TITLE: Not Too Late: Beginning AUTHOR: dtg EMAIL: dgoggans@earthlink.net RATING: PG SPOILERS: small ones for all things, Field Trip, Amor Fati KEYWORDS: MSR,X,MT ARCHIVE: Just let me know. SUMMARY: In the midst of a personal crisis, Mulder and Scully find themselves on a case that could cost them everything. DISCLAIMER: No copywright infringement intended. The characters Mulder, Scully, Skinner and Maggie belong to CC, 1013 and FOX. AUTHOR'S NOTES:This is the sequel to my first story. I have xgirl and Vickie Moseley to thank for encouraging me to keep writing. Thanks especially for your kind words and patient guidance *** "Not Too Late: Beginning" Georgetown, MD April 10, 2000 5:18 am Pre-dawn traffic presented no challenge, leaving her mind free to focus on the problem at hand. "What the hell just happened?", she asked herself for the umpteenth time since leaving Mulder's apartment. She had bared her soul (along with everything else, she thought ruefully) and had been politely refused. Despite Mulder's assurances to the contrary, he *had* refused her. Flatly. So she had followed her gut instinct and bolted as soon as he seemed safely asleep, unwilling to face a 'morning after' made all the more awkward by the absence of a 'night before'. After years of hiding her feelings from him, Scully had finally become convinced that she was ready to take Mulder up on his long standing invitation. Somewhere along the line, however, she had evidently missed some very important clues that would have told her the invitation may have been withdrawn. So much for intuition. Pulling into a parking space in front of her apartment, Scully removed the key and turned to face herself in the rearview mirror. She looked shell shocked, and with good reason. Her world had just been rocked off its axis. 'Stop dramatizing,' she chided herself. 'You're making way too much of this, exactly what he asked you not to do.' But she couldn't dismiss her instincts which were thrumming an alarm that echoed the ache in her chest. 'Too late...' Twenty minutes and a hot shower later, she was curled up on her couch, pen poised over a blank page in her journal. Writing was her way of sorting things out and she had never needed to regroup more than she did right now. The shoe, it seemed, had moved to the other foot with astonishing speed. The pursuer had become the pursued. It was almost funny, in a gut wrenching way. In all the scenarios she had imagined when she had pictured 'the moment', (and lately she had been doing that with disturbing frequency), it had never occurred to her that Mulder wouldn't jump at the offer. Ego, thy name is Scully. Her cell phone chirped faintly from the pocket of her coat which hung on the rack by the door. It was barely 6 AM which left no doubt as to who was calling. She counted the rings until voice mail would pick up. When her desk phone jangled a moment later, she jumped and then frowned at the squiggle her startled hand had drawn across the page. "Nerves of steel," she mused and waited for the machine to answer. "Scully, it's me." No kidding. "Scully, if you're there, pick up." Not a chance. Go away. I don't know what to say to you yet. "Just wanted to make sure you got home okay.. I guess I'll see you at the office." He hung up. God, the office. She had hoped he would stay home since he wasn't really due back until tomorrow. She desperately needed to get her thoughts organized before she talked to him. This was going to be far too important a conversation to leave anything to chance. 'I can't go on this way any longer.' Her heart screamed for her attention. 'I'm trying,' she replied softly. And she began to write. ***** Mulder put the phone back on the night stand and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger in a gesture Scully would have recognized. He hadn't really been surprised to find Scully gone when he woke, nor had he truly expected her to answer the phone. His call was a gesture, a means of placing control back in her hands. He knew his behavior last night had upset her and he wanted to lessen the tension of their next encounter. Bill Scully was only half right. 'I'm one *considerate* sorry son of a bitch.' He got up and went into the kitchen, stopping on the way to fold the blanket Scully had left in a heap on the floor. 'Not like her', he thought, 'not at all.' In fact, *none* of what had transpired over the past 12 hours was 'like her'. He started the coffee maker then stood with his hip against the counter, staring at nothing. He had not seen this coming, though he probably should have. Six months ago after his latest brush with death, they seemed finally to have toppled the last barriers between them. In the grip of madness, drowning in the cacophony of thoughts from everyone around him, he had heard her heart. The love she wouldn't put into words had broken through the wall of noise, pure and fierce and almost frightening in its intensity. He had allowed himself to hope, and it saved his life. They had remained close during his recovery, but subtle changes began to manifest themselves after they returned to work. Scully had become progressively more detached from him and he could only watch helplessly as she slowly withdrew. Nothing he said or did seemed to make any headway against the growing coldness between them. In a last ditch effort, he had concocted a tale of crop circles in England, a harmless little pseudo-case that would get them away from DC and all the memories it held. Maybe with some distance between them and the shadows of the recent past, they could find each other again. But her reaction had been painfully clear. For the first time, her scorn had not been reserved for the case alone. She meant it for him as well, and it had hurt more than she would ever know. So he went to England alone and thought about Scully. Instead of hanging out all night waiting for the sneaky farmers who aced geometry, he had spent the time looking for a way to reach her. By the time he got on the plane at Heathrow, he had come to the heart wrenching realization that it was time to throw in the towel. As much as he loved her, he was beginning to feel the weariness himself. Whatever they felt for each other, it was apparently never going to be enough. But if they could find a way to drop this endlessly frustrating game they had been playing for years, they might still be able to save their friendship. His hope for anything more between them was finally gone. The newspaper landed against his door with a hollow thud, jerking him back to the present. He poured a mug of coffee and slugged it down in rapid gulps, wincing at the burn in his throat but craving the caffeine rush. The next few hours could change everything and he would take his fortification wherever he could find it. He put down the empty mug and headed for the shower. *** Scully closed her journal and glanced at the desk clock. Almost 8:00 AM. She had been so absorbed in her writing that she'd lost track of the time and missed her opportunity to beat him to the office. The thought of walking in with him already there was unnerving. She was desperately trying to convince herself that Mulder had been telling her the truth last night. He was tired and surprised but otherwise fine with what she had done, or so he would have her believe. But it felt like something else entirely, something she was in no way prepared to accept. 'I will *not* accept it. We belong together, Mulder, and I'll do whatever it takes to convince you.' Fifteen minutes later, she was pulling away from the curb on her way to him. *** Hoover Building April 10, 2000 9:33 am "Sorry I'm late." She had been rehearsing that greeting all the way from the parking garage to get just the right tone of nonchalance. To her ears, her voice sounded normal. "There was an accident that had traffic backed up for miles." She dropped her briefcase on the table next to her laptop and headed for the coffee maker. Fingers still clicking on the keyboard, Mulder spoke without looking up. "I just started another pot. You may have to wait a minute." His nerves were jangling from the first six cups he had consumed in the hour and a half since he came in. A little too much fortification, he now realized.. She stopped and reversed her direction, pausing by his desk. He glanced up at her briefly. "I'm finishing up my report on last weekend. We have a meeting with Skinner" he consulted his watch "about twenty minutes ago." He returned his attention to the monitor. This was what she had feared, this awkwardness he was radiating. He couldn't even look at her. So, what now? Repeat this morning's callow retreat or find her backbone? She decided running was no longer an option. "Mulder." She waited until he stopped typing and looked up at her. "It's not working." He seemed sincerely puzzled for a moment. "What?" "I feel as uncomfortable about this as you do. You aren't helping matters by pretending I'm not here." "I don't think this is the time or place, Scully." He had no desire to discuss this in the office, especially not just before they had to meet with their boss. He didn't expect to be fit for human contact at the end of their talk. Not for a while afterward, in fact. "I don't know what you think I'm going to say , or to ask you." She managed a small smile. " I just want to apologize for