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 27 of 29
by Lovesfox


Walter Reed Army Medical Center
Washington, D.C.
Saturday
4:10 am


Margaret Scully kept her strides even and steady as they entered 
through the emergency doors of Walter Reed, remembering doing the 
same thing with Walter Skinner not so long ago, also seeking word 
about her daughter's condition.  She had been a bundle of nerves 
since receiving Mr. Skinner's phone call where he had told her Dana 
and Fox had been found and that Dana was injured, but had managed 
to keep it well hidden.

The young man who had driven her here from her house, Agent Hughes 
she recalled, had his hand on her elbow, and gently led her to the 
Nurse's station just inside the next set of sliding double doors.  
He then excused himself and stepped politely back, leaving her some 
privacy.

There was only one nurse behind the chest high counter, and she was 
on the telephone.  She held up one hand to signal she would be a 
moment, finished up her call, and then stepped over to stand close 
to the counter.  "May I help you?"

"My daughter, Dana Scully, was brought here.  She's an FBI agent..." 
Margaret began.  There was only the slightest quaver in her voice.

A sympathetic look immediately crossed the nurse's face, and 
Margaret felt her heart speed up, terribly afraid she was going to 
hear very bad news.  Mr. Skinner had not gone into great detail on 
the phone, but he had said Dana was in stable condition.  Had she 
worsened since then?

The panic must have shown on her face, for the nurse quickly said, 
"I didn't mean to alarm you, I'm sorry.  Your daughter's been taken 
upstairs to surgery, but she's doing very well.  There's another 
agent here who came with her in the ambulance, I'll get someone to 
take you to him, all right?"  She turned away and then looked back, 
adding, "Just a moment, please."  She paused once more and said, 
"Oh, and the doctor will be there shortly to speak to you and give 
you a better update."

Margaret released the breath she had been holding as soon as she 
heard the words 'she's doing very well', and eased her grip on the 
edge of the counter where she had unknowingly latched onto in her 
fear, and watched the nurse move out of sight.  Her fingers felt 
unnaturally cold, as she did all over.

A moment later another nurse came out from a door to the right of 
the nurse's station and touched Margaret softly on the shoulder, 
a kind smile on her face. "Ma'am?  If you'll follow me?"  She 
indicated which direction they were to go in with one hand, and 
started walking, the soles of her white nurse's shoes nearly 
soundless on the uncarpeted floor.

Margaret nodded and followed the nurse, along the hall a short bit 
to where it ended, branching off either to the left or the right.  

The nurse stopped and pointed down to her right, saying softly, 
"He's right there."

She thanked the nurse and turned the corner.  She immediately saw 
Mr. Skinner, sitting military straight in an uncomfortable-looking 
plastic chair, and beyond him, several meters further along, was 
Fox, apparently in mid-pace.

Both men appeared to see her at the same time, Mr. Skinner rising 
from his seat as she approached him, while Fox seemed to momentarily 
freeze in place before he resumed walking in her direction, his 
steps quite slow.  Margaret felt her heart twist.  He looked so 
lost and alone.  She put aside her worry for Dana for a moment, 
and concentrated on Fox.

It was obvious to her he was carrying an enormous burden, one of 
guilt and worry.  She sighed softly, inwardly, at his apparent need 
to lay claim to any and all blame when terrible things happened to 
her daughter, even when there was none.  She took a moment to curse 
the cold and uncaring nature of his upbringing, and to wonder what 
could bring parents to treat their child so, remembering the pain 
for him in Dana's voice as her daughter had related some of Fox's 
background to her after arriving late and unexpected one night on 
her mother's doorstep.

Margaret made sure there was no pity in her eyes as he drew nearer, 
only her love, and held open her arms in invitation.  She thought 
she saw tears glisten in his eyes, just before he came into her 
embrace, and felt answering tears spring into hers.  She held him 
tight, and rubbed one hand up and down his back, feeling his deep 
sigh, and the slight trembling of his body.  She said his name 
softly, and whispered, "Please don't blame yourself, Fox.  It hurts
me to see you like this."

Fox made a snuffling sound, and then spoke, his voice muffled by the 
fact that his face was pressed into her shoulder. "It is my fault.  
I...I pushed him and he..."

"Shhhh."  Margaret gave him one last squeeze and then drew back, 
lifting her arms up to cup his cheeks, and stared into his pain-
filled eyes.  "Don't," she said, and when his mouth worked in 
protest, added, "Please."

He closed his eyes briefly and then nodded, and she pulled away, 
turning to face Mr. Skinner, who had stood silently by while she had 
been hugging Fox.  She reached out and found one of Fox's hands, and 
held it, finding the chill of his fingers outmatched hers.  "The 
nurse told me Dana's been taken up to surgery, and that she's doing 
well," she told them.  "She also said the doctor should be coming 
shortly to speak to us and tell us a little more."  Her use of the 
pronoun 'us' showed she intended for the conversation to include 
both of them, for she knew they were just as worried about Dana as 
she was.

