Title: Close Call Author: lovesfox E-mail: lovesfox@rogers.com Web-site: www.geocities.com/fanficcorner Rating: R (language) Category: Angst, Story Spoilers: None Summary: Following a lead of Mulder's, Scully is injured. Archive: Please ask Disclaimer: Mulder, Scully and Skinner do not belong to me. That privilege belongs to Chris Carter and 1013 Productions. Notes: Thanks to Mortis and Nancy ~*~*~*~*~*~ Close Call by Lovesfox ~*~*~*~*~*~ Part I Underground Complex Outside of Hagerstown, Maryland 11:45 PM Above him, Scully stumbled again, her foot slipping off the rung, and only the fact that he had been watching her quite closely saved him from getting her heel in his eye socket. "Scully!" Mulder hissed. "Pay attention, will ya? That one almost took my eye out." She mumbled something he couldn't make out, and started to climb once more, her boot heel clanging loudly on the next rung. Mulder froze, hugging himself to the rusty ladder, sensing Scully doing the same. He risked a look downward, hands clenching spasmodically as his head swam just a little. They had already climbed at least forty feet, with roughly another twenty or so to go, and it seemed like a very long way down. Thankfully, there was no one there. He wasn't normally an optimist, but it looked like they were actually going to make it out without being captured or killed. Out of the danger he had unwittingly led them into. "Watch your step, Scully," he hissed next, and waited until she had resumed her slow, torturous-seeming ascent. Placing his boot carefully, he hauled himself upwards and found the next rung with the opposite foot. Did it over again. Something warm and wet splashed on his hand and he wondered if there were pipes somewhere dripping, or if what they were in was actually a drain-off tunnel of some sort. He couldn't hear water running, nor had he seen any indications of underground seepage or well drainage, but it was possible. There was also the condensation that had to be coating the rungs; they had become very slippery the higher they had climbed. Though it was odd that the water was not cold, with the warm temperatures below in the underground complex, and in the shaft itself. If he remembered his educational TV correctly, mines and caves were warmer the deeper they went, and the temperature in the emergency shaft they were currently climbing had been falling proportionately the higher they rose. Another drop hit his hand, equally warm...and strangely thick. Oil? A few more rungs, and he was passing a barely functioning light source built into the shaft's wall. It cast a faint illumination over him and the ladder, and he glanced at his hand. The liquid that had dropped on him, and most likely what he had thought was condensation on the rungs, wasn't water or oil. It was blood. "Scully?" Mulder gasped out, and stopped in his tracks, clinging to the ladder. The word echoed slightly in the shaft, for he had spoken louder than he had intended to with his shock. He cringed - expecting to hear a barrage of gunfire, or perhaps a voice shouting out detection. "Scully, you're bleeding," he tried then, in a voice just above a whisper, when nothing happened. "I know," Scully replied faintly, and sucked in a noisy breath. "Not much...we can do about it right now," she said next. "We've got to...get out of here." "But how did..." he started to say. "Mulder!" she groaned, while still slowly, and now that he was paying more attention, weakly pulling herself up the ladder. "A bullet clipped me, but it's not...it's not bad." He had a flashback to that moment when they had rounded a corner down in the complex, and encountered two armed men, clad commando-style. Said men had necessitated their escape by firing upon them, eliminating any further chance to search the remainder of the myriad hallways and doors. It was then, he realized, that she must have been hit. Mulder nodded, worry settling in his gut, and then realized she couldn't see him. "Just hurry, okay?" he whispered. "Try...ing," her reply floated down to him. A second later he watched her hand slip from the rung, and knew she was going to fall. "SCULLY!" he cried, panicked, picturing her body falling past him to hurtle to the bottom of the shaft. Yanking himself up, fear-induced adrenaline pumping through his veins, he threw his body against hers, pushing her into the ladder, while his hand grabbed at the sides of the frame with a bone-aching grip. "I got you," he panted into her leather- covered back. "I got you, you're okay." She moaned, a low, pitiful sound that sent further worry crashing through him, and then murmured, "Okay, I'm okay." A shaky breath was next, followed by, "I'm ready." A huff of air. "Let's do it." Still holding tightly to the ladder with one hand, he wrapped the other arm around her and grabbed the opposite side of the ladder with that hand, effectively cradling her in his arms, for protection if she were to slip again. "Steady now," he whispered, and felt her body tense as she started to climb once again. When she had gone up one rung, he followed quickly, basically plastered all along her backside. It was awkward, and dangerous, but he would risk it. Finally they reached the top, both of them panting harshly. Mulder boosted Scully over the lip, using a bit more force than necessary in his haste to get them out of the shaft. As his head poked out, he saw that she had rolled over the bumpy, rocky ground and was just lying there, a couple of feet away. "Scully?" he whispered loudly, worried he had aggravated the bullet wound she had sustained. "You still with me?" "Yeah," was the low reply he received after a long, tense moment. While he hooked one booted foot over the edge to haul himself out, he saw her slowly climb to her hands and knees. By the time he was free of the shaft's entrance and standing, she had regained her feet, and was staring at him, her arms clutching her coat closed over her