putting you in such an awkward position last night. I guess the past few days sort of dimmed my good judgement. I don't want you to feel that you owe me any explanation, that's all." "Explanation for what?" It was Scully's turn to look puzzled. Was he serious? Suddenly she was afraid to go any further, terrified that he was going to confirm her worst fears if she didn't back away from this topic very quickly. "Poor choice of words. What I meant, Mulder..." His expression knocked the air from her lungs and killed the rest of the thought in mid-sentence. She couldn't ever recall seeing such emptiness in his eyes. Even in the midst of her battle with cancer, when they both believed she was going to die, he had never looked at her like this. "Scully, we seem to have come to the end of a very long road. I think that deserves some honest reflection. But not here. Not now." Her heart had begun to hammer in panic but she kept her voice steady. "What are you saying?" My God, he's going to end everything. It was written all over his face.. "I'm saying we need to put this aside for right now, that's all." His tone was steady but his eyes were breaking her heart. It was worse than she had imagined. And she had imagined a lot. She held his gaze for a very long moment. "Mulder, whatever you think happened last night, please don't do this." Her throat ached with unshed tears. "You're scaring me." "I'm sorry, Scully. I didn't want to upset you. But I also don't want to give you the wrong impression about the way I feel. I came back yesterday with the thought that we needed to make some changes. I still feel that way, in fact I'm more convinced than ever." "Mulder, you said you were just tired. You told me not to read anything else into what happened." She hated the way she sounded: pathetic, begging. "Are you saying that wasn't true?" He closed his eyes for several seconds. When he met her gaze again, his eyes were weary. "I guess I am. You caught me off guard last night and I went for the easy explanation. I shouldn't have done that and I'm sorry." She couldn't breathe. It took every ounce of her remaining control to find her voice. "Then I really do owe you an apology, Mulder. My behavior was totally inappropriate and I would appreciate it very much if you could just forget last night ever happened." "I can't do that. And neither can you." His sad smile tore at her heart. "We'll get through this, Scully. I promise you we'll get through this." He looked closely at her for a moment. If her eyes were any indication, her control was as tenuous as his. "If Skinner sees us like this, he's going to ask some questions we don't want to answer. Do you want me to put him off until later this morning?" "No. Just give me a few minutes." She turned away from him for the first time since they started to talk and headed for the restroom down the hall. As soon as she turned away from him, his eyes closed and his entire body sagged. How were they going to get past this? It would be so easy to give her what she seemed to want now, but he had never been more certain of how wrong it would be, for both of them. *** The restroom was empty as always and she had never been more thankful to find it so. She walked quickly to the sink and splashed cold water on her face, careful to avoid dripping on her silk blouse. It was a good thing the she hadn't had an opportunity to drink any coffee because it would certainly be on its way back up. She felt physically ill. She had never believed until now that Mulder was capable of putting her out of his heart. But that was exactly what he seemed to be doing. Or to have already done, for all she knew. When had it happened? Had she been so self-involved over the past several months that she had completely missed him slipping away? How ironic it would be if she had decided to give herself to him just in time to find that he had pulled away from her forever. She met her own eyes in the mirror above the sink and carefully schooled her expression. Mulder was right about one thing. The last thing they needed was to invite Skinner's curiosity. Just get through this meeting and see about getting Mulder to leave work on some pretense so they could talk. They surely couldn't sit side by side in that damnable office all day with this between them. With nothing but grim determination holding her together, she turned back toward the office and Mulder. *** "Agents." Skinner motioned them toward the chairs in front of his desk, expression unreadable as ever. His hands rested on top of a folder before him and he waited for them to settle in before he continued. "Getting a late start this morning?" Scully flushed noticeably and dropped her gaze, looking acutely uncomfortable. Her voice was tight, "I had some personal business to attend to this morning. I apologize for making you wait, Sir." She was surprised at how quickly her hard won control was evaporating. Skinner was shocked by her uncharacteristic reaction to such an offhand remark and he looked over to Mulder for clarification. But Mulder seemed suddenly fascinated by the bookcase to his right. Silence held for several seconds. "No apology required, Agent." She still hadn't raised her eyes and Mulder's interest now seemed focused on the front corner of Skinner's desk. "Agent Scully?" She quickly met his gaze, straightening her shoulders. "Yes, Sir?" He now had Mulder's attention as well. "Agents, is there anything I should know?" He expected them to exchange glances in their usual unspoken communication and when it didn't happen, his concern grew. Mulder especially seemed strangely off balance. Mulder realized an unanswered question hung in the air and rushed to fill the silence. "No, Sir. I guess I'm a little jet- lagged." He relaxed his expression into a casual smile. "You wanted to see us, Sir?" Two 'sirs' in two sentences was going to raise Skinner's suspicion, he knew, but it was too late now. "You, too, Agent Scully? I understand you were both in England over the weekend." Since they had been fine when he spoke to them on Friday, the case may be the source of this strangeness between them. Mulder spoke before she had a chance to reply. "Uh, Agent Scully wasn't able to accompany me, Sir. She..." Scully found her voice and jumped in before he could finish. "A friend of mine was in the hospital, Sir. I stayed to be with him." "You sent Mulder on a case by himself? Willingly?" He couldn't keep the astonishment from showing in his voice although his face remained neutral. Now he *knew* something was up. "The case turned out to be a waste of time, Sir. Agent Scully and I discussed it before I left and we agreed that her obligations here were more important." "I see." He looked from one to the other, eyes narrowed, lips a thin line. "Is that your report?" he asked, gesturing toward the folder in Mulder's lap. Mulder handed him the typed pages which he accepted and placed on the desk. " In future, should either of you find it necessary to decline an assignment, I expect to be notified at once." He would return to this topic at a more opportune moment, preferably when he had Mulder alone. He opened the folder on his desk without further comment and handed Mulder a photograph. "You're looking at the fourth body found in Detroit in the past three weeks with the heart removed." Mulder reviewed the photo for a moment before handing it to Scully. Skinner was extending a sheaf of papers to him and he reached across the desk to accept them. "Autopsies of the first three victims. The MO's are identical in all four cases which lead local authorities to the conclusion that they're looking for a serial killer. The chief of police has requested Mulder's help in creating a profile." He paused until they both looked up at him. "Scully, I want you to perform the fourth autopsy as well as review the first three." She risked a sidelong glance at Mulder but he was carefully avoiding her eyes. This wasn't the best time for a trip out of town but it looked inevitable. "Do you think they've missed something?" Skinner shook his head. "Not necessarily, no. But a new perspective can't hurt." Unspoken but understood by all three of them, Scully's job would also be to keep her partner out of trouble. Profiling could be dangerous territory for him and they all knew it. Mulder handed her the reports with only a cursory glance at the contents. Autopsies were only slightly less nauseating to read than they were to watch. He could almost smell the formaldehyde. Scully quickly scanned the pages. "It seems pretty straightforward to me, Sir. Death in each case resulted from a single .22 caliber gunshot wound to the head at point blank range. Removal of the victims' hearts was clearly done post mortem as was the crude suturing of the mouth and external labia." Mulder winced slightly at the description. "What's making them ask for help on a case that's less than a month old?" "They've drawn some heavy criticism from the press over a perceived lack of enthusiasm on the part of the detectives assigned to the case. The victims were prostitutes and that, plus the stitching, inspired an unfortunate nickname for the killer which one of the detectives foolishly shared with a reporter." The AD's lips formed a humorless smile. "They're calling him 'Jack the Zipper'." "Ouch." Mulder and Scully said it at the same time which drew a brief smile from all three of them. "Kim has you booked on the 12:25 flight to Detroit, so you'll need to get moving." Skinner turned his focus to Scully. "I'm assuming you are available for this case, Agent? Is your friend sufficiently recovered?" "Yes, Sir. He's out of danger." The discomfort she had displayed when she first walked in was back, Skinner noted. There was clearly more to this than embarrassment at being late for work and he had to stifle his urge to probe further. "Fine. See Kim for the details." The interview was over. Mulder shot him a grim smile and got up to leave. "Yes, Sir." He crossed to the door and turned back to see Scully still seated, seemingly lost in thought. " Scully?" She jumped slightly and rose to follow him. The door closed behind them, leaving Skinner to shake his head in wonder. *** They had nearly missed their flight and had to flash their badges to get the gate reopened so they could board. The mad rush to pack and make it to the airport had left no time for conversation and now Mulder was apparently sound asleep in the seat next to her, legs stretched out into the aisle. She opened her briefcase and pulled out the case folder. There was something about the chest wound that looked odd, as if more was done than could be explained by the simple need to remove the heart. 