Through the clasp of their hands, Margaret felt Fox stagger a 
little, and turned back to him quickly.  His face was pasty white, 
and that was when she finally noticed the bandage at the side of his
hairline.  

"Fox, what happened?" she gasped, and manhandled him easily into one 
of the chairs. She was stronger than she looked.  She bent slightly 
at the waist, so their eyes were level with each other's, and asked, 
"Do you need the nurse?"

Fox shook his head and then winced, bringing one hand up to touch 
his forehead.  "No, I'm okay, Mrs. Scully.  I just got a little 
dizzy."

She sat down to his left, and touched him gently on the knee, 
resting her hand there.  She had always felt that the touching of 
another person was vital in life, particularly when that person was 
hurting.  She hoped he drew comfort, and perhaps strength from her.  
"What happened?" she repeated, and when Fox remained silent, shifted 
her gaze to his superior.

Mr. Skinner was frowning slightly while watching Fox, but he shifted 
to meet her eyes.  "He was shot at, but fortunately the bullet only 
grazed his head."

Margaret turned to look at Fox again, and asked him, "Did you see 
the doctor, Fox?"  She was almost positive he had not, for the 
bandage appeared to have been applied almost hastily, as if it were 
only a temporary one.  And it would be like him to ignore his own 
injuries in his worry for Dana.

He was silent for a minute, and would not look up at either of them, 
confirming her suspicion.  His voice was low and scratchy when he 
replied.  "They looked at it in the ambulance and cleaned it up.  
It's fine."  

She could feel the tension in his body as her hand lay on his knee, 
but had also learned from Dana that pushing him only resulted in him 
digging his heels in further.  So she didn't push, and said only, 
"If you're sure then."  Already plotting to get the doctor aside to 
ask him or her to take a look at Fox.

He nodded, and slumped back into his chair.  Mr. Skinner resumed his 
seat on her other side, and they sat silently together waiting for 
the doctor to appear.

Fortunately they did not have long to wait.

A tall, bespectacled man in a white doctor's coat came around the 
corner and called out, "Mrs. Scully?"

Margaret rose from her seat, followed by both Fox and Mr. Skinner 
and headed towards the man, whom she assumed was the doctor.  He met 
them halfway and holding his hand out, said in introduction, "I'm 
Dr. Richards, and I saw your daughter when she arrived in the 
Emergency Department."

Margaret shook his hand, confirmed she was indeed Mrs. Scully, and 
before she could say anything further, he spoke again, nodding at 
both Fox and Mr. Skinner.

"Agent Mulder, Mr. Skinner," he said, and then turned back to her. 
"I understand the nurse has already told you Miss Scully is up in 
surgery.  The bullet to her upper shoulder was what we call a 
through and through gunshot wound, and although I was fairly 
confident there was minimal, if any, damage to her joint or tendons, 
I called in the orthopedic surgeon for a consultation.  She remains 
in stable condition, and should be out of surgery within the hour.  
As for the other bullet, which struck her in the upper back, due to 
the intervention of her Kevlar vest, there is only a deep tissue 
bruise.  Of course there will be some pain from this injury, but I 
do not expect any complications to arise.  She'll be sent to our 
surgical floor after recovery, and will more than likely need to 
stay here for 2 to 3 days.  If there are no questions, I'll send 
an orderly to takeyou up to the surgical waiting room."

Margaret released a huge sigh of relief, and sent a quick glance 
upwards to thank God.  She could not think of any questions right 
then, she was just so glad to hear that Dana was going to be all 
right, so she shook her head and said, "Thank-you, Dr. Richards."

Fox had walked a few steps away, his back to them and his hands on 
his hips, but not before she had heard him echo her sigh.  

Remembering his head wound, Mrs. Scully took a step after the 
doctor, who had started to walk away after shaking Mr. Skinner's 
hand.  "Doctor?" she called softly, and when he turned, continued, 
"Agent Mulder was injured by a bullet grazing his head, and I don't 
think he's been treated yet." Seeing Fox had turned back to look at 
her, she added with a little wobble in her voice, "I'm worried 
about him."

The doctor looked towards Fox with concern, and told her, "I'll take 
a look at him right away, Mrs. Scully.  Come with me, Agent Mulder."

Fox had been frowning, with what looked like a protest on his lips, 
but at her last statement, he capitulated and headed after the 
doctor.

"Thank-you, Dr. Richards.  And thank-you, Fox," she said, and 
watched the two of them walk away.  She turned to resume her seat in 
the row of chairs and saw Mr. Skinner watching her with a look she 
could only describe as admiration.

"Very nice move, Margaret," he said, shaking his head a little and 
smiling.  He joined her at the chairs and sat down beside her again.

"Mother's guilt," she said with just a hint of smugness, and not a 
trace of a wobble.  "Works every time."

