Disclaimer: Dana Scully, Fox Mulder, Skinner, et al, belong of course
to CC, 1013 Productions, and Fox Broadcasting. No infringement
intended. This story is purely for enjoyment purposes...
Category: MS/UST
Key words: none
Rating: PG
Archive: Absolutely, go for it. You have my permission.
Spoilers: Chinga (small), The Red & The Black/Patient X,
Summary: Our two favorite agents are sent on a shocking case. And
that's only the beginning.
Author's note: The setting for this story will have to be classified as
an "alternate universe" since I have chosen to ignore the happenings in
the 6th season, but not the movie. I feel that by having fan fiction
both follow and digress from the television timeline, we, fan fiction
authors will keep Mulder and Scully and all the characters alive
forever.
THE LONG AND WINDING ROAD
by Barb
FBI Headquarters - Washington D.C.; 28th September 0830
THWAAACK
Special Agent Dana Scully stood in front of the filing cabinet, trying
to remember where the folder was for the report she was working on.
After ten minutes of fruitless searching with absolutely no offer of
assistance from her partner, Scully was ready to give up. With Mulder's
idea of a filing system, she'd just have to ask him. (Probably the
bottom drawer, ) she thought morosely, (at the very back. ) She sighed
quietly. (And if it is - he's getting it, ) she vowed to herself.
THWAAACK
Scully paused, her brow furrowing as the strange sound penetrated her
awareness. (What was that?), she thought.
THWAAACK
Slowly she turned around to find her partner, Fox Mulder, leaning
precariously back in his chair. With a sharpened pencil in hand, he
stared at the ceiling, took careful aim and flicking his wrist, sent the
pencil straight up. Silently, she followed the trajectory and saw the
pencil join at least ten others above his head.
THWAAACK
Quickly Scully turned away, groaning inwardly. (Not again.) She
searched her memory, trying to remember when it was that she had
discovered her partner's dubious talent of tossing pencils up and
imbedding them in the ceiling tiles. When it came to her, she grinned
broadly, grateful that Mulder couldn't see her face as she rolled her
eyes heavenward. An all too familiar gesture where her partner was
concerned. She nearly laughed aloud remembering how he looked when the
pencils started raining down on him. (Oh, please let them start falling
down now, ) she pleaded silently, (I could really use a laugh right
about now. )
THWAAACK
She opened her mouth to make some comment on the appropriate use of
pencils bought with the taxpayers money, when the phone rang, cutting
her off. Seeing that Mulder preferred to ignore it as usual, she sighed
again and picked it up.
"Scully," she said, briskly.
"Agent Scully, this is Kimberly. AD Skinner needs to see you and Agent
Mulder in his office, right away."
"We'll be right there." She hung up the phone and caught Mulder
watching her.
"What's up?" He asked, his tone light but knowing by the look in
Scully's blue eyes that it was back to business.
"Skinner want to see us." She eyed him intently. "What did you do
now?"
"Me?!" He exclaimed all innocence, his sparkling hazel eyes
purposefully wide. "Why me? I've just spent the last 5 weeks on that
trial - which, I might add, was successfully prosecuted. A job well
done, I believe I heard mentioned. So if anything, I should be getting
a bonus." He grinned smugly; confident for once that he was totally in
the clear.
Scully folded her arms across her chest. "Well, he wouldn't want both
of us if you're getting a bonus," she said darkly, glaring at him
suspiciously. She racked her memory, trying to come up with a reason
for the summons. "Are you sure your nose is clean?" she persisted.
Mulder stood up to put on his jacket and moved around the desk.
"Absolutely." And before Scully could blink, he reached out and ran his
index finger gently down her own nose. "What about you, Scully? How
clean is this little freckled nose?" he inquired mischievously.
She swatted his hand away with a laugh, even as a subtle thrill coursed
through her at his intimate touch. "Perfectly clean," she replied,
mimicking his tone and response. "While you were busy, I was teaching
at Quantico. One of the instructors broke his leg, so they were
grateful that I could fill in on such short notice. Another job well
done, I might add."
Mulder frowned. (Oh, great. Maybe it's about something before that
trial, ) he thought dejectedly. "So if we're both due for bonuses, how
come it feels like we're heading for the principal's office?" Mulder
asked, picking up Scully's pessimism.
"Guilty conscience, I would imagine," Scully retorted smartly, moving
towards the door with a smile. She had scored on that one and she
intended to make a victorious exit.
Mulder, however, hadn't admitted defeat in this round of their Game and
he wasn't about to let her get off so easily. He reached out with his
long arm and snagged Scully at the elbow pulling her quickly around so
they were facing each other. Instinctively, Scully put her hands up to
his chest to catch herself even though she knew Mulder wouldn't let her
fall. She looked up at him in surprise, her face inches from his, his
breath warm on her cheek.
"Now why would I have a guilty conscience, Scully?" he asked huskily,
his hazel eyes twinkling. He breathed deeply. (God, she smelled good. )
Outwardly recovering her composure, Scully pushed herself back a step,
even as her heart skipped a beat and her breath caught in her throat.
Mulder released her with a grin, attempting to mask his own feelings of
arousal caused by Scully's hands at his chest. He could still feel
their warmth through the thin material of his shirt.
"Where do you want me to start?" Scully asked primly, straightening
her skirt and adjusting her jacket - looking anywhere but at her
partner. Mulder, however, noticed what she was trying to hide: her
cheeks were flushed a bright pink. (That's a point for me. ) Trying
not to laugh, he backed off. Scully had scored earlier but he had
definitely emerged the victor.
"Come on, Scully; Skinner awaits," he said, still smirking as he held
the door open for her. Scully simply glared up at him as she stepped
out into the hall.
There was no further conversation as they hurried out. If Skinner had
bad news, they didn't want to add insult to injury by keeping him
waiting.
Scully led the way into Skinner's outer office and seeing that Kimberly
was on the phone, assumed she and Mulder should sit and wait. She
turned and started towards the chairs but Mulder stopped her with his
hand on her shoulder. She looked back at him, silently questioning him
with one delicately arched eyebrow.
"We're being waived in," he whispered darkly.
Scully looked over at Kimberly, who was indicating that they should go
on in. With Mulder's hand at the familiar place at the small of her
back, Scully stepped into Skinner's office. At their arrival, the AD
looked up from the file he was reading.
"Agents, have a seat." He paused to allow them to get settled before
going on. "We have a situation in Northwestern Nevada."
Mulder and Scully kept their faces neutral. A "situation" could be
anything from a nuclear bomb to a car crash. They managed to exchange
the briefest of glances that conveyed their relief - neither was getting
called on the carpet.
Skinner went on, "Four hours ago, VCS received a call from a game
warden out there. A number of bodies were discovered piled atop each
other and covered by a tarp, deep in the forest. I want you two to lead
the team being sent out there to investigate. A military transport
plane will be leaving in 2 1/2 hours."
Mulder and Scully looked at each other. Though no words were spoken,
Skinner got the distinct impression that they just drew straws to see
who would question his order. Mulder, apparently, lost.
"Excuse me, sir, but if VCS got the call, won't we be stepping on toes
if we're in charge?" he inquired.
Skinner leaned back in his chair. "Under 'normal' circumstances, yes."
"So are we to assume that these aren't 'normal' conditions?" He
persisted, seeing that the Assistant Director wasn't going to volunteer
an explanation.
Skinner answered by handing him a photo. Scully leaned over to see,
her auburn hair grazing his dark brown as they studied the grainy black
and white photo taken from above. It looked like someone had pitched a
tent in a clearing and had written on the canvas. A single word.
(So it was an X-file,) Mulder thought, his mouth suddenly dry. He
looked over to see that his partner had visibly paled.
"Does this say what it looks like it says?" he asked quietly.
"MUFON," Skinner confirmed.
"Are the bodies under there?" Scully asked, managing to keep her voice
steady.
"Yes," Skinner replied. He watched them carefully. "That's why we
don't have an accurate body count or description. The tarp is anchored
with stakes around the entire circumference."
Scully took a deep breath. "Were the bodies burned?"
"It doesn't appear so," Skinner responded.
Mulder silently exhaled in relief.
"Agents," Skinner said as he took off his glasses and came around his
desk, leaning back on it. "Off the record," he continued, his voice
soft.
"What is it, sir?" Scully asked curiously.
"What I'm about to say, I don't want you to take personally. Either of
you," he said carefully.
Mulder leaned back in his chair. He had a pretty good idea where his
boss was headed. Especially since he was already there.
Skinner went on, "To be perfectly honest, I'm concerned about you
working on this case."
"Even though we're the most qualified," Scully stated flatly. It was
not a question.
Skinner held up his hand, glancing at Mulder, who met his gaze without
flinching. (Mulder understands, ) he immediately realized, so he turned
his attention to Scully. "Agent Scully, I realize I may sound a little
out of character here, so bear with me. As your superior, I do in fact
have every confidence in your abilities. You two have the only
experience with MUFON. But I wouldn't be human if I just ignored why
you have so much experience with that group; what with everything you've
both been through."
Out of the corner of her eye, Scully caught Mulder staring at her. The
haunted look on his face reigned her in. "You're right, sir," she said
calmly. "I - I'm sorry."
Skinner relaxed. "No need to apologize. As I've said, these are not
normal circumstances. So, just between the 3 of us: if either of you
feel that VCS should handle this assignment - I want you to tell me. No
questions asked."
Once more, Scully faced Mulder. Their eyes met and held. It was
obvious to Mulder that Scully was not about to back down from this. Her
eyes had turned a steely blue and her mouth was set in a grim line.
(Well, if she went,) he thought despondently, (he'd follow....to the
ends of the Earth, if necessary.)
For a brief moment, Skinner swore that they were communicating
telepathically, as he waited, surprised by their silence. Maybe they
were psychic. The air felt charged, somehow. Skinner watched them
closely, the skin on the back of his neck prickled with the tension.
"We'll be fine, sir," Mulder finally said.
"Thank you for your concern, sir," Scully added.
Skinner looked them both over before nodding. He thought so.
Replacing his glasses, he returned to his chair and handed a file over.
"Here's the list of personnel assigned to you. The Army Corps of
Engineers is setting up camp. The plane leaves in 2 hours and 15
minutes. Weather conditions are enclosed," he said briskly.
Mulder took the file and rose to leave, with Scully right behind him.
"Agents," Skinner called after them.
They both paused and turned back.
"Good luck," he said before immediately bending over another file,
dismissing them.
Mulder glanced at Scully, shrugged and headed out.
As they hurried back to the basement, Mulder kept silent while Scully
took the file and began scanning the information in it. He knew he'd
only upset her if he expressed any concern about her being on this case.
He didn't want to fight. Not now. Especially not now. But that
wouldn't stop him from worrying and he vowed to himself that he'd keep
an extra close eye on her. Involvement with MUFON members had been a
on-going nightmare. The members that had died of cancer, Scully's
attachment to them, and he'd never forget the terror that went through
him when he had thought she'd been one of the burned corpses on Skyland
Mountain last year. He understood exactly where Skinner was coming
from. He only wished Scully did as well.
In the privacy of their office, Mulder finally spoke, "I'll be over in
an hour, if that's okay."
Scully nodded as she picked up her briefcase. "Here's the file," she
said, "and I suggest that you pack your long johns," she joked.
Mulder took the folder but didn't return her smile. He couldn't even
look at her.
Scully sighed, finally picking up on her partner's mood. (Mulder had
definitely backed down too easily,) she thought. Placing her briefcase
on the desk, she planted herself in front of him. "Mulder, come on.
I'll be fine. I can handle this, OK?"
Mutely he stared down at her. He swallowed with difficulty as her
luminous blue eyes cast their spell over him, imploring him. Scully
took his hands in hers: they were cold. Suddenly she understood. Or
thought she did.
"It's you," she said slowly, " you're worried that you-" she broke off.
Not trusting his voice, he simply shook his head. How could he tell
her that he would always remember how she had looked that day they found
her in the woods, having somehow survived the firestorm? The burns on
her face and hands, the horror in her eyes that comes with memory loss,
her bone-chilling regression hypnosis session. He shuddered. Scully
reached up to grip his shoulders.
"Come on, Mulder, please," she pleaded, shaking him gently, "please
snap out of it - you're starting to scare me."
Mulder looked down at Scully's upturned face, her blue eyes wide.
"Sorry, Scully," he said, his voice low. "It's just that Skinner's
right. I don't have anything good associated with MUFON."
Scully sighed again, in understanding, her arms dropping to her side,
head bowed. "Me either." She took a deep breath. "But we have a job
to do."
"I know," Mulder replied, "but that won't stop me from worrying."
Scully smiled faintly, her eyes catching his. She reached over and
took his hands again, trying to warm them. "I'll be worrying right
along with you, G-man. Deal?"
Mulder shook his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth at
her use of their pet name, and he gave her hands a squeeze in return.
"Deal, G-woman. Long johns, huh?"
Breathing a small sigh of relief, Scully retrieved her briefcase,
releasing his hands, "Don't be late," she warned him. "Military planes
pride themselves on sticking to their schedules." And with those words,
she hurried out. Mulder watched her go; his heart in his throat. He
had a really bad feeling about this case. And the fact that Scully
hadn't been upset by his determination to worry about her bothered him.
Usually she just reminded him that she would be fine. Fine. He really,
really hated that word.
Despite Scully's warning, they arrived at the airfield with only
minutes to spare. They quickly stowed their luggage and were escorted
to their seats by a burly airman. The young man made no attempt to hide
his displeasure at being kept waiting. Mulder made a crack about
in-flight movies and was promptly elbowed in the ribs by Scully.
There was no further opportunity for conversation as the plane taxied to
the runway and Mulder and Scully scrambled to get their seatbelts
fastened. During the flight, they acquainted themselves with their team
members, reviewed assignments, and gave a briefing on MUFON. After
landing in Las Vegas, they were immediately transferred to the site by
helicopter. They landed a safe distance away so as not to disturb the
crime scene. Army Corps of Engineers was hard at work, setting up
living quarters, mess tent, morgue-lab, and command-communications
center. They could see Krieg lights encircling what they presumed to be
the mass gravesite, 40 yards away.