'Simple need to remove the heart.' I've been at this *way* too long. She immersed herself in the file and was oblivious to everything around her until the captain announced their approach to Detroit Metro. *** Wayne County Medical Examiner Detroit, MI 4:20 pm They had driven directly to police headquarters in downtown Detroit to meet with the detective in charge of the case, a war-weary, rumpled man in his late 50's who was clearly irked by their presence. Detective Bronson made it obvious that he neither wanted nor appreciated their help and kept his answers as brief as possible. After providing the barest minimum of information, he grudgingly agreed to escort Mulder to all four crime scenes while Scully drove the rental car to the Medical Examiner's office to attend to her post mortem. It had been Mulder's suggestion that she begin the autopsy immediately, supposedly to shorten their time in Detroit as much as possible. From his one-word responses to her attempts at small talk during their drive from the airport, she suspected it was more likely a case of his wanting to get away from her. It wasn't like him to shut her out and it hurt. Twenty minutes later she was standing over the body of the fourth victim, Charlene Windsor, looking much as she had in the photograph, minus the flashy uniform of her trade. The mouth and external labia were sown shut with crude, criss cross stitches made with what looked to be heavy black upholstery thread. A large wound in the center of the chest revealed that the heart had been removed and as she explored further, she discovered two oddly placed deep score marks in the breastbone. Wiping the area clean for closer look, she realized that the score marks formed a cross, the size and shape of which closely mirrored the one hanging around her own neck. There had been no mention of the marks in the previous three autopsy reports. The first victim's body had been claimed by her family and buried, but the second and third were still in the morgue. She had them quickly brought to the autopsy room and soon identified the same markings on the breastbones of both victims. The remainder of the autopsy on the current victim revealed no more surprises. A single gunshot to the head just behind the left ear was the cause of death. As with the other three victims, the body had shoulder length blonde hair, large brown eyes, a thin oval face and somewhat prominent nose. All of the victims were between 5'8" and 5'10" in height and weighed approximately 130 pounds. The similarities were too close to be coincidental. This killer had someone in mind when he chose his victims. After gathering up her notes, she changed back into her suit and heels and headed to the hotel to secure their rooms and wait for Mulder. *** Alley behind Time Out Lounge Detroit, MI 5:48 pm By the time Mulder and Detective Bronson left the third crime scene, it was obvious that nothing new was going to present itself. The sites where the bodies were discovered were as similar as the victims. Litter strewn alleys running behind seedy bars, all within a four block area on the city's near north side. The only forensic evidence at the scenes had been small quantities of the victims' blood. No clues to the killer's identity, except possibly his choice of location. That plus the characteristics of his victims would be the only information available for constructing the killer's profile. The most recent crime scene was still marked off with yellow tape which Mulder stepped across, followed by the noticeably unenthusiastic Detective Bronson. "Like I said, there's not a damn thing to see here." The man's initial attitude over having to accept the FBI's assistance had not been improved by traipsing around behind Mulder. "We're wasting time, Agent Mulder. And your partner isn't going to find anything either." "We'll be out of your hair tomorrow, Detective." Mulder refused to let the man's impatience hurry him into glossing over this crime scene. After several minutes of silence while he paced slowly over the area bounded by the yellow tape, Mulder had a question. "Do you see anything common to the four locations? With your intimate knowledge of the area?" "Aside from the proximity to bars and to each other, no." The detective's tone was weary. "The only reason these killings are drawing the kind of attention they are is because some bleeding heart priest from one of the homeless shelters thinks we're not doing our best for 'his girls'." Mulder's eyebrows shot up in a fair imitation of his partner. "*his girls*? What does that mean?" "It means this bozo thinks he can save the world, one hooker at a time. He knew these women and..." Mulder interrupted him with a raised hand. "You have someone who knew all four victims? And you didn't think this was relevant?" "He's a *priest* for christs sake. And he came to *us*. There's nothing there, believe me." Bronson's tone clearly said what he thought of Mulder's suspicion. "Why the hell would he draw attention to the case, bitching that we aren't doing enough to catch the killer if it was *him*?" "I don't know. But I would like to speak with him." "Fine. I'm ready to head back. Are we finished here?" At Mulder's nod, they returned to the car. "Can we stop by this homeless shelter on the way back to the station house?" "If it will get you back on a plane to DC one minute sooner, hell yes." He picked up his cell phone and called to make the arrangements. *** Holy Cross Mission Detroit, MI 6:40 pm Nestled between a Salvation Army store and yet another of the seedy bars that lined the streets in this section just north of the downtown area, the Holy Cross Mission looked out of place. Fresh paint, clean windows and a tidily trimmed patch of grass edged with yellow tulips gave it a homey appearance that made its neighbors all the more shabby in comparison. They found Father Patterson, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, washing dishes in the mission's spacious and immaculately clean kitchen. The residents had apparently just finished dinner and the aroma of recent cooking reminded Mulder that he hadn't eaten anything since yesterday afternoon. "Father Patterson, I appreciate your agreeing to speak to us." Detective Bronson's tone was polite but the glance he shot at Mulder said 'even though we're wasting your time and mine.' The priest turned to greet them, untying the towel from around his waist to dry his hands. "I'm delighted to see you again so soon, Detective. You know I'm eager to do whatever I can to help you get this man." His smile was warm as he turned to Mulder. "And you are..." "Fox Mulder, special agent with the FBI." Mulder extended his hand to the priest who shook it warmly. "Is there somewhere we can talk?" He glanced pointedly at the two women (residents, he assumed) who had been helping tidy the kitchen but had stopped to watch the three men. "Of course. We can go to my apartment." He motioned them toward a door to his left. "Marie, Karen, I'll be just a few minutes." They followed him through the door into a second, much smaller but no less immaculate kitchen. Patterson seated himself at the table in the center of the room and gestured for them to join him. "What can I do to help?" The man's smile was open and warm. "I apologize if you've already answered some of these questions, " Mulder's smile was equally warm as he regarded the man before him. Early 50's with thinning blond hair and dark, intelligent eyes in a somewhat pudgy face, average height and weight. Nothing remarkable except for the smile which was infectious. "Not at all, Agent Mulder." Patterson replied. "I just don't know what more I can tell you that you don't already know." "I understand you knew all four of the victims. What can you tell me about them?" "I not only knew them, they all lived here at one time or another over the past two years." He glanced at the Detective. "As I told Detective Bronson yesterday, the most recent victim lived here until a week ago. Charlene