middle. "Where were you hit?" he asked, moving swiftly to stand in front of her, his hands grasping her shoulders. "Mulder, we need to get out of here, they'll come top-side soon when they don't find us down there, if they haven't already sent anyone up here," Scully evaded quietly, her eyes shifting from his to look over his shoulder, scanning the darkness around them. "Let's move." She took a deep breath and continued in a stronger voice, "I can make it, the bullet just winged me in the side." "Okay," he said, nodding, hands sliding away from her slowly. Tucking his concern away, for now. Because of his worry, he hadn't been thinking clearly – it was more than likely there was already a team looking for them. Scully was right, they needed to get moving. Gesturing towards the path they had followed in through the woods, he took her elbow and added, "This way, Scully." It seemed like it had been hours since they had traveled that way and located the secret entrance to the complex, but in reality it was just over an hour ago. Their car was parked on the side of a dirt road, roughly a mile or so through a thick stand of woods. The path was not difficult to locate, he had noted the two gnarled trees that stood silent sentry on their way in. However, it was narrow, too narrow for them to walk together, and he therefore could not continue to offer Scully a helping hand. So he took the lead from there, moving swiftly, and with fairly steady feet, very aware of Scully huffing along behind him. Without their flashlights, dropped in the surprise attack, and with the trees' canopy blocking most of the moon's pale light, it was harder going on the path itself. He was scratched by branches and tripped up by roots more times than he could count, and knew the same was true for Scully, hearing her additional sharp inhalations every so often, and the occasional muttered curse. They were perhaps three-quarters of the way or more to the car when he suddenly realized he hadn't heard his partner behind him for the last few minutes or so. "Shit!" he swore. Coming to a stumbling halt, he turned around to look for her, his chest heaving with his exertions, his breath steaming the air in front of him. All he could see was the outlines of trees. He squinted and scanned the area more slowly, eventually picking up a shadowy mass that appeared to be huddled against a tree. Scully? Racing back, almost turning an ankle in the process, he surged to a stop by the dark shape, which as he neared slowly became a human form. It was indeed his partner. She was supporting herself with one hand leaning on the bark, slightly bent over at the waist, her right hand under her jacket near her left side. Her breaths made tiny steam clouds in the air as she too panted. "Scully!" Mulder exclaimed, automatically reaching out to touch her momentarily. "What..." he let his voice trail off as he pulled her arm out from beneath her jacket. A stray bit of moonlight had broken through the canopy, and it illuminated them both. It also served to reveal the blood that slicked her palm and fingers. Scully lifted her head, eyebrows tightly knit, and grimaced. Cursing again, he stepped even closer, taking hold of her shoulders. Turning her so that her back was to the tree, he helped her down until she was sitting on the ground, leaning against the old oak. Scully moaned slightly, and he winced, one hand on her shoulder, the other searching his inner coat pocket for his handkerchief. "Shit, Scully, why the hell didn't you tell me it was this bad?" Mulder railed harshly, hands busy pressing the located white cloth to her side. Feeling the blood soak through the thin material to coat his fingers. Scully seemed to be about to say something, but instead she gasped slightly, and then bit her lip and turned her head to the side. His eyes frantically took in her paler than porcelain and nearly translucent complexion, the perspiration dotting her forehead, her wet, pain-filled eyes. But still he continued, nerves and fear having him speak before he thought. "Obviously this is another one of your 'I'm fine' moments." She sucked in a shaky breath and weakly snapped, "We can go back and have this debate down in that complex if you'd like. Give them the opportunity to finish the job while we're there." That shut him up. The statement stung, but it relieved him as well. Surely she wouldn't be flinging sarcasm if she were injured too badly. Another shaky breath, and then she added, "Mulder, I didn't think it was this bad, and we needed to get moving. Stopping could only have resulted in us being captured or even killed. We're still..." This time a gulp of air before she finished with, "not out of the woods yet." Literally and figuratively, Mulder thought. "Well, let's get going then, partner," he said. Taking one of her hands, he put it over the bloodied makeshift bandage and pressed, saying, "Hold this." He then shifted to squat, his weight on the balls of his feet, leaning in close to her. "Wrap your other arm around my neck." When she had complied, he slid his left arm around her waist and the right one under her armpit, his palm splaying over her middle back. "On three, okay?" he told her. At her nod, he voiced, "One. Two. THREE!" and pulled her upright. Her moan sounded strangled, bitten off, and she wavered in his arms. He knew if he were to let go, she would drop back to the ground, and he bit his own lip. Whether to hold back further chastising words at her for her secrecy, or another curse, he did not know. "You okay?" he asked instead, and was then stunned by her response. "With your help, yes," was her murmured reply. "Always, partner," he said heartfelt, after a moment. She had admitted she needed his help. It didn't happen often. Slightly buoyed, he spoke again, with encouraging tones. "All right. I'm going to put my arm around your waist, and we'll walk together, okay?" "Mm-hmmm." The going was very