Major Thompson, who was in charge of the army men, met the FBI team.
After introductions were made, he addressed Mulder, "I've got maps of
the camp for everyone and I took the liberty of making tent assignments
based on the list provided by A.D.Skinner. If there's anything else you
need, let me know."
"Thank you, Major," Mulder replied, "we'll stash our gear and get
started." After the major left, Mulder instructed everyone to get
unpacked and meet at the gravesite in 30 minutes. He quickly
distributed the maps and confirmed that everyone knew what they were
responsible for. Scully was silent. She knew that they were all
seasoned agents but how did you really prepare for mass murder?
She hung back as everyone else drifted off to find his tent. Mulder
quickly scanned the layout of the camp, committing it instantly to
memory. When he saw the tent assignments, he didn't know whether to
laugh or cry. As the only female on the team, Scully had been assigned
to a smaller tent - alone. Mulder would be next door with Agents
Jamison and Hartley.
"Hey Scully -need a roommate?" he asked with a leer.
Scully smiled wryly, easily seeing through Mulder's wisecrack. He was
worried about her. (So what else is new?)
"No, I do not need a roommate," teasing him with a haughty voice to
hide her own discomfiture, "You go to your own tent. I'll meet you out
there in a few minutes." She couldn't repress a slight shudder at what
awaited them. Mulder, of course, saw it. (Oh, well, ) she thought
dismally, (Maybe he should be worried about me. I know I'll definitely
be worrying about him.)
"Sure, Scully," he said evenly, watching her closely, "I'll be right
there."
Thirty minutes later they were assembled around the gravesite. The
first order of business had been to completely photograph the area from
every possible angle. After the tarp was pulled away, everyone had to
work through their shock and horror at the sight of bodies piled atop
each other. The grisly sight and smell caused several people to vomit.
Mulder definitely looked ill and Scully had to swallow back the bile
that rose in her throat, turning her head away. Someone picked up a
pamphlet with gloved hands and handed it to Mulder. He glanced at it
briefly, not needing to read it. It was a MUFON pamphlet. He'd seen
plenty of them in the past.
The bodies had been piled facedown and to everyone's added outrage, they
discovered that the bodies were desecrated. Based on the number that
they could see, they all appeared to be butchered in an identical
manner. The skin and tissue had been stripped away at the back of the
neck. Staring at the massacre before her, Scully had subconsciously
reached back to touch the site of her implant at the back of her own
neck. Mulder, too, thought of his partner. Noticing her hand at her
neck gave him goosebumps. (Oh, God, it could have been her, too.)
"Scully," he whispered in her ear, causing her to jump slightly, "Are
you thinking what I'm thinking?"
Scully remained silent, unable to speak. There really was no point in
responding.
Mulder continued, "It looks like someone just reached out and ripped
the implant out."
That statement snapped Scully out of the horror that had enveloped her
brain like a fog. "We don't know that these people had implants," she
whispered fiercely, turning to confront her partner. Her cheeks were
flushed in anger. Or fear, Mulder reasoned, his face calm amid Scully's
storm.
"Well someone apparently thought that they did," he said evenly.
He took no satisfaction at the look on her face. His statement had
obviously sucker-punched her. She closed her mouth with a snap and her
once flushed cheeks paled.
(Oh no,) she thought helplessly, (He's right. Whether or not these
people had implants wasn't the issue. What if someone thought that they
did?)
Mulder watched her face, regretting his words. It was pretty obvious
what was going through her mind. Being right wasn't worth it. (Is this
how you take care of your partner? ) he chided himself. This case had
just started and already he was flooded with guilt. (Great..I've
probably broken my own world record.)
"Come on, Scully. I'm sorry," he said softly, reaching for her arm.
"Let's go. We'll start the autopsies in the morning."
Scully allowed herself to be led away, her mind reeling as she
struggled to take it all in. (How could someone do this?) she thought
helplessly.
Mulder kept an eye on her, hesitant to leave her alone at her tent.
Scully realized this and attempted to reassure him.
"Just let me catch my breath. This is a shock, but I'll be ready to
go. Okay?" She tried to put strength in her voice. (Boy, aren't we
off to a wonderful start? )
"Yeah - okay," Mulder said. "The sooner we do this, the sooner we get
out of here. I'll be right next door if you need anything."
Scully smiled, forgiving him for his earlier remarks. "The same goes
for you."
Impulsively Mulder gave her a brief, fierce hug before rushing to his
tent. He was grateful that she wasn't mad at him. He didn't look back.
Scully watched him go. She hoped to get through this case with her
sanity intact. And Mulder's, too.
Day after day, Scully worked in the morgue as body after body was
brought in to be catalogued, identified, autopsied and packaged. Any
personal belongings were carefully searched. It all became a grisly
blur. Working in such primitive conditions had increased everyone's
workload exponentially. The total was up to 39. She knew that she
would be eternally grateful that the temperatures had not risen above 70
degrees and that the bodies had not been exposed to the sun, otherwise
none of them would have been able to handle the gruesome duty.
It was Day 9.
Mulder had the equally unenviable task of notifying families and
next-of-kin, conducting interviews with devastated husbands, wives,
sons, and daughters. All the agents who had phone detail were nearly
overcome by the continued outpouring of grief, shock, denial, and rage
that poured through the phone lines.
Night after night they all struggled to put it behind them and try to
sleep. Sleep was their only escape although through nightmares, the
horror would return regularly for most of them. On that ninth night,
Mulder awoke with a violent start, gasping for breath, his body bathed
in sweat despite the 40-degree chill in the air. He lay in bed, waiting
for his heart rate to return to normal, his hazel eyes wide, trying to
separate the terror of his nightmare from the waking horror he and the
others were living each day here. He shuddered as the image floated
before him, refusing to go away no matter how hard he rubbed his eyes.
Scully was one of the victims - her body on the top of the heap of
mutilated corpses - face down - her reddish-gold hair matted with her
blood - flesh ripped from the back of her slender neck - lifeless blue
eyes staring...
"No - dammit!" He hissed in frustration and fear, "No. She's fine.
She's okay." The images, however, remained and would not go away.
Grimly he put on his sneakers, grabbed his jacket and slipped out of his
tent. The two other agents slept on - oblivious. Once outside, he
paused, trying to catch his breath. He knew he was behaving
illogically, but he was known to do that where Dana Scully was
concerned. Besides, going back to sleep would be impossible without
checking on her first. A quick glance around confirmed that the camp
was quiet.
As he stealthily stepped over to Scully's tent, he flashed back to
summer camp. He was 10 years old and he and two other boys had snuck
over to the girls' camp on the other side of the hill, intent on
bringing back their flag. They had gotten caught and it was left to
Mulder, the oldest to explain. He hadn't known what to say then. What
would he say now, if he were discovered lurking outside Agent Dana
Scully's tent at 2:00 in the morning?
(I have to know she's okay, ) he muttered softly before plunging
inside. The space heater provided little illumination. Mulder pulled
his penlight from his coat pocket. Standing at the entrance of her
tent, afraid to move, afraid to breathe, he turned the tiny light on.
Aiming the beam at the ceiling provided enough light to see and he took
a step closer. The comfort he took in seeing her safe quickly
dissipated as he stared at her face. Tonight, sleep brought her no
peace either. Her brow was furrowed, her full lips moved as if she was
speaking but no sounds came out. Mulder could only stand and stare at
her helplessly. Unexpectedly, Scully began to thrash; her arms and legs
becoming entangled in the covers. As she became more and more agitated,
Mulder realized he'd have to wake her or risk having half the camp in
here if she cried out. Without any hesitation, he moved to her. He was
a step away when Scully suddenly, and without warning, sat straight up
in bed - her eyes wild with terror. The sudden movement jolted Mulder
as if he'd been hit with a cattle prod. Dropping his penlight, he shot
forward to Scully's side. Before she could utter a sound, he clamped
one hand over mouth and gently but firmly pushed her back down on her
cot.
Not surprising, she began to fight him. Mulder caught her hands before
she could connect, as he quickly reassured her, "Scully - it's Mulder -
it's okay," he whispered urgently at her ear. "Ssssh, it's okay - it's
me."
Scully froze, her eyes adjusting to the dim light, realizing that it
really was Mulder hovering over her, holding her wrists in an iron grip.
She winced slightly, causing Mulder to immediately release her.
"Sorry, Scully," he apologized.
She stared up at him - gasping for breath. Finally she found her
voice, "Oh God, Mulder? What are doing?! You nearly scared me to
death!" She panted, her chest painfully tight.
"Actually, you nearly scared me to death!", he retorted good-naturedly,
but shakily. He took her hand and placed it over his pounding heart as
if to prove his point. "I was afraid you were going to scream and wake
the whole camp."
Her thoughts in turmoil, Scully pulled her hand back and placed it over
her own racing heart.
Mulder watched her closely, "That must have been some nightmare you
were having," he said, his voice filled with sympathy.
Scully pushed it aside and shook her head. "It was nothing really.
I'm fine," she babbled, looking away, " You know - just a bad dream -
everything going on around here -" she abruptly broke off and saw that
Mulder's gaze had drifted away. Scully realized that Mulder had just
tuned her out.
(Wait a minute. What is really going on here?) she thought
incredulously, (This isn't about my nightmare at all.) Then it hit her:
(What was he doing in her tent in the first place?) She reached back
to turn on the small lantern at the head of her cot. By the light, she
struggled to read him, to look into his troubled eyes and get the
answers she needed.
"Mulder, what's going on? Has something happened?" her tone becoming
more concerned. "Are you okay?"
Mulder dropped his gaze, rocking back on his heels. This was
definitely not going as planned. Scully pulled herself to a sitting
position.
(Something is wrong,) she thought, fighting the dread that coursed
through her veins like ice water. She watched him anxiously, reaching
out to touch the hand that rested on the edge of her cot. At her touch,
he moaned softly.
"Mulder - what is it?" she beseeched him, her voice betraying the
alarm she felt. "What aren't you telling me?"
Mulder cringed. He knew that tone and his face seemed to sag as he
looked uneasily away. (What's wrong with me?) he berated himself, (I
get so frustrated with her for not opening up to me and here I am
closing her off. Some example I'm setting.)
Rubbing his eyes, he finally confessed the fears that had brought him
here. "Have you ever been so deep in a nightmare that you didn't know
it was a nightmare? Not even after you woke up?"
Scully let out the breath she'd been holding. She had been imagining
any number of horrifying reasons for Mulder's behavior, but not this.
"A nightmare," she said, taking hold of his hand. "I'm sorry. Was it
Samantha?" She felt bad for him; no one should have to relive an event
like that over and over again.
Mulder shook his head. "No - not Samantha." (I don't want to do this)
he thought frantically. (I don't want to tell her.) But he knew he
couldn't back out now. He took a breath and plunged ahead.
"You were dead, Scully!" he blurted out. "I saw it with my own eyes.
I walked over there and you - you were at the top of that pile. I could
actually feel your skin: it was icy cold. And the blood. There was
blood everywhere." His hands gestured wildly as he relived the horror.
"And the smell. God , the smell. I could smell death, decay, and the
blood. I really did. And your neck. The skin was ripped away, bones
were sticking- " he abruptly shut up when he caught sight of Scully's
face.
Her hands were at her mouth; her eyes wide and filled with shock. She
looked like she might faint - or get sick - or both!
"Dammit - I'm sorry, Scully! I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been so
graphic," he said, his voice filled with remorse. "I'm sorry..."
Scully waived him off, "It's okay - I'm okay," she said weakly.
Mulder sighed. "It was so real. I knew without a doubt that I
wouldn't get back to sleep until I saw with my own eyes that you were
all right." His voice dropped. "You probably think I'm a complete
idiot," he heard himself whisper.
Scully stared at him in amazement and confusion. (Is that how Mulder
sees me? Am I that judgmental and distant towards him? ) She didn't
think so, but then again, sometimes - usually - she'd pull away. (Don't
worry about me, Mulder. I'm fine, Mulder. Did he think that because
she didn't tell him her fears that she'd think him "an idiot" if he did?
Didn't he understand that she didn't want to worry him? Didn't want to
burden him? But that if she did open up to him or he to her, then it
was okay. They were partners, for God's sake.) She could never think
less of him for sharing his fears. She didn't stop to think that the
reverse might also be true. All of a sudden she remembered her own
nightmare. Life without Mulder. Life without the man who meant more to
her than life itself. (No. No way. ) It was like an epiphany.
Before he could go on, she suddenly launched herself at him, holding
him tightly. He nearly fell backwards before regaining his balance, his
arms automatically wrapped around her slender waist and held on.
"Mulder, don't say that!" she cried, unable to look at him. "I do not
think you're an idiot! I - I dreamed it was you! I dreamed you were
killed - that someone thought that you had an implant!" She drew in a
tortured breath and bit down on her bottom lip. " I did your autopsy."
She buried her face in her hands, helpless to go on.
Mulder was aghast and too stunned to say anything. (Boy, there was
something he had never dealt with: doing an autopsy on your partner.
For all the nightmares he had ever had, that seemed more unendurable
than anything did. ) For several minutes he sat there with an armful
of a trembling Scully until she tilted her head up. Her voice tickled
his ear, sending goosebumps down his arms.
"If you hadn't been here -" she stopped abruptly.
"What, Scully?" he urged, silently begging her to keep her walls down.
"What would you have done?"
"I - I probably would have done the same thing," she murmured softly,
finally looking up at him. Her eyes glistened with tears she refused to
let fall.
Their eyes met and held. The electricity crackled between them. No
words were spoken. Nothing needed to be said. Mulder rose to his feet,
gently pulling Scully up with him, then hugging her tightly. Scully
leaned into him as he buried his face in her hair and tightened his
embrace. At last, he pulled back. His hands traveled from her arms,
across her shoulders, up her slender neck until he had her face in his
hands. Her eyes never left his, her skin on fire at his touch. His
fingers caressed her cheeks, her lips...
At that moment, someone walked past Scully's tent. The 2 agents
instantly stepped apart as if they'd been doused with cold water. The
spell was broken. The moment lost.
"I should go," Mulder muttered, his breath ragged.
"We should try to get some sleep," Scully managed weakly.