was a wonderful girl who had started taking courses at Wayne County Community College a month ago." He shook his head sadly. "I just can't believe such a terrible thing could have happened to her now, after all she's been through." "What do you mean?" "Let me save you some time, Agent Mulder." Patterson leaned forward and rested his crossed arms in front of him on the table. "Most of the women who come to me for help are prostitutes. I would say that the majority of the women who work as prostitutes in this neighborhood have stayed here at some point. It's a hard life and they come to me when it gets to be too much. Sometimes they're sick or hurt, sometimes they just need to feel normal for a few days." He flashed that smile at both men. "I tend to them, feed their bodies and their souls and try to show them another path." "Detective Bronson said something about these four women who died having been your 'success stories'." "That's true, I suppose. Each of them had left here after making their confessions to me and vowing to God that they would not return to the streets. I hope my advice played a part in their redemption, but I have to credit their own strong wills for the most part. They were all extraordinary women who could have had very different lives. They simply chose the wrong path for awhile." His face darkened . "My own sister was seduced by a man who made her believe that pleasing him was the right path. I wasn't able to save her and it brings me comfort to know that I've been able to help others in her name." The smile returned, noticeably subdued. "I just want you to understand that these women were on the way to changing their lives when this terrible thing happened to them." Mulder nodded. "I do understand and I appreciate your candor. If you think of anything that might be helpful, please contact Detective Bronson." Mulder rose and extended his hand to the priest, thanking him for his time. As he and Bronson turned to leave, the priest motioned them toward the back door to his right. "This will take you right to the parking lot.". He called after them as he was closing the door. "Just remember that this killer needs help as much as he needs punishment, Agent Mulder." Mulder turned back to face him. "I'll keep that in mind." *** Detective Bronson's Car 7:10 pm It seemed like a dead end, which Detective Bronson took a great deal of pleasure in pointing out. Mulder just wanted to get to the hotel and write the damn profile, not that he expected Bronson to use it. The man's mind was made up. With a little effort, they could be back in DC by tomorrow night. He punched speed dial "1" on his cell phone and waited for Scully to pick up. There was a chance she might have gleaned some new information from the last post mortem. "Scully" "It's me. Where are you?" The sound of her voice sent him right back where he had been this morning, caffeine nerves and all. Wonderful. "I'm back at the hotel finishing up my autopsy notes. Did you find anything at the crime scenes?" "Nope. How about you. Any luck with the last victim?" "There's something I'd like to show you, yes. An odd marking common to the three victims I was able to check. One that was missed in the previous autopsies." "I'm on my way." He pushed the END button and turned to the detective. "Could you drop me at my hotel? I think we're done for the moment." Bronson was glad to oblige, anything to get the Fed out of his hair. They drove the fifteen minutes to the hotel in total silence. *** Marriott Renaissance Center Hotel Detroit, MI 7:32 pm Scully answered the door in sweats and a tee shirt, glasses perched on her nose. "Hey, Mulder. I just finished a pretty good room service dinner. If you want to order anything, they're open all night." She returned to sit on the bed where her laptop was set up, folders and a legal pad next to it. He disappeared through the open door connecting their rooms and called back to her "What did you have?" "A Cobb salad, but I think you'll be more interested in the half-pound cheeseburger and steak fries," she yelled back. For just a moment, it was like old times. The memory made her ache. Rustling fabric signaled that he was changing his clothes and she turned her attention back to the autopsy notes until he reappeared, dressed in sweats and a tee shirt. He wandered over to her phone and picked up the menu, dialing room service as he scanned the selections. "Room 2212. Cheeseburger rare, fries and a six pack of Michelob. How long?" There was a brief pause. "Okay. Thanks." "Mulder, there's a minibar in your room. This isn't our ususal roach motel, you know." She shot him a sly grin. "Yeah, it's kinda upscale isn't it?" He surveyed the room as he walked to the windows which provided a panorama of the city of Windsor across the river. "Nice. Did you know that Canada is south from here?" He turned to face her. "No, I didn't know that." She had finished her notes and sat cross-legged on the bed. Pushing down the foremost thing on his mind, he went with the current topic. "You said you found something in the autopsy. What was it?" He moved to the table in front of the window, sat in one of the chairs and propped his feet up on its mate. "There was a cross carved into each of the last three victims' sternums. I'm pretty sure that the first victim would have displayed the same mark but couldn't verify it because her body has been buried." Mulder processed that for a second, then a broad grin lit his face. "Scully, if I told you that the only person we're aware of who knew all four victims was a priest who runs a mission in the neighborhood where the killings took place, would that attach any additional significance to your discovery?" Her smile was wide and unforced for the first time in two days. "Yeah, Mulder. I think it would." It was so much like old times that his heart ached."I talked to this man not an hour ago. What say we pay him a visit?" *** Holy Cross Mission Detroit, MI 8:20 pm "You never really understood, did you? DID YOU?" The backhanded slap knocked her head backward and to the left, bringing fresh tears to her already swollen brown eyes. "Please! I don't know what you want from me!" Her voice was choked with tears. This man who had held out his hand to her in friendship now raised it to strike her again. "You pretend to understand but you LIE! You're just like all the rest!" Spit flew from his lips, mirrored by the sweat clinging to his brow, his upper lip. His eyes, so kind just an hour ago, were dark with rage and madness. "You're just like HER!" He was going to kill her. She knew it. "Oh, GOD! PLEASE! NO!" As he raised the gun to her head, she closed her eyes. *** Holy Cross Mission Detroit, MI 8:20 pm They had changed back into their work clothes to venture out into the April chill. This lead was worth a cold cheeseburger and warm beer, Mulder thought. His first instinct had been right after all. They were standing in front of the private entrance to Father Patterson's apartment at the rear of the mission when they heard a man's voice shouting followed by a woman's terrified cries, "oh , GOD PLEASE! NO!" "Call for backup, NOW!" Mulder stepped back, drew his weapon and kicked hard to the right of the doorknob, once, twice, three times. The door collapsed inward with a screeching bang and he disappeared into the darkness. Scully was frozen in place for the length of a heartbeat, torn between following his order and following him in. She opted not to question his uncharacteristic request for assistance and quickly dialed 911. In the space of time it took to identify herself and give the operator their location, three shots rang out from within the apartment. Two sharp pops blended with the single crack of Mulder's SIG. Scully shouted "Shots fired!" into the phone, then dropped it and drew her weapon. "MULDER!" Her voice was raspy with the adrenaline rush. She peered into the dimness as far as she could see, stepping forward with weapon raised as she called to him again. "Mulder! Answer me!" Nothing. She could already hear sirens in the distance. Sidestepping warily through a small kitchen she moved toward the low light she could see in the next room. Mulder was standing halfway across the room, SIG in hand, looking down at the body of a man she assumed to be Father Patterson. Against the far wall, a blonde woman sat tied to a straight back chair, eyes wild. Even in the low light, Scully could see that the man on the floor was dead. His eyes were open beneath a red hole in the middle of his forehead. As she began to lower her weapon, moving toward Mulder, she called to him again. "Mulder? Are you all right?" Very slowly, he turned to face her, his expression a mixture of pain and surprise. As she reached her left hand out to him, he sank to one knee, lowering his gaze to his chest. He dropped his gun and looked back up at her as he crumpled into a sitting position on the floor. She saw the stain spreading from the center of his chest and felt her own heart stop for a moment, then lurch into the frantic rhythm of blind panic. "Scully?" His voice barely above a whisper echoed the growing confusion on his face. She reached him just as he began to sink to his left and quickly positioned herself to support him against her chest. Trembling fingers pressed against the carotid pulse in his neck felt his heart