difficult with their height differences, and Mulder was afraid he was hurting Scully. But since there was no way he was leaving her behind, nor were they going to wait there like sitting ducks, it was very necessary. However, they had not gotten far when she stumbled and then went limp on him, sagging silently towards the ground. The unexpected suddenness of all her weight almost brought him down, but he managed to hold them both up. Breathing hard, Mulder bent his knees slightly and scooped his free hand under the backs of her legs. Another quick breath to brace himself, and then he lifted her and swung her up into his arms. Her head fell back to reveal her pale face – eyes closed and mouth hanging slightly open. The arm around his shoulders had remained in place, though her hand no longer gripped his neck, while her other hand had fallen away from her wound, arm dangling limply. His handkerchief lay on the ground, soaked with blood and useless now. He left it there. She was unconscious, which could only mean that she had lost a great deal of blood. He tamped his panic down and carefully adjusted her in his hold. Balance secure, he started forward once more, moving as swiftly as he dared. Fortunately his calculations had been off. For in just a scant fifteen feet or so, after following one bend in the path, he spied their car. He crossed the dirt road to the car in mere seconds. It took some fancy juggling, with one knee bent up and leaning against the car door to support her weight, while he fumbled for his keys and opened the passenger-side door. Depositing her inside with the utmost of care, he realized with a loud curse that he should be putting something on her wound to contain the bleeding, and that she was probably in shock. He shut the door and ran around to the trunk, key jabbing at the lock a few times before he managed to get it opened. Grabbing the medical kit Scully had stowed in there, he moved to the driver's side. His hands were shaking so badly he had difficulty with that lock as well. Roughly whipping the door open, he slid in, putting the kit on the dash for the moment, and flicked a glance at Scully as he stuck the key in the ignition and started the car. She had moved, and was slumped against the door, her arms lying limply at her sides. Reaching to the console, he cranked the heat on high, and then fighting the cramped space, removed his jacket. Throwing it over her legs for more warmth, he then turned on the overhead light and pulled the medical kit onto his lap. Flicking the latches open, he dug hastily through the contents. It wasn't a large kit, but it did contain thick, square gauze pads, and surgical tape. Grabbing four of the pads and the tape, he shut the kit and tossed it in the back seat. Turning to Scully, he grimaced. This was not going to be pleasant, and despite his worry over the fact that she had lost consciousness, he was thankful he would not be causing her any more pain trying to locate the wound and bandage it. Moving her jacket aside, he gingerly tugged her black turtleneck out of her black pants. Both garments were wet with blood, and his grimace deepened. He had to get moving, had to get her to a hospital, fast. Tearing one of the packages open, he swiped it over the area that had the highest concentration of blood, trying to locate the actual bullet hole. More blood replaced it rather quickly. Shit. Ripping open the other pads, he held them in his left hand while probing gently around her side with his right, muttering, "Sorry, Scully." Finally locating what he assumed was the entrance wound, where yet more blood seeped, he held two of the pads in place while using his teeth and his other, bloodstained hand to tear pieces of the tape off the roll. He tucked the last pad under her side, suspecting there might be an exit wound as well, knowing he had to get her immediate medical attention. Once the makeshift bandages were in place, he wiped his hands on the thighs of his black jeans, and then pulled his jacket up to cover her upper body, tucking it carefully around her. That done, he got himself straightened out in his seat, and pushed the garbage off his lap and onto the floor. Throwing the engine into drive, the tires spun noisily as he turned the car around to head back in the direction they had originally come. Leaving the lights off for the time being, he drove the car as fast as he dared. He kept his eyes peeled on the dirt road for the most part, flicking occasional glances to the rearview mirror, to the trees and bushes that lined both sides of the road, and at Scully. She never moved, or made a sound. ~*~*~ Part II Washington County Hospital Hagerstown, Maryland 1:20 AM Mulder's shoulders slumped as the automatic doors slowly whooshed shut, closing on the stretcher that bore Scully. Carrying her further into the Surgery Department. And further away from him. Into surgery to repair the suspected nick in her small intestine, caused by the through and through gunshot wound to her left side. After the panicked blur of a car ride through the dark night, and his rather wild stop directly in front of the Emergency Room doors of the hospital, his partner had been taken from his arms and whisked into a trauma room, where she had been stabilized. He had caught snippets of medical jargon – her vital statistics and a comment that sounded vaguely ominous - before a nurse had pushed him out into the hallway, not unlike the one he was currently standing in, alone. Clenching his fists, he felt the flakiness of drying blood – Scully's blood – and looked down, slowly uncurling his fingers to stare with a detached sense of horror at the stains upon his flesh. He knew her blood marked his clothing as well, but the black fabrics let it remain unseen. Apparently he had been observed, for the quiet snick-snick of soft-soled shoes reached his ears just as a feminine voice quietly said, "Sir, there's a washroom down