THE PALE MOONLIGHT By Steph Lutz kaisteph@worldnet.att.net DISCLAIMER: The X-Files yaddayaddayadda not me. SUMMARY: Scully's cancer worsens and Skinner cashes in his end of the deal. SPOILERS: US4: Memento Mori, Small Potatoes, and Elegy. I'd have liked to work in Zero Sum too, but that would have taken more rewriting, and I wanted to get this posted before the season finale resolves everything and makes this obsolete <I can dream :)> So... the bulk of this takes place after Elegy, pretending Zero Sum never happened..... CLASSIFICATION: S, A, MSR RATING: PG Praises, comments, virtual sunflower seeds to kaisteph@worldnet.att.net. Flames will be used to roast the seeds.... *********************************************************** "Have you ever danced with the Devil in the pale moonlight?" The Joker to Batman *********************************************************** "There's always another way." "Yes, I believe there is. If you're willing to pay the price." Walter Skinner let his hand rest on the phone as he stared down at the hard, polished wood of his large desk. The brass lamp, the window with the refreshing spring view, the wide expansive of plush carpet, the leather furniture... Lastly, his gaze rested on the perfect crimp in the trousers of his several-thousand-dollar suit. A far cry from the young boy, dressed in fatigues and combat boots, one olive duffel containing all his possession slung over his shoulder, off to fight the good fight and save the world. He hated what he'd become. Political, compromising, forced to stand aside and consider the "big picture", which was really only the government's face, while two of his agents - the only two that he could be sure were wholly uncorrupted - were repeatedly on the run for their lives. That was why he had to do this now, had to take the only stand he could. He couldn't allow Mulder to compromise himself. As he'd told him once before - Mulder was their only hope. The only one not afraid to look for the truth, untouched by any agenda, and coming closer each time. And so Skinner would do what he had to - to save Scully, and to keep them going. Skinner inhaled deeply, the cigarette smoke stinging his eyes and clogging his sinuses. He'd better get used to it, he supposed. "What have you got?" he asked tonelessly. The Cancerman - Skinner had noticed Mulder's ironic avoidance of that name in their last two conversations - leaned forward, stubbed out his cigarette, and produced a computer diskette from the inside pocket of his dark blue suit jacket. He placed the diskette in the center of the pristine desk blotter, and removed another cigarette from his pack. Skinner idly wondered how much of the government's money was spent over the course of the year on this man's habit, as he never seemed to take more than a couple of puffs on one before lighting another.... "The information on this disk will enable a medication to be produced that will attack Agent Scully's tumor. A new form of chemotherapy, if you will. You won't understand it, of course. A readme file has been provided that will give you the name and address of someone who will." He took a deep drag on the new cigarette. "Our deal will not be considered initiated, until you use this disk. But believe me, Mr. Skinner, we will know when you do." Rising, he took another drag on the cigarette and stubbed it out next to its predecessor. Then he was gone, and Skinner was alone, holding 3 1/4 inches of seemingly innocent plastic carefully in his hands. *************** A few months later...... *************** Scully let her eyes blur at the woodland scenery flying by the car window. Her head was aching and she rubbed the bridge of her nose absently. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Mulder give her a sharp glance, and she turned and scowled at him until his eyes were back on the road. Almost instantly she felt a twinge of regret. Mulder was doing his best, trying to treat her normally, and not be overprotective, but if she gave the slightest sign that she wasn't feeling well, she could see in his eyes how much it affected him. She bit her lip, remembering the case before this one, when her nose had dripped blood down on the report in front of her. Mulder's sharp intake of breath, and his pained "oh, Scully,". He'd tried so hard to be casual when he'd come to check on her in the bathroom under the pretext of telling her about the next victim, and then again that night at her house. There was so much unspoken between them, and they were so afraid to speak it, so they carried on pretending everything was normal, but it was getting harder and harder. She sighed heavily and settled back in her seat, rubbing her forehead again. It really did ache, but she wasn't about to ask Mulder to stop for some aspirin - with her luck, the way he'd been on edge throughout this last case, he'd probably toss normality to the wind and drive her straight to the nearest ER. Instead she decided to concentrate on the calculating the time left till they were back in DC, and hope that there weren't any new cases waiting for them. Just a short break - that was all she needed... Mulder was keeping his head straight, but she saw the corner of his eye flick over toward her, and this time she smiled at him reassuringly. Encouraged, he smiled back, turning his head a little. "Are you getting hungry, Scully?" he asked. "There's a town coming up - we could stop for something if you want." <Translation: I'm hungry - feed me.> Scully thought with mild amusement. "Sure Mulder," she replied, "That sounds good." Though, the very thought of food sent a wave of nausea over her and intensified the pain in her head. She turned her concentration to planning how she could sneak away from Mulder long enough to buy some aspirin and take it without him noticing. There had been quite a lot of rain in the area recently, and large puddles were scattered over the road. Mulder sped through one, the tires sending a cascade of water up over the windows, as he took a curve just a little too fast. Scully's nausea built to bursting, and she gasped aloud, suddenly not caring what Mulder thought. "Mulder!" she grunted through clenched teeth. "Pull over!" "What?" Mulder whipped his head around to stare at her. "Scully, what's wrong?" "Just pull over! Now!" she gasped, fumbling with the door handle. The car screeched to a halt, and Scully managed to get the door open. She stumbled about three steps before collapsing to her knees in on the sodden, muddy grass and vomiting up what seemed like lunch, breakfast, and last night's dinner. She felt strong arms come around her shoulders, and a hand supporting her forehead. Mulder's voice was asking her if she was OK, but it sounded miles away, drowned out by the ringing in her ears. Her head felt like it was splitting open, and an incredible dizziness made her feel like she was spinning in mid air. She closed her eyes, trying to keep the blurry land around her still. "It hurts, Mulder," she whispered, no longer caring how freaked he might get, if only he could make it stop. She winced at the sound of her own voice and shivered violently. "What hurts, Scully?" She heard him ask. "Your head?" She just moaned in response. Rough wool grazed her cheek as he pulled his overcoat around her, and the roaring in her ears grew louder. Bursts of Mulder's voice penetrated - he was talking loudly and not to her. She heard him recite his badge number, then the words "partner"... "sick"... "pain"... His voice grew softer and was close to her ear. "Scully, it's OK. You're gonna be OK. They're sending an ambulance, it'll be here soon. Just hang on." His hand brushed damp hair away from her face. "Scully, what can I do? Just tell me what to do." He was fighting to keep hysteria from his voice. "Just hold me, Mulder," she whispered, then gasped as the movement into his arms seemed to drive a spike right behind her eyes. Then she was still, being held tightly against his chest. She felt his heart pounding beneath her cheek. He was stroking her hair and murmuring softly. She couldn't understand him, but his voice was soothing and he was so warm... She felt a sudden rush of warmth on her face, and a metallic taste in her mouth told her that her nose was bleeding. And it was going all over Mulder's white shirt. She tried to pull her head back, gulping as the blood ran down her throat. She blacked out for a moment from the pain, and came to to find her head against Mulder's chest again, and a cloth being held to her nose. She couldn't breathe and she panicked, struggling. "Scully! Lie still!" Mulder was holding her tightly. "Easy. Scully, breathe through your mouth, come on." Coughing and choking a couple times, she obeyed and relaxed against him, each breath alternating with a moan. A piercing siren cut the air, and she cried out in response. Strong hands were grasping her, pulling her away from Mulder. Protesting, she tangled her hand in his shirt and held on. "Easy, Scully, it's OK, it's OK," Mulder soothed, gently untangling her fingers and wrapping them tightly in his own. He pushed her into the other hands, and then she was lying down being wrapped in blankets, Mulder's hand still in hers. She heard the buzz of voices, Mulder's, then others in response. A mask was pushed over her face and a rush of cold air struck her nose and mouth. She felt a sharp pain in her arm and the vise gripping her head slowly beginning to loosen. As it did, the blackness came. She couldn't move, her eyes wouldn't open. The last thing she heard was Mulder saying "No! I won't leave her!" Then she felt nothing at all... "Fox!" Mulder looked up from his concentrated pacing to see Margaret Scully and Walter Skinner hurrying toward him. Margaret moved to embrace him, then stopped, her eyes widening. Belatedly, Mulder realized that he was still wearing the shirt that was soaked with Scully's blood. The tie he'd used to hold against her nose was history - having been tossed in the trash on the way in, and he'd recalled ruefully that Scully had never much liked it anyway. "Where is she?" Margaret asked, dragging her eyes from his chest to his face. He gestured at the closed door behind him, and ran a hand through his hair. "They haven't let me in to see her for more than a couple of minutes," he said. "They've got her on IV morphine, and she's still asleep, which is just as well, because she was in so much pain..." his voice broke, and Margaret grasped his hand, squeezing it tightly. The EMT's had been good about listening to him. They'd been gentle with Scully and given her the pain shot almost right away. He'd been scared when she'd passed out, but seeing the look of anguish fade from her face, and feeling her hand relax its death-grip on his made him feel a little bit better. She'd slept through the entire ride, and he'd stayed right beside her, holding her hand and talking to her, until they'd forced him away in the ER. "Agent Mulder," Skinner's voice interrupted, "your car is in the hospital parking lot." He tossed Mulder the keys a cop had taken from him not long before. Mulder had flatly refused to leave Scully's side for the trip to the hospital, so when they'd arrived a couple of the local law enforcement had offered to go fetch the car. "Go get cleaned up," Skinner was saying gently. "We'll look after things here." "Go on," Margaret said, giving his hand another encouraging squeeze when he hesitated. "We'll be right here." A few minutes later, Mulder stood, t-shirt and jeans from his overnight bag in hand, staring at himself in the men's room mirror. <No wonder I scared Maggie,> he thought. His hair was sticking wildly in all directions, his eyes were red and puffy, his cheeks still streaked with the hysterical tears he'd cried while holding Scully, and the front of his shirt was splattered from top to bottom with dark blood. He changed his clothes, giving the shirt up as a lost cause and tossing it in