"Yeah," Mulder agreed half-heartedly. He planted a kiss on her cheek
and drifted out, into the night, without saying another word.
One hand on her cheek, reliving the kiss, Scully crawled into her cot,
pulling up the covers to her chin. (What is happening to us? ) Two
tears finally slid down.
For both of them, sleep was very slow in coming.
Morning brought more of the same, and everyone was determined to make
this the last day. It turned out to mean 12 or more straight hours for
them all.
By 3:00 that afternoon, Scully was almost dead on her feet, exhaustion
threatening to overwhelm her.
Rubbing her temples and squeezing her red and scratchy eyes after her
third complete autopsy, she looked over to see Mulder heading her way,
carrying a small brown bag, his face grim. Actually, striding was
probably a more accurate term. She straightened up preparing herself
for the worst.
"Mulder, what is it?" she asked, thinking for one frantic moment that
the bag he was holding contained a body part or something equally
gruesome.
"This?" he asked, holding up the brown sack. "This is lunch. Which, by
the way, I'm going to sit and supervise you eating, since you apparently
can't be trusted to do so on your own."
Scully stood frozen - gaping at him in utter disbelief. "What?!" she
finally managed to gasp, completely unprepared for his statement.
Unperturbed, Mulder continued, " You didn't eat breakfast, you haven't
eaten lunch, and it is now almost 3:30 in the afternoon. So, sit down
and get comfortable before you collapse."
Scully's mouth worked in an effort to argue - to protest - to tell
Mulder to go to - but he placed one finger on her lips effectively
putting a halt to her protests.
"Please, Scully," he said softly, pleading. "Please. I'm too tired to
argue. And I'm too concerned about you to worry about being politically
correct as your partner. You're literally swaying with fatigue as we
speak. Besides, you'd do the same to me. You know you would. So. Sit
down, eat up, and then you can go back to work. Deal?"
Scully caught the gleam of the impish Mulder behind his own fatigued and
worried eyes. She relented, giving him a weary half-smile. Mulder was
right. She would do the same to him. She sat down.
"Thanks," he said happily, taking a seat next to her and handing her the
bag.
Shaking her head ruefully, she reached in to find a sandwich, pear, and
a carton of milk. Suddenly famished, she dug in.
Mulder pulled a large red apple from his pocket. "So. Anything new or
unusual come up?"
In between bites of the thick turkey sandwich and sips of ice cold milk,
Scully filled him in.
"No. Cyanide seems to be the drug of choice. The mutilations were all
done post-mortem, thankfully." She admitted that if any of the victims
had had implants in life, there was no evidence of it in death. "But we
continue to go over each body with a fine-toothed comb. We know that
the bodies were moved after death - we just don't know from where. On a
more positive note, we only have 2 more bodies and then we're done."
At that moment, Agent Jamison ran in. "Hey, Mulder! We found a receipt
from one of those U-haul places. It's from Billings, Montana dated 2
days before the bodies were found."
"Where the hell was it?" Mulder demanded.
"We were bringing in the last 2 victims and found it underneath the
body. Probably fell out of the murderer's pocket. It didn't appear to
be planted or hidden," he responded. "Also, none of the victims were
from anywhere near Billings."
"Go get Skinner on the horn. I'll be right there," Mulder said tersely.
He waited until the younger agent was out of sight before turning back
to his partner. "You okay, Scully?" He asked softly, searching her
face worriedly, resisting the urge to stroke her pale cheek.
"Much better. Thanks. Really. Now go on and let me finish up." She
smiled warmly, clasping his hand reassuringly, and then watched him go.
(Please,) she thought, (please let this be the end.)
Mulder filled Skinner in on their latest findings. Suddenly things
began to move very quickly as a team was sent to the U-haul.
Meanwhile, Scully finished the 44th autopsy. The last one. The
paperwork was complete. The body had been processed and packaged.
Mulder's notification/interview team had finished 2 hours earlier. As
she walked out of the morgue, she was surprised to find that night had
fallen. The full moon was rising over the trees. She glanced down at
her watch. 9:15. She sighed heavily. She hadn't seen or heard from
Mulder since he had left her to call Skinner and had lost all track of
time. Looking around, she saw a large group milling about the mess tent
and command center. She sighed again. So tired. So very, very tired.
She knew she should eat but she just didn't have the energy. She had
to literally force herself to go to the shower before climbing into bed,
knowing that she'd feel better after rinsing off. Twenty minutes later,
she was tucked snugly in her cot and sound asleep.
________________________________________________________________
Earlier, Mulder hung up the phone in utter disbelief. Shocked.
Stunned. Actually, words failed him. As he waited for Skinner's fax to
come through, he reviewed what he'd been told. The investigation was
complete. The responsible party identified. The motive revealed. He
was barely able to acknowledge Skinner's praise for a job well done. He
hadn't done anything. But now, everyone was being shipped out in the
morning to rest and recover. Everyone was else was being sent home.
"Mulder," Skinner had said, "I'm sending you and Agent Scully to Lake
Tahoe for a brief consult before you return home. The police chief
needs a little direction and rather than sending the case file to you
here, I'm sending you to him. You're not on the team - just read the
reports, offer your views, and then check into the Marriott -
Government's expense. You've got 4 days to get some well-deserved rest
and relaxation. I don't want to see you or Agent Scully back here for 1
week. Understood?"
"Yes sir," Mulder mumbled, still shell-shocked.
"A rental car is being brought in for you tonight. Take your time
driving out there. Enjoy the scenery," Skinner told him.
"Yes sir," Mulder repeated dully. "Thank you, sir."
"Take care, Fox," Skinner said before hanging up.
Walter Skinner removed his glasses and stared vacantly across his desk.
He was thankful this case was over but he was deeply concerned about
Mulder and Scully. They were beaten - physically and mentally. He knew
the whole team out there had been through hell but only Mulder and
Scully had the emotional entanglement to intensify the effect. It was
obvious. He saw it every time he read one of their field reports. The
true extent of just how hard these 2 agents pushed themselves left him
in awe. They would definitely need time to recover from this case: the
ending was just too horrific. And it hit way too close to home. He
stared down at the evidence bag on his desk. There wasn't any way he was
going to tell Mulder that they had found the implants at Spender's
house. He thought it indicative of the shock that Mulder was
experiencing that he didn't ask about them. (It could wait, ) he
thought despondently. He was right: Spender wasn't going anywhere.
________________________________________________________________
Mulder planted himself in front of the fax machine waiting for the
transmission to complete. Finally he gathered the papers and returned
to his tent, grateful that his roommates were out. He settled back to
read the diary of Jeffrey Spender.
Since Cassandra Spender's disappearance at Ruskin Dam, Mulder had
surreptitiously and sporadically been keeping tabs on the man who gave
up his job in the FBI. The disappearance of his mother under such
mysterious conditions left him too emotionally handicapped to continue
as an agent. Mulder berated himself for losing track of Spender,
allowing him to be lulled by apparent inactivity. He compared the dates
with his own activities. To his dismay, he realized that it had been
almost 4 months since he'd checked on Spender. The week before the
anniversary of his mother's disappearance he and Scully had been on
assignment in North Texas. Immediately upon their return to Washington
he had been subpoenaed as an expert witness. That damn trial. Time
spent on research and preparation and testimony. (How could I let the
anniversary of Cassandra's probable abduction go by without checking on
him?)
The diary before him gave a gruesome, graphic and explicit description
of every aspect of Spender's operation. Reading the diary, Mulder knew
he was reading one man's descent into insanity. Luring the MUFON
members, going through his mother's files and obtaining member
addresses, the how, the why, and his own personal thoughts as he
slaughtered and mutilated 44 innocent people.
On the surface, Mulder knew he wasn't responsible. But deep down he
knew that he would always feel guilty for letting Spender slip through
the cracks. And now the former agent was dead. Skinner had said the
body was found at his mother's house, probably cyanide.
"No note," Skinner reported, obviously shaken, "Just the diary."
Mulder finished reading the diary and carefully packed it away. All
his psychological expertise was failing him right now, just when he
needed it most. After speaking with so many grief-stricken families,
seeing the decaying, butchered bodies and knowing he had worked with the
son-of-a-bitch that did it...
Abruptly he stormed out of the tent and was about to barge into
Scully's when common sense reigned him in. It was 10:45. Her tent was
dark. (Oh, God,) he thought helplessly. Scully's exhausted - she
needed to sleep. But he needed her. Right now. He needed her comfort.
He needed her reassurance. He felt powerless to help himself. He was
weak. He knew it. He knew he just couldn't do this alone right now.
He stepped into her tent and by the light of the space heater, turned
on the lantern. The sight before him brought him to his knees.
Mesmerized, he stared down at the ethereal vision that was his partner.
Her sleep seemed peaceful tonight. Breathlessly, he ran his fingers
through the silken strands of hair fanned across the pillow then
caressed her smooth cheek. Without warning, a sob escaped his lips,
causing Scully to stir. Mulder struggled to get his emotions under
control, but his weakened defenses would not let him hold back the
tears.
Scully moaned softly. Sleep beckoned her seductively with sweet
promises of serenity. But something was calling her away from slumber.
Something urged her from that safe haven. Something...someone...
"Mulder?" she whispered in confusion.
Mulder looked over as Scully's blue eyes fluttered open and adjusted to
soft light. The sight of Mulder's tear-stained face startled her and
she was instantly fully awake.
"What's wrong? Mulder - what's happened?" she asked as she pulled
herself to a sitting position. "Did you have another nightmare?"
He shook his head. "Scully -," he floundered, not really knowing how
to proceed.
Scully watched him, not understanding what was wrong and as a result,
not knowing what to say. So she waited, offering him silent
encouragement and support.
Mulder sensed it and gathered his courage to continue. "Look, I'm
really, really sorry to wake you, but I thought you should know that
we're done. We know who killed these people."
Scully steeled herself because, judging by Mulder's face and tone, this
was going to be bad. Really bad. She swallowed hard and set her jaw.
"Who, Mulder?" she asked quietly, taking his hands in hers. "Who was
it?"
"Jeffrey Spender," he said, nearly choking on his words.
Scully's hands clenched convulsively and other than a sharp intake of
breath, remained silent. A voice in her head would not be silent
though, and kept repeating (no no no no no no no...)
Mulder swallowed. "When Skinner told me I just - I couldn't -. "
Unable to go on, he simply shook his head, unable to release Scully's
hands.
Scully, too, was at a loss for words to express the utter disbelief, as
Mulder watched her reaction that surely mirrored his own. She struggled
to comprehend what Mulder told her. That a former colleague had lured
44 people to their deaths and mutilated them and dumped their bodies in
the middle of nowhere!! It just was NOT possible!! Not only that - it
wasn't even conceivable!! Her brain was absolutely refusing to process
this information.
"I - I - just can't believe this. Why?" she implored Mulder, "Why?"
He could only shrug. "What it boils down to is that he blames MUFON for
Cassandra's disappearance. He committed suicide. They found his body
at his mother's. Skinner faxed me a copy of Spender's diary. It really
goes into a lot of graphic detail but if you want to read it...," his
voice trailed away.
Scully shuddered. "I don't know," she said, her voice low and barely
audible. "Maybe later." She looked nauseated. (This was just
incomprehensible.)
"Yeah,' he muttered, then paused, still holding Scully's hands.
"Listen, Scully, I - I have to ask you to do something for me."
Scully cocked an inquiring eye at her partner, who again was having
difficulty meeting her gaze. "What is it, Mulder?" (Now what?) she
thought trying to prepare herself for whatever he might say.
'I really need you to tell me that this isn't my fault, " he
stammered.
(That did it) Scully thought desperately. (I can't deal with this. I
can't. How could this possibly be Mulder's fault? How?) She felt her
over-stressed sanity threatening to mutiny. "Mulder, please," she
moaned painfully. "What are you talking about?" (This was too much,)
she thought helplessly, (I just can't handle this, too. Not after
everything that's happened here.)
"I had been keeping tabs on Spender," Mulder admitted. "You know,
nothing too deep, nothing illegal. Anyway, maybe I should have seen
this coming, maybe I could have done something... anything."
Scully simply stared up at him, her thoughts reeling. She felt
positively dizzy. Mulder remained silent, shoulders slumped, head
bowed, awaiting punishment. He wondered what was going through his
partner's mind and part of him was afraid to find out.
After several minutes of silence, Scully jumped to her feet, dragging
Mulder with her. She released his hands and grabbed the front of his
T-shirt, pulling him down so that his startled face was inches from
hers.
"No way, Mulder," she hissed, furiously, "No way. Absolutely NOT. I
am telling you right here and right now that I am NOT letting you blame
yourself in any way, shape or form. I am not about to let you torture
yourself with what-if and what might have been. Why don't you just
blame me for not disappearing at Ruskin Dam and then maybe Cassandra
would be safe and none of this would have happened?"
Mulder flinched, his heart nearly stopped at the thought of that
scenario, but Scully barreled on. "So you just drop it, Mulder. Do you
hear me? If I mean anything at all to you- let - it -go." She paused
to take a breath. "I mean it, Mulder," she warned him, her voice losing
its strength. "Let it go."
Mulder stared down at his petite partner, glaring up at him, her blue
eyes blazing, her mouth set in a determined line. He was totally taken
aback by the vehemence in her voice and it effectively managed to
assuage the guilt that threatened to permeate his thoughts.
"Gee, thanks, Scully," he said faintly. "I guess I needed that." He
shook his head. "So would this be your version of 'tough love'?" he
asked with just the barest hint of amusement.
Through a roaring in her ears, Scully felt her knees give out as she
sank slowly to the ground, her hands releasing Mulder's shirt to fall
limply to her side. Mulder caught her easily and before she could
protest, scooped her up and sat her back on her cot.
"Scully?" he asked, concerned, his chest tight, keeping one arm around
her. "Are you all right?" (What have I done?) he thought fearfully.
Scully bent forward, her head in her hands. "Oh God, Mulder," she
groaned, her voice slightly muffled. "Don't you ever scare me like
that again. I honestly thought you were going to blame yourself for
this. I - I just couldn't deal with that, too. I couldn't. I already
feel like a trip to a psych ward wouldn't be half bad right now." She
choked back a sob, her head spinning.