the hall where you can get cleaned up. I've got some towels and a scrub shirt for you to use." Looking up, he saw a nurse in white standing a foot away, smiling compassionately. She was holding out a medium blue-colored hospital shirt and two white towels. He accepted them with a nod of confused appreciation, and docilely let her lead him to the washroom. There he barely managed to dredge up the manners to thank her out loud before he entered. Standing in front of the sink, eyeing himself in the small mirror above it, he was suddenly overcome with an odd, irrational feeling. Was suddenly reluctant to wash the blood from his hands, to remove his bloodstained Henley. They were the only tangible proof that Scully was alive. Shuddering, he pushed the horrible thought from his mind and yanked the Henley over his head, tossing it to the floor for the time being. He then turned the tap on and thrust his hands beneath the flow of cold water. Several seconds of rough scrubbing did little damage, so he shoved one hand under the soap dispenser attached to the wall while violently pushing the handle with his other, squeezing a large glob of soap into his palm. Working it into lather, his mind went blank as he rubbed and rubbed and rubbed. Until finally he realized there was no soap left, and the water that dripped off his hands was clear. Blinking dazedly at his pruned fingers, he bent over and splashed water over his face several times, waiting for alertness to return. Which it did, with painful clarity. He needed to call Skinner and Mrs. Scully. Drying himself off with paper towels, he slipped the scrub shirt on and bent to pick-up his discarded Henley. After a moment's deliberation, he tossed it in the garbage can on the way out the door. Glancing both ways down the deserted hall, he spied a phone on one wall, about twenty feet away from the doors through which Scully had been taken. With a last look through the glass double-doors and spying no one, he headed towards the phone. Quickly figuring how to dial out, Mulder punched in Skinner's cell phone number. As much as he knew he needed to contact Scully's mother, and as much as he was dreading making that call, he had to alert his supervisor of the situation. The situation being that because of his rash decisions, his partner had been shot, and there was a so-called abandoned facility that needed to be investigated, now. When Skinner's gruff voice answered, Mulder spoke quickly. "Sir, it's Agent Mulder. I'm at Washington County Hospital in Hagerstown. Agent Scully's been shot, sir." <> Alarm, and concern. "She's in surgery right now. The doctor listed her condition as serious," Mulder replied, refusing to let his mind delve into the varied meanings of that diagnosis. There was a muffled sound, as if Skinner had perhaps stifled a curse, and then the AD's voice was back, brisk and clipped. <> "I had a lead on a possible testing site that had been abandoned. We snuck in only to discover it was far from empty, and while fleeing, Scully was hit." He heard the AD inhale deeply, knew he was going to be lambasted, and cut in before Skinner could even begin. "Sir, you need to get a team in there right away, before They clean-up!" <> he heard. <> Mulder rattled off the instructions, describing in some detail how he and Scully had entered the underground complex. <> There was a pause, and then the AD asked about the subject Mulder was avoiding. <> Mulder swallowed the knot in his throat. "That's my next call, Sir." <> Click. Disconnecting the line, Mulder sucked in a breath and quickly dialed Mrs. Scully's number. He counted the rings in his head, wincing as he imagined her rising from a sound sleep to have to hear such terrifying news, one hand coming up to palm the wall. As her machine clicked on and began its spiel, he suddenly recalled Scully telling him the day before that her mother was away visiting Scully's brother and his family. Muttering a curse, he hung up without leaving a message and his head dropped to briefly rest against his braced arm before he straightened again. He lifted the receiver once more, intent on finding Bill Scully's number, perhaps through the FBI databases or the Gunmen. Out of the corner of his eye he caught movement at the end of the hall. Quickly hanging up, he headed towards the scrubs-clad nurse who had just exited from the Surgery Department with interception and interrogation on his mind. The nurse did not know a Dana Scully, but promised she would find out for him and fill him in when she returned, and hustled away. Mulder backed up until he hit the closest wall, and then slid downwards, finally ending up seated on the floor with his elbows propped on his bent knees, exhausted and drained. Huddled in on himself, his head hanging. He would not sleep, however. Could not, until he knew Scully was going to be all right. His mind was a complete blank, except for one picture. Scully's pale face as she was taken from him just inside the emergency room doors. Thus, he did not hear the Surgery nurse approach, and jumped when her low voice said, "Sir?" A pause, and then, "Agent Mulder? Are you all right?" Climbing staggeringly to his feet, he nodded, not trusting himself to speak just yet, and somewhat resentful of the intrusion. He just wanted to be alone, until he could see Scully again. "Your partner is still in surgery, sir. That's all I can tell you at this time." She paused as if waiting to see if he had any further questions, and when none came, she gestured in the opposite direction of the Surgery Department and said, "There's a waiting room just down the hall. It's empty, you could get some rest." Much too far away, in his opinion. Shaking his head, he mumbled, "I'd rather wait here. Just..." His voice trailed off as his gut clenched, and he had to clear his throat before he could continue. "Just in case." "I understand, sir," the nurse replied, and patted his arm. "How about