the garbage, washed his face and wet back his hair. Feeling a little better, he headed back to join the others. Scully woke slowly, opening her eyes halfway, then blinking in the dim light. The light was above her, shining on the ceiling, and she realized she was in a hospital bed by the way her head was raised. There was a cold feeling in her left arm, and looking carefully down she saw an IV in her arm, its tubing snaking its way through the rail to the quietly humming pump at the side of the bed. Beyond that was a window, its blinds tightly closed. She felt heavy, as if her arms and legs were made of lead. There was a gray tinge at the edge of her vision, and a fuzziness in her head, making her not quite able to think, as if her brain were swathed in cotton. Her right hand was warm, and she carefully turned her head to see why. As she moved, the room spun at a curious angle, and she shut her eyes tightly, willing it still. After a moment, she opened them again and looked down to see that someone was holding her hand. Keeping her head still, she traced the arm with her eyes, through the rail, to see that it belonged to Mulder. He was sprawled in a typical hospital bedside chair, head back and eyes closed. His long legs were stretched out in front of him, threatening to trip anyone who came near her bed. "Mulder," she tried to whisper. Her mouth was so dry that all that came out was a croak. She swallowed hard and tried again. "Mulder." This time it came out a bit stronger, and his eyes flew open. He sat up abruptly, squeezing her hand as he did so and giving her a wide smile. His face was pale and his eyes were bright and anxious. "Hey," she whispered. "Hey yourself," he returned. "How are you feeling?" She considered that for a moment. She knew the appropriate response was "fine", but she couldn't quite get her lips around the word. "Weird," she said at last. "Kind of.... fuzzy. What do the have me on?" "Morphine," he answered. "They've been tapering down the dose, and they want to change it to something else, but not until you're ready." He leaned forward. "Are you in pain? They said you can have more if you need it." "No, no pain," she assured him, shuddering slightly as the memory returned. "Just some dizziness when I try to move." He nodded, and she saw a few of the creases in his forehead relax. "What time is it?" she asked. Mulder glanced down at his watch. "About 5AM." "You've been here all this time?" They'd been up even earlier than that the day before - he was going on at least 25 hours now, and they hadn't slept too much the night before. No wonder he looked so tired. He shrugged, ducking his head a bit. "I didn't want you to wake up alone." He looked back up. "Your mom was here - she'll be back in the morning. Well - in just a few hours actually," he amended, waving his watch. Scully tried to nod, but her head was too heavy. Her eyelids were heavy now too, it was a struggle to keep them opened. She felt Mulder's hand on her cheek as she gave in and let them close. "Sleep, Scully," his voice was soft drifting into her ear. "I'll be right here when you wake up." This time Scully woke to the soft sound of her mother's voice. She opened her eyes to see Maggie standing there, still in her coat, hands full of bags. The blinds were opened, sunlight was streaming in, and Mulder was still holding her hand. A constant. She smiled. "Hi Mom," she whispered, and Maggie turned to her with a bright smile. "Hi honey," she bent down and kissed her daughter on the cheek. "Feeling better?" "Much," Dana told her, smiling back to keep up the appearance of cheerfulness her mother seemed to need. She did feel better. The cotton around her brain was thinner, and she could move a little more. "Mulder? Did they change the medication?" He shook his head and slid forward to the edge of his chair. "Not yet, just turned it down some more. Are you-" "No," she cut him off quickly. "But I'm much less dizzy." "Good." He touched her cheek lightly, then started to stand, motioning for Maggie to take his seat. "No, Fox - stay." Maggie pushed him back, pressing one of the bags into his free hand. "This is for you." Balancing the bag precariously on his lap, he pulled out an extra-large Styrofoam coffee cup and a giant Danish. His eyes shone with delight. "Mom," Scully murmured reprovingly. "You shouldn't encourage him." "I'll buy him a salad later," Maggie said cheerfully, shrugging out of her coat. Mulder made a face at both of them, and carefully broke off the tab on the lid of the coffee. Tiny tendrils of fragrant steam drifted out of the hole, and he looked over at Dana hesitantly. "Scully, how's your stomach? Should I take this outside?" "No, it's okay," she answered. "I don't feel nauseous." Actually, the coffee smelled pretty good - but she wasn't the least bit hungry. "They said you could have some ice chips," Mulder said hopefully. Scully considered and licked her dry lips. That didn't sound too bad. "Okay." "I'll get them," Maggie said quickly, before Mulder could try to get up again. As her mother left the room, Scully looked over at her partner to see that he'd finished the Danish in about three bites, and had already drank half the coffee. "Mulder," she said. "When's the last time you had something to eat?" He thought for a moment. "We had lunch before we left yesterday, right?" "Mulder!" she groaned. "I wasn't hungry," he said defensively. He drained the rest of the coffee and gave her a half-grin with a false bravado that was so.... Mulder. Scully rolled her eyes and stifled a yawn. "Shouldn't you be at work right about now?" He shrugged, not meeting her eyes. "I've still got over a hundred vacation days stored up. Skinner said I could take as many as I like." Scully was quiet for a moment. "What about the office?" she asked softly. Now he looked at her, eyes dark with intensity. He let go of her hand and touched her cheek. "You're more important to me than any X-file," he whispered. "I've run off before when you were in the hospital - sometimes it helped, sometimes it didn't - but this time I want to stay with you." he hesitated. "Unless - unless you don't want me here." Scully blinked back tears as she realized the magnitude of what he was saying. "I want you here, Mulder," she whispered back. She smiled at the relief on his face. Sending him away would only hurt him, and she knew better than to believe it would make him eat or rest. There was more chance of that happening here. Besides, she admitted to herself, it was comforting to wake up and see him there. Maggie returned with a cup full of ice chips, and Dana managed to get a few down before drifting back to sleep When Scully woke the third time, Maggie was sitting in Mulder's chair, and he was in a chair on the other side of the bed, holding her other hand. <His arm must have gotten tired> she thought with a smile. Her mother was reading, and Mulder was watching a basketball game on the TV - with the sound turned off. As her eyes focused on it, one of the teams made a basket. It must have been the Knicks, because Mulder gave a little jump and squeezed her hand slightly. She squeezed back. "What's the score?" she whispered when his head whipped around to look at her. "86 to 79, Knicks," he said happily. "How are you feeling?" She sighed. "Mulder, you don't need to feel obligated to ask me that every time I wake up. With my track record so far, you're going to get pretty tired of repeating yourself." She turned her head slightly, and frowned at the responding throb behind her eyes. "I take that back," she said, wincing. "Did they turn down the medicine some more?" "Yes," Mulder leaned forward anxiously. Maggie leaned forward too, from the other side of the bed, and pressed the call bell. "They can turn it back up," she said calmly, and Scully wasn't sure whether the assurance was for her, or Mulder, who'd put his other hand on her forehead, and was biting his lip. A nurse in green scrubs came into the room, followed by a tall youngish looking man in a lab coat. "I'm Doctor Stubbs," he said warmly, in a heavy New Jersey accent. He shook Scully's hand, then Maggie's as the nurse squeezed past Mulder to make an adjustment on the IV pump. She touched Dana's shoulder lightly when finished. "That should kick in real soon," she said. Scully smiled at her gratefully, already feeling the pain dissolve. She squeezed Mulder's hand tightly, then withdrew hers. "Mulder," she said gently. "I need to talk to the doctor alone with Mom." He stared at her, opening his mouth to say something, then silently closing it. She stared back at him, pleading with her eyes for understanding. Finally he nodded, bit his lip again, and followed the nurse out of the room. END OF PART 1 kaisteph@worldnet.att.net ******************* Banished to the sterile white hallway, Mulder leaned his back against the wall and let his head fall back to hit it with a thud. He knew why Scully had sent him away. The doctor certainly didn't have good news for her, and he'd take it badly, protest, refuse to accept it like he had the first time she told him about the cancer. And that would just make it harder for Dana and Maggie. Mulder clenched his fists and closed his eyes. He felt so helpless..... "Agent Mulder." His eyes flew opened to see Skinner standing in front of him, impeccably dressed in a fresh pressed suit and dark trenchcoat. Mulder wondered briefly if the man even owned anything else. He looked at his superior again, and saw that the man looked almost as tired as he himself felt, if that was possible. Skinner was freshly shaved, but the bags under his eyes and the droop in his shoulders belied the outward appearance. For a moment, Mulder thought he caught a whiff of stale smoke from Skinner's jacket, but he brushed that away as a paranoid fancy. "Sir," he said faintly. "How is Scully?" Skinner asked, his solemn voice grating on Mulder's tired ears. Mulder sighed heavily, and tried to keep his voice from breaking. "Strong and brave as ever. The doctor's in with her now though - and I don't think the news is good. She sent me out here to wait..." Great - he kept his voice from cracking under the weight of the despair he felt, but ended up sounding whiny. Skinner did not appear to notice, however. His eyes were unfocused, miles away. He nodded, and placed his hand for an uncharacteristic moment on Mulder's arm. "Keep me informed," he said quietly. Then he turned on his heel and left. Mulder caught another hint of cigarette smoke, and he stared after the other man's departing back. His train of almost-thought was derailed however, by the opening of Scully's door. Doctor Stubbs came out, followed by Maggie. The doctor headed off in the direction on the nurses' station, and Maggie turned to him. Her eyes were redrimmed, but dry, as if she'd been doing her best not to cry. "She wants to see you now," she whispered, and put out a hand to him. "Oh, Fox..." Mulder grasped her hand tightly, and pulled her into a quick hug. As he held her against his chest, he drew a deep breath. He could do this. He could be strong. He <would> be strong, for Maggie as well as Dana. Releasing her mother, he walked into Scully's room. Scully was sitting almost straight up in bed now, and the bottom two siderails had been lowered. She slid her feet over a bit, and patted the vacated spot. "Come sit here, Mulder," she said softly, and he obeyed, carefully avoiding sitting on any tubing, and reaching for her hand. He fixed her with an intense look, but seemed to be biting his tongue to keep from speaking. "Mulder," she began, "a couple weeks ago, you asked me why I couldn't be honest with you. The truth is, Mulder, that it wasn't that I was reluctant to give evidence that you would take to support your theories. I will admit, as objectively as I can, that I saw what you would have interpreted to be a ghost. I saw another - I saw Harold in my car right after that, and I didn't