Title:            Revenge
Author:           Lovesfox
E-mail:           Lovesfox@rogers.com  (Feed me, please)
Web site:         http://www.geocities.com/kim_djd/index.html
Rating:           NC-17 (violence, consensual M/S sex and strong 
                  language)
Category:         Implied UST then MSR, Angst, Story/X-File
Classification:   XRA
Spoilers:         Not really, but up to mid-S7
Archive:          As long as my name and everything stays attached
Summary:          An old case of Mulder's resurfaces seeking revenge

Disclaimer:       Alas, not mine.  They belong to Chris Carter and 
                  1013 Productions

Dedication:       To true friendship, through thick and thin.  
                  Thanks, T.

Warning:          This story contains some scenes of violence, a
                  rape attempt, implied character death, references
                  to incest, and graphic sex.




Revenge Part 11 of 29
by Lovesfox




Leesburg Mental Hospital
Leesburg, VA
Sunday
10:15 am

Heather Baber, a reporter for the Leesburg News, one of the city's 
two daily newspapers, made her way through the crowd to the tall, 
balding man whom she instinctively had sensed held some position of 
importance.  She had seen him helping load someone, it had looked 
like a dark-haired man, onto one of the ambulances a few minutes 
ago, and then make his way over to a group of suited and uniformed 
men.

She was careful not be too pushy, having seen that tactic fail with 
other reporters on many occasions.  As she got closer, she heard a 
shorter, well-dressed man call the tall man 'AD Skinner'.  She had 
never heard that title before, and wondered what it meant.  His FBI 
ID badge caught her attention then, clipped to the jacket he was 
wearing.  The other man wore an ID badge as well, but seemed to 
defer to the taller man.

FBI.  Her instincts had paid off.  He was important.  He would know 
what was going on.

She shot a glance over her shoulder, looking for Lenny, the 
photographer she had arrived with in the newspaper's van.  She spied 
him about three feet behind her, struggling to get through with his 
camera equipment.  

They had been on their way back from a boring town meeting at City 
Hall when their scanner had picked up the 9-1-1 call about a fire at 
the old Leesburg Mental Hospital.  She had told Lenny she wanted to 
check it out, and he had agreed it might be worthwhile.  She had not 
been a reporter when the fire that had shut the hospital down had 
happened, but remembered it well.  The fact that there was now 
another fire was quite interesting.

With the presence of the FBI, there had to be something big.  Her 
heart sped up a little; this could be her chance to really show her 
stuff.  She hoped she would be able to get to speak to this Skinner.

Heather was finally just steps away, and saw Skinner's eyes widen at 
her presence.  He scanned her features from head to toe, and then 
his expression closed off.  She wondered what that had been about, 
it hadn't seemed like a man checking out a good-looking woman, but 
almost like he had seen a ghost.  

"Excuse me, Sir," she began, her voice modulated, polite.  "I'm 
Heather Baber, with the Leesburg News, and I was wondering if I 
could speak to you for a few minutes."

The other FBI agent opened his mouth to speak, but Skinner beat him 
to it.  "What would you like to know?" he asked.  She saw that he 
seemed surprised to have spoken to her, as did the shorter man.  
Skinner stepped closer to her, turning his back on the other men.

"Do you know why this fire was set?" Heather asked.  She had her 
trusty notepad and the pen her boyfriend Seth had given her ready 
in her hands.  She watched the muscle in Skinner's jaw flex, and 
couldn't help admiring his tall, well-muscled form.  She was fairly 
short, only 5'4 in her heels, and he towered over her, but not in a 
frightening way.  She spied Lenny out of the corner of her eye, 
taking pictures of the firefighters battling the fire.  She knew he 
would do his best to get as many pictures as he could, and turned 
her attention back to Skinner.

"Elliot Andercott is a suspect wanted in the kidnapping of a Federal 
Agent, and we believe he is the one who started this fire.  There 
is a statewide APB out on him now, but I would appreciate you 
getting his name and picture in the paper.  If you speak to Agent 
Powell," here he turned and indicated the shorter man from earlier, 
"he can provide you with a composite sketch of the suspect."  

He watched as she jotted down the information and then added, "I am 
Assistant Director Walter Skinner with the FBI, if you need that for 
your report."  He turned away from her slightly and watched as the 
ambulance carrying the man he had helped load into it drove off.  

Seeing her interest, he added, "Another agent was injured rescuing 
the kidnapped agent."  The muscle in his jaw ticked again, and then 
his eyes left hers to move over to where a number of firefighters 
and paramedics were still working on someone.