I get you a chair at least?" Whatever, he didn't really care. But if it meant he would be alone, he'd accept the chair. In lieu of replying, he nodded, and then watched her walk away, down the hall. She returned a few moments later, carting a padded chair that was probably from the nurse's station, and not meant for visitors. Placing it next to where he was still standing, she gave him another compassionate smile, and left. Sinking into the chair with a grunt, Mulder let his body slump, eyes closing and head falling back to thud against the wall. He welcomed the initial sharp snap of pain, and the dull throb that followed, as much as he would welcome expressions of recrimination directed at him for his actions of the night, and their end result. The end result being Scully shot, and in surgery, after blindly and faithfully following him on yet another fruitless lead. Thinking back, he replayed the breadcrumbs that had galvanized him into preparing for and carrying out the operation, the sequence of events that had taken Scully and him to the underground complex. A manila envelope of surveillance photographs shoved under his apartment door two days ago. Photographs that showed movement in some sort of underground complex. A cryptic and untraceable e-mail the following morning, with coordinates the Gunmen had helped him decipher. And the capper, a phone call later that same day, where the caller's voice was obviously distorted in an effort to conceal his or her identity, telling him that they had to hurry before the information disappeared. When he had pressed for more details, to know exactly what information could be found, the caller had said only 'the answers to all that you seek'. The conversation had then been terminated, not long enough for a trace, despite Scully's quick actions in requesting one. After a brief and somewhat heated discussion with Scully, he had mulishly announced his plan to go to the so-called secret complex that very night. Despite her misgivings, and distrust regarding the overt mysteriousness of the clues and the method of their delivery, she had voiced her intent to accompany him. If only she hadn't, Mulder lamented. If only he had kept the data from her, and gone alone. Carried out one of his infamous ditches. He would have gladly faced her anger at being left behind a thousand times over, instead of sitting here in a hospital hallway, waiting for word on her condition. Would gladly have taken her place in a heartbeat. This reminded him that he hadn't checked recently, that he needed to check again. So he pried his eyes open and sat up, looking hopefully towards the Surgery Department. To be disappointed when he saw no one there, even though realistically he knew it could be hours. Slumping back down again, his eyes closing, he rested his head against the wall once more. He yawned widely, and then mentally told himself not to fall asleep. Suddenly, he remembered the one brief glimpse at a possible 'answer', which he and Scully had seen while down in the complex, just before their fateful encounter with the commando unit. An eerie, glowing, greenish light escaping from the cracks around one of the many doors, and the small rectangular window about a quarter of the way down the dull metal surface. Peering through the unfortunately opaque glass, he had seen only the vague outlines of what appeared to be tanks. He had immediately thought of the tanks he had seen before - tanks that had contained clones. The door had been locked, keypad access only, and impossible to pick. So they had moved on. Turning a corner to certain and immediate danger. And now here they were. Again. ~*~*~ Part III Washington County Hospital Hagerstown, Maryland 3:55 AM A sound penetrated his subconscious – an unfamiliar, deep voice calling his name. It dragged him from his uneasy slumber, pulling him from a terrifyingly real dream, where he and Scully were frantically climbing that same ladder in the shaft. Only this time it was in a hail of gunfire. Mulder sat up with a jerk and a gasp, his heart pounding furiously and his body clammy with sweat and fear. Realizing he had somehow fallen asleep on his watch, despite his silent avowal to the contrary. "Scully!" he choked out, and lunged up from the chair, immediately turning towards the Surgery Department. He performed a quick scan of the man approaching – rumpled scrubs, weary expression and demeanor, the medical chart in one hand - and categorized him as a doctor, Scully's doctor. It had to be, there was no one else around. Straightening, Mulder searched the doctor's visage for any indication of the news the man was about to relate. There was none, and he felt his heart begin to thud painfully, dread sweeping through his body. "Agent Mulder?" the doctor repeated, holding out his hand to Mulder as he came to a stop before him. "I'm Dr. Reynolds, the surgeon handling Agent Scully's case." Mulder shook hands numbly, as yet unable to speak. Not reading anything from the doctor at all. "Your partner is in recovery right now, in stable condition," Dr. Reynolds continued. "She had a through and through gunshot wound to the lower left quadrant and there was some significant blood loss. As we had suspected, the bullet had nicked her small intestine, and it was necessary to repair the damage." It was unmanly, but his knees were weak. Relief surged through him, chasing away the dread and fear. But not the guilt, never the guilt. "She's...she's okay though?" Mulder got out, his voice only a mere shadow of its normal intensity. "She's going to be fine, Agent Mulder," the doctor replied, a small smile curving his lips. "Barring complications, she should be released in three to four days." Mulder tried to speak again – his mouth opened and his lips moved, but no sound came out. He felt his heart rate begin to slow, and his breathing was returning to normal, as the truth of Scully's condition settled in. Clearing