tell you that either..." Mulder's eyes widened and she shook her head sharply to keep him quiet. "I'm sorry for that Mulder, and I know how it looks to you. But I'm not trying to work against you, I kept those things from you, because - because there were certain things that I couldn't admit to myself. If your theory were to be correct, then I saw what I saw, because I'm dying. I couldn't admit that then - I was in denial, Mulder - plain and simple. "You've probably already guessed what Dr. Stubbs had to say to me," she continued softly. "The tumor has grown, it's pushing toward my cerebrum. It's already pushing against my optic nerve - I'm having trouble seeing - everything's blurry, and there are gray patches around the edges. And the pain - it's not going to get better, Mulder." He opened his mouth as if to say something, then forced it closed again, swallowed hard, and nodded at her, waiting for the rest. It was as difficult for her to say as it would be for him to hear. "This is it, Mulder," she whispered. "I won't be coming back this time. They want to transfer me to a hospice - they'll be able to keep me comfortable there until..." her voice trailed off, and he dropped his head, pulling her hand to his lips. "Don't say it, Scully," he whispered against her hand. "Please." Blinking back tears, Scully couldn't help but smile at him. She reached out her other hand to touch the dark hair falling forward over his bent head. She stroked the hair gently, then touched his cheek, turning his face back up to her. "I know this is hard, Mulder," she said. "But there's more, and I need you to hear it." Steeling herself she looked directly at him, seeing the pain she felt mirrored in his hazel eyes. He was quiet, listening. "Mulder, the pressure from the tumor - it's going to affect my thought processes, my memories..." She could see horror in his eyes now, the memory of his mother lying in a hospital bed, helpless, unable to successfully communicate one simple word to him. "I just want you to know, before the time comes when I don't recognize you - how much you mean to me, Mulder." With a choking sound, he pulled her into his arms. "I know, Scully," he whispered brokenly against her hair. "I know." Walter Skinner paced back and forth across the living floor of his Crystal City duplex, lost in thought. His tie and jacket were tossed across the couch as an afterthought, and his shirtsleeves were rolled up. Glasses rode low on his nose, the frames reflecting in the harsh overhead tracklight. Between long fingers, he turned over and over a black floppy disk that held a trace scent of cigarette smoke. Echoes of past conversations played in his head. <We're talking about Agent Scully's *life*.> <There's always another way.> <Yes, I believe there is. If you're willing to pay the price...> The "price" had yet to be specified, but Skinner was certain of one thing - it would cost him no less than his soul. However much of that was left. He'd confessed to Sharon, a lifetime ago, that he'd shut down parts of his soul in order to keep himself sane in the face of the things he saw. And in the end, there hadn't been enough left to keep her with him. Personal life in shambles, he's still been able to do his job, and to do it well to the best of his abilities. To do what was *right*. And he firmly believed that it was wrong to let Scully die, and just as wrong to let Mulder lose himself. Mulder was their one hope - their one chance to finally expose the truth.... He stared down at the disk. This was it - the final step, the final curtain. Once he used the information on this disk, there would be no turning back. He'd be bought and sold, no longer able to help anyone, least of all himself. But if he didn't use it, there would be no help either. Scully would die, and Mulder without Scully would not last long. He'd seen that before... The phone rang. Skinner picked it up on the first ring. "Skinner," he said crisply, his tone disguising his inner turmoil. "Sir," Mulder's voice came to him, rough and heavy with sadness. "I - I just wanted let you know what's going on with Scully." "Go on," Skinner said curtly, as the younger man was obviously waiting for a response. "She's being transferred tomorrow, to a small hospice just outside of Bethesda." There was a short pause and he heard Mulder clear his throat. "They don't think it will much longer, sir. Just a couple of weeks..." Skinner closed his eyes. "Thank you, Agent Mulder," he said quietly. There was a click as Mulder hung up his phone, and Skinner opened his eyes and stared down at the silent receiver for only a moment. Hanging up the phone in a quick gesture, he turned on his heel and crossed the room. Switching on his computer, he slid the disk into the drive without another thought. Scully leaned back against the crisp white sheets, and surveyed her new surroundings. The room was smaller than a normal hospital room, but it was completely private. The walls were a soft peach, as were the curtains, which were parted at the moment, revealing dark sky and twinkling stars. Through what she could see of the window, that was. The windowsill was covered to capacity with flower arrangements. Not <all> of them were from Mulder, but she had a feeling he was now a preferred customer at Teleflorist. She smiled as her eyes strayed upwards to the TV hanging from the ceiling. It had a built in VCR - Mulder's eyes had lit up when he'd seen it, and she'd quickly threatened him with expulsion, should he even think about bringing in one of his videos from home. Then she'd heavily hinted that the flowers were a really good idea and he should keep them coming. Last thing she needed was another Superbowl video to occupy her time. She yawned and stretched her neck back into her pillow, she hadn't felt this comfortable in a while. She was controlling her own pain medication now, with a PCA pump that sat pressing discreetly against the wall almost behind the bed. Her sleeping pill was just starting to kick in. 9:00, and she was soon going to be out for the night. Maggie Scully pushed through the door, arms full of sheets and blankets for the large armchair, which opened up into a small bed. "This will just take a minute," she said breathlessly. Dana smiled and picked up the phone handset, which was conveniently built into the siderail. Mulder had promised that as soon as she was settled he'd go home for a night. In return, she'd promised him that she'd call him before she went to sleep. She also knew from the exasperated look on Maggie's face when she'd returned from walking him to the elevator that she'd been admonished several times to call him for <anything>. Missing her speed-dial, she dialed his number. Mulder picked up the phone in mid-first-ring. "Scully?" A soft chuckle answered him. "Have you actually been carrying the phone in your hand, Mulder, or are you just incredibly quick?" He relaxed against the leather cushions of the couch. "I'll leave that to your imagination. So, Scully, what are you wearing?" "A hospital gown, Mulder, what did you think? The same one I was wearing when you left two hours ago, in fact. Not the height of fashion, I know, but... I don't know why you're always complaining about these things - they're actually quite comfortable." "Yeah, on you, but I'm a little bigger," he pointed out, crossing his legs at the ankles on the couch in front on him and wriggling his bare toes. "The same gown that can hold two of you gets a little drafty on me." There was another soft laugh from the other end. "Oh, I don't know, Mulder, I think it makes you look kinda cute." Flushing, Mulder ran a hand through his thick, still-damp hair. The only thing he'd actually done since he'd gotten home was shower. That, and pace the floor waiting for the phone to ring. Not exactly what Scully had had in mind when she'd asked him to take a break, he knew, but he <was> trying... "Hope you're getting your fill of your videos," Scully teased, changing the subject. "Because, remember - you're not bringing them here." "Aw, Scuuullllyyy," he whined, knowing what was expected. He was rewarded by an answering laugh, followed by a yawn. "Mulder," she said. "My sleeping pill's kicking in - I'm not gonna last too much longer. Keep talking to me, and my mom will hang up when I'm asleep, okay?" "Okay," he answered softly. Getting up off the couch and holding the cordless phone tightly to his ear, he took her along on a walking inspection of his apartment. He described to her in detail which fish were still alive and swimming - sort of, the new life forms that were evolving in his refrigerator, and the epic battle of the dust mice armies beneath his computer table. After a while he heard a rustling on the other end. "Fox," came Maggie's voice in a soft whisper. "Dana's asleep. I'm going to hang up now, okay?" "Good night," he whispered back. "Call me if-" "I will," Maggie promised, cutting him off. "Good night Fox." Mulder set the phone carefully down on the coffee table. He watched it for a minute. It didn't ring. He checked the answering machine to make sure it was on and would pick up just in case he didn't hear the phone. Yeah, right... He looked at the couch, at the TV, and at the computer. Then he resumed his pacing. "Good morning." Scully blinked sleepily and smiled up at the aide who was setting a breakfast tray down on the overbed table. Maggie was up, and had already converted her bed back to a chair. The aide produced a thermometer from her pocket and handed it to Dana, saying "Let me just get your temp first." Dana obediently stuck it under her tongue while the other woman, whose name tag proclaimed her Jenny, uncovered the tray and with a wink handed Maggie a cup of coffee that had probably come from the nurses' lounge. Pronounced afebrile, Dana eyed the breakfast with disinterest and took a sip of orange juice. "Your friend Fox called," Jenny said conversationally, writing the temperature on the clipboard at the foot of the bed. "He said to tell you that he'd be in shortly. That was his latest phone call," she added in a lower voice. "Night shift said he called every hour last night." Scully swallowed the juice with concentration. "Every hour?" "On the hour," Jenny confirmed. "He said we weren't supposed to tell you, but we thought it was real sweet." Dana exchanged glances with her mother and sighed. Well, what had she expected? Him to actually rest? Not really, but it had been worth a shot. At any rate, it looked like Mulder was the darling of the staff already. She laughed inwardly. They'd feel differently if <he> was the patient. Probably have him in restraints by now. She took another sip of juice and pushed aside the cereal and toast. They wouldn't go to waste. If Mulder hadn't slept, he most likely hadn't eaten either. "Morning, Scully!" True to his word, Mulder was in shortly. About ten minutes after Jenny had announced his phone call, actually. He had showered, shaved, and changed into clean clothes - dark blue sweatpants and a rust colored tee-shirt. Otherwise, he looked exhausted, dark circles were under his eyes, and his hands trembled slightly with fatigue. Scully felt a twinge of guilt for sending him away. "Good morning," she replied cheerfully, pushing the plate of toast toward him. "Hungry?" He looked askance at her. "I've had enough," she said quickly, not mentioning the fact that she'd not had <any>. She just had no appetite this morning. "Please, eat it - you'll save food services some clean-up work." He grinned and took two pieces together, cramming them into his mouth. "Your mother must have despaired of teaching you table manners, Fox," Maggie said, patting his arms affectionately as she passed. He licked crumbs from the corner of his mouth and smiled down at her. Maggie leaned over and kissed Dana on the cheek. "I'm going to run some errands, honey. I'll be back later." "Bye, Mom," she replied, pushing the little box of