Heather had not been able to get close to the other injured person 
for policemen had arranged themselves in a circle, shielding the 
scene from prying eyes.  She had only been able to make out red 
hair, and was fairly certain the victim was a woman.  

"Who is she?" Heather asked softly.

Skinner's head whipped back to face her, and his features were an 
impenetrable mask.  "We're not releasing any names as yet.  Her 
family has not been notified yet."

Her, Heather mused.  She had been right again.  She nodded, and 
opened her mouth to thank him for his time.  She wondered what she 
should call him.  Was Agent Skinner the correct form of address?

Just then, the sounds of a helicopter filled the air.  Heather 
looked up, as did Skinner and most everyone else on the scene.  A 
flurry of activity resulted.  Skinner excused himself, touching her 
arm briefly, and she watched as he made his way over to the other 
injured agent.  

Lenny joined her, nodding his chin towards the circle of policemen.  
"What's up?" he asked.

"An FBI agent was inside, and another one got injured rescuing her," 
Heather replied.  She angled her notepad towards Lenny, showing him 
what she had jotted down.  "They want us to put the suspect's name 
and a picture of the composite sketch in the paper."

"Sounds big," Lenny remarked.  "Got some good shots."  He fiddled 
with his camera and then raised it to his eye.  "That's a medi-vac 
chopper.  She must be hurt pretty bad.  I need to get a few shots 
of this."  With that, he moved closer to the scene that was now 
unfolding.  

Heather moved closer as well, watching as the police began ordering 
people back, getting ready for the helicopter to land.  After Lenny 
got his pictures, she wanted to go to the hospital.  She had a 
feeling this could make for a very exciting story.

***

10:20 am

Skinner looked up at the sound of a helicopter.  It was about 
fucking time.  Did they not realize this was an emergency?  He had 
an agent down.  A flash of memory, of Scully's pale face and blue 
lips, and he amended his words to, seriously down.  He touched the 
reporter's arm, Heather he thought, and excused himself.

He raced over to where the police were blocking off the area where 
Scully was frantically being tended to by paramedics and 
firefighters, and was allowed past.  He was still surprised he had 
spoken to the reporter, as it was not his normal habit to do so.  

But when he had looked up and saw her there, reminding him so much 
of Agent Scully, something had compelled him to move forward.  At 
closer look, there were only some similarities.  The reporter had 
shoulder length strawberry blonde hair, not Scully's shorter bobbed 
red tresses, but she was about the same height as Scully, and she 
had the same look of determination and strength he had so often 
seen on his agent's countenance.  He had also realized the 
importance of getting Elliot Andercott's name and composite in the 
news, to possibly aid in apprehending the man.

The police had moved everyone back, and the helicopter slowly began 
to land.  Skinner watched from where he stood, a few feet away from 
Scully.  The paramedics had her hooked up to an IV, and had removed 
the rope that had bound her hands and feet.  Her wrists were wrapped 
in white gauze and she seemed to be breathing on her own, through 
the oxygen mask over her face.  She was still deathly pale, and the 
expressions on the faces of the paramedics were quite serious.  He 
knew she was not out of the woods yet.

Finally the helicopter landed, and then they were carrying Scully, 
now loaded on a stretcher, towards it.  Skinner trailed helplessly 
behind.  

One of the paramedics climbed on board with her, where a nurse was 
already checking her vital signs again.  Everyone backed up as it 
rose into the sky, and Skinner felt a hand touch his elbow.  It was 
the other paramedic.  Skinner bent his head down to the man, who 
yelled, "They're taking her to Walter Reed, in Washington."

"What about my other agent?" Skinner yelled back, watching, as the 
helicopter became a tiny speck in the distance.  "Can he be taken 
there as well?"

The paramedic nodded and said, "I think that's where they were 
taking him."

"Find out for sure," Skinner demanded and strode away to speak with 
ASAC Powell.  He saw the paramedic jog to the other ambulance.  

Powell turned from the agent he had been speaking to as he caught 
sight of Skinner approaching.  "There's been nothing reported yet 
as to the suspect.  I'm arranging a press conference back in 
Leesburg.  Hopefully we'll make it on the noon news, get this 
Andercott's picture out there."

"You can handle it, I presume?" Skinner asked, not even waiting 
for Powell's reply.  "I'm heading to Washington."  He walked away, 
barely catching Powell's answering nod, heading towards his 
vehicle.  

The paramedic ran over, calling, "Sir!  The other agent was taken 
to Walter Reed."