his throat, he tried once more. "I'd like to see her," he stated firmly. Imploring with his eyes, body tense and tight. Perhaps his desperation shone through, for Dr. Reynolds exhibited only a token resistance, starting to shake his head negatively, before capitulating. The surgeon made a shrugging motion, and then sighed and said, "I'll make a notation in her chart. Once Agent Scully is settled in her room, you will be allowed ten minutes." Starting to turn away, Dr. Reynolds stopped and caught Mulder's gaze. "She'll be heavily sedated, Agent Mulder, so I doubt she will wake." That didn't matter. He just needed to see her. Nodding, Mulder murmured words he could not recall the moment after he had uttered them, words that conveyed his understanding and his gratitude. He watched the doctor tip his head briefly in return, and then turn and walk back towards Surgery. The rush of energy that had sustained him during the brief talk with Scully's surgeon left in a sudden whoosh, and he staggered back a step to fall weakly into the chair. Light-headed, feeling almost faint. He folded himself over, his elbows on his knees and head hanging, and breathed deeply and slowly through his mouth. Scully was all right. The same words ran through his mind over and over, a mantra that offered reassurance. Shifting slightly, he wrapped his arms around his middle, as if holding the thought tightly to himself. He stayed that way, rocking himself gently, infinitesimally, for many minutes, completely unaware of the passage of time. Comforting himself with the knowledge that he would be able to see Scully soon. But comfort was not to be his, and deservedly so, he thought with vicious self-castigation. Instead, he remembered the other dreams, or nightmares, he had experienced while dozing in the chair... ...Scully slipping on the rungs and falling past him, just as he had imagined back in the shaft when they had been escaping... ...Both of them captured by the commandos they had encountered, and taken to a room where they had been told they were going to be prepped for testing... ...Himself being forced to flee alone, having lost Scully in the maze of hallways, while her voice yelled to him for help... Another male voice, this one well known, called his name somewhat harshly, pulling him from his memories, and upright and out of the chair once again. Assistant Director Skinner strode towards him from the direction of the Nurse's Station, his expression unreadable. Reaching Mulder, he gruffly asked, "Scully? Have you gotten any word?" Mulder nodded, an almost-smile curving his lips slightly. "Her doctor was here..." his voice trailed off when he realized he did not know how much time had passed since he had seen Dr. Reynolds. "She's in stable condition, being moved to a room." The AD's tense shoulders relaxed somewhat, and the furrows on his forehead smoothed, but not completely. "That's good," he said, and then brought one hand up to rub his jaw, looking away momentarily. When his eyes met Mulder's again, he looked angry and disturbed, and even sympathetic. "It was empty, Mulder," he stated baldly. There was no need to elaborate, Mulder knew he was referring to the underground complex. After placing the call to Skinner, and hearing the AD agree to a raid, Mulder had kept the faintest of hopes that they would find something down there. Something that would make the night's events seem like less than an exercise in futility. That Scully's gunshot wound had not been for nothing. 'They' had cleaned house in the span of time it had taken him to get Scully to the hospital and for Skinner to organize a raid. A few hours at most. When would he stop underestimating Them? Time and time again They had proven their capabilities, their powers, and yet he still believed he could beat Them. Turning from Skinner, Mulder kicked at his chair. Felt a grim sense of satisfaction when the metal legs screeched noisily along the tiled floor, and pain flared in his foot. "Mulder!" Skinner cautioned, his voice a harsh half-whisper. Mulder lifted one hand towards the AD, holding it out with his palm up. Not looking at his boss, jerking his head once in submission. Acknowledging the reprimand. Surprisingly, no one came out to investigate the sound. After several slow, deep breaths, Mulder felt slightly more in control. Turning and facing Skinner, meeting the man's sympathetic gaze, he got out, "There was nothing?" "Completely empty, Mulder." Suddenly the weariness and the defeat were too much. Staggering backwards, his spine found the wall once again and he let himself slide down. He and the floor were old friends. "Mulder?" his superior questioned, that same alarm and concern earlier heard back in his voice. "I'm fine," he told Skinner, and then snorted at the irony those two small words contained, remembering the accusation he had hurled at Scully in the woods after they had fled the compound. He was not fine, nor had Scully been the many times she had made that claim. Shaking his head, he amended, "Don't worry, I'll live." Skinner's mixed expression of worry and skepticism had him climbing to his feet once more, albeit shakily, to prove it. Only to stagger once he was upright, and fall back into the wall, a grunt of surprise escaping his mouth. He felt incredibly and embarrassingly weak all of a sudden, as if his legs might actually refuse to support him. They did however, with Skinner's steadying hand gripping his biceps tightly, the man having moved lightning-quick to help. His superior was frowning, forehead deeply creased with his concern. "Mulder," he said. "Let's take a walk, get some air." It was a suggestion, but couched more like an order. Mulder was sorely tempted to refuse, but realized the activity might actually do him some good. It could be another hour before he was able to see Scully as well, and in the meantime, he would only sit or stand there in the hallway castigating