***

6:45 am

The feel of his chin hitting his chest woke Mulder from the 
unnatural sleep he had drifted into, and he snapped his head up, 
gaze immediately flying to the hospital bed, one hand going up to 
rub at the ache in his neck.  

Scully was still there, her eyelashes dark against her pale cheeks 
and her only slightly dulled red hair spread out on the crisp 
white pillow.  Her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, and the 
room was so quiet except for the quiet beeps of the heart monitor, 
that he imagined he could hear the steady drops of the IV solution 
as it was slowly fed into her system.

She was on her right side, facing him, propped up by a multitude 
of pillows, to help keep pressure of her bruised back and to elevate 
her injured and heavily bandaged shoulder, and her right arm lay 
outstretched from her body atop the covers.  Her hand was palm up 
with her fingers curled a little, and he fancied it was as if she 
were reaching towards him, even in her drugged state. 

Lifting himself partly off the chair, he reached down and grabbed 
the seat edge with one hand and carefully walked closer to the bed, 
pulling the chair with him.  Once his knees brushed the metal frame 
of the bed, he stopped and took his seat once more.  It was much 
better this way, for now he could easily hold her hand, and he
wondered why he hadn't thought of it earlier, when the nurse had 
first led him into Scully's room.

Of course lack of sleep and hours of worry and fear had taken their 
toll, not to mention a small head injury, leaving him fuzzyheaded 
and tired beyond all belief, and he felt he was lucky to have been 
able to walk after the nurse. Not that he would have let any of that 
stop him from seeing Scully.

Mulder's eyes flickered to her bandaged shoulder once more, and he 
recalled the update they had received from the surgeon, after Dr. 
Richards had finished the forced examination of his head wound and 
he had gotten the all clear.  

Mrs. Scully, Skinner and he had gone up to the other waiting room, 
and it seemed like just minutes after they had taken their seats, 
the orthopedic surgeon, a Dr. Chambers, had come in and told them 
Scully was in recovery and that there had been no other tissue 
damage to her shoulder.  She had tolerated the procedure well and 
would be moved to a surgical room in the next hour.

Mrs. Scully had been the first one to see Scully, at his insistence, 
for he had planned on staying until they kicked him out.  Scully had 
woken only very briefly to whisper to her mother that she was fine, 
and then Skinner had taken Mrs. Scully home.

Before Mrs. Scully had left though, she had taken something from 
around her neck and given it to him for safekeeping, until he could 
return it to Scully.  

Her cross necklace, the one she had thought lost forever.  

Mulder remembered how he had decided to buy her a new necklace, once 
they had learned it was gone, and how he had wanted to surprise her 
with it.  Only he hadn't been able to, with them being in each 
other's back pockets as their living arrangements had once been 
quaintly put, and he supposed it was just as well.

His free hand reached up and gently touched the cross where it lay 
at his throat, for around his neck was the safest place it could be 
until he could put it around hers.  Now that it was unnecessary for 
him to buy her a necklace, he wondered if there was some other piece 
of jewelry he could buy her.  The thought of going to purchase a 
necklace, of buying anything for her, had sent such an odd feeling 
of joy through him that he wanted to run out as soon as he could and 
do so.  He tried to picture her reaction to receiving a gift from 
him, having only a few short experiences to draw from, and each one
of those had been entirely different.

He remembered her childlike glee the Christmas morning at his 
apartment, after the interesting night spent at a haunted house, 
as he handed her a present, despite their mutual avowal not to buy 
anything for each other, and the enigmatic looks and her soft, 
flirty behavior at the baseball diamond the time he had given her 
the really early or really late birthday present, depending on how 
you looked at it.  Both times had been pretty pleasant experiences 
in his humble opinion.

Mulder wracked his brain, trying to think of any other times he had 
given her a present, and could only think of the Apollo 11 key 
chain, now broken by its collision with the pavement outside 
Scully's building, that he had given to her for her birthday quite 
a few years ago.

Was that all he had ever bought her?

He didn't like to count the gag gifts they had exchanged on other 
Christmases, chosen for their laugh or shock factor, like the tiny 
rubber alien hiding in her desk drawer that he had given her once.  
Mulder blinked in surprise as he recalled that in return that year, 
she had given him a beautiful, sedate silk tie.  He tried to think 
of any gag gifts that she had given him, and he could not.  It was 
always his to her that had been for fun.  

He had a lot to make up for, he thought.  Birthdays, Christmases, 
Valentine's Day...the list was endless.

Mulder was so intent on planning his shopping agenda for some time 
in the near future that he at first did not notice the twitching of 
her hand within his.  It was not until she actually squeezed his 
fingers did he realize Scully might be waking up.

He rose from the chair and leaned over the bed, saying her name very 
softly, still holding her hand.  She squeezed his hand again, and a 
smile took over his face.  He repeated her name, and watched as her 
eyelids flickered and then slowly opened, revealing hazy blue eyes 
that rolled as they tried to find him.