Mulder felt lower than low as he sat down next to her. She allowed him
to pull her close, cradling her head on his chest.
"I'm sorry, Scully, really I am. I'll be okay. I promise," he
whispered, his lips in her hair, the strands tickling his nose. "I know
it's not really my fault. I just wish I could have seen something -
anything to have prevented this. And for your information, you mean
everything to me. You know that."
Scully just wrapped her arms around him, and hugged him tightly. The
minutes ticked by as Mulder let the soothing sensations of her touch
heal his tortured psyche.
How long they stayed that way, neither could say. Instead they just
reveled in the unfamiliar sensations that washed over them, being in
each other's arms.
"I do have some good news," he said lightly, continuing to hold her
close. "Skinner is sending us to Lake Tahoe to consult briefly on some
case out there - you know, review notes, offer opinions but that's it.
After that, he said, we're to spend 4 days recuperating at the
government's expense.
Scully's head snapped up. "You're kidding," she breathed, dumbstruck.
"Nope. 4 days paid vacation at Lake Tahoe. Well, room and board
anyway," he said with a grin.
"Doesn't matter," Scully retorted happily, savoring the news. " A
real bed," she said dreamily, "a real shower, real food." (Their
salvation,) she prayed.
Mulder couldn't help but smile at the way her whole face seemed to
light up, as if she was already there. (This is going to be perfect,)
he couldn't help but think.
"I checked the map. It's about an eight-hour trip, with a town halfway.
I thought that maybe we could split the drive. Skinner's having a car
brought up," he said.
"That would be great," Scully said, thinking how relaxing it would be:
a chance to unwind, put this case behind them, the open road, beautiful
fall scenery, no real deadline. In fact, just what the doctor ordered.
"Can I drive first?" she asked eagerly.
"Whatever you want," Mulder replied and pulled out the map he had
gotten from Major Thompson and set it on the small table. He gently
eased her back and tucked her in. "But first get some sleep." He
leaned over and tenderly kissed her forehead. "Sweet dreams, Scully,"
he whispered. He turned off the lantern and backed out.
"Good night, Mulder," Scully called groggily after him. She snuggled
under the covers, refusing to think about Jeffrey Spender. Instead she
thought about Lake Tahoe...and Mulder.
Mulder crawled in to his own cot. (A disaster averted, ) he thought
distantly as he drifted off to sleep.
The next morning was bright and sunny. As Scully ran her brush through
her damp auburn hair, she reviewed the report she was about to send to
Skinner via modem. She had 20 minutes before the phone lines went down
and she wanted to make sure she had covered everything. With a sigh,
she finally pushed send.
She lay back on her cot, rubbing bloodshot eyes that still saw dead
body after dead body. The sheer mental exhaustion was like nothing she
had ever experienced. A soft moan escaped her lips. (Jeffrey Spender.)
She didn't think it would ever sink in. (My God. I worked with him.)
But, now it was over. This case was finally over. Now all that was
left was to pack her things. She looked around the tent that she had
called home, well, not home, she amended. Shelter. She wanted to make
sure that she left nothing behind. As she closed her suitcase, she
smiled. She still couldn't believe that she and Mulder were headed for
Lake Tahoe. It would mean shopping for clothes, but this was definitely
worth the added expense.
"Dr. Scully."
Lost in her own thoughts, she started violently at the sound of an
unfamiliar voice just outside.
(Get a grip, Dana,) she berated herself as she went to the flap and
pulled it back to reveal a young man in an Army Corps uniform. He was
nervously clutching at his hat and with his pale blonde hair and wide
blue eyes, he looked about 16 years old. This despite his height of
6'2".
Scully kept her face neutral. "Yes, Private?" she prompted, when he
continued to just stand there staring down at her.
"Uh - Ma'am - the Major sent me to tell you we're - that is - we'll be
taking your tent down in 30 minutes," he finally managed to get out.
Scully opened her mouth to respond when the young man suddenly flushed
beet red. "I mean only if you're ready, Ma'am. If you need more
time..." He was babbling.
Scully held up her hand to silence the poor boy before he fell apart.
"It's okay, Private. I'm almost done." She took pity on him as he
stared down at her, again unable to move. He seemed to be noticing that
she was dressed in her blue jeans and a blue silk blouse instead of the
shapeless scrubs she'd been wearing over thermals.
"Was there something else, Private?" she asked gently, just a bit
flattered by the frank admiration, despite being called "ma'am".
The private came to quick attention. "Oh - uh - no, Ma'am!" and with
an abrupt about-face, he beat a hasty retreat, almost knocking down
Mulder, who had stepped up behind him unseen.
"So, Scully, breaking young men's hearts again, I see," he smirked.
"Very funny, Mulder," she snapped to mask her embarrassment as she
turned away to finish her packing.
Mulder stepped inside, staring at his partner as she moved about. He
didn't have to be a rocket scientist to figure out what was going
through the kid's head. The blue silk of Scully's blouse matched her
eyes perfectly, complimenting the auburn hair that softly framed her
small face. With her porcelain skin and lush lips that he longed to
cover with long, slow languid kisses...He gave himself a mental shake to
bring himself back to his senses. Scully was talking to him.
"What?" he asked all innocence.
"I said, would you mind taking the laptop to the car?" She was staring
at him, hands on her hips.
"What?" he repeated, knowing perfectly well, but wanting to maintain
some semblance of dignity.
"I'm just wondering what's going though that so-call mind of yours. As
if I didn't know," she said suspiciously.
"Nothing!" Mulder declared, meeting her gaze with his hazel eyes
purposefully wide.
Scully shook her head. "Oh no you don't. Don't give me the 'soulful
puppy dog' look," she admonished him, even as her heart melted.
"Why?" Mulder asked with a devilish gleam in his eyes. "Does it turn
you on?"
Scully's jaw dropped as she felt her cheeks flame. After a moment's
pause, she again shook her head, keeping her eyes averted. "Please,
Mulder, the laptop."
"Sure, Scully, I'm going." He grabbed the portable computer and
quickly made his escape, barely keeping from laughing. The best defense
was a good offense and he had definitely scored on that last one. It
felt so good to get back to their Game. He wanted nothing more than to
get past all this and back to some sense of normalcy.
Scully sank to the cot, her head in her hands, trying to cool her
burning cheeks. That puppy dog look. It got her every single time. But
the electrical current that coursed through her like liquid fire was
definitely new. Usually she had better control. Did it turn her on?
(God, yes,) she thought helplessly, followed by (What am I doing? What
am I thinking?!)
Quickly she stood up and poured herself a glass of water from the
carafe she kept at her bedside. She gulped half and splashed the rest
on her face. (Better. Much better.) She grabbed her suitcase and
hurried out.
Mulder was waiting for her at the car and without a word, took her
suitcase and put it in the trunk. "Do you still want to take the first
leg?" he asked carefully, so as not to sound patronizing.
"Yeah," Scully answered, studying the map carefully. "I'm kind of
wired right now." She looked up to see Mulder staring at her, one
eyebrow raised, a smirk on his lips.
"Three cups of coffee will do that," she hastened to clarify,
unwittingly giving him more ammunition.
"Right," Mulder said knowingly, infuriating Scully on purpose. He was
definitely on a roll.
Scully sighed heavily. (Just get me out of here,) she silently begged
the heavens above, (Please.) She was too far behind in the Game today
and knew she had little chance of catching up.
"You know, there's probably not too many rest stops along our route,"
Mulder supplied helpfully.
"Would you just get in the car, Mulder?" Scully cried, exasperated.
Laughing, Mulder threw up his hands in surrender and got in.
Scully roughly folded the map and resisted the urge to burn rubber as
they drove off. After 20 miles of silence, Scully surreptitiously
looked over at her partner.
(Lucky for him,) she thought wrathfully, (that he's asleep.) Casting
her eyes back to the road, she exhaled with a huff. She knew she wasn't
mad at him, not really. She was mad at herself. (How could I be mad at
him. Look at him. ) In sleep, he looked so vulnerable, untouched by
the horrors they'd both been through. She huffed again. (Why do you
let him get you? ) She asked herself. (Because you like it,) herself
replied promptly. And, truth be told; she did.
As the miles flew by, Scully felt herself begin to unwind. She
concentrated on the road, refusing to even think about the past 10 days.
Every so often she would look longingly over at Mulder, who incredibly
slept on. (This must be some kind of record,) she thought. It had been
almost 4 hours and he had barely moved. She marveled at how completely
relaxed he was. She had seen him sleep before, but this was obviously
much deeper. This was unconscious. Only his steady, even breathing
reassured her and kept her from checking his pulse. She was unable to
keep from brushing a lock of hair from his forehead, wishing that she
could just pull the car over and crawl into his arms.
The desolate highway unwound as they moved through Nevada to Lake
Tahoe. Scully had never been and was anxious to see if it was as
spectacular as the pictures.
________________________________________________________________
By the time they arrived at the halfway point, Scully was barely able
to keep her eyes open. Although she had slept well last night, it
wasn't near enough. She caught sight of a diner that looked clean and
homey and a gas station on the opposite corner. She decided to get the
gas first and was surprised when Mulder slept on. With an almost
maternal smile, she got out, pumped the gas and went into the station to
pay. She got some ice for their small cooler and some bottles of water,
then on impulse, a bag of sunflower seeds for Mulder. He was probably
suffering from serious withdrawal by now. When she got back in the car,
Mulder, unbelievably continued to sleep on. Shaking her head in
amazement, she pulled into the diner. Again, she stopped the car and
turned off the engine. Shifting around in her seat to face her partner,
she reached over and touched his shoulder.
"Mulder - Mulder, wake up." Nothing. She nudged him. "Come on,
Mulder, let's go." Still, no response. Pouring one of the bottles of
water on him briefly came to mind. She rejected that idea almost
instantly: paybacks were hell.
"Mulder!" she called out. "Mulder - wake - up!" she took his face in
her hands and awkwardly pulled him up. "Come on, Mulder!"
Finally, he came around. "Okay - okay. I'm up," he mumbled groggily.
"Open your eyes," Scully demanded.
"I'm working on it," he said drowsily and yawned.
Scully rolled her eyes.
Finally he looked out the window, squinting at the bright sunlight.
"Where are we?" he asked as he rubbed his face.
"Half way there," she announced. "It's your turn to drive.'
He peered out at the diner. "Looks like a nice place. I'm starved!"
Quickly he got out of the car, leaving Scully to catch up.
Scully's feet dragged as she followed him in. She was so tired; more
tired than she could every remember being.
When they entered the small diner, a pleasant-faced woman in a frilly
white apron greeted them. "Welcome to Harvest Home. Will it be just
the two of you?" she asked.
"Yes, Ma'am,' Mulder answered, his mouth positively watering as the
aromas from the kitchen filled his senses.
Even Scully found herself waking up at the thought of sampling one of
the pies on display.
For once, Mulder didn't tease her when she ordered what was for her a
large meal. He was too happy to see her eat. They had both lost weight
since coming out here and could really use a real home-cooked meal.
While their food was prepared, Mulder went to put some coins in the
jukebox and Scully excused herself to freshen up.
She returned to their table to find him absently tapping in time to the
music. Frowning slightly, she tried to figure out what they were
listening to. It was definitely western, but old.
"I didn't know you liked this type of music," she commented. "Is that
Patsy Cline?"
Mulder shrugged. "Beggars can't be choosers. Besides, it was this or
Willie Nelson."
Scully wrinkled her nose. "Okay. I take it back. This is great."
"I thought you might see it that way," Mulder stated, matter of factly
as their food arrived.
No words were spoken as the 2 agents dug in, polishing off more food in
one sitting than 5 or 6 previous ones combined. The food was absolutely
delicious and their waitress couldn't help but smile as she watched them
eat.
Mulder returned from the men's room to find his partner asleep sitting
up; her head propped on one arm.
"Am I going to have to carry you to the car?" he inquired as he sat
down, actually hoping that he could.
Scully's head snapped up. "I'm awake."
"Yeah, right," Mulder laughed. "I thought you were going to drown in
your pie."
Scully blushed. "Sorry," she muttered, as she reached for her iced tea.
He just grinned, relishing the fantasy of Dana Scully in his arms.
"Finish up and we'll head out. Lake Tahoe awaits." He was really
looking forward to hitting the open road.
She managed a couple more bites before sleep threatened to overtake her
again. Mulder quickly paid the bill and guided her out to the car. She
literally crawled into the front seat and got her seatbelt fastened.
"Here," Mulder offered her his folded coat. "It makes a pretty good
pillow."
"Thanks," Scully said with a smile that caused Mulder's heart to beat
just a little faster. She curled up in a ball, the scent of her partner
filled her nostrils. A small secret smile touched her lips as she fell
asleep almost immediately. Mulder reached into the back seat to
retrieve Scully's coat and tenderly draped it over her before continuing
their journey.
As he drove along the desolate mountain road, Mulder realized that he
had not seen a single car since leaving the diner 2 1/2 hours ago. He
checked the odometer and by his calculation, figured it was another 100
miles to Lake Tahoe. As Scully continued to sleep, he daydreamed about
all the things he'd like for them to do in the beautiful resort city.
While he knew they wouldn't be staying at a 5-star hotel, almost
anything would be a major improvement over a drafty tent and lumpy cot.
He intended to make this a vacation to remember since it was something
they both needed in the worst possible way.
He looked over at Scully and smiled. The sight of her sleeping soundly
drove all the shocking memories of the past ten days away. With the
setting sun now shining through his side window, Mulder was able to get
a good, uninterrupted look at her. He was troubled, seeing her
porcelain skin pale to the point of translucency, emphasizing the dark
circles under her eyes that spoke volumes of her exhaustion. (Then
again, I don't look so great myself,) he muttered softly. A quick peek
in the rearview mirror confirmed that observation.
It was almost dark now. The trees cast long shadows on the ridge road.
Mulder did not see a pothole on the right and the resultant jolting of
the car make him hiss in frustration. He looked over and saw to his
dismay that Scully was awake.
"Sorry," he said sheepishly, as his partner stretched, unable to hide
her discomfort.
"It's okay," she said, none too convincingly. "Are we almost there?"