himself. At his nod, Skinner released his arm and stepped back, a tilt of the head indicating the direction they should take. Mulder followed the AD down the hallway, his footing slow but steady. He stood silently beside Skinner as they waited for the elevator to take them down to the main floor, and maintained that silence as they had exited the hospital through the Emergency Room entrance. There they stood just to one side of the doors, both staring out into the darkness for many minutes, still without speaking. Finally though, Skinner broke the silence. Mulder was surprised the AD had waited that long. "How the hell did you find that place, Mulder?" he asked. A sidelong glance revealed that the tic in Skinner's jaw was at full force. Not usually one for protocol, he had not made even a token effort to inform Skinner. That decision had been influenced by the fact that the AD had long been leery of his 'hunches' and often downplayed them or vetoed them altogether. Still, it was a bitter pill to swallow that in this case - Skinner would have been right in ordering them not to go. "Photographs shoved under my door, followed by an untraceable e-mail and an equally untraceable phone call." Mulder realized his shoulders had unintentionally tensed, in anticipation of a tirade from Skinner, and forced himself to relax. There was no tirade. The AD merely sighed harshly, shaking his head and looking away from Mulder, his hands on his hips. "What can I say?" Mulder quipped, hiding behind sarcasm and self-depreciation. "You know me. Just like Pavlov's dog. In my case, the cryptic e-mails and phones calls are the bell, though I never seem to get a reward." "Mulder—" Skinner began, having faced Mulder once more. He appeared to bite off the rest of his words, exhaling heavily before trying again. "Mulder, I know you thought—" This time it was Mulder who halted him, by spitting out, "That's the thing! I don't think! I just...I just *do*, and Scully pays for it." Another vision flashed into his mind. One of Scully slumped in the passenger side of the car as he scrambled to apply bandages to her injury. Angry with himself anew, Mulder spun around and started to stalk off into the dark chill of early morning. A muttered curse came from behind him, and heavy, hurried footsteps followed. He was halted by Skinner's steely grip on his biceps again, a grip that spun him around as well, and held him in place. "Don't do this to yourself!" Skinner exclaimed, low-voiced but very intent, the words clipped. "It happened, and you can't change that. But you can change how you respond in the future. Stop going off half-cocked, think things out." Seeming assured that Mulder was not going to flee, Skinner released him, taking a step back. After a deep breath, the AD continued. "As for Scully, while she is your partner, and backs you up even when she shouldn't, she is her own person. She makes her own choices, is as invested in the X-Files as you are and is aware of the risks, and takes those risks willingly." Part of him agreed with Skinner's assessment of his partner, but there was still a seed of doubt in Mulder's mind. Did Scully really make her own choices, or did she merely follow his out of a perhaps misguided allegiance or loyalty to him? He shook his head at the disparaging thought. Scully deserved better. At Skinner's questioning noise, he straightened somewhat and said simply, "I know." Skinner appeared as though he had more to say, but held his tongue. Clapping Mulder briefly on one shoulder, he said, "Go see your partner, Agent. I've got to get back to D.C. and deal with the events of tonight, or rather, this morning. Keep me posted." "Yes, sir," Mulder replied, and watched the AD stride away towards the Emergency Department parking lot. After a few more minutes of silent solitude, he turned around and headed inside. To Scully. When he reached the Surgical Floor, one of the nurses he had spoken to earlier told him Scully had been moved to her room. ~*~*~ Epilogue Scully's Hospital Room 5:45 AM Mulder rapped on the door gently with his knuckles and then opened it with care, poking his head around the frame. The rest of him followed slowly, until he was standing just inside her darkened room, his eyes adjusting after the brightness of the hallway. He could make out Scully's pale face - her eyes were closed, and she appeared to be asleep. A heart monitor just to the left of the hospital bed beeped in the otherwise quiet room, while the red light of a pulse-ox glowed on her left index finger. Despite a reluctance to disturb her slumber, the need for confirmation that she was indeed all right, the need to reconnect, was stronger. Thus his feet carried him forward until he was next to the bed. One hand lifted to touch her arm, fingers stroking butterfly-light along her wrist. She sighed, her head turning in his direction. He watched her eyelids flutter, saw her throat work as she swallowed, and tensed in anticipation. A moment later her lips parted, and she sighed again before a whisper of sound that was his name escaped. "Mulder?" His lips curved into a smile as his heart started a faster beat. Leaning over the metal bedrail, so that his nose was mere inches from hers, uncaring about the discomfort to himself, he responded in kind, "I'm here, Scully." More fluttering of her eyelids, a tongue swipe over pale, chapped lips and then he was finally looking into the beautiful blue of her eyes. They were somewhat clouded and hazy from the pain medication she had to be on, but that didn't matter. She was alive, and she was awake. "Hey," he said, still using a whisper-soft voice. Somehow his hand had moved and was hovering by her head, so he stroked a finger down her cheek. "Just sleep, Scully," he told her. "Sleep." "Mmmmm," was her response, her eyes drifting shut. They remained closed for long moments, her breathing deep and slow. Ceasing his caress of her soft cheek, he