stumble as he sucked in a huge, gasping breath and released it in a shuddering sigh. Then his body relaxed in her arms and stilled completely. She felt frantically for his pulse and found nothing. For Scully, time stopped. The horror of holding Mulder's lifeless body in her arms rendered her senseless for several seconds until the rapidly approaching sirens and renewed shrieks of the woman spurred her to action. "NO!" She quickly lowered him to the floor and began CPR, praying and pleading for his life. The rapid onset of full cardiopulmonary arrest spoke volumes, freezing her heart with terror. She barely noticed the shouts of the police officers as they entered the apartment. Suddenly there were hands on her shoulders, pulling her gently away from him to allow the two EMT's access. She found herself standing over Mulder, supported by the strong arms of a policeman. He was saying something to her, words of comfort that meant nothing. If Mulder was truly lost to her... the pain of that horrifying possibility was overpowering. "Please, God," she prayed fervently. " Give him back to me." *** Holy Cross Mission Detroit, MI 8:20 pm The door gave way to his third kick. Shouting over his shoulder to Scully, he quickly followed the woman's cries through the archway to his left. He paused for a few seconds , then spun to his right into the next room, weapon raised in front of him searching for a target. "FEDERAL AGENT! DROP Y... " For a split second, he wondered what a serial killer was doing with a slingshot because that's what it felt like. A small rock launched into his chest. It stung, but not as much as the wasp that had nailed him last summer at Maggie Scully's 4th of July cook out. As the second missile whizzed past his head, he finally registered gunshots and returned fire, aiming blindly toward the source of the sound. He heard a body drop but was having trouble focusing in the dimness. The air seemed to have thickened and drawing a breath to answer Scully's shaky cry sent a flare of deep pain across his chest. It intensified as he turned toward the sound of her footsteps entering the room behind him. The realization that he had been shot sent a wave of dizziness through him and he began to fall, unable to feel anything beyond the fire in his chest. He spent his last breath calling her name. *** Detroit Receiving Hospital Emergency Department April 10, 2000 8:51 pm The ride in the ambulance had been mercifully brief. It had taken the EMT's four hits with the defibrillator to start Mulder's heart in order to transport him, but nothing could get him to breathe. They had still been bagging him when the gurney disappeared through the doors into the trauma unit. Scully had sat staring blankly at the doors through a number of attempts on the part of various hospital personnel to gain her attention. They wanted her to fill out forms, answer questions, drink coffee, wash the blood from her hands any number of pointless activities. The most recent intruder had skittered away moments ago after she shot him a murderous glance accompanied by "Unless you can tell me what's going on in that room, LEAVE ME ALONE," through gritted teeth. She could feel herself unraveling with each minute that passed. The swiftness with which her life had been upended - again - was stretching her meager reserves to their limit. He had gone into full arrest so damn fast. The implications were devastating and she couldn't stop her mind from running the possibilities over and over. Few of them held out much hope for survival. Although she had never located the wound itself, there was little doubt that the bullet had found either his heart or one of the major arteries. Nothing else could explain the rapid onset of symptoms. *Symptoms*, hell. He had died in her arms. 'NO!' They got him back. Barely, but he was still alive. She turned toward the sound of approaching footsteps, ready to do battle with yet another pain-in-the-ass clerk. "Are you Agent Scully?" The woman's expression was so full of kindness and sympathy that Scully felt immediate remorse for having given her such a hard time earlier. This was the 'coffee offerer' she had brushed off so coldly. "Yes. Can you tell me anything about my partner?" Something in her voice had sent Scully's heart back into overdrive. "He's been taken to surgery. I'm sorry the doctor didn't have an opportunity to speak with you, but there was some urgency to get him upstairs." "What was his condition when he left the ER?" "I'm very sorry, I just don't know. The whole crew that was working on him went with him to the 4th floor. Two of them were nurses who should be back down here shortly. Would you like me to send one of them out to see you?" "Yes, thank you. I'm sorry about the way I spoke to you earlier. I'm...." Her throat closed and she could feel the tears building against her lower lids. She closed her eyes tightly, scrambling for control. "Please don't worry about that, Miss Scully. Believe me, I understand." She patted her shoulder gently, eyeing her blood stained hands and blouse. "Now let's go get you freshened up. I'm sure I can find you something to wear, too." *** Scully returned to the waiting room in the Emergency department wearing a set of burgundy scrubs, all traces of Mulder's blood removed. Before she could reach her chair, a middle aged nurse came through the trauma unit doors and crossed to her. "Miss Scully?" Scully nodded, unable to speak. "I've just left your partner in the care of the best cardiac surgeon in the state. He couldn't be in better hands." "I'm a doctor. Please tell me what you know about his condition." The nurse searched her face for a moment, trying to gauge how much honesty this woman could take. The admission form said she was his partner but her demeanor said otherwise. "The chest films showed the bullet between the pericardial sac and his heart. They won't know how much cardiac damage it did until they get in there. He's still in respiratory arrest and his blood pressure is very low, but he was losing too much blood to wait until he was stabilized before sending him up to surgery. His pulse is erratic, tachy one minute, bradycardic the next." She reached out a steadying hand to the woman before her. "I'm very sorry. I wish I had better news." "So do I." Scully's voice was a choked whisper. A prayer. "We're very fortunate that it was a small caliber weapon. Otherwise, there would have been nothing anyone could do." The nurse gently lifted Scully's chin to peer into her face. "I'll take you upstairs to wait for him, if you like. Is there anyone I can call for you?" Scully straightened her shoulders and pulled in a shaky breath. "Yes. Would you please contact the FBI in Washington, DC. Ask for Assistant Director Skinner. The switchboard will put you in touch with him. Tell him what's happened." She gave her the number. "I'll take care of it. Now let's get you settled into the surgical waiting room upstairs. It will be a long wait." *** AD Skinner's Office April 10 9:40 pm He was pulling on his raincoat when the phone rang. He briefly considered letting voice mail pick it up, but he had agents in the field. With a groan of resignation, he walked back to the desk and snatched up the receiver. "Skinner" "Mr. Skinner, this is Marjory Daniels. I'm a nurse in the emergency department at Detroit Receiving Hospital. I'm calling on behalf of Agent Scully." Oh my God. His heart dropped. Not again. "Yes. What's happened?" "There's been a shooting. Agent Scully's partner is in surgery right now and I'm afraid it doesn't look good. She wanted me to call you." "What is his condition? Please be as specific as you can." She repeated what she had told the patient's partner, adding that the man's chances for survival were slim at best. She hadn't had the heart to be quite that blunt with his partner. Skinner closed his eyes and breathed deeply. "Please tell her that I'm on my way." He hung up and stood quietly for a moment before consulting his Rolodex and punching in the number he found on the card marked 'Scully, Margaret.' *** Detroit Receiving Hospital Surgical waiting room April 11 1:24 am "She's over there." The woman who had accompanied them from the nurses station indicated a small figure huddled into a chair across the room. The AD thanked her for her help and guided the woman at his side toward her daughter. The room was large and furnished with padded wooden chairs arranged in groups. Strategically placed indirect fixtures along the walls lit the room softly. Dressed in surgical scrubs, Scully sat in a grouping in the corner farthest from the door. She looked up at their approaching footsteps, her expression a mixture of hope and dread. It seemed to take her a moment to realize who they were. Then her face crumpled as she reached for her mother who quickly moved to her side. "Oh, Mom." Her voice was nearly unrecognizable, raw with grief. "He isn't going to make it this time." She buried her face against her mother's neck, shoulders hitching with quiet sobs. Maggie Scully wrapped her daughter in her arms, looking up at Skinner as she spoke. "Sweetheart, can you tell me what happened?" Her daughter simply shook her head without raising it. "Not yet. Please just hold me." The pain in her voice brought tears to Maggie's eyes and she tightened her embrace. Walter Skinner