Frosted Flakes toward Mulder now. Maggie straightened, and reaching up, kissed Mulder's cheek too, making him blush. She winked at her daughter and slipped out the door. Ripping the top off the cereal box, Mulder tilted his head back and emptied half the contents into his mouth. Crunching loudly, he eyed the armchair, then chose the other little straightback chair as the more mobile, and pulled it to the edge of the bed, straddling it with his long legs. Scully found the TV remote, and switched on the morning news. Nice cheerful stuff. The first bit anyway, about a new stadium for the Atlanta Braves. Then it moved on to a bombing in New York, flooding in California... Thunk. Mulder's head hit the siderail, and he jerked up, blinking and looking dazed. Scully sighed. Sliding carefully over in the bed, she pushed back the covers. "Mulder, get up here before you hurt yourself," she said softly. He looked at her uncertainly for a moment, then lowered the rails. He re-covered her, and sat down next to her on top of the sheets. Kicking off his sneakers, he raised his feet to the bed. Scully giggled in spite of herself at the sight of his white sweatsocks. "Fox in socks," she whispered, as he settled down, his arm slipping under her shoulders. "Sam used to make me read that over and over," he confided with a smile, as she rested her head against his chest. "Guess I'll never live that down, huh?" "Nope." Scully lowered the head of the bed till they were almost lying flat. "Last night wasn't such a good idea, was it?" she asked softly. His arm trembled almost imperceptibly under her back. "Don't send me away again, Scully," he whispered, his breath tickling her scalp. "Please." "I'm sorry, Mulder," she whispered back. "Get some sleep." He sighed heavily, then his breathing changed, slow and deep. Adjusting her wires carefully, Scully snuggled down against him, enjoying the warmth of his body and the sound of his heartbeat against her cheek. The door pushed open and Jenny entered, arms full of clean linen. She stopped and looked at them, eyes wide. "Could you, um, save me for last?" Scully whispered. "Sure," Jenny whispered back, setting the linens down on the armchair. She gave Mulder a tender smile, and taking the extra blanket from the foot of the bed, pulled it over his legs. Dragging her eyes from him, she left the room. "Better watch out, Mulder," Scully murmured into his chest, with a smile. She was answered with a snore. Walter Skinner pulled his dark blue sedan to the side of the road in front of the old stone farmhouse, and slid it into park. He stepped out. No curb - just a tumbled pile of rotting leaves that hadn't been raked in the fall. Smallsville, Pennsylvania - a refreshing change from downtown DC. One that he'd probably enjoy any other time. Checking to see that the house number was the same as had been given on the readme file on the computer disk, he climbed the short steps, crossed the creaking wooden porch, and rapped sharply on the door. The door opened. "May I help you?" asked a young male voice. Skinner blinked. The man standing in front of him in jeans and a t-shirt could have been Dana Scully's brother. Her twin brother, with bright red hair and wide blue eyes that stared at him questioningly. Skinner found his voice. "Mr. Crawford?" The expression on the man's face became guarded. Skinner decided against producing his ID. He wasn't here officially anyway. Instead he produced the diskette, and held it out, twirling it between his thumb and forefinger. "I was told you might be of some help." The blue eyes widened again. The young man grabbed the diskette in one hand and Skinner's arm in the other. "Come in," he said quickly, pulling Skinner through the door and glancing around to make sure he hadn't been followed. Skinner didn't have a chance to be insulted, he was pushed through a traditional looking living room, through a large farm kitchen, and down cellar stairs to a room that made his own eyes widen. A full laboratory was hidden in the farmhouse basement. Computers hummed and blinked, spitting information out of their printers. Microscopes and other equipment were scattered around on tables, and there was a thick scent of chemicals in the air. Another young man looked up from behind one of the microscopes, and Skinner's heart skipped a beat - this man looked exactly the same as the first. He closed his eyes and opened them again, swallowing hard. "You're - clones?" he asked, not sure he wanted the answer. The men just looked at him. They looked so much like Scully.... Skinner shook his head hard. He was not Mulder. He <didn't> want to know. "I'm a friend of Dana Scully's," he told them, as one pushed the diskette into the drive of the nearest computer and they both leaned over it. He wasn't sure why he'd told them that - he just assumed it would mean something. The first young man nodded at him impatiently, then gasped at the image that had been called up on the screen. "This is it!" he said excitedly. The other man had grabbed the mouse and was now scrolling through a list of figures. "The cure!" he echoed. "Cure?" Skinner leaned forward. "For cancer, right?" "Not just any cancer," the man corrected. "But the cancer of a specific person." "Scully," Skinner whispered. "Yes," he was answered. "This is the formula for a serum, which will combine with the inactive branched DNA which was left in her blood after her abduction. The serum will activate the DNA and send it to fight the tumor." He glanced back at Skinner and smiled condescendingly at what Skinner assumed must be the blank look on his face. "Kind of like alien gene therapy." "Can you produce the serum?" Skinner asked. The computer was spitting out a new list of figures now. "Yes-" The man hesitated. "But it will take some time. Is she - is she bad?" "Pretty bad," Skinner replied softly, amazed at the misty look that came into both men's eyes. "She's in a hospice." "Leave us a number where you can be reached," the first man said. "And we'll work as fast as we can." END OF PART 2 kaisteph@worldnet.att.net ********************************************** Chief Bounty Paper Towel Supplier for the SJD KAHD, co-editor of "Smokin' Joe's Cafe", "The cane is mightier than the sword." ********************************************** X-Phile, Inventor of "Tickle Me Spooky" #{:~.()+==[}< ********************************************** "There are no real doctors, only real nurses." David Duchovny <taken slightly out of context :)> THE PALE MOONLIGHT (3/?) By Steph Lutz kaisteph@worldnet.att.net ******************* Disclaimed in part 1 ******************* Scully shifted restlessly in bed, pushing off the blanket that she'd just pulled up a few minutes ago. Lately she just couldn't seem to get comfortable. She wasn't in pain - not much, anyway - just incredibly antsy. Her vision was blurry most of the time now, and she greyed out now and again. Add to that the fact that she was starting to get really forgetful... She'd been able to pretty much hide that from Mulder and her mom so far, but it was getting harder. At the moment she was alone, and able to fidget without any worried glances cast her way. Mulder was across the street at a coffee bar, loading up on caffeine - his fourth that day, she wondered what his EKG must look like - and buying lattes for all the staff. They'd do just about anything for him right about now... Scully picked up the handset of the phone resting in the siderail and dialed. Funny, she couldn't remember if she'd had breakfast, though she remembered Mulder having coffee, but she could remember this number. A familiar voice answered, "Lone Gunmen." "Frohike, it's Scully," she said, rubbing her forehead. "Turn off the tape." There was an immediate click, then Frohike's voice returned, quick and anxious. "Scully, how are you?" She grimaced at the concern in his voice. "I'm okay right now, Frohike, but..." she let her voice trail off and swallowed. "Listen, I need you guys to do me a favor." "Anything." Scully pictured a small dog, lifting up its front legs and begging. Trying desperately not to giggle, she continued. "It's Mulder, Frohike. He needs to get away from here for a while. Only, last time I sent him home, he spent the night pacing the floor and calling here every hour to see if I was okay. That wasn't quite what I had in mind, so - I want you to take him out." There was a pause. "Take him out?" Frohike's voice held a trace of amusement. "On the town," she confirmed. "Anywhere, whatever - get him totally and thoroughly trashed. Just get his mind off here and off me." "No problem," came the enthusiastic response. "And I guarantee you, he won't remember <his> name when we're done, let alone yours." "Thanks Frohike," she said softly, and hung up the phone as the door opened to admit Mulder, carefully holding a large latte in two slightly shaking hands. Mulder climbed carefully out of his car, and walked slowly to the front door of his apartment building, his shoulders slumped as if there were a two hundred pound weight holding them down. It had been over a week since he'd been there, and it didn't look any different. He'd been showering at the hospice, in Scully's bathroom, sleeping in the armchair-bed - well, dozing anyway - and he hadn't put up any argument when Maggie'd insisted on taking his dirty clothes with her to wash when she went home at night. For food there were restaurants as well as the coffee bar real close - he'd even found one with a terrific chicken soup that he was able to get Scully to eat - so there had been no need for him to come home. And right now it was the last place he wanted to be. Scully had told him seriously that things were going to start going downhill real soon, and she was going to need him there - so she wanted him to take another break while he could. Then she'd said please. He could never say no to Scully when she said please. So, here he was - home and miserable. As the elevator door opened, he wondered if it would be too soon to call. Annie, the nurse in charge when he'd left had been really nice - she wouldn't report him to Scully... "What the hell?" Mulder muttered in shock as he found the doorway to apartment 42 blocked by three familiar figures. "Hello Mulder," said Langley gravely. "What are you doing here?" Mulder had his key out and tried to reach past the tall lanky man for the keyhole, but the not-so-lone gunman moved to counter him. "We're on a mission," Byers informed him just as solemnly, arms folded over his trenchcoat. "A mission?" Mulder repeated, stepping back and trying to control his temper. "From an angel," Frohike said reverently. "With red hair." "Scully sent you here?" Mulder said incredulously, aware he sounded like a babbling idiot. "We've been commanded to take you out. And -" Byers slipped a hand inside his trench threateningly. "We've been authorized to use force if necessary." "Let's go, Mulder." Langley put a hand in the small of Mulder's back and gave him a none too gentle shove toward the elevator. "Go where?" Mulder stumbled slightly and caught himself on the wall at the rear of the elevator, glaring at Langley. "You'll see," Frohike told him, relieving him of his car keys. "and you won't be needing these..." "What's the name of this place again?" Mulder asked, aware his words were slurring slightly. "The Dancing Shrimp Bar," Langley answered, raising his voice to shout over the sound of the live band. "I don't see any shrimp." Mulder's voice rose querulously. "Where are they?" "Mulder - you've had two chilidogs, fries, onion rings, nachos, three beers and about 6 shots of tequila. Now you want seafood?" Langley clapped him on the back. "I thought you were supposed to be a cheap date?" "I'm not - I'm - I've <never> been cheap." Mulder was indignant. Byers returned to the table, carrying a small tray. He'd loosened up, removed his trenchcoat, rolled up his sleeves. Regular party dude. He placed 4 shots