Skinner raised a hand in thanks, and climbed into his car.  He 
buckled in and started the car, painstakingly maneuvering through 
the jumble of cruisers and unmarked sedans still on scene.  A 
number of reporters were still lingering, and he spied the young 
reporter he had spoken to earlier getting into a van with Leesburg 
News written on its side.  

Once on the gravel road, he was able to speed up a little, but not 
as fast as he would have liked.  He knew he was looking at a drive 
of at least 45 minutes, and that would be pushing the speed limit 
as it was.

An image of Margaret Scully rose in his head all of a sudden.  His 
jaw tensed, he would have to call Scully's mother.  She must be 
frantic by now, he was not sure of the last time Mulder had spoken 
to her.  He wondered if it would be better if he drove to her house 
and brought her in person to the hospital.  It delayed his time 
getting to see his agents, but he knew it could be important for 
Scully's mother to be there.  He tried not to think that it could 
be the last time she saw her daughter.  

He reached the two-lane road and sped off, heading to Baltimore to 
pick up Scully's mother.

***

Margaret Scully's Residence
Baltimore, MD
Sunday
11:50 am


Margaret Scully heard the doorbell ring from her seat at the kitchen 
table.  Her hand shook slightly as she lowered her half-empty teacup 
back to the table, and again as she smoothed her skirt when she rose 
from the table.  She had been feeling very uneasy since rising that 
morning, even more so than usual since learning of Dana's 
kidnapping, and now her nerves were working overtime.  Something 
told her the person at the door would not have good news.  One hand 
went to the cross at her neck and she clutched it for a moment, 
gleaning a measure of strength.

Her heels clicked faintly on the hardwood floor as she made her way 
to the door, and with a deep breath, she opened it, to reveal Dana's 
boss, Walter Skinner.  At the sight of his tense face and sad eyes, 
Margaret felt her world crumble.  

"Oh, God, Dana..." she moaned, "Please, no."  Her body felt weak, 
and she felt herself start that long, slow slide to the ground.

Strong hands grabbed her shoulders then, offering strength and 
support.  

Faintly she heard Mr. Skinner's deep bass voice saying, "Mrs. 
Scully, they found her.  She's...she's alive."

Margaret heard the hesitation in his words, but chose to cling to 
the one that had her heart thumping painfully.  Alive.  Dana was 
alive.  She allowed him to help her into the sitting room, onto 
the couch, dimly hearing the door shutting behind them.  She was 
trembling all over, and it was an effort to raise her head to meet 
his gaze.  "Where is she?" she asked, and was shocked at the 
faintness of her own voice.  She cleared her throat and tried 
again, this time much stronger.  "Where is Dana?"

Mr. Skinner had sat beside her on the sofa, on the edge of the 
cushion, and he now held her hands.  He squeezed them and replied, 
"She's at Walter Reed Hospital, in Washington."  His eyes dropped 
down to his lap for a moment, and Margaret felt another moment of 
panic.  When he lifted them again, his face was carefully neutral.  
"Agent Mulder is there as well.  He was...he was injured helping 
Dana."

"Fox?" she asked, voice quavering again.  "Is he all right?  Is 
Dana all right?"  She struggled to her feet.  "You must tell me.  
Is Dana all right?"  Her voice rose at the end, almost hysterically.

He had risen with her, his hands now hovering over her shoulders, to 
catch her if she started to collapse, she knew.   "Mrs. Scully, Dana 
is alive.  I do not know the extent of her injuries, but she was 
seriously hurt," he said.  He grimaced a little and then continued, 
"She was flown by helicopter to the hospital."

Margaret flinched inwardly, but kept her spine straight.  She had to 
be strong for her baby girl, and for Fox.  "You're here to take me 
to the hospital."  It was not a question.  "I'll just get my purse 
and coat."  

Her steps were steady as she left the room and went upstairs to 
fetch her purse.  She stopped briefly in the bathroom, to check her 
hair and make-up, trying not to see the deep lines of stress and 
worry, or the sheen of unshed tears in her eyes.  In the mirror's 
reflection she saw the cross around her neck, and her fingers lifted 
to touch it again.  She said a brief prayer for Dana and Fox, and 
then squaring her shoulders, headed back downstairs.

Mr. Skinner was waiting by the door, and helped her into her coat.  
He stood beside her on the porch as she locked the door behind them, 
and took her elbow to walk her to his car.  Buckling her seatbelt, 
she watched him as he made his way to the driver's side after 
closing her car door, and thought what a gentleman he was, and how 
glad she was that Dana had such a supportive man as her superior.  
In some ways, he reminded her of how Fox was around Dana.  