stood watching the scene before him and felt utterly helpless. The need to take some kind of action was overwhelming, but there was absolutely nothing he could do. Not for Mulder and not for Scully. It was a dishearteningly familiar sensation. He had noticed a coffee vending machine in the hall outside and took off in that direction, returning a few minutes later with three steaming paper cups. Scully was now sitting up facing her mother, wiping her eyes with trembling fingers. She looked up at him, accepting the cup he offered. "Thank you, Sir." She tried to smile. "Thank you for being here and for bringing my mom." She reached over to squeeze her mother's hand. "I didn't know how I was going to deal with this alone." His seated himself in the chair across from them. Voice soft and kind, he asked "What can you tell me, Agent?" She pulled in a deep, shuddering breath. "It happened so fast. We went to re-interview a man who Mulder felt might be the killer, based on something I found in the autopsy on the fourth victim. We heard a woman scream from inside the man's apartment. Mulder kicked the door in and went after him. He yelled for me to call for backup, and before I could get inside, I heard shots." Her composure was disintegrating once again and she paused for a moment, breathing deeply. "Mulder had returned fire and killed the suspect, but not before the man shot him in the chest." Tears began to roll down her cheeks. She turned to her mother, voice barely audible. "He died in my arms." "Oh, sweetheart, he isn't dead." She took both of her daughter's hands in her own. "You can't give up hope." "Mom, it's been four hours. He wasn't even breathing on his own when they took him to surgery. I *know* what his condition means." Her eyes were dark with pain as she looked up at her boss. "You know what it means, too. That's why you brought my mother here." "Miss Scully?" A man in surgical scrubs and hat, mask loosened and hanging at his neckline, was crossing the room toward them. It was less than a whisper, but Maggie heard her daughter's prayer. "Please, God." Scully met the man's eyes and nodded, speech impossible. Her grip on her mother's hands tightened to the point of pain. He took the chair next to Maggie Scully and leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees. "I'm Dr Lassiter. I just left Mr. Mulder in recovery. He made it through surgery, which is nothing short of a miracle and I don't use that term lightly." "Thank you." Scully's head fell back, eyes closed, swaying slightly. Maggie freed one of her hands from her daughter's grasp and gently gripped her shoulder to steady her. "Somehow I don't think I had that much to do with it." He waited until Scully met his gaze before he continued. "The bullet penetrated the pericardium and lodged partly in the heart muscle just below the midline. We've repaired the damage and replaced most of the blood volume, but frankly I can't explain why he's still alive." Skinner shot the man a murderous look that seemed to startle him for a moment and when he spoke again, his tone had softened. "I'm sorry. I'm just not accustomed to this feeling. Your partner has surprised the hell out of all of us. He has a rough road ahead of him, but first he has to get past the next 24 hours." "What is his condition?" Scully's haunted eyes silently thanked her boss for asking the question she had been trying to push past the lump in her throat. "He's still in very critical condition. His pressure is too low, his heart rate is erratic and he hasn't had any spontaneous respiration since he was brought in. And he's comatose." He smiled faintly. "But the good news is that he seems to be holding on with an iron will. I've never seen anything like it in all my experience." Scully found her voice at last. "When can we see him?" "He'll be in recovery for another hour. I can take you in there now for just a few minutes." Not normal procedure, but this was far from a normal situation. He honestly couldn't say why the man was still alive and wouldn't hazzard a guess as to how long he would stay that way. He was giving them the chance to say goodbye. *** There were four beds against each wall on either side of a central workstation. Only one was occupied. A man writing in a chart at the workstation looked up and nodded to Dr. Lassiter as they entered. Scully walked stiffly between her boss and her mother. As they reached Mulder's bed, she let out a soft cry and grasped her mother's hand for a moment. Then she moved to his side and placed her hand over his. She had seen him in this position before. What had wrung the cry from her throat were the readings on his monitors. They must have turned off the alarms because they would surely be sounding. She could fully understand Lassiter's bafflement. Mulder was alive, but his vital signs were those of a patient on the brink of crashing. "Mulder? It's me. Can you hear me?" She touched his forehead and gently brushed her fingers through his hair. She bent close to his face and whispered into his ear. "Mulder, there's so much I need to tell you. Don't let it end like this." She turned her face and pressed her lips against his cool skin in a gentle kiss. "Please don't leave me." She stood up and surveyed the monitors again before turning back to her mother and her boss. The devastation in her eyes told them everything. *** Detroit Receiving Hospital ICU April 11, 2000 8:36 am Walter Skinner had been dozing lightly in a recliner in the ICU waiting room for the past half hour. Maggie Scully knew how long it had been because he had waited until she woke from her nap on the couch before he closed his eyes. They were afraid to leave Dana alone and had been taking shifts like this all night, making sure that one of them would be awake and ready to come to her aid should the worst happen. Dana had been sitting by Fox's side since he arrived in the ICU. Rules were apparently made to be broken, at least in the case of their miracle patient and his partner. No one had questioned her right to stay with him although Maggie and Skinner had been restricted to five minutes on the hour. Maggie had taken the first few turns at Walter Skinner's insistence and had found Dana alternately holding Fox's hand or resting her head on his arm. Skinner had taken the last turn at 8 am. When he returned to the waiting room, his face had shown a glimmer of hope for the first time since he had picked her up last night to rush off to the airport. Dana, he reported, had excitedly pointed to the heart monitor and whispered 'His heart rate has leveled off.' It was the first sign of improvement Fox had shown and she was beside herself with happiness. "Excuse me. I'm looking for Agent Dana Scully." Maggie turned toward the man who had entered the room. He held out his badge. "Detective Bronson of the Detroit Police. I was working with Agent Scully and her partner and I need to ask her some questions about the shooting." Skinner had awakened when the man began to speak. "I'm Assistant Director Walter Skinner, Agent Scully's supervisor." He stood up and walked over to shake the man's hand. "Is there something I can do for you? Agent Scully isn't available." The detective seemed acutely uncomfortable. "I guess it can wait. The killer has obviously been found. I just wanted to tie up some loose ends." He cleared his throat. "I also think I owe her and Agent Mulder an apology. Would you tell her I was here? Ask her to call me when she can." He pulled a business card from his coat pocket and handed it to Skinner. "I'll tell her you were here." Bronson nodded to Maggie and nearly ran from the room. They looked at each other for a moment. "What was he talking about?" Maggie asked. Skinner explained the case to her briefly, a bit of guilt creeping into the narrative. He couldn't help wondering whether the disconnect he had witnessed in his office might have had something to do with what had happened. A momentary loss of communication in a dangerous situation could prove fatal. It was bothering him that he had sent them into this knowing there was something wrong between them and he mentioned his concern to Mrs. Scully. "Mr. Skinner, you can't blame yourself for this." "Sending them on this assignment without being confident of their ability to work as a team was a mistake." He looked toward the ICU entrance. "I hope we all get the chance to rectify it." "Thank you for telling me, Mr. Skinner." She looked up at the clock. It was nearly time for her to go in to see them. "I'll try to talk to her." *** Dana Scully felt a hand gently shaking her shoulder and jerked awake. Her eyes immediately flew to the monitors, then to Mulder's face before she turned to see her mother looking at her with concern. "Honey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." "It's okay, Mom. I'm a little jumpy, I guess. What time is it?" "Just after 9. I was hoping I could talk you into coming down to the cafeteria with me. We won't be gone more than twenty minutes." Maggie touched her daughter's tear-stained cheek. She must have been crying in her sleep. "You need a break, sweetheart." "I can't leave him, Mom." She reached up to touch his face. "If he wakes up and I'm not here...." "Dana, he isn't going to wake up this soon, you know that." It was true. His EEG showed no sign that he was coming out