Author's Notes: I'll admit it, I think I need help, I seem to only write stuff that involves Mulder hurt or dying. Go figure. I guess it's just easy for me to write things from Scully's point of view. :) This was the result of an extreme night of boredom, so I hope it's good!

Disclaimer: Strike up the band, it's time for the disclaimer dance! Mulder, Scully and Skinner are property of FOX Television, 1013 Productions, Chris Carter, and probably a bunch of other people. And I am nothing if not a poor college kid with tuition to pay, with no money for a court case so don't get any ideas all of you suit types.

He woke with a start. Jumping quickly from the couch, he quickly crossed the living room and grabbed his telephone. After he dialed her number, he guiltily looked at the clock on the desk which read 2:23 a.m. He closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against the windowpane listening to the phone ring in his ear.

"Scully," came a groggy voice. She hadn't bothered to look at the clock, it was late. Knowing that was enough to tell her who was on the other end of the line.

Upon hearing her sleepy voice, he felt even more guilty. "Nothing, Scully. Sorry I bothered you." His voice was a mere whisper in the night.

"What is it, Mulder? Nightmare?" She frowned, it wasn't unusual for him to call, it was however, strange for him to not talk once he did.

"Go back to sleep, Scully. Good night." He punched off on the phone, placing it on the coffee table. He hadn't even waited for her to say anything else. He pulled on his running shoes and a t-shirt with his sweats, grabbed his keys and left to go for a run.

He had already entered the elevator and didn't hear when his phone started ringing.

Damn, where'd he go? she wondered, as she hung up the phone. After Mulder's late night phone call, she had sat there for a few minutes hoping to figure out what had just happened, then she had called him back. Only he didn't answer.

Mulder was running through his usual route when he heard a strange noise from behind him. He didn't have time to turn around before something slammed into his head, sending him to his knees. An additional blow left the agent unconscious on the asphalt.

She waited ten more minutes before calling Mulder's apartment again. "This is Fox Mulder . . ." she hung up when his machine kicked on. Right voice, wrong answer. Pulling on a pair of jeans and a sweater, she grabbed her car keys and cell phone. Within five minutes she was driving to Mulder's apartment, she couldn't explain the feeling she had in the pit of her stomach. She just knew she had to find him.

When he came to, the first thing he noted was how badly his head hurt. Making sure to stand slowly, he tried to remember what had happened. Someone had hit him over the head, but there wasn't any sign of anyone besides him there. Wincing, he looked down at his watch only to discover it missing. He began to walk toward some light coming from just ahead of him. His mind was foggy, as he found the source of the light and continued to walk straight ahead.

Scully had been in her car for a few minutes, all but flying through the deserted streets toward Mulder's apartment. She looked down at the speedometer to find she was driving 60 in a 25 miles per hour zone, glancing back up at the road she noticed a limping figure walking across the street. She realized that it was too late to avoid hitting him as she slammed on her breaks.

He felt the impact of the car a split second after he saw it coming toward him. He hadn't even realized he had been walking across the street. His body slammed into the windshield and was propelled over the roof of the vehicle. Finally he landed with a sickening thud in the middle of the road.

Scully finally managed to bring her car to a halt, shaking at what had just happened. She unlocked her car door and ran to the unmoving form about 50 feet away from her car. As she neared the body, she strained to see some sign of life. Scully began to switch into doctor mode, and she was able to maintain her professional composure until she saw the identity of the broken man before her.

Silent tears fought their way down her cheeks, much against her will. "No," she whispered. She cradled him to her chest, brushing her fingers through his hair. "NO!" She screamed into the night. She heard a staggered breath come from Mulder, and she reminded herself that she had to help him.

"Mulder, talk to me. Wake up. Please, Mulder, wake up." She began to plead with him, she opened one eyelid, and found the pupil fixed. *Damn* she thought as she grabbed her cell phone and dialed 911.

She had finished talking to the operator when she thought she heard Mulder say something. "What?" She questioned, hoping she hadn't imagined his voice.

"Scully?" he managed, barely above a whisper. He struggled to open his eyes and look up at his partner. "What? What happened?" His eyes betrayed his confusion at the situation.

She closed her eyes, not knowing how to tell him that she was the driver who had hit him. "You were hit by a car, Mulder," she began. "Why were you in the road?"

He took another staggered breath, "I went for a run, someone hit me . . . from behind. My chest hurts." He closed his eyes, as he concentrated simply on breathing. Scully continued to hold him as the ambulance pulled up at the scene. The pace was near frantic as the EMT team hurried to get Mulder loaded up into the rear of the ambulance, with Scully at his side the entire time.