Tears filled her eyes as she thought about Fox, and she blinked 
them back, not wanting to give into her grief now.  To do so would 
be like admitting there was no hope for Dana, and she would not do 
that.  

She thought then about the desperation and pain she had heard in 
Fox's voice each time he called to let her know that he was still 
searching for Dana.  She wondered when the two of them would ever 
admit their love for each other, for she knew that they did, 
deeply.  

It was so obvious, every time they were together, shining in 
their eyes, in every move, every gesture that they made.  And even 
when they were apart, when she spoke to Dana, or to Fox, it was in 
their voices, in their words.  

A sound interrupted her then, and she realized Mr. Skinner was 
speaking to her.  Margaret turned her head to him, saying, "I'm 
sorry, I wasn't paying attention."

His small smile of understanding almost brought fresh tears to 
her eyes.  "I just asked if you were all right," he repeated.  
His eyes flicked from her face to the road as his hands tightened 
momentarily on the steering wheel.

Margaret nodded.  "I'm fine," she replied. "I was thinking about 
Dana and Fox."  She coughed slightly, and then remembering that he 
had told her Fox had been injured helping Dana, said a little 
sharply, "You said Fox was hurt helping Dana.  How?"

"The man who...who kidnapped Dana had taken her to a place that 
held memories for him, and he set the building on fire."  Hearing 
her horrified gasp, he hurriedly added, "I don't think she was 
burned.  Mulder...Fox went into the building and brought her out."  
One hand left the steering wheel and reached out to pat her hands, 
which were tightly clenched in her lap.  "She's going to be okay, 
Mrs. Scully."

Margaret wondered which one of them he was trying to convince with 
those words.  She managed a nod for him, and then closed her eyes, 
leaning back against the headrest.  They had a bit of a drive ahead 
of them.

***

Walter Reed Army Medical Center
Washington, D.C.
Sunday
12:45 pm


Skinner held Mrs. Scully's elbow as they made their way to the 
Information Desk in the Emergency Department.  Once there, he let 
go of her to reach in his pocket for his ID badge.  He held the 
badge out to the woman manning the desk and said, "I'm Walter 
Skinner with the FBI.  We're looking for two people who were 
brought here, Agent Dana Scully and Agent Fox Mulder."

As the woman began typing on the computer before her, Skinner 
watched Mrs. Scully.  She had been very quiet, not speaking since 
he had told her how Mulder and Scully had been injured.  

He had not felt up to small talk, and assumed she felt the same, 
so he had not tried to engage her in conversation.  The frequent 
glances he had thrown her way during the almost hour-long drive 
had revealed her either staring out the passenger side window, or 
resting with her eyes closed.  

Her face now was pale, but composed, as she waited for the woman 
to answer his request.  He felt a surge of admiration for her 
remarkable strength and poise, and saw in that the resemblance 
to his downed agent.  

He clenched his jaw as his thoughts drifted again to the scene 
earlier that morning.  He saw Scully lying unconscious on the 
ground as paramedics performed CPR on her.  Saw Mulder's anguished 
face as he struggled to see his partner.  Saw Scully's pale face 
covered by an oxygen mask as she was loaded onto the helicopter.  

The woman at the desk cleared her throat and he returned his 
attention to her.  "Agent Scully has been taken to the Medical 
Intensive Care Unit on the third floor, and Agent Mulder is in 
the Emergency Department, which is just to my left."  She indicated 
the direction with her right hand, pointing down a short hallway to 
where a sign labeled Emergency Department hung.  She then said, 
"The elevators are to my left, down that hall and turn left as 
well."

Skinner had heard Mrs. Scully's gasp when the woman told them where 
Scully was located, and he reached one hand out to touch hers, which 
were resting on the counter.  He then asked, "We need to see both of 
them.  What can you tell me of their conditions?"

"I am not provided with that information, Sir," she replied.  "You 
would need to speak to the Administrator of the Emergency 
Department.  They were both brought there on arrival."

Skinner jerked his head in a brief nod, muttering his thanks, and 
led Mrs. Scully away from the counter.  He could feel the fine 
trembling of her body beneath his hand on her elbow, and was trying 
to find a place for her to sit.  She stiffened beneath him.

"I want to know how Dana is," she said.  "Let's go to the Emergency 
Department."  She pulled away from his grasp and headed in the 
direction the woman had indicated.

