaze flickers left, then right, then his face comes straight ahead to mine. Our path. Parallels merging. /Parallels can't merge.../ my scientific side pipes up. /Well these ones are! Shut up and let me concentrate!/ Cue meeting of minds, souls, lips and tongues. 'Kissing' doesn't quite sum up the experience. Eventually he gets back to the game: "What are we doing, Scully?" he says, breathless, still stealing kisses between words. "It's hotter than hell..." "You complaining, Mulder?" A shake of the head, lips sliding across mine with the motion. "I think the sky is falling..." The sky? Is that all? I feel like I've just climbed twelve floors...but this time I know exactly what I'm doing here. God, can this man kiss! And by his reactions, I'm doing my bit too. Mulder manages to extricate our lips for a few seconds to ask: "Now what? I'm a bit rusty on protocol." He's still frightened I'll leave. I see it in his eyes. "I'm not going anywhere...except to bed." "Why? You tired?" His cocky grin then slowly bleaches away like his lifeforce on the ice as the intimacy hits him. "Are you sure?" I could tell him: "You gotta see this, Mulder..." and remove my sweater, or tell him to lay his hands on what he's looking for, but I want to use my own words... "I want you to see me naked without any alien goo or marks. I want to be undressed for you and see you take your clothes off, without having to share them with me. Time we shared each other." After all, we never see each other at our naked best. Conspiracy. He believes. "Then there's procedure to be followed. To the bedroom!" He lifts me up with a slight grunt. "Gotta train for this sort of heavy lifting." I mock slap him. I'll soon get him back into shape. I have laid my feelings bare at his feet. Now I lay my body bare against his. Oh yes...that hand that usually touches my back is now...everywhere... Our lovemaking cannot be programmed or categorized, but I'd better be able to easily reference it again! We make the Dallas explosion small in comparison, the icequake a mere quiver in a teacup. I don't try to hold him back or rein him in. Or myself. This is great... This is fitting... Mulder... Ah, that name - again and again... I whisper it; chant it; gasp it; I scream it. No need to ask who's pounding... We have. We did. It's done. "Breathe, can you breathe?" he asks with a grin, face coming back into focus two inches from mine. "I - I...I can't really talk...right now..." I can't recall straining for air being this much fun when Mulder gave me CPR. That's the smug face. I'll fix him. In a minute or two... "Keep going," I insist. Ha, that gets the panic face now. Serves him right. "I can't..." "Yes, you can... I did in Antarctica...near-dead...all for you...because you wanted... Keep moving, Mulder..." Just as I obeyed him, he finds enough energy to obey me. "Scully!!" Again we collapse of exhaustion, side by side, surrounded by white. I still gather him close with just as much determination. If I can get and give THAT every night from now on, I don't think I'm going to get a decent night's sleep for the rest of my life. Then again, I'll be so exhausted that I'll sleep in and be late for work. Do I care? Not at this moment. Morning comes. Free day. "Mulder... You know what I said out in the ice - about how I was going to reward you for all the distance you managed to cover? Well, I've been tallying up, and I think I missed a few feet..." "I think we have that covered," Mulder replies sexily, waggling his toes as I pull the sheet up over our heads and go exploring to much delight and laughter - not that I get as far as his feet. Or his knees even. Neither of us have quit. We have won. THE END. (PART THREE OF THREE.)