Her mouth opened and closed like a baby bird's, and then she licked 
her lips before trying to speak.  "Mul..." It was the faintest of 
sounds, and he could tell her mouth was very dry by the way she 
tried to swallow several times to work up some moisture.

He brought his free hand up to softly stroke her bangs off her 
forehead, and said, "Hey, Scully, I'm right here.  Do you want some 
ice chips or water?"

"Mmmm," was all she said, and her eyes drifted shut.  

He thought she had fallen asleep again, and was about to sit back 
down when she whispered,  "Mulder?  You...okay?"  Her eyes had 
remained closed, but he could tell she was not going to sleep as he 
had first thought.

"Me?" he asked.  "I'm fine, Scully, and so are you."  He continued 
to stroke her hair, and she moved her head a little on the pillow, 
a slight smile on her lips.  "Doctor said there was no damage to 
the tendons in your shoulder or anything, and you'll be out of here
in a couple of days."

"That's good..."she sighed, and he smiled a little to himself.  She 
was on the good stuff, and thankfully feeling no pain.  

Unfortunately he knew that would change, probably when the initial 
dose wore off.  But Scully was a trooper, and hated to give in to 
her pain.  Knowing her, once she was alert and clearheaded, she'd 
be trying to convince the doctor to let her go home early.

And as much as he wanted her home, so they could talk about where 
they were going to go with their relationship, he did not want her 
to push herself to soon.  Recalling Mrs. Scully's trick to get his 
head looked at, he hoped she could pull the guilt trip on Scully 
just as well as she had pulled it on him.

"You just rest, Scully," he said.  "Okay?"

She moved her head against the pillow and his hand in agreement and 
then whispered, "You...stay?"

"Always, Scully," he replied.  

And he meant it in more ways than one.

Mulder kept up the motions of his fingers on her head until she had 
reentered never-never-land, and then resumed both his seat in the 
chair and his grasp of her hand.  He let out a deep yawn and then 
shook off his tiredness.  His own sleep could wait until later.

***

10:15 am

Slowly a persistent, nagging ache in her upper body penetrated her 
sleep, and Scully began to wake, swimming towards consciousness with 
reluctance, not yet ready to leave that calm place where nothing 
could disturb her.

Other things drifted into her awareness, the dry, gummy feeling in 
her mouth, that all too familiar antiseptic smell of a hospital, the 
slow steady blip of a heart monitor, and the most welcome of all, 
the touch of Mulder's fingers on her hand.  With a small smile, she 
opened her eyes, blinking rapidly in an effort to clear the residual 
drugged sleepiness from them.  

When her vision was clear, she turned her head carefully on the 
pillow to look for Mulder, trying not to move to quickly or jar her 
shoulder in any way.  She was only partially successful, the slight 
pull on her neck muscles caused her shoulder to twinge angrily, and 
she winced with the fresh pain.  She took several slow, deep breaths 
until the pain had subsided to a dull ache once more.

Luckily she had been able to hold in the accompanying moan when she 
had moved, for it would have woken Mulder, whom she had immediately 
spied, sleeping in what had to be the most uncomfortable position 
she could imagine.  And having spent too many nights, more than she
wanted to think about actually, on stakeouts in cars and other, more 
unsavory places, she could imagine quite a few.

Lifting her head just slightly from the pillow for just a moment, 
she was able to see that he was sitting in a chair, one of those 
ugly plastic ones, standard to every hospital she had ever had the 
misfortune to be in, that never conformed to your body no matter how 
many times you tried.  It both amused her and relieved her, for at 
first glance she had thought he had been overcome with exhaustion 
and was sleeping on his feet, leaning over the rail of her bed.  She 
knew the chair had to be pushed as close as he could get it, for him 
to be able to achieve the position he had, which seemed to almost be 
stretching his spine.

Scully was glad he was asleep, because it gave her time to study 
him, without him jumping up and making everything about her.  She 
appreciated his concern, had even grown somewhat dependant on it, 
but sometimes she wished it wasn't so all-consuming.  

Because he was on the right side of her bed, she had a clear view of 
the side of his head where the bullet had grazed him.  She could see 
it had been taken care of, and she was thankful, for it would be 
like Mulder to push aside his own hurt in his concern for her.  

The bandage was neat, and cleanly white without a hint of a 
bloodstain, which relieved another worry she had been holding inside 
her since the moment she realized Elliot's first shot had indeed 
struck Mulder.  He had told her the bullet had just grazed him, but 
she had seen him stagger, and there had been quite a bit of blood.  
She had been afraid he had been hurt worse than he had admitted to.