of tequila on the table. Mulder picked up one of the accompanying lemon slices, and studied it. Holding it up to the light, he squinted at it, then returned it carefully to the table. "This isn't a shrimp," he informed them with an air of profound disillusionment. "Are you still on that, Mulder?" Langley clapped him on the back again. "Get over it - we'll buy you a lobster later." "I don't want a lobster." Mulder reached for the saltshaker. "Too much work. And - and they <stare> at you." He shook some salt on his hand. But his hand wouldn't stay still for some reason, so he had to shake out some more. Finally, his hand whitened to his satisfaction, he put down the shaker and picked up the shotglass in front of him. He waited till the other two were holding theirs, and pronounced. "To Dana Scully." "To Dana Scully," The others responded. As Mulder tossed back the shot, he reflected that he'd heard that before. Just a few minutes ago, in fact. And then a few minutes before that.... Then the alcohol slid down his throat and he lost his train of thought. Placing the empty glass on the table, Mulder saw a full one still sitting there. He blinked. Someone was missing. He looked around, and spotted Frohike - on the dance floor with three women, all of whom were taking turns patting him on the head. He blinked again and looked questioningly at Byers. "What Frohike doesn't know won't hurt him," Byers said, pushing the shot toward him with a wink. Mulder raised it. "To Scully," he pronounced again gravely, tossing back the shot. This time the glass landed on the table slightly unbalanced, and fell over on its side. Mulder stared at the glass for a long time, tears forming in his eyes. Langley and Byers exchanged a glance in alarm. This wasn't part of the operation. Action now was imperative. "Come on, Mulder," Langley grabbed his arm and tugged him to his feet. "Let's dance." "Okay." Mulder stood, grasping the back of the chair, shaking his head in an effort to make the room stand still. "The dance floor's this way," Byers encouraged, tugging at his other arm. "I knew that," Mulder informed him stiffly. He jerked his arms away from them. "You're not my type," he told them in what would have been a scathing tone of voice, if it hadn't been so slurred. With that, he took one step and promptly fell over a chair, crashing to the floor. He sat up slowly, stared at the chair and blinked some more. "Practice," he said, pushing away the hands when Byers and Langley tried to help him up. "Ya gotta practice falling so you can do it well when your partner shoots you." "Happen to you alot, does it Mulder?" Langley asked. "No - never! No - once. But just because. It was for my own good. I'm thirsty." "Here," Langley handed him a pint glass of beer. Byers winced. "Ouch, Langley, you're gonna let him mix drinks?" "He's already had-" Langley began but was interrupted by Mulder. "I am <not> mixed up. I know where I am. I'm in the bar with no shrimp, and I'm dancing." He took a long drink of the beer, spilling half of it down the front of his shirt. "Actually, Mulder," Langley pointed out. "You're sitting on the floor." Mulder looked around. "Oh. It feels like I'm dancing." He set the glass carefully down on the floor and pushed himself unsteadily to his feet. Frohike gave a cheer as Mulder staggered toward him. "Ladies," he said to the two women still dancing with him. "This is Fox Mulder." At that moment, the band launched into a particularly bad rendition of "The Time Warp." Mulder shuddered visibly. "That's what <they> play," he said darkly to the smiling women. Their smiles faded. "Who?" Frohike asked. "The aliens. That's why Scully can't remember. 'Cause the music was so bad." Frohike sighed as the two women, casting wary looks in Mulder's direction, slipped toward the center of the floor. "Mulder my friend," he said, flinging an arm around the taller man's shoulders. "You really know how to kill a room, don't you?" "It doesn't matter," Mulder said sadly. "They aren't Scully. And there aren't any shrimp." With that he passed out. Someone was groaning. Whoever it was, he wished they'd shut up and let him sleep. With sudden alarm, he opened his eyes and tried to sit up. Maybe it was Scully! As the bright light seared through his eyes straight through to the pounding in his brain, and his stomach gave a lurch, he realized the groaning was coming from himself. He sank back and concentrated on making it stop. "Welcome back Mulder." There came a strong scent of coffee, and the figure of Byers materialized above him. In one hand he was holding a steaming mug of coffee, and in the other, four white pills. Mulder pushed himself carefully upright again, and closed his eyes against the wave of dizziness and nausea that ensued. Opening them again, he looked questioningly at the pills. "Aspirin," Byers said succinctly. Mulder nodded, winced at the motion and took the pills, cramming all of them in his mouth at once and washing them down with coffee. This time when he turned his head he was gratified to see the room remain still. He was in the headquarters of the Lone Gunmen, sitting on a small airmattress against the wall. Frohike and Langley were nowhere to be seen. Suddenly he really needed to pee. He pushed aside the thin wool blanket that was covering him, to find himself wearing his grey boxers, and what appeared to be a cut-off Grateful Dead t-shirt. Byers cleared his throat apologetically. "It was the only thing we could find around here to fit you," he explained. "You vomited all over yours." "Oh." Mulder nodded wearily and stumbled to his feet. "Which way-" "Right through there," Byers gave him a nudge in the right direction. "There's fresh toothbrush in there, too." Having taken care of business, as well as washing his face and brushing his teeth, Mulder emerged from the bathroom feeling slightly more human. A human with a killer headache. "What time is it?" he asked, rubbing his face and wincing. His nose looked swollen and felt incredibly tender. "About 9:00," Byers answered, swiveling from the computer he was working at. "PM." "What?" Mulder dropped his hand and stared in shock. "You passed out about 4AM. We brought you back here, and you've been in and out all day." "Scully!" He'd been away from her for over twenty-four hours. "She's fine," Byers assured him. "Frohike went in to see her - he's still there. Langley stopped by for awhile too, but he said her mom was giving him strange looks." He shrugged. "Anyway, Scully said not to return you while you were still hungover - so you might as well get comfortable again." Mulder sank slowly back down on the mattress. "What happened to my nose?" he asked, touching it again gingerly. "You fell on it when you passed out. It bled a little, but I don't think it's broken." It was suddenly too much to bear. Mulder started to cry. He could hear himself, and feel the wetness on his cheeks, but this time there was nothing he could do to make it stop. Byers sat beside him and quietly offered him a wad of tissues. Mulder took them and pressed them to his face as he lowered his head to his knees. He sobbed for what seemed like hours before drifting back into sleep. Scully shifted under the sheets, trying to remember whether or not she'd had her bath yet. The gown she was wearing seemed clean, but then she'd not been doing much to mess it up... The door opened and Mulder walked slowly in, carrying a plastic shopping bag. He smiled at her and said softly "Hey Scully." His face was pale, and his nose looked a little swollen, but otherwise he didn't look any the worse for wear, especially considering Frohike's description of how he'd been the morning before. Or was that this morning? Despite the whole thing having been her idea, she was very relieved to see him. "Hey Mulder," she answered, straightening herself up in the bed. "Frohike was just here." "Yeah, yesterday," he frowned uncertainly. "Yeah. How are you feeling?" she switched the topic quickly. "Any better?" "Actually, yes," he looked bemused. "But that's what I'm supposed to be asking you." "I'm fine Mulder," she told him brightly. "Mom and I watched chick movies all night." "Hmmm." He sat down and rested his arms lightly on the siderails. "What did you watch?" "Nothing you'd have liked," she said, doing her best to cover the fact that she couldn't remember. "The chicks had their clothes on." He made a face at her, but his eyes were worried. "So, what did you do?" she asked. He shifted uncomfortably. "I don't remember - I think there was something with seafood... But anyway according to Langley, I had a great time and was pretty amusing. Then I spent yesterday sleeping and puking my guts out. Which reminds me..." He reached into the shopping bag. "I brought you some soup." He withdrew a container, and set it proudly on her overbed table. The smell of the soup made Scully's stomach lurch. She'd just eaten, hadn't she? "Later, Mulder," she said tiredly. "I'm not too hungry right now." She <was> suddenly very sleepy. Closing her eyes, she reached out her hand for his. He took it and squeezed it tightly. "Please, Scully," he said softly. "Don't send me away again." "This time, Mulder," she mumbled sleepily. "I promise." Mulder shifted uncomfortably. His back was starting to hurt, and he needed to find a new position. But Scully was hanging on to his hand pretty tightly, even in her sleep, and he didn't want to wake her. Maybe if he just stood and shifted the chair this way.... There, that was a little better. Now, for this annoying siderail - funny, they never seemed to be there when <he> was the one in the bed... The rail fell a little too hard, and Scully stirred and frowned. "Mulder?" Her voice was small and high, almost childlike. "Mulder - where are you?" "I'm right here, Scully," he soothed, giving her hand a squeeze. "Sorry - I didn't mean to jar the bed like that." "Mulder!" her voice grew higher with fear. "I can't see you!" "Scully," he placed his other hand on her forehead, which seemed a little too warm. "Open your eyes. I'm right here." She dragged her eyes open and stared at him in horror. "Mulder?" "Right here." He stroked her cheek. "Now you're blurry." Tears slid down her cheeks. "Shhh." He leaned over and slipped his arm under her shoulders, giving her a hug. "It's okay." "I'm hungry." Sniffing, she tried to sit up. "Good! Good..." He raised the bed, and pulled the table toward her. The soup was still warm, she hadn't been asleep that long. He put the spoon in it and stirred it a bit before offering it to her. "Mulder!" She pushed his hands away indignantly. "I just ate!" Mulder froze. "Um... okay," he said, re-covering the soup. "How about a drink of water?" She nodded, and he grabbed a glass and filled it from the pitcher quickly, before she could change her mind. She took a couple of sips from the straw, then pushed it away and lay back again, closing her eyes. He settled back and took her hand, horrified to see how much his was shaking around hers. Maggie opened the door to her daughter's room to find Fox sitting on the bed next to Dana, his arm around her shoulder, trying to persuade her to eat what looked like soup. Chicken, from the smell. "Come on Scully," he was saying. "Just a little bit. No, you haven't eaten yet. I just warmed this up for you." "Hi," Maggie said softy. Fox looked up at her, and Dana used the distraction to give the table a small shove. Some soup splashed out, but she didn't seem to notice. Instead she grabbed Fox's hand and pulled it to her chest, sliding down a bit in the bed. Fox sighed in resignation. Maggie felt a cold feeling in the bit of her stomach. She knew Dana had been forgetting things for quite a while, much as she'd tried to hide it, but her daughter seemed much worse than when she'd left her that morning. She looked pale and flushed at the same time, and there was a glazed look to her eyes. Fox looked exhausted. "Hi," Fox answered