Kathleen A. Klatte

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Disclaimer: The X-Files is the property of Chris Carter, FOX, and Ten Thirteen productions, et al; this is a recreational endeavor, no profit is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.

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"Here we are, Scully...home sweet home," Mulder said with forced cheer as he shoved open the door to his apartment and ushered his partner inside.

Scully manufactured a small smile for him as she surveyed his apartment - true to form, Mulder's living quarters were as chaotic as hers were immaculate. As immaculate as hers were normally, she reminded herself...after all, that was why she was here.

Mulder's alarm level rose slightly as he watched Scully stop two steps into his apartment. He hastily set down her bag and locked the door. "Hey, you all right?" he asked, gently laying a hand on her shoulder. "I know this isn't the Ritz..."

That faint smile flickered over Dana Scully's features once more. "I'm fine, Mulder, really. I...I shouldn't put you out like this...a hotel room would be fine."

"No, it wouldn't," he told her for the fifth time, switching to his best professional tone of voice. "When I found you, you had blood on your face - a fairly good indication that you'd sustained at least one blow to the head. Now, Doctor Scully, isn't it standard operating procedure for victims of head injury to have someone stay with them and keep an eye on them for twenty-four hours?"

"All right, Mulder you win...only because I'm too tired to fight with you right now."

"Good," he replied, cracking that surprisingly boyish grin of his. "Now, why don't you help yourself to the bathroom while I make up the bed for you?"

"Mulder, I can sleep on the couch," she protested.

"Scully, someone twice your size beat the crap out of you tonight. You'll sleep in the bed...and you'll thank me for it in the morning. Besides, I'm sleeping on the couch. There's this movie I want to watch - comes on at two AM."

"You're incorrigible," Scully told him, shaking her head fondly as she watched him moving through the other room, haphazardly moving his belongings to make room for hers.

"Yeah, but you love me anyway," he tossed over his shoulder.

"Yes...I do," she whispered under her breath.

******

"There you are!" Mulder exclaimed a while later, when Dana emerged from the bathroom. "I was beginning to think that the infamous DC sewer monster had come up through the drain and gotten you!" He patted the seat beside him on the couch and studied his partner carefully as she sat down. Her normally pale skin was a faintly glowing pink - the result of too much scrubbing under too much hot water, he suspected. The bulky sweats she wore were also a bit warm for the time of year, but he chose not to comment. She'd been victimized tonight and if she was exhibiting a few classic victims' behaviors, it was probably better for her than bottling everything inside.

"There's no such thing as a sewer monster," Dana replied automatically.

"Sure there is. If you're a good girl and take your aspirin and go to bed, maybe I'll show you the file," Mulder wheedled, holding out a glass of water.

She accepted the aspirin and water and swallowed dutifully, but made no move to get up. "Maybe I'll just stay here and watch the movie with you," she said slyly.

"Nah, you wouldn't like it," he said lightly, "besides, you need your rest. Come on," he said, tugging her gently to her feet, "I'll even tuck you in."

"No, Mulder..."

Concerned first that he'd inadvertently squeezed a bruise or laceration, Mulder looked quickly at her hands, then back up to her face. Scully had turned her face away from him, and he delicately touched his fingertips to her cheek, carefully turning her face back to his. "Scully, he's gone - you're safe now."

"Safe from him...but what about safe from myself?"

"What do you mean?" he asked slowly. He watched as her lip trembled and she fought to keep back tears. "Nightmares?"

Still trying not to cry, she nodded tightly.

Smoothing the pad of his thumb tenderly across her face, Mulder slid his other arm around her waist. "Scully, your nightmare is lying on a slab in the morgue...you don't have to be afraid of him anymore." He felt her convulse against him as sobs wracked her slender form.

"It's not him I'm afraid of," she whispered hoarsely.

"What, then?" he asked.

"Me," she whispered finally, "I'm afraid of myself."

"Scully, you're tired," he began, rubbing her back soothingly.

She shook her head violently. "You don't understand."

He wrapped his arms tighter around her, trying to hold her steady against the onslaught of emotion. "So tell me," he whispered, his mouth against her forehead.

"I killed him."

"Only because you got off the shot before I could," Mulder reminded her.

"I'm glad that I killed him," she protested.

Mulder slid his hands to her shoulders and moved her away just enough to look into her eyes when he spoke. "Donny Pfaster was a sick animal," he told her firmly. "He escaped from prison, murdered more women, then broke into your home for the express purpose of murdering you. My entrance surprised him enough for you to get off the shot. That's what I told Skinner, and that's what the local cops told their superiors...and it's the truth."

"As far as it goes."

"This is as far as it goes, Scully. The world is a cleaner place without Donny Pfaster in it." He pulled her against him once more, grateful beyond measure to still have that ability. "Think you can sleep now?" he asked a few moments later.

Dana nodded against his chest. "Mulder, if I..."

"I don't think you'll have any nightmares, but if you do...I'll be right here."

"I know."