Now that her fear had been partly assuaged, for it would only truly 
be alleviated when Mulder was awake and talking to her, she was able 
to study the rest of him.  His hair was spiked every which way, like 
it was in the mornings before he showered, or after her hands had 
run through it over and over again while he pleasured her with his 
mouth, and the lower part of his face that she could see was lightly 
stubbled, for his other cheek was pillowed on his bent arm.  There 
were deep lines around his eyes and mouth, lines that she knew were 
from fatigue and anxiety, and he was paler than normal.

His other hand was lying on the mattress, only millimeters from 
hers, and with the tiniest of stretches, she was able to reach it, 
so that her fingers brushed his.  The small contact was enough to 
wake him.

Mulder's eyes popped open as he lifted his head, bloodshot and full 
of confusion for just a brief instant.  Then all traces of tiredness 
fled, and his hand was moving to clasp hers more firmly, a gentle 
smile crossing his lips.   "Scully."

His voice was husky, as was hers when she replied.  "Hey, Mulder."

He gave her hand a small squeeze and then released it to get up, 
the chair scraping back noisily as he did, and moved until he was 
standing at the head of her bed.  "How are you feeling?"  he asked 
tenderly, one hand coming up to brush a strand of hair off of her 
face, his hazel eyes lovingly tracing her every feature.

"Actually, not too bad," she replied honestly.  "A little sore, 
and I could probably go back to sleep again, but I was enjoying 
looking at you."  She paused a second and then added in her prim 
doctor's voice, having caught the wince he had tried to hide as he 
stood, "Even if you should be at home sleeping.  Mulder, you 
look..."

"Terrible?" he put in with a wry twist of his lips.

Scully pursed her lips in mock displeasure.  "I was going to say 
that you look exhausted."

"I'm fine," he insisted.

Now she knew why he hated those two words so much.  "Mulder," she 
sighed, and forgetting for a moment she had to be careful when 
moving, tried to lift her arm to touch him.  Pain flared, fast and 
furious, in both her shoulder and her back, and she squeezed her 
eyes tightly shut as she moaned.

Shit, did that ever hurt.  

She clenched her teeth to hold back another moan, the fingers of 
her right hand gripping at the bedclothes, and heard Mulder say her 
name with apologetic regret.  Once again assuming he was to blame.  
If she'd had the strength, and wasn't being wracked by pain, she'd 
have called him on it.

Naturally her heart rate had accelerated, and the monitor gave a 
discordant note.  Only seconds had gone by and there came the sound 
of the door swooshing open and rapid footsteps as someone came to 
the bed.   

Scully was dimly aware of a female voice, most likely one of the 
nurses, trying to order Mulder from the room, and he vehemently 
refusing to go while she panted in an effort to control the pain.

She wasn't ready for him to go yet, hadn't really had much time to 
look at him, and to talk to him. She opened her eyes and this time 
the sound she made was more one of protest than anything else.  

It had the effect she wanted, for the nurse subsided in trying to 
eject Mulder from the room, and he resumed his spot close to her 
head.  His hand hovered over her for a moment before it descended 
to stroke through her hair.

The nurse leaned over the rail and patted her hand, which had 
relaxed its hold on the sheets.  "Can you tell me what's wrong?" 
she asked in a gentle voice, so different from the one she had 
spoken to Mulder with.

"I moved by mistake," Scully replied, a little tightly.  While the 
pain was not as intense, it had not retreated completely.

"I'm so sorry, Miss Scully," the nurse said then.   "You're 
slightly overdue for your pain meds.  We had two new patients come 
down from surgery and we got a bit backlogged.  I'll be right 
back."  With that she turned and swiftly left the room.

Before the door had even finished closing, Mulder was already 
apologizing.

"Mulder, stop blaming yourself for everything," she sighed.  She 
kept her eyes on his face, and saw his mouth opening, probably to
protest.  She spoke again, not giving him the chance to do so. 
"Mulder, I wanted to hold your hand, and I forgot and moved, 
okay?  You didn't do anything."

"But, Scully..."

"Mulder, when the nurse gives me the pain medication, I am going 
to fall asleep within a matter of minutes," Scully interrupted 
him.  "So please give me a kiss before she comes back."

His face immediately softened like she knew it would, and he bent 
down over the railing to bring his face to hers.  His hand moved 
from her hair to her cheek, and his thumb gently caressed the 
delicate skin beneath her eye before he brought his lips to hers 
in a soft kiss.

For some inexplicable reason, her eyes welled with tears.  She tried 
to blink them away, but of course Mulder saw them as he was drawing 
back, and his eyes grew worried. 

"Scully?  What's wrong?  Did I hurt you?"

Scully sniffled, feeling foolish and tired and weepy, and hastened 
to tell him in a watery voice, "No, Mulder, you didn't hurt me.  
I just...I, oh...I love you so much, Mulder!"  A lone tear had 
gathered and lay trembling on her lashes.

"I love you too, Scully," he replied, sliding his thumb up to wipe 
away the wetness.  He smiled anew, and this time it was teasing. 
"Boy, those drugs really make you silly, don't they?"