Skinner double-stepped to reach her side again, but did not take her 
elbow this time, merely stayed close to her.  In moments they were 
striding through double doors into the Emergency Department.  He 
snagged the arm of a passing nurse, his badge already out.  "I'm 
with the FBI.  Two of my agents were brought here earlier.  Mulder 
and Scully."

The nurse, whose nametag read Jenn, looked briefly at the hand on 
her arm and then nodded.  "I'll take you to the doctor," she said, 
pulling free from his hand, and bustled down the hallway.  

Skinner and Mrs. Scully followed just as quickly, and stopped when 
the nurse went inside one of the examining rooms.  She came out a 
moment later, a bespectacled man in a white coat on her heels.  The 
man held out his hand to Skinner, saying, "I'm Doctor Cray.  I 
looked after both of the patients you are inquiring about."  He 
held a few charts in his other hand.

Skinner introduced himself and Mrs. Scully as he shook hands with 
the doctor, explaining that she was Dana Scully's mother.  He then 
said, "How are they?"

Dr. Cray shook Mrs. Scully's hand as well, but maintained his hold 
on her.  His other hand patted the hand he held as he looked at her 
with a combination of sympathy and concern.  

Skinner felt his heart began to pound; sure he was about to hear the 
news that Scully had died.  He saw Mrs. Scully pale even further, 
and that she swayed slightly.  He put a supportive hand on her back.

"Mrs. Scully, your daughter is upstairs in our Intensive Care Unit.  
When she arrived, our most pressing concern was that she was in 
acute respiratory distress.  She was intubated endotracheally, and 
is currently on assisted ventilation."  

At Mrs. Scully's gasp, the doctor hastened to add, "However, her 
prognosis is good."  He looked down and opened one of the charts he 
held.  After perusing it for a moment, he continued,  "Her vital 
signs were very weak, and her electrolytes were low.  She was also 
mildly dehydrated, and there were many surface contusions and 
abrasions.  We were also very concerned with the condition of her 
wrists.  It appears she had been restrained for a significant amount 
of time.  There were no broken bones, or deep lacerations, and she 
did not receive any burns to her face or body."  He looked at 
Skinner then.  "May I ask what happened to her?  The paramedics were 
quite sketchy with details when she arrived."

Skinner looked at Mrs. Scully briefly, seeing that she seemed to 
have regained her composure.  "Agent Scully was kidnapped and held 
captive for a week.  We received information this morning of her 
location, and that the suspect had set the building where she was 
being held on fire.  Agent Mulder went into the building and carried 
her out."  

Mrs. Scully had made an odd sound, and he looked into her face to 
see a tear running down her cheek.  She looked at him, gasping, 
"Fox carried her out?  He saved her life!"  She turned to the 
doctor.  "Please, may I, may we see Fox...Agent Mulder?"

Dr. Cray nodded his head.  "Certainly.  He's in this room right 
here," he said, pointing at the door through which he had come out 
of moments ago.

Skinner gave her a gentle push forward, saying, "You go ahead, Mrs. 
Scully.  I'd like to talk to Dr. Cray for a few minutes."  He wanted 
to find out more about Scully's condition, and about Mulder's as 
well.  

It was obvious Mulder wasn't seriously hurt; the doctor had not 
hesitated when Mrs. Scully had asked to see him.  He watched as 
Scully's mother pushed the door and slowly went inside, before 
turning back to the Doctor.  "Doctor, I need to know if there was a 
rape test performed on Agent Scully."

***

1:00 pm

Vaguely in the drugged haze of his mind, Mulder was aware of someone 
entering the room where he lay.  He knew he was in the hospital, had 
heard and felt the doctors and nurses coming in and out to check on 
him, and that he had been given something to relax him.  He 
remembered a bouncy ambulance ride that seemed to take forever, and 
asking over and over again for Scully.

At the name, he struggled to open heavy-lidded eyes.  A blurry 
figure was walking towards him.  He rasped out, "Scully?"  His eyes 
saw dark hair, but it took a while to register that it wasn't Scully 
after all.

A cool hand was on his brow, and a soft voice was saying, "Fox, its 
Maggie.  Dana is all right.  She's in another hospital room."

Mulder blinked rapidly, finally clearing his vision, to see Scully's 
mom smiling down at him.  Her words hit then, and everything came 
back in a flash.  He remembered the burning building, the smoke-
filled hallways, finding Scully tied to that cot, carrying her out, 
falling to the ground.  He saw and felt again her being pulled from 
his arms, and then confusion as people swirled around him.