her belatedly. "She's got a bit of a fever," he slipped off the bed and back into the chair, pulling up the blanket, which Dana promptly pushed off. "They can't find any source of infection, but they put her on some antibiotics anyway. She hasn't eaten all day," with the hand that wasn't being held, he covered the soup and pushed the table all the way away. "So, they're giving her more IV fluids." "Mulder," Dana stirred restlessly, and tugged at his hand. "Shhh, I'm right here." He squeezed her hand and smoothed her hair. "I brought you a sandwich, and some iced tea." Maggie put the bag down on the table next to the soup. "Thanks," he said softly, but made no move to take it. Maggie bit her lip. "Fox, I'll be here - why don't you go take a walk, get some fresh air." He shook his head. "She keeps calling me. I can't - I can't just go and not let her find me. I left her for nearly two days already." Uh oh. Maggie could see where this was going, and she headed him off at the pass. "Fox, this is <not> your fault." He sighed. "I know. But that really doesn't help, does it?" No, it didn't. Maggie unwrapped the roast beef sandwich she'd brought him, and held out half. "One of you has to eat," she said firmly and he took it. She gave him credit, he tried to eat it - he managed to choke down a quarter before setting it down again. Between bites he reassured Dana he was there as she continued to call his name. Maggie settle down in the other chair. It was going to be a long night. Mulder stared down at Scully's pale, sleeping face. It kept blurring, through the tears that just wouldn't stop coming to his eyes, but he could still see how white and thin it was. Any roundness there had once been was gone - it was all angles now. And her red hair seemed almost blood-red at times, in contrast. Part of him was relieved to see her sleep - lying still, not moving restlessly, asking questions in confusion. The last couple of times, she hadn't even known who he was, his name, his voice, had meant nothing to her... On the other hand, when she was awake, moving and talking, it was easier to know she was alive, whereas now he had to stare at her chest, measure its rise and fall, to make sure she was really breathing, that she was really still there. His eyes were burning. He closed them, and let the tears fall from under his lashes. "I can't handle this, Scully," he whispered. "I'm not strong enough. Please...." Clearing his throat, he started over. "Listen to me, Scully, I'm begging here." he opened his eyes and tried to smile at her. No response. He swallowed hard. "Scully, ever since I was twelve years old, my whole life focused on one thing - to find Sam, and the truth of what happened to her. But when you came into my life, four years ago, that focus changed. Even before you disappeared, before that need to find the truth of what happened to you, even almost at the beginning - you got in, Scully. I had never let anyone in before. But you - I could trust you, Scully, I could open up to you, even... even lean on you a little. Then when you disappeared.... I'm sure your Mom has told you a little, Scully." He bit his lip, his voice taking on a tone of embarrassment. "I kinda freaked out a little, Scully, I couldn't handle it. I couldn't be alone again. Scully, you've become such a part of my life - you're my strength, Scully, you're what holds me together, keeps me sane. Without you, well, besides the fact that I'd most likely be dead, I'd have gone off the deep end a dozen times over by now." He lifted her hand, and held it to his cheek, his tears washing over it. "I don't have Sam, I may never have her, but I have you. Don't leave me, Scully. I need you. Please, please, please - don't leave me alone..." He pushed down the rail and leaned forward to lay his head on her chest, feeling it rise and fall, in time to his sobs. The door behind him opened, and someone cleared their throat. He heard Maggie Scully's soft voice. "Fox." Lifting his head, he turned to see her standing in the doorway, with Skinner. The AD's face looked almost as pale as Scully's. His lips were pressed together in a thin, tight line. "Agent Mulder, I need to speak to you, in private." Mulder started to open his mouth to protest, but Maggie cut him off. "Go, Fox," she said softly. "It will be all right." Moving to his side, she ran her hand lightly over his hair then took Dana's hand from his. END OF PART 3 kaisteph@worldnet.att.net ********************************************** Chief Bounty Paper Towel Supplier for the SJD KAHD, co-editor of "Smokin' Joe's Cafe", "The cane is mightier than the sword." ********************************************** X-Phile, Inventor of "Tickle Me Spooky" #{:~.()+==[}< ********************************************** "There are no real doctors, only real nurses." David Duchovny <taken slightly out of context :)> THE PALE MOONLIGHT (4/6) By Steph Lutz kaisteph@worldnet.att.net ******************* Disclaimed in part 1 ******************* Mulder followed Skinner's ramrod back down the hall, his heart in his throat. His superior had been incredibly understanding thus far, and Mulder had to believe that in order for Skinner to drag him away from Scully's side, whatever it was must be of vital importance. Skinner paused in front of the small chapel, hand on the doorknob. "I've brought someone with me," he said, the tension in him audible in his voice. "Someone that you need to talk to." He pushed open the door and nudged Mulder inside. Mulder was immediately bathed in soft light. After the harsh glare of the hallway, his eyes took a moment to adjust. He looked at the dark wooden benches and thick red carpeting, and shivered in the warm air. A man rose from one of the benches and turned around. Mulder froze, his jaw dropping. "Agent Mulder, this is-"Skinner began. "We've met," Mulder said shortly, cutting him off. "At least, I think so. I've met three of you. Were you one of them, or are you a new one?" "Yes, you've met me," the young red-haired man said mildly. "At the Lombard Research Facility. You left in rather a hurry, as I recall." Mulder pushed past Skinner, who was staring at them in shock. "What are you doing here?" A small measure of hope entered his voice. "Have you - have you found something?" "We were given some information, by your friend here," the man indicated Skinner, and it was Mulder's turn to stare at him in shock. "Mulder," the man said urgently. "We've developed a medication - it can save her. But we can't do it here." "Right. We'll have to - we have to get her out of here. I can find us a place." Mulder was a mass of nervous energy, moving about the floor. He rubbed a hand across his forehead and licked his lower lip. "Mulder," Skinner grabbed his arm. "Just like that? Don't you-" Mulder cut him off again. "There's no time! Sir. Scully's getting worse every minute." Out of the corner of his eye he saw the red-haired man flinch. "If there's even the remotest chance - we have to trust them!" Skinner nodded, satisfied. "What about Mrs. Scully?" he asked softly. "I'll talk to her," Mulder said, just as softly. "Explain. She trusts me. It'll be okay." Maggie Scully looked up as Mulder entered the room. "Fox, what is it?" she asked, gently putting down her daughter's hand and standing up ,her brow crinkled with worry. "Has something happened?" Mulder looked at her, looked at Scully's motionless form, then back into Maggie's warm, trusting eyes. "Yes," he said softly, "Or rather, is going to... Come here," he lead her over to the corner of the room, for some reason not wanting to discuss this in front of Scully. Maggie followed him, her back tense and her eyes anxious. Mulder put his hands on her shoulders, and took a deep breath. "Maggie, I'll tell you what I can, quickly, but I can't explain everything, not even to myself. I'm going to have to ask you to trust me." She nodded wordlessly, and he continued. "Some people that I know - they've come up with a treatment - something that might help Dana. But-" he spoke sharply when he saw her eyes light up. "It's nothing that's been approved - nothing official. They can't do it here - we'll have to take Dana away. But I won't do anything unless you say okay." Maggie blinked, looked at her daughter and licked her lips. "How will you get her out? Will you.." Mulder shook his head impatiently, cutting her off. "I'll take care of it. I just need to know - will you trust me? Trust us?" Maggie nodded slowly. "If there's any chance at all.... Just tell me what to do, Fox." Mulder let out his breath, and dropped his hands to hers. "Right now, just stay here with Dana," he said, squeezing her hands tightly, then releasing them. He walked to the bedside. Placing one hand gently on Scully's pale cheek, he picked up the phone, in his other hand and dialed. "Langley, it's Mulder. Turn off the tape." At 1 AM, Mulder entered the Nurses' station, balancing two cardboard carryout coffee-cup containers, filled with assorted lattes, coffees, muffins, etc. The two nurses and one aide on duty in the small unit followed him into the lounge, leaving the door open. Mulder positioned himself so they would have their backs to the door, and distributed the coffees. Ex-Marine Skinner had planned this like a military operation - to the second. At 1:03, Mulder saw Maggie Scully walk past the lounge and nod once. He yawned and stretched. "Well ladies," he said with another yawn. "I'm gonna go close my eyes for a bit. Dana's set for the night, right?" One of the nurses nodded, sipping her coffee. "Don't worry - we won't bother you for awhile. Ring if you need anything." "Okay," Mulder left the lounge, walked just the past the closed door to Scully's room, looked over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching him, and slipped into the nearest stairwell. At the bottom, slightly dizzy from the speed of his descent, he exited the building between two dumpsters and hurried to the waiting van, where Skinner was just setting down a blanket-wrapped Scully in the back. The guys had put the air mattress Mulder had slept on in the back of the van for her. Skinner reached down, helped Maggie up, and beckoned to Mulder. "All aboard!" called Frohike softly from the drivers seat as Mulder scrambled up and pulled the door shut behind him. One of the Crawford clones was waiting inside, dressed in the same labcoat Mulder had seen them in at the lab. Mulder climbed to the front of the van bay and sat cross-legged on the mattress, lifting Scully's head and shoulders into his lap. She stirred and moaned as the van started and rattled out of the parking lot. While Mulder held her head and talked soothingly, Crawford drew up some morphine in a syringe and injected it quickly into her arm. After a moment she was quiet again. Frohike drove them at breakneck speed to the hideaway the gunmen had arranged for them - a hotel suite with two bedrooms, a living room and a small kitchenette, which Langley and Byers were busy stocking with their idea of groceries. Maggie peered over their shoulders and shook her head as Mulder carried Scully into the first of the two bedrooms. Frohike pulled back the thick but extremely tacky-looking spread, and the white top sheet. Mulder laid her carefully on the bed, and unwrapped the hospital blanket, leaving her still in her hospital gown. "We'll return that later," he whispered to her, smoothing it down before covering her with the purple and orange spread. He left one arm out, gently rubbing the small bruises where blood had been drawn. Crawford came in and made camp beside him, placing a small cooler and a gymbag on the chair beside the bed. He pulled out an IV set up and rubber port, and started examining Scully's arm for an unused vein. "Do you know what you're doing?" Mulder asked, climbing onto the bed on the other side of Scully. "More than you would, anyway," Crawford replied, keeping his eyes fixed on Scully's arm. "I've been through medical school, in a manner of speaking." "At age two? Or did that just come naturally through her genes?" Crawford stopped and fixed Mulder with an intense stare. "Agent Mulder, I can't help what I am. I'm <trying> to help." "I'm sorry," Mulder said, his voice sounding tinny to his ears. The painful memory of the Samantha clones was still too raw... not to mention Crawford's presence as a concrete reminder of what had been done to Scully - as if the cancer wasn't enough. Crawford found a vein and inserted the IV. He flushed it carefully, attached the rubber port, and opened the cooler. From the ice inside he withdrew a syringe filled with a light green fluid. Mulder groaned softly. <Why did it have to be green?