was about to straighten up to get a chair and move it beside the bed when she murmured his name again. "I'm still here, Scully," he said. Becoming bolder, he let his fingers sift through the strands of hair lying on her pillow, gently untangling them. "And I'm not going anywhere." It was a fact. Regardless of the doctor's note about a ten- minute visit only, he was staying right there. They'd have to physically drag him out, and it wouldn't be easy. Her lips curved in a smile as her eyes opened once more. After swallowing with obvious difficulty and licking her lips again, she rasped, "You...okay?" Blinking in surprise, his hand stopped in her hair as he gawked at her. "Me? But..." his voice trailed off. She moved her head slightly, as if in supplication for him to continue, and at that gesture, he resumed the self-assigned task. Clearing his throat, he spoke again. "I'm fine, Scully. It's you who..." 'Got shot', his mind finished the sentence he could not make himself utter out loud. His teeth ground together painfully while another thought filtered through his tired brain. 'Shot because of me and my foolish quest, my impulsive behavior.' And Scully intuited exactly what he was thinking. "Don't," she whispered harshly, and struggled to lift her head up, her sedative-fogged eyes glaring at him. The heart monitor let out a discordant note, and began to beep loudly. "Don't you blame yourself...for what happened!" she continued, and then sank back into the pillow, breathing heavily, her nostrils flaring. The arm not encumbered by the IV flailed weakly in the air, perhaps trying to reach him. She seemed paler too, and Mulder was worried. Flicking a glance at the monitor, he caught hold of her hand with his free one and squeezed her fingers lightly. "Scully, hey, hey, calm down," he soothed, his other hand shaking slightly as he touched her cheek, her forehead. The whoosh of the door had him straightening quickly, his head whipping around guiltily. To see the nurse who had showed him to Scully's room not too long ago approaching the bed with concerned eyes. She moved to the monitor and pressed several buttons, silencing the alarm, and then rounded the bed, putting her clipboard down near the foot of the bed. One look from her, and he was stepping out of her way, releasing Scully's hand reluctantly. "Miss Scully? Are you in any pain?" she asked, her hands busy lifting the bedding aside, to apparently check the surgery site. Mulder turned his head to provide Scully with a modicum of privacy, still able to catch his partner's whispered response. "I'm fi-" she started to say, and he grimaced in reaction to those damn words. He tensed though when she sucked in her breath with a hiss, presumably at something the nurse had done with her injury site, and flicked a glance at her face. "Some discomfort," Scully murmured next, meeting his eyes briefly before looking away. Lifting her arm, the nurse noted the time on her watch, and then said, "You're next pain meds are just about due. Let me check your IV and vitals first, and then I'll go get your morphine, okay?" Mulder watched as she bustled efficiently around the bed and examined the needle site on Scully's hand, touching and manipulating Scully's fingers gently. Next she ran her fingers along the tubing, before checking the IV bag itself. Retrieving the chart, she made a notation, and then proceeded to take readings off the heart monitor, also noting them down. "I'll be right back, Miss Scully," she said as she tucked the chart under her arm, and left the room. Mulder resumed his stance at his post beside the bed, leaning forward, his elbows on the bedrail. He watched Scully silently, for she seemed to have drifted off again. Tiny stress lines bracketed her mouth though, and she was frowning slightly, and he wished the nurse would hurry up with the morphine. This time when the door opened, Scully woke up with a little moaning sigh, and he looked from his partner to the nurse, frowning himself. Murmuring, "Sorry to have startled you, Miss Scully," the nurse moved to Scully's IV and injected a dosage of morphine into the IV port, once again inspecting the line, before she departed. Knowing the nurse would most likely not return for some time, Mulder finally got a chair and brought it over to the bed, level with Scully's upper body. Sitting down, he carefully lowered the bedrail so he could stare at her, and reach for her hand without obstruction or discomfort. His thumb absently stroked her knuckles. Scully's eyes fluttered a few times in slow, lazy blinks, but she remained awake, albeit drowsily, clearly fighting the effects of the morphine. Shifting so that she could turn her body towards him a little, fighting a grimace in the process, she still managed to pin him with her sleepy gaze. "You are not to blame for this, Mulder." Her words were no less effective because of their delivery in a raspy whisper. He did not agree, but he would not argue with her. Could not with her lying drugged in a hospital bed. His guilt, regardless of whether she considered it to be misplaced or not, or wanted to absolve him of it, was his own. And he knew that if he hadn't insisted on rushing to investigate that compound, she would not have been shot. "Scully, we don't need to talk about this right now," he told her, keeping his voice low and soft. Gently soothing. "You need to get some rest." She shook her head stubbornly; eyes closing and popping open again, lids drooping to half-mast. "Mulder...I chose to come with you..." she swallowed and sucked in a breath before continuing, "because it's..." Her eyes drifted closed, and remained closed, the morphine gaining a hold of her at last. A faint exhalation, "our journey. Our search." Mulder smiled a little, the weight on his soul easing. He knew he had not imagined the emphasis Scully had put on 'our'. Our journey. Our search. THE END Feedback appreciated at lovesfox@rogers.com