He zeroed in on her words.  "She's all right?  Scully's all right?  
I need to see her."  His voice was hoarse, and it hurt to talk.  
He swallowed heavily, and couldn't hold back a hacking cough.  He 
pushed up on his elbows, and leaned to one side, to ease the pain 
in his chest.  More pain flared in his hands, and he allowed Mrs. 
Scully to push him back on the starchy pillow.  

He lifted his hands up to see that they were wrapped in white 
gauze.  He knew he had cut them when breaking the window, and 
wondered if he had burned them somehow as well.

He looked into Mrs. Scully's eyes, and saw a range of emotions.  
Relief, fear, and even compassion.  "She's really all right?" he 
asked her, his own eyes pleading for the truth.  Although he knew 
he wouldn't really believe anything until he was able to see her 
with his own eyes.

Her hand stroked his brow again, and he saw that her smile was 
tremulous.  Worry began to gnaw at his guts, and he felt ill.  

"She's in the Intensive Care Unit, Fox, but the doctor said her 
prognosis was good." Her voice was steady, though he saw her hand 
go up to the cross resting in the hollow of her throat to touch it 
with one finger for a moment.  "I have to believe that she will be 
fine, and you have to as well, Fox."

The worry was still there, and a light sweat broke out all over his 
body.  Something was wrong.  "What aren't you telling me, Mrs. 
Scully?"  He had to get up and see Scully.  With a grunt of effort, 
he heaved himself up again.  His head swam with the motion, and 
nausea rose in his throat.

"Fox, relax," Mrs. Scully said.  "Please."  She looked worried now, 
and he watched her eyes dart from him to the door.  "I don't think 
you should be up yet.  The doctor's right outside, with Mr. 
Skinner.  Let me get them."  With that, she hurried over to the 
door, shooting an anxious glance back over her shoulder at him.

Mulder took several deep breaths, and slowly the nausea and the 
swimming in his head faded.  He had to cough again though, and did 
so, deeply.  It hurt like hell.  He heard the door open, and Mrs. 
Scully calling the doctor urgently.

In moments, she was back at his side, the Doctor coming around to 
stand at the other side of the bed.  Skinner had come in as well, a 
very disturbed look on his face, and stood beside Mrs. Scully.  

Mulder looked from person to person, stopping at the doctor last.  
"I need to get up.  I have to see Scully, make sure she's all 
right," he said, hating that his voice sounded so weak.

"Mister...Agent Mulder," the doctor began as he firmly pushed Mulder 
back into the bed.  "I'm Dr. Cray, and I saw both of you when you 
were brought to the Emergency Department.  I understand you went 
into a burning building to save your partner's life.  Commendable to 
be sure, but also very dangerous.  You are a very lucky man.  Apart 
from some cuts and some first-degree burns on your hands, and a mild 
case of smoke inhalation, you escaped relatively unharmed.  I do, 
however, recommend bed rest for 24 hours.  Often symptoms of a 
serious nature due to smoke inhalation can be delayed until 24 to 36 
hours after the injury."  The doctor went on in detail to explain 
how he had been treated upon arrival, what could still happen to 
him, and why he needed to remain under observation.

"I understand, Doctor," Mulder said, after the doctor finally 
stopped speaking.  "I just need to see her.  I'll go right back to 
bed after I do."  

Mrs. Scully pressed a cup of water into his hands, which he took 
gratefully, albeit awkwardly.  He sipped slowly, feeling the 
coolness ease his sore throat.  "I promise," he added.  He handed 
the cup back to Mrs. Scully, feeling pleased he had managed not to 
spill it all over himself.  It had been difficult holding it with 
his hands so wrapped in gauze that they looked like he was wearing 
mittens.

"Fox," Mrs. Scully broke in before the doctor could reply.  "I'm 
going up to see Dana now, and I promise to come back and tell you 
how she is."

"Agent Mulder, your partner is in Intensive Care, and only family 
members are allowed to visit," the doctor added.

Mulder frowned at him.  As if that ridiculous rule was going to 
stop him from seeing Scully.  "She is MY partner.  I will see her."

It was the doctor's turn to frown.  "I guess we can make an 
exception, but not until tomorrow."  He paused, looking at Mrs. 
Scully for a moment.  "At the moment, your partner is heavily 
sedated.  She won't even know you were there."

She would know, Mulder thought.  But he did not say the words out 
loud.  

Skinner had been silent the entire time, and finally added his two 
cents.  "Mulder, you are not getting out of this bed until the 
doctor has given the all clear.  If I have to, I will stay here to 
insure that you do not."