Mulder groaned inwardly and said a silent prayer that she wouldn't kill
him. "Depends. Do you call 90 miles 'almost'?" he asked hopefully.
Scully rolled her eyes, but literally bit back the sharp retort that
almost crossed her lips. She knew Mulder didn't intentionally wake her.
Though she was still half-asleep and not thinking completely clearly,
she did know that she wasn't up to an argument.
Mulder noticed her restraint and breathed a sigh of relief, feeling even
more guilty.
"Are you thirsty?" Scully questioned him. "I picked up some water
earlier."
"That would be great," he said eagerly. "If it's not too much trouble,"
he hastened to add. "And before I forget, thanks for getting the
sunflower seeds."
Scully smiled warmly and Mulder felt the familiar tug at his heart that
her smile never failed to elicit. He knew he'd move heaven and earth to
see that smile every day for the rest of his life. She reached behind,
into the backseat, but was unable to get a hold of the small cooler.
With an exasperated grunt, she undid her seatbelt, pushing herself up
and partially over the seat.
"Can you get it?" Mulder asked. He still felt guilty for waking her
and was honestly trying to be helpful. He could hear rustling behind
him. "Do you need me to pull over?"
In response, Scully slid back into her seat and proudly displayed 2
small bottles.
"Thanks," Mulder said, with a grin as he relished the memory of Scully's
petite frame draped over the seat. He reached over to take the bottle
she held out for him.
Suddenly, Scully shouted, "Mulder - WATCH OUT!!!"
Mulder jerked his gaze back to the road and saw the large blurred figure
of a moose and the flash of a pair of eyes frozen in the headlights
directly in front of the car. He slammed on the brakes and the tires on
their rental car skied across a slick coating of fallen leaves. The car
slewed, slowed, but continued forward like a racecar, barely under
control.
Next to him, Scully had locked her arms on the dash; silent in horror.
As the car continued to fight for traction, she glanced to her right and
instantly broke into a terrified, icy sweat. Mulder was riding the edge
of a drop-off; a high slope of rocks and trees. The brakes and tires
screamed loud enough to hurt their ears. The acrid smell of burning
rubber filled the car, nearly choking them.
The huge animal tried to leap away at the last instant, but the Taurus
bumper struck it with a bone-jarring crunch. It sent the car over the
embankment and it flipped end over end, sliding down the steep slope
before smashing into a massive spruce.
________________________________________________________________
Smoke.
It was the second thing Scully was aware of.
Pain was the first. When she opened her eyes, she had to blink several
times before realizing that there wasn't anything wrong with her vision.
Smoke.
Fire.
Mulder?!
In that instant, the fact that she had nearly been ejected from the car
was unimportant. The fact that she was injured didn't matter. What did
matter was that the car was on fire and if she was lying on the hood of
it, then Mulder was probably unconscious somewhere. She pushed herself
up, ignoring her body that screamed in agony and crawled off the car.
She braced her chest wall, which seemed to hurt the worst, and prayed it
was only bruised.
(I have to get to Mulder,) she repeated to herself like a mantra. (I
have to get to Mulder.)
Holding on to the crumpled hood for support, she staggered over to the
driver's side to find her partner slumped over the steering wheel, which
was covered with his blood. As soon as she determined that he was
alive, terror-induced adrenaline coursed through her veins, taking
control of her. The fire was getting closer to the gas tank - the heat
stronger - the smoke thicker. It didn't faze her. She knew she had to
get him out, only dimly sensing the danger through the waves of pain
hammering her.
Later, she would remember the next five minutes in a series of images,
emotions, and sensations. Prying the door open, blinded by the smoke,
the burning in her nose and throat, her lungs feeling like they were
going to explode with each choking cough. Then, her whole focus on
Mulder.
She rechecked his pulse: rapid but steady. She felt the sticky warmth
of his blood oozing from the gash at his hairline. Pushing him back to
reach and release his seatbelt, she tried unsuccessfully to waken him.
With a superhuman effort, she was able to pull his 6-foot frame close to
her own body, backing away, so that he slid down to the ground. She
tried to drag him by holding him under his arms but the agony in her
chest wall prevented that move. Instead, she took him by the wrists and
depended on her stronger leg muscles to haul him inch by inch until she
was able to deposit him behind a huge boulder, almost 10 yards away.
Breathing hard, alarmed at how out of breath she was, she risked a
glance at their car. Their coats were on the front seat. Without
pausing to consider the consequences, she lurched back. All she could
think, was that they'd be victims of exposure if she didn't get either
their coats or their suitcases. The latter seemed out of the question.
Miraculously, she made it back to the boulder, crouching low to cover
Mulder with his coat. As she struggled into her own, she realized that
there still hadn't been an explosion. Gasping for each breath, Scully
warily moved closer to the car.
(Maybe I can get the suitcases. Maybe it isn't going to blow,) she
told herself. She managed almost 20 steps before her courage failed,
common sense took over and she turned back. As her battered body lost
the numbing effects of the pure adrenaline that had fueled her to this
point, her movements became weaker and slower.
________________________________________________________________
The explosion came without warning. Scully felt a warm push of air at
her back and suddenly she was flying through the night. She landed
awkwardly, tumbling further down the slope before sliding feet first
into a narrow trench. Though she tried to pull herself out, there was
nothing to hold on to and her body was too weak. With faint and
clinical detachment, she knew she had broken her already bruised ribs.
The pain she had successfully fought against would no longer be denied,
but the darkness blessedly sucked her down to a place where not even the
pain could follow and the cold could not touch.
Mulder lay in the darkness, listening to the sounds of the forest for a
long time, just like he had for the past 10 days in a tent, on a cot.
But he wasn't in a tent. And he definitely wasn't on a cot.
He puzzled over this, as he became aware of a monstrous headache.
Then, suddenly, he remembered the car crash.
(Scully!!!!!)
His eyes flew open - terror consumed him. "Scully!!" he cried out,
even as he struggled to pull himself to a sitting position. There was
no answer. Pain in his back and neck pulsed through him and he groaned
as he reached a hand up to his pounding head. His exploring fingers
found a cut at the hairline over his left eye. He cringed at the
feeling of congealed blood. Mulder felt completely confused and
disoriented.
(Why am I on the ground - not in the car?)
(Where was the car?)
(And where the hell was Scully?)
(And do I smell smoke?!?)
A quick glance at his watch gave him more disturbing news. 12:45am.
Almost 6 hours gone! Refusing to succumb to the numbing effects of
shock, he pulled himself to a standing position and came face to face
with the burned hull of their car. Desperately felling off the darkness
that pooled up behind his eyes, he struggled to understand. (Where was
Scully?)
He refused to believe that she had been in the car when it blew. (She
just couldn't be. How else could I have ended up behind a boulder that
had obviously shielded me from the blast? Where was she?)
His vision clouded by pain, Mulder almost didn't see her. When he did,
he felt as if an ice-cold fist had plunged through his chest and had
seized his heart in an arctic grip. For a moment, couldn't swallow,
couldn't breathe, and couldn't think. Then he saw her head move
slightly and he could breathe again - became aware.
Hobbling, slowed by the pain in his back that flowed through him in
nearly debilitating waves, he stumbled down the embankment to where
Scully lay.
A shaft of moonlight shone down on her like a spotlight from heaven
through a break in the canopy of trees. The scene absolutely terrified
him. It was just too eerie.
His head was swimming, threatening his balance as he made his way to
her, sinking to his knees. "Scully?" he said hopefully. "Scully, can
you hear me?"
A soft moan indicated that she seemed to be regaining consciousness.
Tenderly, he brushed away the strands of reddish-gold hair that covered
her face.
"Scully," he murmured. "Come on, Scully, you can do it."
Another moan escaped her lips as her eyes slowly fluttered open. They
glazed momentarily before focusing on Mulder's worried face. His
satisfaction at seeing his partner alive and conscious was tempered by
concern. Her upturned left cheek was swollen and abraded and there was
dried blood on her lips.
"Mulder," she gasped, her arms pulling in as if to push herself up.
"Wait, Scully - stop," Mulder admonished her. "Wait. We wrecked. The
car blew up. Do you remember that?"
Scully started to shake her head but thought better of that idea. Her
entire body was stiff and sore and moving anything didn't hold any
appeal.
"Scully?" Mulder watched her closely.
"The car exploded." She licked her lips, grimacing at the taste of
dried blood.
"Yeah. You apparently went flying. Before we move you, can you tell
if anything is broken? I don't want to cause further damage," he
added.
"I - I don't know," Scully whimpered, biting back her tears. "I can't
tell. Just - just let me get up."
Mulder rocked back on his heels. "Hold on." First he carefully ran
his hands over her arms and shoulders. Finding nothing amiss, he
breathed a sigh of relief.
"Okay, Scully, I'm going to reach under your arms and lift you up. Let
me know if I hurt you," he instructed her.
Scully nodded once. As Mulder gently but firmly gripped her upper
arms, she braced herself. She remembered her broken ribs, but knew
there was no other way out of the trench. True to form, she kept quiet.
Mulder took a deep breath and pulled. As light as Scully was, his back
and neck screamed in protest. When a sharp cry burst from Scully's
lips, he nearly lost his grip on her. "What's wrong? What is it?" he
cried, freezing with her halfway out of the trench.
She gritted her teeth. "Just - just a spasm. It'll pass."
Panting with the exertion, Mulder still hesitated. Scully bit her lip
and put more strength in her voice. "Don't worry. Just get me out of
here," she begged him.
Mulder knew she was hiding something and as soon as he got her up, he
intended to find out what it was. Carefully, he adjusted his hold on
her and pulled. Another lance of agony stabbed her in the chest and she
again cried out, but somehow managed to get her feet under her. Mulder
stepped in front of her and she held on to him with both hands, shaking
with cold and torturous pain. Mulder took her face in his hands,
forcing her to look at him.
"Where are you hurt, Scully?" he demanded. (Don't you even think of
hiding anything from me,) his look plainly said.
She struggled to catch her breath as he stood before her, hunched
slightly because of his aching back. She opened her mouth but nothing
came out.
"Breathe, Scully." Mulder pleaded. " Come on, talk to me."
'I - I've got some broken ribs," she said almost too softly for him to
hear. "I - I need to catch my breath. I'll - I'll be okay." She was
shivering violently now.
He led her to a fallen log and sat her down. "Scully, I'm sorry." He
knew it must be worse that she would admit. As usual. He looked up at
their car. "We had a first aid kit in the glove compartment. Let me
see if anything is salvageable." Scully simply nodded, panting.
When Mulder returned a few minutes later, he proudly displayed an
elastic wrap, one bottle of water, 2 gauze wraps and one banged-up but
functional flashlight. He was pleased to see that Scully was breathing
a little easier and the panicky look in her eyes that comes with
air-hunger was almost gone.
She managed a wry grin. "Not bad, Mulder. I was hoping you'd find
something for me to wrap on that cut you've got. Come here and let me
see."
Mulder allowed her to examine him, knowing it gave her something to
focus on beside herself. He would do that for her for now. "Well, Doc,
my vision has cleared considerably and I only feel nauseous if I move
too quickly." He let her clean the cut the best she could and wrap the
gauze around his head securely.
Scully's movements were slow and awkward as she finished examining her
partner. "I'm hopeful that you only have a concussion and not a skull
fracture. I saw on my watch that we were out for a while." She stared
at him closely. "You're really pale."
"Have you looked in a mirror lately?" Mulder retorted good-naturedly.
Scully managed a wan smile and shook her head.
"Don't." he said trying not to worry her. "But your cheek is really
swollen. Can you tell if it's broken?"
Gingerly, Scully ran her fingers along her cheek and jaw. "I don't
think so," she finally answered as Mulder breathed a sigh of relief.
She checked Mulder's bandage to make sure there was no more active
bleeding. "Well, I guess it will have to do. How bad is your back?"
"Nothing a little stretching won't cure." He replied lightly, refusing
to add to her worry.
Scully looked up at him sadly. "I wish I had something to give you
for the pain. I can tell it's pretty bad."
"Thanks, Doc. But now it's my turn," he said with a playful smile to
hide his apprehension.
He helped Scully as she pulled herself up on wobbly legs, bracing her
chest with her right arm. She gingerly shrugged her coat off as Mulder
unwrapped the elastic wrap. She saw it was only a 4" and for once was
thankful to be petite. A 6" would have been better. "You're going to
have to make it tight - smooth," she instructed him.
"Got it," Mulder confirmed as he reached forward and prepared to
envelope Scully's torso, but she stopped him.
Despite the pain, she managed to tease him. "Get ready, G-man, I'm
about to make your day." Mulder stared up at her in confusion. "I've
got to get the shirt off, too. Otherwise the wrap will slide on the
silk and not do any good."
Then he saw what she meant. Her hands shaking with the cold, she
fumbled with the buttons until she was able to get the blouse off. The
site of the massive bruise covering Scully's lower chest instantaneously
erased any thoughts of her fulfilling his fantasies by undressing before
him. Scully gasped even as Mulder's eyes widened in horror. The sight
of the black and blue mark marred the creamy perfection of her skin.
"Ouch. God, Scully, are you sure you don't have any internal
injuries?" he asked, tentatively reaching one hand out to explore the
injury. He knew that the pain must be excruciating.
"Ouch doesn't even begin to cover it," Scully said, feeling a little
sick as she resolutely turned her eyes away. "And I don't know about
internal injuries," she continued, her teeth chattering, "but if you
don't hurry, I'm going to be frozen solid."
"Oh - sorry," Mulder muttered in apology, his own fingers cold and
numb. He knelt before her and got the elastic wrapped snuggly a couple
of times. "How's this?" he asked.
Despite the cold, Scully had suddenly broken out in a sweat, her hands
on Mulder's shoulders holding on with a death grip. "G-g-good," she
stuttered, "k-k-keep g-g-going."
When he was finished, the elastic wrap provided a firm brace from just
below her bra to her waist. Mulder quickly got Scully back into her
blouse and coat. He carefully pulled her close, rubbing her arms,
trying to generate some heat. She groaned softly.