> The needle was inserted into the port, and as the fluid was slowly pushed into Scully's vein, she stirred and started to struggle. Mulder held her arm still and stroked her hair. Medication finished, Crawford flushed the IV again. Scully's arm was reddened and warm, but not swollen. "She'll need three more doses," Crawford said, "six hours apart. She'll run some high fevers - we'll just have to try to keep her as comfortable as possible." He closed the cooler, picked it up and left the room. Scully had stopped struggling, but she was stirring restlessly, and beads of sweat were already beginning to form on her forehead. Sitting crosslegged, Mulder rested her hand in his lap,covered by his, and prepared himself for a long rest of the night. END OF PART 4 THE PALE MOONLIGHT (5/6) By Steph Lutz kaisteph@worldnet.att.net ****************** Disclaimed in part 1 ****************** Scully's hot breath grazed his cheek as Mulder leaned close, trying to decipher what she was mumbling under her breath. The better part of it was gibberish, but for a second he thought he heard his name. "I'm here, Scully," he told her, rubbing her cheek gently. There was no response - or at least not the one he was looking for. Too weak to push his hand away, she twisted her head to the side, jerking her face from his touch. Mulder sighed and sat back. There was a trilling beep, and he pulled the thermometer from under her arm. 104, and holding steady. The tylenol they'd given her an hour ago hadn't even touched her. Or, maybe it had, and was the only thing keeping her from febrile seizures. <Think positive, Mulder,> he told himself. The angry red streaks on her arm were fading, only a few hours after the last dose of the treatment. <"What now?" he'd asked. "Now we wait," Crawford had answered just as succinctly> Now the IV was pushing bag after bag of fluid, hanging from a wire hanger on a lamp above the bed, into her body, trying to flush it clean. "Fox." Maggie Scully stood in the doorway, her hands holding a fresh batch of icy wet sheets to wrap her daughter in, as well as an adult diaper. The IV fluid was coming out as fast as it was going in - a good sign according to Crawford. It meant that her kidneys were as yet undamaged by all the toxins coursing through her veins. Mulder wordlessly showed Maggie the thermometer reading, and took the bundle from her hands. She started to unwrap the now hot sheet covering Scully like a shroud. When her fevers had started, they'd stripped half the bed, folding the bedclothes neatly to the other side. Then they'd lined the side under Scully with a layer of towels and begun wrapping her in sheets that they soaked in a bathtub full of water and ice. The sheets barely lasted an hour before they were hot and soiled. This was the last of the clean ones, and would have to last until Frohike and Langley got back from their laundry run. Maggie and Mulder cleaned and re-wrapped Scully in silence, working together as if they'd been doing this for years, not just a couple of days. Mulder dumped the discarded items in the trash bags they'd set up as a hamper, and a garbage. Returning to the bed, he held Scully's head still, stroking her hair and murmuring comforting words as Maggie cleaned out her daughter's mouth with a lemon-glycerine swabb and applied some vaseline to her chapped lips. "She's doing better, Fox, isn't she?" Maggie asked softly, running a finger along the fading marks on Scully's arm. Mulder nodded, visibly trembling with the effort of remaining calm and positive while the truth was he was not sure at all, and scared to death. After nearly twenty-five years of putting up the same front for his own mother, he suddenly felt about to break. He gave Maggie's arm a faint squeeze and fled the room. In the living room, he fell back against the wall, eyes tightly shut, clenching and unclenching his fists, allowing his body to shake, and sucking air into his lungs in great big gulps. "Mulder." His eyes flew open to see Skinner standing in front of him. He hadn't even heard the door open. Fresh from the office, the assistant director set down his briefcase and shrugged off his dark trenchcoat. "How's she doing?" he asked in a low voice, his eyes showing worry behind the shiny lenses. "The same, sir," Mulder said, bringing his breathing under careful control. Skinner was one person he didn't have to pretend to - the older man would see through it in a second. "No better, no worse. Just the same." He clenched his fist again, and drove it into the wall behind him with viscious intensity. "I <hate> this," he whispered, so softly Skinner could barely hear him. "Waiting, doing practically nothing...." Skinner nodded understandingly. He was a man of action himself. Of action... Mulder drew in deep breath and straightened up. "Sir," he said. "I need to know - how did you get the information? How did you find the clones?" Skinner froze, his eyes flicking away from Mulder's face and taking on a hunted look, as if he'd been anticipating this conversation for a long time, and dreading it just as long. He was silent, fists clenched, eyes moving back and forth, searching for a response. He didn't have to give one - Mulder did it for him. He stepped forward, till his face was just inches from Skinner's, his voice coming in a harsh whisper. "It was Ca - Cigarette Man, wasn't it? You went to him, didn't you? After you told me not to!" Mulder's eyes reflected wounded betrayal. "Agent Mulder," Skinner whispered back just as harshly. "We couldn't afford to let him own you. You are the <only> thing he and his group fear, the <only> thing even remotely close to a check that we have on them. I," Skinner let out his breath and stepped back, his voice becoming incredibly soft. "I am expendible. You are not, and neither is Agent Scully." At Scully's name, Mulder's face softened. "So, it's true," he whispered. "You did go to him." "Yes," Skinner said quietly. "I did. And he gave me a disk, and the address of the cl - of Crawford." Mulder caught Skinner's avoidance of the word "clone", and gave a half smile in spite of himself. Skinner returned it. "Agent Mulder, there are things going on that I don't want to know about, don't <want> to understand. That's why you and Scully are so important, because you do." His expression turned serious again. "I've tried to help as I can, but Mulder, you need to know, you need to understand - there will be a time - you won't be able to trust me anymore." "No. No," Mulder's head shot up straight. "<You> I trust. <Them> I don't. As long as you trust me, and know you can come to me - no matter what They tell you. We'll find a way to work it out." The two mens' eyes met. "Scully," Skinner began softly. "She doesn't need to know," Mulder answered just as softly. "She'll feel hurt, angry - and guilty. There will be more than enough for her to deal if-<when> she recovers. Someday..." his voice trailed off, and their eyes held in a silent pact. They would tell Scully nothing of Skinner's involvement until a day came when she needed to know. Until then, and even after, they would protect her. Hours later, Skinner and Mulder paced the side of the room as Maggie checked Scully's temperature. Trying not to watch her too closely, Mulder reflected that they hadn't really needed the other bedroom. No one was using it - the gunmen had gone for the night, and the rest of them were reluctant to leave Scully. They might go to the living room for a few minutes, but always stayed in visual range of the bedroom door. Skinner sat down of the end of the dry side of the bed, as Maggie removed the thermometer and held it up. Mulder stood still, and held his breath. She looked up with a weary smile. "102.5," she announced. "It's finally going down." Mulder crossed the room in two steps, Skinner right behind him. He laid his hand gently against Scully's cheek, and she just sighed softly, not trying to turn away. Mulder let out his breath in a long trembling rush. "I'll get some dry sheets," he said, his words stumbling over each other. "It should be enough now to just put a cool cloth on her head, right? I'll get that too." He started to walk toward the door, but the floor was suddenly slanting away from him in a very strange manner. The bedside table seemed to be trying to flip itself over, and he reached out a hand to grab it, to make it behave. The floor was swinging the other way now, and there was a grayness at the edges of his vision. "Fox? What's wrong?" Maggie's voice sounded far away, and was drowned out by an overwhelming rushing sound filling his ears. Mulder didn't feel Skinner's arms grab at him as he crashed forward, everything going black. He was very warm, and surrounded by softness. His head ached, but someone was stroking his hair, soothing it. He lay still for a moment, keeping his eyes closed, just resting and basking in the rare comfort. Finally he dragged an eye open and blinked in the soft light. His gaze met Maggie Scully's jean-clad hip - she was sitting beside him, and it was her fingers that were moving along his scalp. Looking down at him, she smiled brightly. "Hello, sleeping beauty," she said in a pleased tone of voice, lifting her hand from his head. "Do-" his voice croaked. Swallowing hard, he tried again. "Don't stop - that feels good." Maggie laughed softly and stroked his hair again. He lay still for another moment, then asked. "What happened?" "You passed out," she told him. "And about time too, if you ask me, tho," she added, " you could have done without smacking your head on the edge of the table. I think once your mind realized that Dana was OK - your body decided to take control, and just shut down. You've been sleeping for nearly 20 hours." "Scully!" Mulder's eyes went wide, and he struggled to sit up, but his arms were caught, tangled in the soft flannel blanket he was wrapped in. "Ouch," he muttered as an afterthought, as his head gave him a sharp stab of protest. "Easy, Fox," Maggie pushed his shoulders down. "She's all right - she's sleeping next to you." Mulder realized he was lying on Scully's bed, and the softness under him was the folded spread. He rolled onto his side, and saw her sleeping there, red hair spread out on the pillow, face thin and pale but not too pale, body covered with a dry sheet. "The fever's nearly gone," Maggie told him softly. Her hand had moved and was now rubbing his back. "Her last temperature was 100. She's still very weak, but that will take some time." "Has she been awake?" He asked, finally disentangling his arm out of the blanket to reach for Scully's hand. True to Maggie's words, it was warm, but not fever-hot. Her fingers curled slightly around his in response. "A couple of times, but just for a few minutes," she answered. "She's OK, Fox - she's herself again. She doesn't remember much, but what we told her, she understood." She paused and he could hear the smile in her voice. "She asked for you, and when I showed her you were here sleeping, she just smiled." Mulder smiled too, at Scully's peacefully sleeping face. He pulled her hand gently toward him to cradle against his chest. She didn't stir, but that was OK. She was all right, was <going> to be all right, and