The doctor cleared his throat.  "I have other patients to see.  
Agent Mulder, I'll check back on you in a few hours.  Please try and 
get some rest, and ease up on the talking.  It's not really aiding 
in your recovery."  He nodded politely at them all and left the room.

Mrs. Scully ran her hand over his forehead again and then leaned in 
and placed a kiss on it as well.  Her eyes welled with tears, but 
she fought them back, and whispered, "Thank-you for saving my baby 
girl.  That was an incredibly brave thing you did, Fox.  I don't 
think I can thank you enough."  She straightened, smoothing her hand 
down his cheek and then patting his arm.  "I'll come back after I've 
seen Dana."

Mulder felt tears rise in his own eyes.  How could she be thanking 
him?  It was his fault her daughter had been taken in the first 
place.  He did not tell her this though, merely whispered, "Give 
Scully a kiss for me, please, Mrs. Scully.  Tell her...tell her I'll 
be there as soon as I can."  He watched as she nodded, and then 
walked from the room.  He wanted so much to be going with her.  He 
knew he would not rest properly until he saw Scully.

The door swished shut behind her, and then he was alone with 
Skinner.  Mulder said, "Help me get this bed up, would you?"  After 
Skinner had complied, even helping him shove the pillows more 
comfortably behind his head, Mulder demanded, "What aren't you 
telling me?"

Skinner's jaw flexed and he looked away for a moment.  His face was 
blank, but his eyes betrayed his feelings.  "I asked the doctor if 
they performed a rape kit on Scully when she was brought in."  His 
gaze flicked away again, he was clearly disturbed about the matter.  
"They hadn't, because it's not standard procedure every time a 
patient is brought to the emergency.  He said if they had had more 
information about what had happened, they would have.  He ordered 
one to be completed now."  He paused, and then said, "The initial 
report when she was brought in said there were abrasions and 
bruising on her inner thighs, which could be consistent with sexual 
assault."

"Why the hell wouldn't that have triggered an alarm?"  Mulder almost 
yelled.  His pulse was jumping madly at his throat.  He was 
remembering the phone call from Elliot, when he had called bragging 
about his attack on Scully.  He heard that oily voice again.  

<Did you know she's a screamer? >  

His teeth clenched with rage, and he gasped with pain when he 
unwittingly tried to clasp his hands into fists.

"I asked him that, and he didn't really have an answer.  He said she 
had a lot of bruising and abrasions all over her body, and that they 
were more concerned with getting her stabilized."  Skinner rubbed 
one hand over his jaw.  Weariness was evident in every line of his 
body.  He went over and grabbed a chair from against the far wall, 
and brought it to beside Mulder's bed, sinking into it with a sigh.  
"Powell had his men searching the hospital property, but there was 
no sign on Andercott.  Do you think he was inside the building?"

Mulder had forced himself to relax.  He shrugged his shoulders, 
wincing slightly at the pain the movement caused in his chest, and 
replied, "I don't know.  I wasn't really looking for him.  I just 
concentrated on finding Scully."

He had to blink rapidly then, to stop the images that were forming 
in his brain.  The flames, the smoke.  Scully tied to the cot.  
Scully not breathing. 

Something must have shown on his face, because Skinner said, 
"Mulder, why don't you close your eyes and get some rest.  I'm 
going to go out and make some calls, check on things.  I'll come 
back in a little while."  He rose, the chair squeaking slightly, 
and patted Mulder's arm.  "Take it easy, okay?"

Mulder nodded and watched Skinner leave the room.  He was tired, 
and sore, and the sedative they had given him still lingered in 
his system.  He had been fighting it.  If he couldn't go see Scully, 
he might as well rest up until he could.  He took slow, even 
breaths, and his eyes slowly closed.  Within moments he was asleep.

He dreamed of Scully.

***

Pleasant dreams.  Beautiful dreams.  Sexy dreams.

>>The sound of her laughter tinkling in his ears.  His witty comment 
had not drawn its usual close-lipped smile or trademark eyebrow, but 
full-blown laughter.  Her eyes twinkled at him, complimenting him on 
his sense of humor and intelligence.  Mulder felt his heart stop, 
and then begin a slow, steady thumping as he beheld the vision of 
Scully before him.  Her hand came out and laid itself with 
gentleness on his arm, and she squeezed it lightly, breezily saying 
his name.  He allowed himself to put his arm around her shoulders, 
waiting for her to tense and pull away, but she did not.  Instead 
she leaned into the embrace, on her lips a now tiny smile.  A smile 
of friendship, and companionship.  And maybe of love.  It felt so 
right. So peaceful<<