"Scully?" Mulder stepped back, never letting her go and watching her
closely. She, in turn, focused on his eyes. She stared deep into their
hazel depths, so filled with pain and fear. She went deeper, drawing on
the strength and determination she knew to be there. She took a slow
deep breath. The movement sent a fresh surge of agony through her chest
causing her to grimace. She took another hesitant breath, her eyes
never leaving Mulder's, who worriedly held her gaze. He felt her pain
as acutely as if it was his own. Wishing he could do something -
anything, he simply held on. Finally she spoke, "I'm okay," she
managed through clenched teeth. "Thanks."
"That's a lie," he whispered without malice. Scully looked sheepish.
"You know what I mean," she murmured. Mulder nodded.
Scully knew her lung capacity was severely diminished, but the pain was
somewhat bearable and the feeling of bones grinding together almost
gone. She felt relatively stable but she knew it was a fragile
stability: a house of cards that could tumble at any moment. She took a
step and looked over, seeing for the first time what was left of their
car. "I guess we should be thankful we're alive."
Mulder came up behind her and wrapped his arms tentatively around her.
"I know I am. In fact, if you hadn't pulled me out..." He was nearly
overcome with gratitude that she continued to risk her life for his and
he felt totally unworthy.
Scully shook her head. "Just doing my job, Mulder. You would have
done the same thing."
Mulder turned her around and tipped her chin up. "That's not the point
and you know it."
Scully dropped her gaze, her bottom lip trembled. She was becoming
overwhelmed as she realized how close she had come to losing him. "I -
I thought you were going to die. I - I know how fire - I -I couldn't
let you - but I didn't know if I could get far enough away - in time -
you - you-" She was nearly incoherent, hysterical and she knew it but
was impotent to fight it.
Until Mulder dipped his head and impulsively kissed her. Scully froze
when she felt Mulder's lips brush hers, feather-light. Her eyes wide,
she stared up at him as his eyes met hers. He had a faintly bemused
look on his face.
"Now what were you saying?" he asked innocently.
"I - I forget," Scully replied, weakly, her thoughts in a turmoil. She
didn't know if the difficulty she had in catching her breath was related
to the trauma or the kiss.
"Good," he said with a grin. "If I'd known I had that effect, I'd have
tried it a long time ago."
Scully shook her head, her lips quirked, wondering if he was serious
and trying to decide if that would be a good thing. (I can't think
about that now,) she thought. (I can't.) The pain she was fighting
continued to occupy her thoughts, leaving little room for anything else.
Unable to stop her tears, she eased her arms back around Mulder, who
after a moment's hesitation, carefully held her. He ignored the dull
pain that throbbed the length of his back, concentrating instead on how
small and frail his partner seemed in his arms.
(My partner.) He would never take back that kiss, but how did Scully
really feel about it. (This wasn't the time or the place,) he thought
regretfully. (Later.)
"Scully," he whispered with a catch in his voice. He wanted to say
more but held back.
For several minutes, they stood there, wrapped in each others arms
until Scully felt herself fading. "I.. have.. to sit ..down.." she said
thickly.
Alarmed, Mulder guided her back to the ground. Scully leaned gingerly
back against the log, her eyes closed, her face so pale in the
moonlight. As Mulder watched her closely, she tried to reassure him,
but he wasn't buying it. Not when her breathing came in short ragged
gasps. "Don't you want to lie down, Scully?" he suggested.
"I can't," she said simply.
Mulder clenched his jaw. This was going from really bad to really
scary really quick. He was able to get a fire going while Scully
cleared an area for them to try and sleep. He caught her moving slowly
and carefully, protecting her chest wall. Searching through the
wreckage in hopes of finding anything that would help them, he was
disappointed to find nothing of use. He had brought his cell phone and
while it was functional, the signal was too weak to send a call.
Scully's had been in her suitcase which was demolished.
"Mulder," Scully called breathlessly.
He turned quickly, but stumbled when he became dizzy by the sudden
movement.
"Mulder!" Scully cried.
"I'm okay, Scully," he said as he moved to her side. "What's wrong?
Are you okay?"
In response, she simply pointed up to an area behind him. The pain in
his neck flared as he looked up and saw a large branch dangling above
the spot he'd been standing. The explosion had nearly broken the
massive limb that would have surely crushed him had it fallen.
"Thanks, Scully," he said, stunned, even as the branch suddenly chose
that moment to let loose. He bent protectively over her as the limb
rolled past them to the bottom of the embankment.
They carefully scanned the tree and surrounding area before staring at
each other. (What else? ) Their expressions said as clearly as if
they'd spoken.
Mulder reluctantly opened his eyes, feeling like he had just gone to
sleep. His watch was within his line of sight and a quick glance showed
it was almost 8:00. It seemed unbelievable that they had been able to
get any sleep at all after the crash. Realizing that Scully was still
sleeping, he kept perfectly still. Despite the circumstances, he rather
enjoyed having his head pillowed carefully on her lap. Worry, though,
pushed to the forefront of awareness as he listened to her ragged
breathing. They couldn't stay here forever. Since the car had gone
over the side of the road, it was unlikely to be found any time soon.
Scully desperately needed medical attention, but realistically, how far
could they hike in their condition? Should they stay or should they go?
He continued to mull over possibilities, letting Scully sleep as long
as she could, knowing she'd need all the rest she could get.
Suddenly, she coughed. The intense pain woke her instantly, without
warning and she was unable to keep from crying out as her hands splinted
her chest.
"Scully!!' Mulder cried as he tried in vain to sit up. However, in
the past few hours his back and neck had stiffened to the point of
immobility. (So this is what whiplash feels like, ) he thought
distantly as he flailed his arms and legs to try and pull himself up.
Scully immediately realized the difficulty he was having and why. She
placed a restraining hand on his shoulder. "Mulder - don't," she said,
breathlessly. "Stop - please."
Startled, Mulder exhaled and became still.
Scully continued, "Be careful, Mulder. If you keep fighting like this,
you're just going to hurt yourself and -" Abruptly she broke off.
Mulder, however, finished the sentence for her. "And you," he said
grimly.
"Well, yes," Scully admitted ruefully. "Now lie still a minute."
Gently she palpated his neck, feeling how tight the muscles were. Very
slowly and very carefully she began to knead the knotted cords at his
neck.
Mulder couldn't help but moan. "Oh - God, Scully," he groaned.
"Sssshh," Scully soothed as she continued working her fingers into the
muscles.
Mulder moaned again as his arms and legs began to tingle with the
return of warmth and circulation. He felt like he was somewhere between
pain and ecstasy. That tiny voice in his head pointed out that if he
weren't in so much pain, he'd really be in heaven right now.
He was able to wriggle slightly, allowing Scully to reach further past
his collar, working the top of his shoulders and back. She couldn't
help but smile at the sounds emanating from her partner nestled on her
lap. She patiently and, seemingly tirelessly, continued her gentle but
firm massage as she let her thoughts drift away, away from her own pain
and fears. She focused all her thoughts and energy on Mulder....
Gradually he became more relaxed and Scully wondered if he was about to
start purring, which gave her a pleasant mental image. Mulder tried to
ignore the reaction the rest of his body was having to Scully's
ministrations. Any other time...any other place...
Scully felt another cough tickling the back of her throat and swallowed
several times in an effort to prevent it. When it became apparent that
she wouldn't be able to, she braced her chest wall. The fire that
exploded in her lungs managed to rip another hoarse cry from her lips.
Mulder stiffened. "Scully? Are you okay?"
"Yeah," she gasped, blinking away the tears that clouded her vision.
Mulder wasn't buying it and in a moment of strength was able to lift
himself to a sitting position. Instantly, he knew he'd made a terrible
mistake. His rapid movement caused his head to swim as pain and nausea
swept over him like a tidal wave and his hands flew up - ostensibly to
keep his head from exploding.
"Mulder!!!" Scully cried out. (He's actually turning green!!) she
thought hysterically.
Frantically, Mulder pulled himself away from her and was able to throw
himself over the log before his empty stomach heaved. Scully heard his
violent retching and pushing past her own agony, managed to crawl over
to him. Draped unceremoniously over the huge log, Mulder felt her hand
on his back, supporting him and was grateful.
Scully watched him closely, silently, until he finally raised up,
moving slowly and carefully. "Oh, Mulder..." she whispered as she
lovingly brushed away the locks of hair that had fallen in his face. He
was sweating in the cold morning air.
"I'll be okay," he muttered, seeing the anxiety written all over her
face. And something else. "Just give me a minute."
"You have a concussion," she said, stating the obvious.
"Not the first time, partner," he quipped " and I'm sure it won't be the
last."
"I know," she retorted sadly, eyes downcast. "That's what scares me."
Mulder smiled weakly. "I didn't think anything scared you, G-woman."
Scully quirked her lips and shook her head. Leave it to Mulder to try
and joke his way out of this. She jumped slightly when he reached over
to tenderly touch her left cheek, now horribly bruised and swollen.
"Are you sure it's not broken?" he asked, in concern.
Her fingers brushed his as she tried to ascertain the answer. "I don't
know. Possibly, but I don't even feel that."
(Her ribs.) Mulder thought worriedly watching her breathe in short,
shallow gasps. "How's the rib brace holding?"
"Good," she replied. Mulder just stared at her. She sighed. "Aren't we
a pair?"
"Pair of what?" he joked. Then, he noticed her shivering. "Come on,"
he said as helped her back to her spot in front of the dwindling fire.
"I guess we need to decide if we stay here or go off in search of help.
Personally, I vote for staying here. Neither one of us is in any
condition to go hiking through these woods."
Scully shook her head. "I agree that we're in pretty bad shape, but we
aren't going to be able to stay here."
"Why not?" Mulder asked in confusion.
"A cold front will be here tonight. I heard it on the radio yesterday,
while I was driving. Snow is expected. So, hiking will be difficult to
say the least, but we have to keep moving. Shelter will have to be our
top priority."
"Shit," Mulder growled in frustration. Scully was right. A campfire
wouldn't protect them at all from a storm. Neither would the burned out
hull of their car. He looked over at his partner, who was watching him
expectantly, her eyes conveying the worry she felt and could not hide.
"Scully, are you sure you can do this? I mean- don't get mad at me, I'm
just..."
"Worried about me," she finished for him quietly. "I know, Mulder. I
also know that you weren't being patronizing." She paused a moment
before continuing. " I thought a lot about it while I was trying to get
to sleep and I just don't think we can safely stay here."
"We can't 'safely' travel, either, you know," Mulder said darkly,
unable to stop himself. He instantly regretted his words. (Why am I
pointing out the obvious? Do we really need a self-fulfilling prophecy?
) He thought, rubbing his aching neck.
Scully bit her lip and sadly shook her head. "Maybe you should go on
and see if you can find help."
Mulder's head snapped up. "Not a chance in hell, Scully," he growled,
"am I leaving you alone here."
"But Mulder," she argued, "you'd have a better chance of finding help
and bringing it to me if I'm not holding you back."
"I told you once before, Scully: you don't hold me back." Mulder
fought down his anger and fear. "And what happens if I get lost? Or I
can't find the way back to you in time? What happens then?" he demanded
hotly.
Scully looked stricken at the possibilities that hadn't occurred to her.
Mulder backed off and caressed her uninjured cheek.
"I'm not leaving you, Scully. I'll never leave you," he vowed. He
stared at her, catching her eyes and holding them.
Scully felt herself melt as the depth of his devotion washed over her
and she knew that he wasn't just talking about right now. "I love you,"
she suddenly whispered, surprising herself and shocking Mulder. She
froze. (Was that me? Did I really just say that? ) One look at
Mulder's face answered that question without a doubt.
Mulder felt his hand fall to his side.
(Oh, God, ) Scully thought, desperately wishing that she could take it
back. (What have I done?) She clenched her jaw. She was not about to
cry. She couldn't.
Mulder caught the sudden fear cloud Scully's face and knew immediately
that she had misunderstood his reaction. Tenderly he reached back up to
cup her face, forcing her to look at him. "Dana Scully - don't you know
that I love you, too? I always have and I always will," he said
passionately.
The tears came then. Two of them slid down her cheeks and Mulder gently
brushed them away, nearly overcome with the pure love radiating from her
eyes.''
"Now that we've got that settled, are you ready to go?" he asked, with
a smile.
Mutely, Scully nodded. She would do this. If Mulder wasn't going to
leave her here, she was determined to follow him no matter what. He
stood up slowly and waited for the vertigo to pass before helping Scully
to her feet.
Her face a deathly white, she desperately fought to stay conscious. The
only sound she made was her breathing, heavy and hoarse. "Ready," she
said, struggling not to pant as she spoke. She didn't want to sound any
weaker than she was.
Mulder swallowed and felt a trickle of unease. Grimly, he took her arm
and together they made their way to the bottom of the embankment. The
brushes were thicker and almost as tall as Scully, forcing Mulder to
walk ahead to clear a path on the rocky, uneven terrain. He would have
preferred to walk side by side, but he knew that he couldn't let her
fall, lest her broken ribs cause further damage or even death.
By unspoken agreement and necessitated by their injuries, the pace was
slow and cautious. Mulder was unable to turn and look at Scully due to
the spasms in his neck and back, but he heard each and every labored,
agonized breath that she took right behind him. Bushes sprang into his
face. He pushed them aside, holding them the extra beat to allow Scully
through unscathed. The trees were dense, growing everywhere, battling
each other for a little space. Thick gray clouds filled the sky and
Mulder wasn't exactly sure in what direction they were travelling
anymore.
The pounding headache was unrelenting, the nausea fought for his
attention but he continued on. They either found shelter before the
storm, or they died. It was as simple and as terrifying as that.
Behind him, Scully concentrated on putting one foot in front of the
other. Conversation was impossible: she was unable to walk, talk and
breathe at the same time. Each step resulted in a horrible burning
lance of pain, making her believe that her lungs were on fire. She
wondered briefly how long they could survive the effects of shock and
exposure. Staring at her partner's back, she knew that as long as he
was there, she would keep on fighting, unwilling to leave him just when
they had finally declared their love. They had a lot to talk about.
Love and their survival instincts kept them going when every muscle in
their bodies screamed for them to stop.