of the coma. And his heart rate had been stable for over an hour. He would be okay for a while without her. "Only if Skinner can come in here to sit with him while we're gone." "I'm sure that can be arranged." *** Hospital Cafeteria 9:15 am The nurses had been more than accommodating. Not only had they allowed Skinner to take her place, they had given her a beeper that would be activated immediately should anything change. It was sitting on the table between them now, thankfully silent. "How do you feel, Dana?" Maggie had selected a danish and coffee. She had managed to talk her daughter into some wheat toast and a glass of orange juice, but both sat untouched on the table in front of her. "Better, now that you're here. How did that happen, by the way? I didn't think about it until a little while ago." "Mr. Skinner called me last night, right after he got the news. He had us flown here in a Bureau helicopter after he found that there were no flights scheduled soon enough. He really does care about both of you. I hope you know that." "Yes, Mom. I do." She could remember a time when that was definitely not the case, but she felt much more secure in his friendship now. There would always be a small doubt in the back of her mind, however. A little healthy paranoia never hurt anybody. The thought brought a faint smile to her face. "He told me about the meeting you and Fox had with him yesterday morning, when he gave you this case. He felt there was something wrong and regrets not having asked about it before he let you go." Scully could feel the flush in her face and looked down at her hands. "I was hoping he hadn't noticed that." There was *no* way she was going to tell her mother what Mulder and she had been at odds over. "It was a personal issue. We had been discussing it just prior to our meeting and I guess some tension must have carried over." "I think he's afraid that he put you both in the position of having an unresolved issue between you at a very bad time." "Mom, that's..." The sound of the beeper going off shot through her like an electric charge, driving all rational thought from her head. Her eyes, wide with shock, met her mother's for a breathless moment before she leapt from her seat and bolted for the elevators. *** The trip between the first and fourth floors took an eternity during which she alternated between threatening God and pleading with him for Mulder's life. When the doors finally opened, she sprinted desperately for the ICU, rounded a corner and slammed directly into AD Skinner's chest. "Scully, he's fine!" He held her firmly by the shoulders and looked directly into her eyes. "He's fine. I knew you would think the worst. I was on my way down to get you." He watched as she calmed slightly, breathless panic giving way to relief. "Thank God." She closed her eyes for a moment and breathed deeply. "Why did they page me? What's happened?" Skinner's smile was huge. "He's awake." *** Scully burst into the ICU to find Lassiter and a nurse conferring at the foot of Mulder's bed, totally blocking her view of him. They both looked in her direction and smiled. "Miss Scully, there's someone here who wants to see you." Dr. Lassiter stepped back as he spoke, and Scully found herself looking straight into Mulder's sleepy eyes. The respirator was gone and with the head of bed elevated, he was partially sitting up. It was an amazing sight. "Scully." Barely more than a raspy whisper, but it was the sweetest sound she had ever heard. The intensity of her reaction must have showed on her face because both Skinner and the doctor reached out to steady her. She shook them off gently. "I'm okay." But by the time she reached Mulder's bedside, her eyes were full of tears and her hands were trembling. "Hey, Mulder," she whispered in a voice not much stronger than his. She sat very carefully down on the edge of his bed and held his left hand in both of hers. "You have to stop doing this..." She brushed his cheek with her fingertips. She couldn't get enough of looking at him, touching him. Keeping his eyes even half open was taking all his concentration. There was something he wanted to tell her but he couldn't seem to string the thoughts together long enough to form the words. "Sorry...scared me, too....tired.." "Everything's okay now. You need to rest.." She squeezed his hand gently. "I'll be right here." She eased from the bed to the chair without releasing his hand and sat quietly, afraid to close her eyes for fear he would slip away. *** Detroit Receiving Hospital Cafeteria April 11 5:46 pm All three of them were exhausted, emotionally as well as physically. Maggie had managed to coax her daughter to the cafeteria and forced a few bites of salad into her by appealing to her sense of duty to Mulder. He would need her at her best when he woke fully, which Dr. Lassiter predicted would take place later tonight. Dana had eaten as much as she could, then reluctantly agreed to get a few hours sleep after her mother had promised to wake her if anything changed with Mulder's condition. Walter Skinner sat across the table from Maggie, head bowed, hands spread out before him. He looked ready to collapse. "Mr. Skinner..." she began. He looked up and smiled. "I think we can dispense with the formalities at this point, don't you?" Her worry lines relaxed into a gentle smile. "Walter, then. I want you to know how much Dana and I appreciate everything you've done. I've never seen her like this. If she'd had to deal with this alone, I just don't know..." She trailed off and looked away, eyes bright with tears. "It's the least I could do. I owe both of them my life several times over." His gaze was unfocused for a moment and his thoughts seemed to be somewhere else. An emotion she couldn't identify - sadness? regret? - flashed briefly across his face. "I haven't always been able to do as much as I wanted." He cleared his throat and returned his gaze to her. "How is Dana doing?" "We were just beginning to talk when the pager went off.." She paled at the memory. "I never want to see that look on her face again. Or on his either. I spent a lot of time with him those three months that Dana was missing and I know I don't have to tell you that it nearly killed him." "I was about to put him on medical leave when she was found. Then he tried to resign from the FBI while she was in the hospital, before she woke from the coma." "But you didn't let him do it. He told me that you had put yourself in danger to help him find the man he thought was responsible for what happened to Dana." She reached across the table to touch his hand. "You've been a great friend to both of them, Walter." He shifted awkwardly, not from her touch but because of her words. "I'm not sure they would agree with you." "They know you've always done what you could. Just continue to be a friend. The rest is up to them." *** Detroit Receiving Hospital ICU April 11 8:22 pm Twenty four hours ago she had held his lifeless body in her arms, this man who was being helped back into bed after a five minute stint sitting up in a chair by his bed. Dr. Lassiter was right. Mulder's recovery was nothing short of miraculous. "For my next trick...." His voice was stronger but the breathlessness was still there and would be for some time, she knew. He settled gratefully back against the pillows as the nurse rearranged the numerous lead wires connecting him to the monitors. "I guess I forget how much work sitting up can be." His voice was raspy from the respirator's residual effects, but still music to her ears. "Hey, any six month old baby can do it, Mulder. You're just out of practice." He caught himself mid-chuckle when the pain lanced across his chest. "Please, no humor." "I'm sorry, Mulder. Reflex, I guess. Are you all right?" "I'm okay, all things considered." His expression turned serious. "From what the doctor told me, feeling *anything* is a gift." The look that came over her face made his throat tighten. Her voice was suddenly thick with emotion. "Everything happened so fast... You weren't even breathing when they took you to surgery..." Her eyes were clouded with tears and remembered pain. "We don't have to talk about this now. " He reached for her hand, eyes soft with regret. "I'm so sorry for putting you through this again." "No, Mulder. We can't keep pushing it aside until the next time. Someday there won't be a next time." One tear broke free and slid silently down her cheek. "I can't go on like this. Not any more. " "How's my favorite odds-beater?" Lassiter had approached them unnoticed and Scully swiped quickly at her eyes before turning to face him. "He just got back into bed." Her voice was soft but steady. "Yeah, I've got a charly horse from patting myself on the back." The concerned look he shot in Scully's direction wasn't lost on his doctor. "I've got you set up for a private room in the step down unit. They should be coming to get you shortly." He turned his attention to Scully. "And you, Dr. Scully, need to get out of here for a few hours. Go back to your hotel and take a nice hot bath. Get some rest. We'll take good care of him. You'll have all the time in the world to talk later." He couldn't identify the look that passed between his patient and the young woman. "Yeah, Scully. Go get some rest. I'll be fine." They were joined by her mother and their boss