She chuffed out a tiny laugh.  "Brings back memories of another 
hospital bedside declaration, doesn't it?"

"Oh, brother!" he mimicked, still smiling, and bent to press another 
kiss on her, this one at the corner of her mouth.

The door opened then, and Mulder straightened rather hastily, but he 
stayed at his post by her head.  The nurse came over to the bed and 
competently injected the pain medication in Scully's IV port.  "My 
apologies again, Miss Scully," she said, and then turned her gaze to 
Mulder.  "Excuse me for a moment, please.  I need to take her 
vitals."  

Mulder stepped aside with a small nod, and Scully watched him while 
the nurse checked her blood pressure and temperature and jotted the 
results down on the chart she had brought with her.  He kept his 
eyes on her face the whole time, until the nurse moved to lift the 
bedcovers.  Then he turned his back to them and Scully knew it was 
to give her some privacy.  The nurse first looked at the surgery 
site, peering briefly at the drainage tube, before she checked her 
catheter quickly.  She then fixed the bedclothes around her, gave 
her a small smile, picked up her chart and left the room.

Once the nurse's footsteps could be heard leaving, Mulder turned 
again and came right back to his position by her head.  

Scully smiled and blinked sleepily at him, the medication was 
already taking effect.  "Mulder?" she sighed.

"Yeah, baby?" he almost crooned at her, his hand smoothing her hair 
back in a gesture she found immensely soothing.

Her lids were so heavy, but she managed to keep them open.  "Promise 
me you'll go get some rest?"  Her eyes started to slide shut, and 
she forced them wider.  "Really rest, I mean.  At home, in my..." 
she hesitated, for that hadn't sounded right, and found the words 
tthat did. "In our bed."  They sounded even better when she said 
them out loud.

She watched with bemused interest as a goofy smile crossed his 
lips.  "Our bed, I like the sound of that," he whispered.  

She mouthed, 'me too', and then he said, "I will as soon as you fall 
asleep again, I promise. Indian Guide's honor."

"'Kay," she murmured, and let her eyes finally slide shut.  

The last thing she remembered was the press of his lips on her 
forehead.

***

Walter Reed Army Medical Center
Surgical Floor, Scully's Room
Saturday
3:30 pm


Mulder walked through the hospital lobby towards the elevators.  
In one hand he carried a bouquet of flowers, a riotous mix of 
colors and scents he hoped Scully would like, in the other her 
overnight bag, and inside the inner pocket of his leather jacket 
was the result of his two hour shopping trip.  Besides missing 
Scully like hell, he was nervous and very tired.  As he pressed 
the button to summon the elevator, he ducked his head down to hide 
a yawn, and wondered how long it would take Scully to deduce he 
had not kept his promise.

He had tried to sleep, he really had.  

After Scully had drifted off, he had watched her for long moments, 
his eyes focused on her face.  On the fan of her dark lashes resting 
against cheeks just blushed with the palest of pinks, a sign her 
body was rejuvenating itself, and on the faint flicker of movement 
behind her eyelids as she slid into what was hopefully a pleasant 
dream.  

Once he had been certain she would not wake again for some time, he 
had left, and gone home to Scully's, not even questioning how easily 
he had termed it 'home' in his mind.

He had been glad Mrs. Scully had chosen to go back to her own home 
instead of staying at Scully's, for the apartment had been quiet and 
still.  His boots and coat had been shed at the door, and from there 
he had gone straight into the bedroom.  The first thing he had 
noticed was that the bed was not made, the bedclothes still thrown 
back and disheveled, as if he and Scully had just climbed from it.  

He had not been able to resist the lure to surround himself in the 
place she had last been.  The borrowed tee shirt and his jeans had 
been shucked, along with his socks and briefs, and he had climbed 
into the bed nude. His body had immediately rolled into the spot 
long ago vacated by Scully, trying to pretend it was still warm from
hers, and he had buried his head in her pillow, nostrils flaring for
a moment as he had inhaled her sweet scent.

An enormous yawn had cracked his jaws wide then, and after nuzzling 
Scully's pillow once more, he had closed his eyes to catch up on the 
sleep he desperately needed, and that Scully had wanted him to get, 
had made him promise he would get.

He had actually drifted off, his body weary and sore, his mind 
filled with thoughts of Scully.   Thoughts that had quickly turned 
to dreams.  

Dreams that had him reaching out for her, and meeting only empty 
space.

Panic had had him shooting quickly awake and upright, his heart 
pounding and his eyes searching the bedroom frantically before he 
had remembered where she was.  

The dream, and the realization that he did not want to be there 
without her, had been the end of his attempt at sleep.