Meanwhile, in Washington, D.C., Skinner slammed down his phone in
frustration. And, he hated to admit it, worry. Mulder and Scully were
overdue. The hotel confirmed that his 2 agents had not checked in. He
spoke to the highway patrol, but there were no reports of any accidents.
They admitted that there was 300 miles between Lake Tahoe and the
murder site to search. Skinner promised to send out more manpower. "I
want those two agents found."
After 6 hours of walking on sheer autopilot, they came to a narrow path
which had been beaten down to bare earth. Mulder could hear Scully's
teeth chattering. The temperature was falling fast, the wind starting
to pick up and it was getting harder to see in the waning light. Five
minutes later, they got to a small clearing and Mulder heard running
water ahead. He stopped to listen as he pulled out the flashlight and
carefully swept the area before them.
At that moment, the clouds opened up and released the rain it had been
storing all day. When the beam of the flashlight bounced back at him,
Mulder had to blink his eyes. (Rain? Or something else?) He scarcely
dared to hope.
"Hey, Scully - I think I might have found -" he broke off when he
turned and saw her. Her hands hung limply at her side, her eyes were
glassy and blank, her face slack. "Scully -" He got no farther, having
to rush forward as her knees buckled and she collapsed. She dropped so
sharply that he almost missed her completely. He was able to grip her
upper arm and keep her from hitting her head but her body twisted in
his hold until he could rearrange himself. As he cradled her in his
arms, she struggled in vain to get up, her eyes remaining closed.
"Scully - don't move - just rest a minute," he murmured, holding her
carefully. He needn't have bothered. Scully's body refused to respond
to her feeble efforts to stand. She was freezing; her whole body began
to shake as he held on to her, the rain pouring down on them.
Mulder was frantic. He groped at her neck, attempting to check her
pulse; a task made more difficult due to his numb and trembling fingers.
At last he found it - weak, erratic. Impossibly, her breathing seemed
more labored, more rapid. She had yet to open her eyes.
"Scully, you hang in there. Do you hear me? Don't you die on me - not
here - not now!! Do you you hear me Dana Scully? Don't you leave
me!!" he cried, his face pressed against his partner's. "Don't you
leave me, Scully!"
Shelter. They had to find shelter. He pointed his flashlight at the
spot he had found a few moments ago. There was the reflection again.
He hesitated though. He had to check it out but he didn't want to leave
her alone. Telling himself it would only be a minute or two, he propped
Scully against a tree and hurried off. When he got close enough to
determine that it was indeed a house, dark and deserted, he felt that
his first prayer had been answered.
Racing back, he found her, unbelievably, crawling on her hands and
knees, struggling to stand. Overwhelming nausea swept over her, racking
her body. In desperation she closed her eyes, squeezed them tight and
bit her lip in sheer agony.
Mulder rushed to her, putting a supporting arm around her. "Scully,
hang on." With his help, she was able to stand, swaying back and forth,
her balance precarious.
"I found a house. Just a little bit farther ahead."
She looked up at him dully, unable to speak as the tears and the rain
streamed down her cheeks. The rain beat down on them unmercilously.
Mulder didn't wait for an response. He put one arm around Scully's
waist, held her tightly and moved as fast as he dared to shelter. To
their only hope for survival.
________________________________________________________________
Walter Skinner had flown to Lake Tahoe. He wanted to be close by when
he got word on his missing agents.
________________________________________________________________
Mulder was not surprised to find the door to the cabin locked. Not
bothering to check every window and wasting precious time, he simply
shot the lock off and hurried inside. The flashlight revealed furniture
covered with dropcloths and a large fireplace. He led Scully to the
couch then went to work.
On the porch there were several cords of wood protected from the rain.
In his weakened state, it took a couple of trips but he transferred
enough wood to last through the night. Then, using the dropcloths as
kindling, he soon had a roaring fire going. Slumped on the couch,
Scully sighed as the warmth touched her near-frozen body, drawing
Mulder's attention. Throwing off his coat, he helped her out of hers
then moved to pull off her boots. A quick trip to the bedroom yielded
several thick quilts as well as 3 pillows. He returned to find that
Scully hadn't moved; she was shivering uncontrollably and wheezing
audibly. Mulder knelt before her and fingered her shirt. He was
pleased to see that her jacket had protected it but her jeans were
soaked.
"Uh - Scully - we've got to get you out of these wet jeans," he said
hesitantly.
A single nod was all she could manage as Mulder fumbled with the button
and zipper before sliding them down and off. Distantly he thought he'd
give up undressing his partner if she would only survive this nightmare.
He bundled her in one of the quilts and propped her carefully on 2
pillows in an effort to make her breathing easier.
She tried to speak but was silenced by a paroxysm of coughing. She
began to cough and gasp at the same time and for one terrifying moment,
she thought she was going to choke. Finally the spasm ended. Wracked
with pain, she could only whimper, her body limp, bloody saliva on her
lips. Kneeling helplessly before her, Mulder had a frantic sense of
time running out - like sand slipping through an hourglass...
Scully closed her eyes. Mulder slipped out of his own wet jeans and
boots and wrapped himself in a quilt. The adrenaline that had gotten
him this far was gone. Weak and trembling, he sank down in a chair next
to Scully as the room seemed to spin at a sickening rate. Exhausted and
hollow-eyed, he fought to stay awake. "Scully - " he stared at her; her
head had fallen listlessly to one side. "Scully?" He hoped she
sleeping. He was afraid she was unconscious. Almost hesitantly, he
took a hold of her wrist and felt her pulse. Weak, rapid and thready.
He pulled the chair and couch closer to the fire, then settled back,
again taking hold of her hand. Desperately he clutched at it like a
security blanket. (I'll sleep later, ) he promised himself. (I'll just
close my eyes to rest them a minute and I'll sleep later. )
But sleep bore down on him like an avalanche and within seconds a
numbness spread through his body. He slept. Outside, the wind howled
and the rain changed to sleet as the temperature continued to fall.
When Skinner received word that Mulder and Scully's car had been
located, he was immediately taken to the helicopter that he'd had
standing ready. By the time he arrived at the crash site, what was left
of the car had been hauled up to the highway. As the officers reassured
him that no bodies had been found, he surveyed the scene in stunned
amazement. Evidence of blood on the steering wheel worried him even
more. The position of the driver's seat indicated that Mulder had been
driving. The wind and rain would hamper the search team as well as
several more hours of darkness but no one thought of waiting for the
storm to pass. Lives were at stake. Bloodhounds arrived and they
immediately picked up the scent and were off.
It was the cold that woke Mulder with a start. The once roaring fire
had died to a small pile of embers and he was shivering violently.
Glancing down at his watch, he was shocked to see how long he'd been
asleep. A thick congested cough ripped through him and he realized at
once that he was now sick. One hand to his forehead confirmed that he
had a fever. (Oh - God, ) he moaned, deeply and unreasonably ashamed of
himself. He felt like he'd let down his partner. He couldn't be sick.
He had to be stronger. Reaching for his now dry jeans, his movements
slow and sluggish, he rekindled the fire. The warmth was immediate and
welcome.
Mulder sat down next to Scully. It didn't appear that she had moved at
all. Only the shallow rise and fall of her chest with each uneven
breath let him know that she was alive. Suddenly uneasy, he stared at
her face intently. Something was different. Her left cheek was still
bruised and swollen, her right was flushed. Flushed?! Biting back the
growing dread, he reached out and touched her. The skin was
unbelievably hot - she was burning up with fever. At the touch of his
hand, Scully jerked and began mumbling incoherently, delirious.
Alarmed, Mulder gripped her shoulders and carefully shook her.
"Scully!! Scully - open your eyes!!" he yelled. "Look at me, Scully!!"
he demanded.
With a superhuman effort, Scully did as she was told. She tried to
focus on the voice in front of her, so filled with anguish and fear, but
the face was blurred. She was seeing everything double.
"Scully - talk to me - please!" Mulder begged, his face a mask of
despair. He held her up trying to get her to see him. He watched her
lips move but no sound came out and he wasn't entirely sure that she
even knew that he was there. When her eyes rolled back and her body
went completely limp, Mulder felt his world slipping through his
fingers. He quickly made sure that her heart was still beating, even as
his own felt like it was breaking apart. (Please, Scully, ) he silently
prayed. (Please, don't leave me...)
When Mulder heard the commotion outside, he didn't dare to hope that
help had arrived. Pulling himself to his feet, he tottered to the door
and came face to face with A.D. Walter Skinner, a group of forest
rangers, and 2 barking hound dogs. Skinner stared at his agent. He had
no idea how he had survived - the young man didn't look as if he should
be able to stand. His eyes were bloodshot, the left bruised and nearly
swollen shut. His face was gaunt and otherwise shockingly pale and his
lips bloodless.
"Agent Mulder -" Words died in his throat as he and the others rushed
forward when Mulder sagged against the wall. His relief, so profound,
it threatened to overwhelm him. He was led inside and he gave in to the
pain - the fatigue.
"Scully ...help...sick.." he managed, his words were slurring, and he
couldn't quite pronounce a complete sentence. The last thing he saw was
the horror on Skinner's face as he took in Scully's condition before
succumbing to unconsciousness.
The helicopter arrived within minutes bearing 2 paramedics and 2
stretchers. Skinner stood helplessly by as they worked on his agents.
Oxygen, IV's, warm blankets. There was only 1 cardiac monitor and he
sighed when it was placed on Scully. That meant that she needed it
more. He helped them get loaded into the chopper and climbed into the
front passenger seat. Listening to the reports as they radioed in only
added to his worry.
"B/P 80/40, pulse 140, respirations 44, temp 101.9"
"B/P 70 palp, pulse 190, respirations 80 and labored, temp 104.9."
"Laceration to scalp, left eye swollen, pupils equal reactive but
sluggish, conscious on arrival."
"Monitor shows sinus tach with occasional PVC. Blunt trauma to lower
chest, no breath sounds at the bases, unresponsive."
On it went. When they arrived at the trauma center at Lake Tahoe,
things seemed to move even faster. Mulder and Scully were each rushed
to a trauma room and surrounded by physicians and nurses and techs.
Skinner was left to handle the paperwork. It was going to be a long
night.
For Scully, it was a nightmare within a nightmare. At some level of her
mind, she struggled to believe that - to remember that over the past 4
years since her abduction, she had always awakened from the nightmares,
always been safe - Mulder at her side. But now, there was nothing she
could do with her thoughts, and absolutely nothing she could do with her
body, to stem the helplessness, the pain, and the unremitting terror.
As they had during numerous dreams - hands pinned her on her back, then
tied her down, white lights, nameless faces. She fought to free herself
until her arms and legs burned, but the bonds were like steel. Hands -
disembodied hands - forcing something between her teeth. She pushed
against it with her tongue, shaking her head violently from side to side
to no avail. Deeper and deeper into her mouth, clogging the back of her
throat, choking her. She strained to pull in air through swollen,
narrowed nostrils. She knew she had an IV and when she felt the burning
in her arm realized something was injected into the tubing. Time became
meaningless as the initial burning faded away. She remembered nothing
more.
As he watched the medical personnel, he silently prayed for his agents'
lives, unable to shake the almost overwhelming feeling of helplessness
and despair. Skinner knew he'd never forget that scene as long as he
lived. He would have given anything to go in and help her but knew that
intubation was necessary. He had heard the words "respiratory failure"
and understood that Scully was either put on a ventilator or she died.
It didn't make witnessing that any easier.
Mulder opened his eyes from a dreamless sleep. At first, his mind drew
a blank as he looked around at unfamiliar surroundings. But then,
consciousness brought sensation - pain -pain in his back and the
pounding headache. And then images: dead bodies..Jeffrey Spender..the
crash..Scully...
He felt his senses begin to focus and he struggled to reconstruct the
hazy events following the crash. Moving only his eyes, he realized that
he was in an intensive care unit. His body still felt battered and
sore, but his headache had diminished to a more tolerable level and he
felt like his fever was gone. Seeing a call button on the side rail, he
started to reach for it when Skinner walked in. His eyes widened in
surprise when he saw that Mulder was awake.
"Agent Mulder, how do you feel?" he asked in concern.
"I'm trying not to," Mulder replied groggily. "Where's Scully? What
time is it? How long have I been here?'
"Whoa - hold on a minute," Skinner said as he easily pushed Mulder back
onto the pillow. "First things first. There is a doctor out there
who's been waiting to examine you when you came around. Scully's a
couple of doors down and I'll fill you in as soon as they're finished
with you."
Frustrated but helpless to fight, Mulder allowed himself to be poked and
prodded taking some measure of comfort that he knew Scully was alive.
The doctor informed him that he would be starting him on muscle relaxers
for the severe cervical and lumbar strain. He learned that he had
arrived with a concussion, (big surprise), severe dehydration,
pneumonia, and exposure.
Skinner was allowed to see Mulder as long as he promised to keep it
short. He pulled up a chair after helping to raise the head of the bed
for Mulder to a more comfortable position.
Mulder winced in pain - his back and neck still incredibly stiff and
sore. He looked expectantly at his boss, waiting for him to fill him
in.
"For starters," Skinner began, "It's Monday morning; almost 48 hours
since we found you and flew in to Lake Tahoe Medical Center. Agent
Scully just got out of surgery 5 hours ago."
"Surgery?!" Mulder felt his stomach lurch.
Skinner held up a hand to silence further questions. "She is in serious
but stable condition. It turns out that she had 4 fractured ribs that
caused quite a bit of damage. A pulmonary contusion, and lacerated
spleen. She came in, like you, with severe dehydration, pneumonia and
exposure. I just checked on her. She on a ventilator, heavily
medicated and the doctor says that she's going to stay that way another
6 or 7 days, depending on how quickly she recovers."
Mulder sank back. Stunned, he tried to let it all sink in. Scully was
alive.
"Do you feel up to telling me what happened out there?" Skinner asked.
"Yeah, sure." Mulder tried to clear his throat, his lips dry and
cracked. "Could I get some water, please?"
Skinner filled a glass from the bedside pitcher and handed it to Mulder,
who gulped it greedily.
Mulder started by describing the accident: the moose, waking up to find
that Scully had rescued him from the car before the explosion, finding
her 6 hours later.
Skinner was silent. He had seen the car and after listening to Mulder,
he knew he had been correct in his belief that his agent's survival was
truly miraculous.