that was all that mattered. He curled himself up around her hand and let himself drift back to sleep. END OF PART 5 THE PALE MOONLIGHT (6/6) by Steph Lutz kaisteph@worldnet.att.net ******************** Disclaimed in part 1 ******************** Mulder carefully positioned the legs of the tray on either side of Scully's lap. Climbing slowly onto the bed beside her, he picked up the cloth napkin, shook it out with a flourish, tucked it into the neck of her tee-shirt, and sat back with an air of satisfaction. Smiling tolerantly, Scully tucked her hair behind her ear and gravely inspected the tray, which contained her first meal in... she couldn't remember when. The meal, adorned with a bud vase containing a single pink rose, consisted of a cup of tea, a plate of dry toast, and a bowl of red jello. At least there was no chicken soup. Scully wasn't sure why that thought had popped into her head, but for some reason she had a feeling she would never want to eat chicken soup again. Suddenly ravenous, Scully forced herself to eat slowly, and was gratified to feel absolutely no nausea when she'd finished. She wiped her mouth with the napkin, set it on the tray, and rested her head against Mulder's shoulder, absently scratching at a fading reddened area on her arm. "Have fun watching me eat?" she asked. "Yes," he answered, taking her hand and giving it a little squeeze. There was a gentle tap at the open door, and Scully felt Mulder tense beside her, his hand tightening on hers. She looked up to see a young red haired man standing there. She'd seen him before. Her eyes widened, and she drew a quick breath. He gave her a tentative smile. "Hi Dana. How are you feeling?" "Fine," she told him. He nodded, and stepped closer, taking her arm in his hand. He ran a finger over the fading red streaks, and smiled in satisfaction. "I've seen you before," Scully said slowly, pulling her arm back away from him. "You had Betsy Hagopian's files." The man gave a questioning glance in the direction of Mulder, who had put a protective arm around Scully's shoulders. "You knew him as Kurt Crawford," Mulder said softly, "But it wasn't him that you met that day." "I never actually met you till a couple days ago," Crawford told her. "But I've known about you nearly all my life." "What are you talking about?" Scully tilted her head back to look at Mulder, and was shocked to see him blinking back tears. "I'm sorry, Scully," he whispered. "I should have told you everything right away. BBBut in the hospital that morning you were so upset... and then when you got sicker, I just didn't see the point in making you feel worse." "Feel worse about what?" Scully demanded. "What's going on?" She glanced down at her arm, then back at Crawford, a new suspicion dawning. "Did you do something to me, to heal me?" Mulder loosened his grip on her shoulder and slid forward so that she could look at both him and Crawford. He took her hands in his. "Scully, what healed you was pure Science." He gave her a faint smile, which faded almost immediately. "Crawford - he's a clone Scully. Just like the ones that pretended to be my sister. The one we met, who had the files, is dead, but there are several more." Scully raised an eyebrow. "Mulder-" "Let me finish, Scully, please." Mulder drew a deep breath. "He's a hybrid, Scully. And his human half - is made up of DNA from abductees. From Betsy, from Penny... and from you. When you were taken," he rushed on before she could stop him, "they harvested your eggs. And what ones they didn't take, they left sterile." He closed his eyes tightly, then opened them again. "I'm so sorry, Scully," "Are you trying to tell me," Scully heard the edge of hysteria in her voice, and hated it. "That I am part-mother to a group of age 20-something clones, and that those are the only children I will ever have?" "It was the high radiation from the extraction technique they used that caused the sterility," Crawford explained gently. "And also caused your initial illness, and later your cancer. But ironically enough, it also gave us what we needed to save you. The key was the branched DNA in your blood - the waste product they left behind." Scully shook her head hard, and shut her eyes tight. "I don't remember," she said in a thin, defiant voice, whether to convince herself, or them, Mulder wasn't sure. Crawford glanced at her, at Mulder, and quietly left the room. Scully opened her eyes and looked at Mulder. They were brimming with tears, and pleading with him, not to say anything, not to push, not to make her admit things that she was not ready to accept. "I don't remember <any> of it," she said again, this time in a trembling whisper, her face crumpling. "I know," Mulder said softly, taking her face in his hands. Whether or not she accepted it, the truth <had> saved her, and right now that was all that mattered. "I know," he murmured again, and pulled her into his arms, muffling her wrenching sobs against his chest as he rocked her slowly back and forth. The next afternoon, Mulder paced back and forth outside the outpatient lab where Scully was undergoing an MRI. Her doctor had wanted to admit her for it, and for observation, but she'd flatly refused. She'd told him in no uncertain terms that he could do any tests he liked, but she would walk to them, and walk out when they were done. And walk she had, albeit a bit slowly yet, from Mulder's car to the radiology department. The door opened and one of the technicians beckoned to him. Mulder didn't have to be asked twice. He was past the technician and through the door before the man could blink. Scully and her doctor were bending over a computer terminal, Scully still dressed in the hospital gown she'd changed into for the test. "Scully?" Mulder asked anxiously. Lifting her head, she saw him and her face broke into a wide smile. She crossed the room in two steps and flung herself into his arms, hugging her tightly. Mulder returned the hug, remembering the last time she'd done that, on their very first case together - right after she'd found out that what was on her back was not alien markings, but merely mosquito bites. His heart skipped a beat. "It's gone!" she breathed, tilting her head back to look at him. "Not a trace! I'm fine, Mulder. Really, really fine." Her doctor cleared his throat and interrupted, a wary look on his face. "There are still a couple of tests I'd like to schedule." Scully nodded, not really listening, her shining eyes not leaving Mulder's. He bent his head and kissed her tenderly on the forehead. "Go schedule your tests, and get dressed," he said softly. "I'll wait for you outside." Mulder escorted Scully through the door of her apartment, and set down the bag of groceries they'd picked up on the way home. It was Scully's first night back in her own place, after spending the last couple days recuperating at her mom's. Mulder didn't intend to leave her alone just yet though. He dumped his coat on the chair, picked up the bag and carried it through to the kitchen, Scully trailing along behind him. He pulled out a few items, placed them in cabinets, and reached in the bag for more. Scully removed the cans he'd put away, slipping them into their proper places as soon as his back was turned. Opening the door of the fridge, he made his big announcement. "Scully, you just go sit down and relax. I'm going to make you dinner." Scully bit back a laugh, and tried unsuccessfully to cover it with a fit of coughing. She kept her eyes away from Mulder's wounded puppy-dog face. "I <can> cook, Scully," he said defensively. "Yes, Mulder," she agreed seriously, taking the milk from his hands, putting it inside the fridge and closing the door. "You can boil water, you can push buttons on a microwave, and you can reach the closest pizza place using speed-dial." "Don't forget Chinese," he reminded her with great dignity. "I have Capitol Wok on speed-dial too." "A regular gourmet." She nodded. "So," he asked, grinning. "Pizza or Chinese, Madame?" "Neither right now," she replied, grabbing a can of diet coke and heading for the living room. "I just want to sit for awhile - relax and enjoy being home." That suited Mulder just fine, he wanted to talk to her anyway. They had said so many things when they'd thought she was dying - things they wouldn't have normally said. Yet, much had gone unsaid as well, just assumed. "Scully," he began, settling himself carefully on the couch beside her. He was still afraid to jostle her too much, though she constantly reassured him that she was feeling fine, just a little weak yet. "You're the one who brought up honesty back when you were in the hospital, and as long as we're still being open with each other, well, there's something that I've been wanting to ask you for a long time." He shifted uncomfortably. "Yes?" Scully took his hand, sighing. It had been a long eventful day, and she was tired - emotionally exhausted. "Mulder, just spit it out." "That night, when I busted in to your apartment, and you and Eddie Van Blundht were - you know..." "Yes," Scully said dryly. "I know." Mulder cleared his throat. "If - if I hadn't come in, just then, would you have... would you have kissed him?" "Yes," Scully said for the third time in as many minutes - this time was softer though. "Why?" Mulder asked, not meeting her eyes. "Because he tried to kiss me. And, Mulder, I thought he was you." "You mean, you mean if I had tried to kiss you, you'd have let me?" "Mmmhmm." She didn't choose to elaborate, but that was fine by Mulder. He had to say this now, before he lost his nerve completely. "Scully, there were lots of times when I wanted to try. I mean, I was attracted to you since practically day one, when you came into my office, so confident and beautiful. And even though you didn't agree with me, you listened to me, Scully. You didn't poke fun at me, you even stood up for me. So, I flirted with you, I teased you, and I dreamed about you, and it was safe." "Safe?" Scully repeated. "Yeah, safe. Because I didn't think you were interested in me, so it was okay - I couldn't hurt you." "Hurt me?" Scully felt like a parrot. "Uh huh -" He looked at her miserably. "I let you get hurt anyway, even though I tried not too. And now I've found that you're attracted to me after all, and it's not safe anymore..." Scully sighed in exasperation. "Mulder, if this is gonna involve one of your guilt trips, I'm not going to listen." Mulder stopped short, staring at her. "Huh?" "Mulder, Mulder," Scully reached out and grabbed his shoulders, shaking him lightly. "You give yourself way too much credit. The problems of the world are <not> your fault. I'm tired, and have had more than enough strange revelations and soul-searching to last me quite awhile, thank you. So - just shut up and kiss me." Mulder stared at her, his mouth hanging open. A wave of guilt assailed him, for having betrayed her trust, for having lied to her. Then he saw her face, full of love, but also filled with the pain that the revelations of the past few days had caused her. He bit his lip, resolving for once and for all that he'd done the right thing not telling her about Skinner's involvement. She was going to have enough to deal with right now, and she thought he didn't know abbout the Ob/Gyn exam she'd quietly scheduled for the next week. She'd have to accept things slowly, in her own time, and then.... "Mulder!" He dragged his mind back to the present. She wanted him to kiss her. Plain and simple. Swallowing hard, he complied. THE END kaisteph@worldnet.att.net ********************************************** Chief Bounty Paper Towel Supplier for the SJD KAHD, co-editor of "Smokin' Joe's Cafe", "The cane is mightier than the sword." ********************************************** X-Phile, Inventor of "Tickle Me Spooky" #{:~.()+==[}< ********************************************** "There are no real doctors, only real nurses." David Duchovny <taken slightly out of context :)>