>>Scully's bedroom was candlelit, and smelled faintly of peaches, 
the scent of Scully.  The scent that made his nostrils flare and 
his insides quiver.  Mulder's footsteps were light but sure as he 
crossed the patterned rug that adorned her hardwood floor.  Towards 
the woman waiting in the bed, where crisp linens and downy comforter 
had been pushed to the bottom.  Scully lay, her head slightly 
propped by a pillow, her body sheathed in silk.  It draped 
enticingly in all the right places.  Places that drew his eyes, and 
had his pulse soaring.  She was smiling, her look so seductive and 
yet so innocent, that it played with his heartstrings and filled 
his mind with thoughts of joining her in a ritual as old as time.  
He shrugged his shoulders, the robe that had been his only adornment 
sliding down to pool on the floor, and felt the mattress dip beneath 
his knee.  In one graceful movement he was covering her, feeling the 
heat of her body pressing against his.  Her hands twining in his 
hair, his lips covering hers<<

>>They staggered through his apartment door; lips fused together, 
barely managing to shut it behind them.  Their stumbling footsteps 
took them to his leather couch, bumping the backs of his legs, upon 
which he sank down, pulling Scully with him so that she now 
straddled his lap.  He never once relinquished her lips.  His hands 
dived into her hair, angling her head to better deepen his kiss, 
before sliding down her back to grasp her bottom.  He squeezed once, 
and then her hands were on his shirt, frantically plucking at the 
buttons.  Gasps and groans as each fought for air.  He let his lips 
travel along her jaw line and down to her neck, pausing to suck at 
the pulse skittering rapidly there.  "Mul-der..." his name was a 
drawn out sigh, and then her hands were on his bare chest, having 
successfully opened his shirt.  Her lips went to his neck, sucking 
and nibbling.  Her hands rubbed the flesh she had revealed, stroking
his pectorals, before flicking a fingernail over one erect nipple.  
Mulder groaned and tightened his hold on her ass, pushing her more 
firmly against the ache in his groin.  His hips lifted slightly, 
thrusting<<

Sounds interrupted his subconscious, and he shifted restlessly in 
the narrow hospital bed.  "...Agent Mulder?  Are you in pain?  You 
were moaning.  Agent Mulder?"

Mulder opened his eyes with a gasp, his heart racing, to see a nurse 
leaning over him.  He was extremely thankful that several blankets 
covered him, helping to disguise a certain part of his anatomy that 
had reacted to his dreams.  Scully...

He gasped again when the nurse pulled the blankets away to pull out 
his arm, worried she would see more of him then he wanted her to.  
He could not grasp them with his mittened hands, so he did the next 
best thing, clamping them down by his sides, effectively keeping the 
blankets up to his chest. 

"I'm sorry, Agent Mulder.  Did I startle you?" the nurse asked.  

It was Jenn, the nurse who had been assigned to him, and she wore 
a look of concern.  "I came in to check your vitals, and you were 
moaning and tossing on the bed.  Are you in any pain?"

Mulder almost laughed.  He was in pain, but not the kind she meant.  
He shook his head.  "Just dreaming," he said, not explaining any 
further.  

His thoughts turned to Scully as Jenn went about taking his blood 
pressure and pulse.  He hated knowing she was lying unconscious 
somewhere in the hospital, not near him. 

He realized then that he was in another kind of pain as well.  The 
pain of not being able to see her, to touch her, to know that she 
really was all right.  As much as he worried about her and missed 
her though, he would not be ashamed of his dreams of her.  He knew 
they were a manifestation of his love and desire for her.  Always 
there, but tamped down.  Hidden.  But no longer.  The first chance 
he got, he was telling her everything.  He just hoped she felt the 
same way.

Jenn took his temperature next and then said, "I'll bring your pain 
pills in a moment, okay?"  She gathered up her stethoscope and 
pushed the monitor cart out with her.  She came back moments later 
with a plastic medicine cup containing two white pills which she 
placed on the little rolling table.  She pushed it closer to the 
bbed for him, and poured a Styrofoam cup full of iced water.  She 
handed him the water and watched as he shifted upwards and dutifully 
swallowed the pills, before taking the cup back from him and 
returning it to the table.  With a pat on his arm, she left the 
room.

Mulder sank back into the pillow and shifted a little, trying to 
get more comfortable.  Thankfully his erection had faded, and he 
managed to roll partially onto his side.  His eyes slowly slid 
shut.  

Maybe he would dream of Scully again.

***

end Part 11 of 29