"I barely remember hiking to the cabin," Mulder went on. "Just walking,
endlessly. All I could think was that if we didn't find shelter, we
were dead."
Looking at the young man before him, Skinner had a flash of
understanding: together Mulder and Scully were almost invincible.
"We got to the cabin just as the rain started. Scully was really out of
it by this time. Before you got there, her fever was so high that she
was delirious." Mulder shuddered at the recollection.
Skinner refilled the water glass, thinking that Scully wasn't really out
of the woods yet but he wasn't about to tell Mulder that. Knowing that
Mulder could barely stay awake, Skinner stood to leave, just as a young
nurse walked in with a small IV bag.
"He really needs his rest," she whispered.
"I was just leaving," Skinner informed her quietly. He was almost out
the door when Mulder called after him. He turned back.
"Keep an eye on her, please. Let me know how she's doing," he
requested.
Skinner nodded and was gone.
________________________________________________________________
The next day, Skinner checked out of the hotel and returned to the
hospital to see how his two agents were doing before flying back to
Washington. He stood at the doorway, staring over at Scully, who seemed
nearly invisible amongst the tubes, wires, and machinery that surrounded
the bed. The lights had been dimmed, and only a soft glow illuminated
the woman propped up on pillows. Skinner shook his head. He had seen
horrendous things in his life, his tour of duty in Vietnam had shown him
things that had changed his life. But Dana Scully in a hospital bed -
on a ventilator...that sight touched him in a very private part of his
heart that was reserved solely for Dana Scully and Fox Mulder.
He took one step inside, the sound of the ventilator's hypnotic rhythm
pulling him forward. Staring down at Scully's chalky pale cheeks, the
left still bruised, he watched as his right hand reached out, seemingly
of it's own volition, to touch the cool skin. A shiver coursed through
him. Abruptly he backed out, his jaw clenched, his fingers tingling
from their brief contact with her. As he stepped out, he couldn't
resist one more glance back. Staring at Scully lying so very still -all
the pretty color shocked from her face. It was this distressing image
that he carried with him.
Next, he checked on Mulder. He found the normally garrulous patient
lying as quiet and still as he'd ever seen him. "Mulder?"
Fox Mulder looked over at Skinner, wincing slightly, his eyes
heavy-lidded. "Hello, sir." He spoke slowly, his words slurred
slightly.
Skinner couldn't help but grin. "I see the muscle relaxors have
started working."
Mulder huffed softly. "Very funny, sir. How's Scully?"
Skinner shook his head. (Well, that took all of 30 seconds.)
"Unchanged."
Mulder simply closed his eyes. He hadn't really expected anything more
or less.
Skinner quietly cleared his throat. "I'm heading back to D.C. They're
going to call me when Scully is ready to be taken off the ventilator and
as soon as she's stable, we'll all return on a medical transport plane."
Barely able to keep his eyes open, Mulder nodded.
"Get some rest," Skinner said quietly. "Call me if there is anything
you need." Without opening his eyes, Mulder thanked him and fell almost
instantly asleep. Skinner slipped out and went to the nurses' station,
requesting to speak with the charge nurse. He gave her his business
card with instructions to call if there was any problems.
"I'm sure everything will be just fine, sir," the brown-haired woman
assured him, taking the proffered card and pocketing it.
Skinner simply nodded, and said a silent prayer that Mulder would
behave himself. He wasn't known for being a model patient, and Scully
was in no condition to keep an eye on him.
________________________________________________________________
For Mulder, it was three hellishly long days before he was able to get
out of bed and see Scully for himself. The high dose muscle relaxors
helped the severe back and neck spasms but left him barely able to lift
his own fork. The antibiotics had gotten his pneumonia under control
and he was at last afebrile. The nurses gave him regular, if unchanging
reports on Scully, who remained heavily sedated on the ventilator.
Finally he was allowed to visit his partner, although he was forced to
sit in a wheelchair, pushed by a lanky junior volunteer named Todd. The
young man had been given strict orders to notify the nurses if the
patient even attempted to get out of the chair. Mulder simply glared at
the nurses, unwilling to risk their anger and lose his chance to see
Scully.
When Todd entered Scully's room, he heard Mulder moan softly, obviously
in pain. He stopped. "Mr. Mulder? Are you all right?"
Mulder closed his eyes, his breath coming in short painful gasps. (No,
kid - I'm not all right, ) he thought desperately. (No - because my
partner - the woman who gives meaning to my very existence - the woman I
love more than any man has loved a woman is lying in that bed hooked up
to more machines than I can count. And those machines seem to be the
only thing keeping that precious creature alive. So - no. I'm not all
right.)
When Mulder did not answer, Todd moved to get him out of the room.
"Wait."
Todd froze at the command.
"Get me closer to her bed," Mulder demanded quietly.
Todd held his ground. "Are you sure, Mr. Mulder? You really don't
look so good."
Again, Mulder closed his eyes, thinking it wouldn't get any better if
he didn't touch Scully in the next 10 seconds. He wanted nothing more
than to stand up and rush to Scully's side and he knew that no matter
how he tried to convince himself otherwise, he simply did not have the
strength. "Todd. Get this damn chair next to her bed, right now." He
said softly, dangerously, his head pounding painfully.
Todd, wise beyond his seventeen years, heard the determination and
something he was unable to identify in Mulder's voice. It was that
"something" that made him push Mulder over to the bed and then slowly
back out of the room.
Hardly daring to breathe, and unable to tear his eyes from Scully's
face, Mulder whispered a silent prayer to the powers that be that never
again would he be confronted by the sight of his partner on total life
support. Trembling, he reached out to take her hand. It felt cold and
lifeless, heightening his fear. Reaching up with his other hand, he let
his fingers touch her pale cheeks and graze her lips, which had also
lost their naturally rosy color.
"Dana," he called softly, desperately hoping for a response. "Can you
hear me?...Dana, I'm here," he whispered, trying to warm the chill in
her fingers. "Hang on, Scully...please...I need you..." Caressing her
hand and pulling it to his lips, he let the reality of his words wash
through his soul. He did need her. He always had. And he always
would. And he had always known that.
When the nurse found him asleep, his head propped on Scully's arm, she
quietly woke him. "Back to bed, Agent Mulder. I'll bring you back
later."
Morosely, Mulder nodded and allowed himself to be wheeled back to his
bed.
For the next four days, Mulder was shuffled between his room, Scully's
bedside, and grueling physical therapy sessions. He was told that
Scully's condition was improving slowly, but surely. Mulder, however,
would not be satisfied until he was able to again fall into the depths
of his partner's incredible blue eyes.
Darkness; solid darkness. Sounds; unintelligible sounds. Anguish.
It was these sensations that first gained coherence in Scully's brain.
Eventually the darkness faded some, leaving a thick, misty haze. Time,
as she knew it, was meaningless: as meaningless as the sounds that
attempted to penetrate the haze. And then the essence of her awoke. In
her mind, she actually heard Mulder calling to her, and became
frustrated that she could not respond to him. She found that she was
able to feel his hand around hers, stroking and again she was helpless
to move. Fox Mulder. His presence filled her - overwhelmed her - took
her breath away.
When Dana gasped, Mulder jumped violently in his seat. Filled with
hope, he moved in closer, gently taking her face in his hands -
desperately searching for any sign of returning consciousness. He rang
for the nurses and as they assessed his partner, he made a call to
Washington D. C.
_____________________________________________________________________
"Dana...Dana, listen to me. I'm Beth, one of your nurses. Try to hold
still and listen...." She waited for Scully to cease her restless
movements. "Better...that's better. You can keep your eyes closed, but
please listen...Dana, you're on a ventilator. There's a tube down your
nose and one down your throat and into you lungs. You have had a high
fever and we've had to restrain you. Do you understand all that?"
Mulder looked over at Beth when Scully squeezed his hand, and nodded.
"Good. Good, Dana," Beth continued. "Just try and keep calm. I'm
going to tell Dr. Carmichael that you're waking up and we'll hopefully
get that tube out." She whispered to Mulder and Skinner that the
fentnyl drip that had kept Scully sedated was no longer infusing. "She
should be waking up any moment now. Let me get Dr. Carmichael, I'll be
right back."
Scully held on to the hand she instinctively knew to be Mulder's. She
strained to separate nightmare from nightmare. As the haze in her brain
cleared ever so slowly, partial memories rushed back . Fuzzy images
floated behind her closed eyes. She could hear Mulder whisper words she
was unable to make out but just the sound of his voice touched her and
soothed her.
As her consciousness and awareness grew, so did the indescribable
discomfort of the endotrachael breathing tube and the fearsome sensation
of air hunger. She could hear the ventilator bucking and whirring as it
fought against her own attempts to breath. Clearly, it was set on
automatic mode rather than assist.
(Slow down, ) she begged herself. (Don't fight it. Remember the last
time...easy now...go with it...relax and go with it...)
______________________________________________________________________
"Dana, can you hear me? Dana, can you open your eyes for me?"
She knew that voice. That voice had been with her. She trusted that
voice: she loved that voice. She blinked against the blurriness and the
sting of light. Gradually her vision cleared and she was looking up at
the man she loved and who had said that he loved her. Mulder was
looking down at her with barely contained joy and relief. She caught
sight of Skinner and an unknown doctor watching her with hope and
concern.
"Ms. Scully, I'm Dr. Carmichael. You're in ICU here in Lake Tahoe. Do
you understand?"
Scully flicked her gaze from Mulder to Skinner and blinked once.
"Good," Dr. Carmichael continued. "I'm going to undo the restraints on
your wrists. Please don't touch the tubes. Understand?" Scully
blinked again. "Good."
Scully waited patiently as the soft foam straps were loosened and then
removed. Her head was throbbing but she was fully awake now and rapidly
regaining control. Slowly and deliberately, she reached up with her
free hand and pointed to the endotracheal tube. Her other hand was
still in Mulder's crushing grip, but she wasn't about to let go.
"I know, I know," Dr. Carmichael said. "We're going to get a blood gas
and anesthesia will come in and we'll see if we can get that tube out.
Are you okay for now?" Again, Scully blinked. "Okay," he went on,
"I've switched your vent to demand, so you can breathe any way you want.
I'll be right back."
Mulder tried to relax with her, easing up on the death grip he had on
her hand.
A respiratory therapist came in with Beth and obtained a sample of blood
from the line in Scully's radial artery. In the 10 minutes that
followed, Mulder and Skinner stayed beside her, doing what they could to
keep her calm and filling her in on the events surrounding their rescue.
"You were pretty sick by the time we got to the deserted cabin," Mulder
began. "Do you even remember that?" Scully managed to shake her head.
Skinner spoke for the first time. "It turns out that your broken ribs
caused some internal damage. You were taken to surgery and you've been
here in the ICU for the past 8 days."
When Scully's eyes widened, Mulder gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.
"Hey, I'm jealous," he quipped. "I only got 5 days here. Then they
shipped me off to the medical floor. I just got released this morning."
Scully pleaded with her eyes for Mulder to continue to fill in the
blanks. With a wry grin, he got the message and went on. "We had
walked all day and finally found a cabin just as the rain started. I
got us settled in, then basically passed out until the calvary showed
up. Our leader here arrived with park rangers and paramedics and saved
our lives.
Scully looked over at Skinner with such unabashed gratitude that he
actually blushed. He wasn't used to hearing praise from Mulder or
seeing that look in Scully's eye. To cover his embarrassment, he filled
her in on Mulder's condition, then not knowing what else to say, he
glanced outside. He caught sight of Beth. "Uh-hang on, Scully. Beth
and Dr. Carmichael are coming back with another doctor."
The news from the pulmonary lab was very good. Scully's blood gases -
her pH, oxygen, and carbon dioxide levels-were all good enough to
warrant taking her off the vent. Dr. Carmichael introduced Dr.
Schaeffer, the anesthesiologist.
"All right, Ms. Scully. If you're ready?" Dr. Schaeffer prompted. She
blinked.
As the anesthesiologist moved into position at the head of the bed,
Scully caught Skinner's eye. He was on the opposite side of the bed
from Mulder. She extended her hand. Skinner did a double take. (Me?)
his expression said as clearly as if he'd spoken aloud.
Scully blinked. (Yes.)
Slightly flustered, Skinner took a breath and swallowed her hand in his.
He caught Mulder looking at him, nodding his approval.
"Okay, Ms. Scully, here we go."
Scully held on to Mulder and Skinner as she endured having her trachea
suctioned and then the tube pulled out. As she sputtered, gagged, and
coughed spasmodically, Mulder and Skinner held on, steadying her through
the coughing jag.
Finally, she was able to breathe without coughing but still was panting
slightly. She sank back against the pillows.
Dr. Schaeffer and Dr. Carmichael examined her and satisfied that she
was stable, stepped outside. Beth put her on oxygen by nasal cannula
before leaving also.
Mulder gently brushed away the tears that had slipped from his
partner's eyes. "Are you sure you're okay, Scully?"
"Yeah," she rasped, hoarse. "Thanks, Mulder." She looked over at
Skinner. "Thanks to you, too, sir, for your support."
He smiled faintly. "You've always had my support, Agent Scully. I - I
can't imagine what that must feel like."
"It was my third time," Scully said weakly, "and hopefully my last."
"Hey, third times the charm," Mulder joked and Scully smiled.
"Is there any water in here?" she asked softly.
"Yeah, sure," Mulder replied and moved to fill the glass on the bedside
table.
Noticing that Mulder still moved carefully and stiffly, she asked
Skinner if he would help her sit up. Skinner swallowed and ever so
gently reached behind Scully's shoulders and raised her up. Mulder
placed the glass to her lips and she felt that water had never tasted so
good.
"Thanks, guys," Scully said, a sleepy, dreamy quality commanding her
voice. Her eyelids were becoming heavier each second.
Mulder brushed her forehead with a gentle kiss before heading out. He
felt that he could relax at last. His Scully was going to be all right.
Skinner stared down at Scully who was already sound asleep. Though her
face was pale, it seemed calm, now, almost serene. "Take care, Dana,"
he whispered softly, placing his hand briefly on her shoulder. "Take
care." Then he too was gone.