His room in the hospital looked familiar to Scully, she had sat by him in so many hospitals, they had all began to look alike. Skinner had come and gone, but Mulder had never woken up. She had explained to the A.D. what had happened, struggling to maintain her composure in front of her boss. He had quietly said that it would be all right, and had left with a quick nod of his head and the instruction for her to call if there was any change.

For the rest of the night, she had sat silently by his bedside. It was like so many times before, only this time it was different because she had put him there. At least partially, if what he said about being mugged was true. That was what the police were calling it, since his watch and wallet were missing. Every time she pictured in her mind the image of her car careening toward her partner, she would have to fight to keep sobs from wracking her body. She knew it would do little good for her to break down, Mulder needed her to be strong.

In the early morning hours, she found herself brushing his hair away from his forehead. The bandages from where the mugger had hit him, and quite possibly where his head had contacted the car, were making his hair stick out in all directions. All she wanted was for him to open his eyes, even if it was only blame she saw within.

Sometime after eight a.m. she had dozed off, and awoke to the sound of the sheets rustling as Mulder began to squirm around. She grabbed his hand, and searching his face whispered "Mulder, can you hear me? Come on, it's time to wake up." She tried to sound lighthearted, but the guilt she felt made it hard to pretend.

Slowly, he opened his hazel eyes and looked up into the watery eyes of his partner. "Hi," he whispered.

She gave him some ice chips to make talking easier. "Hi yourself," she smiled. Her heart was breaking. She had to tell him what had happened, she just didn't know how. "What do you remember?"

He blinked, the concussion he was pretty sure the blow had left him with made it hard to focus. Licking his lips he began. "I called you, because, well it doesn't matter. Then I decided I needed to go for a run. I had been running for a little while when I heard something behind me and was hit. Twice." He winced as he remembered the attack. "I woke up sometime later, I don't know how long. I got up and started walking toward the light I could see."

"Then you were hit by a car," she finished for him.

A confused look passed over his face. "How'd you know? Wait. You were there right after it happened. How'd you know to come?"

She lowered her eyes, unable to meet his gaze. "I was there," she whispered. She gathered her courage to look him in the eye again. "I was there," she repeated, louder.

"What, you drove by after it happened? Why were you out at that hour?"

She mounted her resolve to tell him the truth, she owed him that much even if he hated her for it. "I tried to call you back after you hung up on me. I kept trying for ten or fifteen minutes and I couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right. So I left to drive over to your apartment. I was almost there when," she paused, looking around the room but bringing her gaze back to Mulder's. "When someone stumbled out of the shadows in front of me. I know what happened because I was the one who hit you, Mulder." She shrank back into her chair, tears were brimming in her eyes; the guilt was tearing her up inside.

Many emotions played across Mulder's face while she was speaking. The final, lasting emotion, was that of acceptance. Looking at Scully, he couldn't bare to see her so upset. "It's okay, Scully. If you think about it, this was all my fault anyway."

"What?!?" She nearly jumped out of her chair. How dare he try to take responsibility for her running him down. "How in the hell is this your fault, Mulder? You weren't the one driving the car, I was. You were hurt, and I was driving too fast to notice you in front of me until it was too late." Her words were coming out in a rush, spilling out one after the other.

Mulder let her finish before speaking again. "But, Scully, if I had never called you about that stupid dream, you wouldn't have been trying to get to my apartment to begin with."

"But you would still be wondering around after being mugged, Mulder? Why do you always have to be the one to take responsibility? Guilt is not your personal badge of honor to wear, you know." She interrupted his speech, anger and fear and frustration rising in her voice.

He lowered his head, "I'm sorry, Scully. I guess we both messed up." As she looked at him, he looked like a defeated little boy laying there in the hospital bed.

"Yeah, I guess we both did," she gave in. "But what was the dream about?"

Lying back onto the pillow, he shrugged his shoulders. "Nothing that much different from any other night. You were there, but I lost you. You were taken again. When I woke up, I needed to make sure you were still there, that you were okay." As he spoke, his hand ran absent-mindedly across his chest, she figured his ribs were beginning to hurt him. Several of his ribs were cracked from the impact with her car, as well as his right leg. However, she kept listening without comment.

Dropping his hand back down beside him, he continued. "I guess I was worried something had happened to you, but when I called I felt bad about it even as I dialed the phone. I didn't want you to be bothered by my leaning on you so much. So I just got off of the phone, and decided to go for a run. Everything was fine until someone hit me."

After he finished talking, they stayed quiet for a long time. Finally she spoke up. "Mulder, you don't have to worry about leaning on me. You're my best friend, that's what I'm here for. Trust me." She searched his eyes, looking for recognition. When he brought his eyes to meet hers, she found the recognition she sought for in their hazel depths. "I'm so sorry, Mulder. Forgive me?"

He smiled. "There's nothing to forgive."

fin

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