A long, hot shower, a quick shave and a fresh change of clothes 
had been followed by a bowl of his secret stash of Lucky Charms, all 
he had been able to muster the will to make.  A few minutes spent 
stuffing Scully's overnight bag with her toiletries and some 
underwear and extra clothes, and then he had left.  He had gone to 
the Gunmen's first, to fill them in on all that had happened after 
he had left her building the night before, and had given them 
Scully's hospital room number once Frohike had gotten over the news
that Scully had been shot.

His next stop had been to his own apartment, to collect his mail and 
to check on his fish.  After disposing of the one floater down the 
toilet and listening to a couple phone messages, he had left to go 
to his last planned destination before heading back to the hospital.

The jewelry store.

He hadn't had a particular one in mind, in fact had had no idea 
where to go at all. He just had that lingering feeling that made him 
want to buy Scully something personal, something that would maybe 
show her how he felt.

So he had gone to Union Station, on Massachusetts Avenue, and 
wandered in and out of all kinds of stores while he fought the 
butterflies that had taken up sudden residence in his stomach, and 
the little voice in his head that had been telling him it was a bad 
idea.

An entire hour had been spent like that, until he had finally found 
his nerve, and walked into the first jewelry store he had seen.  It 
had been fairly busy, which had made it easier to wander about 
peering in all the different display cases.  He had shied from the
one that had so very obviously contained engagement rings and 
wedding bands, that was something he thought they both were not 
ready for, and had ended up looking at one that showcased rings of 
a different sort. As he had stared at them he had tried to think 
over the years if he had ever seen Scully wear a ring.  He didn't 
think he ever had.

Just as he had decided that maybe a ring wasn't the way to go, even 
if it wasn't one that screamed 'Marry me!', he had seen several 
displayed beside a small sign that had made him take a second look.  

A saleslady had come by then, and had told him a bit more about 
them.  The more he had looked at them, the more sure he had become 
that this was what he should buy for Scully.

While the saleslady had been ringing in his purchase, his eye had 
been caught by something else that he just hadn't been able to 
resist. So he had bought them both.

The elevator doors opened then, startling Mulder out of his 
reverie.  He saw a young woman with a cane moving towards the car, 
and jammed his foot inside the door to hold it open for her.  Once 
she had gotten in with a smile of thanks, he followed her inside and
pressed the button for Scully's floor.

His grip on the flowers had tightened as he walked down the hallway 
towards her room, making his fingers cramp, so he switched the 
bouquet over to the other hand, holding the bag and the flowers
together.  Her door opened when he was a few feet away, and out 
walked Skinner.

"Mulder," the AD said when he spotted him.  His eyes flicked to the 
flowers in Mulder's hand, and he quickly hid a smile.  "How's the 
head?"

"It's fine," Mulder replied, reflexively reaching up to touch the 
now unbandaged wound.  After his shower he had decided some air 
would do the injury good.  It had garnered a few strange looks
during his shopping excursion, but he was used to getting odd 
stares.

"That's good," Skinner said, and reached into his pocket to pull 
out a small, white business card, holding it out towards Mulder. 
"Listen, you need to stop by the police station and give your 
statement about last night.  They're going to arrange a time to 
come and get Scully's statement as well.  There will also be some 
loose ends to tie up at the office.  You should probably come in 
on Monday, but I'll see what I can do about postponing things a 
couple days."

Mulder nodded, he had expected no less.  Skinner had confiscated 
the weapon he had used to kill Elliot Andercott while they were 
waiting for the ambulance, as well as the one that Andercott had 
used to fire upon both he and Scully, and their other pieces, but 
the AD had also told him he would handle the police while Mulder 
went to the hospital.  "Thank-you, Sir," he replied, and hoped his 
words and his expression conveyed his measure of gratitude for all 
his help.

Apparently he had, for Skinner cracked another smile before nodding
and taking his leave.

Shifting the flowers once more and taking a deep breath, Mulder 
knocked briefly on Scully's door before pushing it open.  He found 
her propped up just slightly, with more pillows under her head, and
staring expectantly at the door, and watched her eyes light up.  

Seeing that gave him the warmest feeling, and suddenly he wasn't 
quite as nervous about the contents of his jacket pocket as he had 
been moments ago.

She was smiling as he approached her bed, and her voice, while still 
a little groggy, was filled with happiness.  "Mulder."  

"I couldn't stay away," he told her as he dropped the bag on the 
floor by the night table, and bent to kiss her on the cheek.  Only 
she moved her head just before his lips touched her, so that he 
kissed her lips instead.

"I'm glad," she said softly.  "Even though I know you didn't get 
the sleep you need."  She gave him that look, the one that dared him 
to tell her she was wrong, and then softened it by adding, "I missed 
you."

He knew his cheeks had gone red by the way her smile widened, but 
chose not to respond to her comment about his sleep, or lack 
thereof.  He instead held out the flowers, and said, "I always miss 
you when you're not with me."

"Ohhhh..." was her soft exhalation.  He knew it was for his words, 
and not the flowers.  She sniffled then and moved her eyes from 
where she had been holding his to the bouquet he held out.  
"They're beautiful, Mulder.  Thank-you."

He reached out and laid the flowers down on the little side table to 
the left of her bed and then looked from the bed to the chair pulled 
nearby.  He didn't want to sit on the chair, he wanted to sit with 
Scully.

She had seen him looking at the bed, and said, "Lower the side rail."

Smiling, he carefully moved it down before easing his hip onto the 
mattress, making sure he did not jostle the bed in any way.  His 
hand went to hers, lying atop the covers and he lifted it gently to 
lie on the knee that he had raised and now rested close to her hip.  
He played with her fingers while they stared at each other, and was 
extremely conscious of the small bulge pressing against his ribcage 
beneath his jacket.

Should he give them to her now?  It was probably a good idea, before 
he lost his nerve.  "Hey, Scully," he said.  "I, uh, got you a 
little something while I was out."  She looked at him with curiosity 
as he let go of her hand and reached inside his pocket.  His fingers 
felt the plush velvet of the little, square box, and then on further 
exploration, the longer, rectangular box.  Which one first?

"Mulder, you didn't have to buy me anything," Scully said.

"I wanted to," he told her, while trying to formulate the right 
words to tell her how he had come to buy her what was in his pocket. 
"When you found out your cross was gone, I decided to go out and buy 
you another one, only I was not going to leave you alone while I 
went out, so I put the plans aside for the time being."

"Oh, Mulder," she sighed.  "That's so...sweet."  She looked a little 
sad, and he knew she was thinking about her necklace, for he had 
never got the chance to tell her it had been found.  He wished he 
had remembered, so that she didn't have to feel sad about it, even 
if it was only for a moment, and also because he thought returning 
it now might take away the impact of his gifts for her.  Yet he 
could not hold back the news from her, not just because it might 
spoil his surprise.

"But..." he drawled.  "I found out early this morning I didn't have 
to."  Her expression changed to one of puzzlement, and he removed 
his hand from his pocket to go up and pull her necklace from under 
his shirt collar.  "Your mom gave me this for safekeeping," he told 
her.  "It's yours."

Scully blinked slowly, seeming a little stunned.  "But...how?" she 
asked.  "Where did she find it?"

"It's a long story," he said, and when she opened her mouth, 
probably to insist he tell her, he added, "A story for another time, 
please, Scully?"

"Okay," she said, chewing on her lip.  He knew she had sensed it was 
not exactly a pleasant story, and although she wanted to know how, 
she would not press him because he had asked her to wait.  She 
managed a small smile for him.  "You'll wear it for me until I come 
home."

Mulder nodded and tucked it back against his skin. "So," he said. 
"Has the doctor been it yet?"  

He had decided the hospital wasn't the right place to give her his 
gifts.  He would do it at her apartment, when he brought her home.  
Besides, she wouldn't be able to wear them anyway, not now.

Scully nodded, a little carefully he noted.  "Just before Skinner 
came."  She paused and took a slow, deep breath before continuing. 
"He took a look at the two sites, and said there's no sign of 
infection, that everything looks clear.  He's still estimating my 
stay here at a couple days, but I'm hoping that might get 
shortened." She then yawned, grimacing slightly, and smiled 
sheepishly at him. "Getting tired again, and the damn meds are 
sneaking up on me."

"I think that's to be expected," Mulder said, and picked her hand 
back up to rest on his knee again.  He played his thumb over her 
knuckles.  "You close your eyes if you want.  I'm just going to sit 
here for a while."  And watch you, he added silently, as her eyes 
drifted from his face to her hand in his, before starting to slide 
shut.

"But you just got here," she said, forcing her eyes open, and yawned 
again.  Her lids started to close once more, and she fluttered them 
open to look at him with a small pout.

"Scully, you need your rest.  Especially if you want to get out of 
here early."  He added that last one as an enticement for her to go 
to sleep. 

"I know," she sighed, and then cranked her eyes open yet again.  
"You need your rest too," she said, and tried to pin him with a 
glare.  It was ruined by another yawn.

Actually, rest sounded good.  But not in her empty apartment that 
seemed lonely without her there.  "Tell you what.  You go to sleep,
and I will too.  Right in that chair there."  He indicated the one 
near her bed.  Getting up carefully, he pulled it closer to the bed 
and arranged it sideways and sat down, so that his long legs lay 
parallel to her bed, his feet level with her head.  That way he 
could 
stare at her until he fell asleep, and still hold her hand.

"Deal," she murmured, and let her eyes stay shut.

"Deal," he whispered back, and laid his fingers on top of hers, his 
right arm resting along the mattress.  Her hand twitched slightly, 
but that was the only reaction.  He let his head fall to the right 
shoulder, keeping his eyes on her face.

The soft sounds of her breathing lulled him to sleep.

***

end Part 27 of 29