who had heard the doctor's advice. "I agree. Dana, I can go back with you to your hotel and get rooms for Mr. Skinner and myself while you get some rest." "Don't be silly, Mom. You can stay with me, I have two double beds." She looked over at Mulder who read her correctly and jumped in. "And AD Skinner can have my room. I don't think I'll be using it for awhile." He was tiring very quickly and really wanted them to let him rest. It was also time for his pain shot. A little past time, judging by the steadily increasing throb in his chest. "Then it's settled. I'll stay here with Mulder. Just take your time." He and Maggie exchanged a look that Scully couldn't interpret. "We'll be fine." "He'll be in the step down unit when you come back. The nurses will have the room number." Lassiter patted his favorite patient's knee. "You're doing incredibly well, Mr. Mulder. I couldn't be more pleased." "Or astonished," Mulder added with a small grin. "Well, that too." He smiled faintly at his patient, nodded to the others then headed off to complete his rounds. Skinner motioned for Scully to get up. When she did, he took her seat with an air of determination. "Now go, Agent. That's an order." "Mulder, are you sure you're okay?" The thought of leaving him, even for a few hours, terrified her. She could see the pain in his eyes. "It's time for your shot." "Go, Scully. I'll take care of it." Skinner was not going to let up. "Okay." She was really too tired to fight them on this. "Promise you'll call me if you need anything, Mulder." "I'll be fine. Go with your mom." He really did want her to go. All he wanted was a pain shot and to sleep for a week. Wait. Poor choice of words. "Go," he repeated. She took his hand and squeezed gently. "I'll see you in a few hours." *** Marriott Renaissance Center Room 2212 9:15 pm Maggie had showered first while her daughter ordered a light supper for them. When it was her turn in the shower, Scully stood under the pulsing stream of hot water for a long time, letting the tears do what they wanted. No one could hear her wracking sobs and she gave herself over to them. When she joined her mother half an hour later, the grief and fear that had filled her for the past twenty-four hours were purged, leaving her feeling light and hollow. They ate their salads at the table by the window where Mulder had sat last night before they left for the mission. It seemed like a lifetime ago. "Sweetheart, how do you feel?" "I'm fine, Mom. Really. Just tired and wrung out." She managed a genuine smile. "You have to be exhausted, too." "I've had several hours sleep and I haven't been through the emotional battering you have. I'm okay." She considered her daughter for several moments and decided the best approach was to be direct. "How much longer are you going to wait to tell Fox that you're in love with him?" Scully was speechless for a full minute. It was totally out of character for her mother to ask such a question. "Mom, what Mulder and I feel for each other is very complex. I'm not sure I can explain it to you, or if I should even try." "I know how you value your privacy and independence. You get that from your father. Unfortunately, you also share his greatest weakness. He loved his family more than his own life but it just wasn't in him to talk about it. He thought it was more important to be strong for us and he saw showing emotion as weak." "Mom, we knew he loved us." "Yes, of course you did. But that's not the same as feeling it-- having it lavished on you." She took her daughter's hands in hers and studied her face for a long moment. "It's not the same as hearing the words. I know your father loved me as much as I loved him, but I ached to hear him say it. I understood why he wasn't able to, but that didn't make it hurt any less." Dana was silent, looking at the lights across the river. When she turned back to her mother, there were tears glistening on her lower lashes."Mom, it doesn't matter how I feel. Mulder and I have a professional relationship that is very important to both of us. Our work if our life. That's the way it's been for a long time and that's the way it will always be. Nothing more than that is possible." "I don't understand, Dana. You don't want it to be more or you don't think it *can* be more?" "Mulder is my best friend and I'm his. We complete each other in ways that most married couples wouldn't even understand. I won't do anything to jeopardize that friendship." "You think telling him how you feel would do that? Why?" Scully rose from her chair and began to slowly pace, arms crossed over her chest. "I don't want to scare you, Mom. That's why I don't discuss my work with you. But you have to understand that there are dangerous people out there who would become a much greater threat if Mulder and I were to become involved in a personal relationship. We can't take the risk." "Sweetheart, I'm not as naive as you seem to think. I understand the danger you both face, probably more than you realize. But I also know that life is much shorter than any of us is prepared to accept. You and Fox were reminded of that yesterday." Maggie crossed to her daughter and grasped her gently by the shoulders. "If Fox had died, would you have had any regrets?" The look that came over her daughter's face broke her heart. "Mom, I can't talk about this right now." Her voice was tight with pain. "Please let it go." "I can't watch you doing this to yourself any longer, Dana. If Fox had died, you would never have forgiven yourself for what was left unsaid. This is hurting both of you more than whatever you think your enemies might do if they found out. Please promise me you'll talk to him. Now. Before it's too late." Dana met her mother's gaze and squared her shoulders. "I promise I'll think about it." *** Detroit Receiving Hospital Room 318 9:52 pm Mulder had been sleeping since shortly after they settled him into the step down unit and his boss had spent the time wrestling with his guilt. Not just over this latest situation, but over what he saw as a long series of small betrayals, all of which he was certain his agents had recognized. That they knew the cause, for the most part, changed nothing. The two people he felt closest to in his life could not trust him which made his current strategy all the more difficult to carry out. Mulder stirred and said something very softly that sounded like his partner's name. Skinner reached over and stroked his arm soothingly until he settled, thinking again about the shooting and what part their seeming difficulty with each other must have played in it. Skinner had learned the hard way to avoid personal relationships and the emotional baggage they inevitably created. Beginning with his experience in Viet Nam and the ambush he had told Mulder about, it had been demonstrated to him in painful detail how high a price was attached to caring too much. He was concerned that the only two people he had allowed to get close to him were in danger of learning the same lesson. He had decided over the past few hours that he had two options: get the two of them to deal with whatever was coming between them or transfer Scully to another division. Mulder began to stir restlessly again. After a few minutes, he opened his eyes and looked directly at his boss. "What time is it?" His voice was stronger but carried a definite undercurrent that Skinner recognized as pain. "Nearly 10:00. You've been asleep for a little over an hour. Do you want me to get the nurse? Do you need a pain shot?" He was halfway to the door as he spoke, but Mulder stopped him. "No, Sir. I'm all right for now." He pressed the button on the bedrail panel and raised the head of the bed to a sitting position. "I could use some water, though." Skinner filled the cup and held the straw for him while he drank. "Thanks. Where's Scully?" His boss reminded him that they had gone back to the hotel for a few hours. "Oh, that's right. I guess I'm a little fuzzy." He turned his face toward the window for a few minutes and Skinner thought he had fallen asleep until he turned back and spoke. "I don't think I've thanked you for everything you've done. Bringing Scully's mom to be here with her. Being here yourself." "It's the least I could do, Mulder." To ease my guilty conscience, he added to himself. "How is Scully, Sir?" "She's better than she was. You scared her pretty badly this time, Mulder. You scared all of us." "I scared myself pretty badly, too." He smiled wryly. "It wasn't intentional, I can tell you that." "I wonder." Mulder's face went blank with shock for an instant. "What do you mean? You wonder about what?" "Mulder, how many times in your career have you ever called for back up in a situation like that? I was just wondering why you would do it this time." "I had interviewed the suspect earlier in the day and knew he had maneuvering room in the apartment. I didn't know where he would be with the victim. It was a gut feeling that turned out to be a good one. From what the doctor said, if the paramedics hadn't already been on their way when I was shot, I wouldn't be here to wonder about it." "And you asked your partner to call for backup rather than have her enter the apartment with you?" "I don't understand what you're asking me." This was starting to feel like an OPR hearing and he was scrambling to figure out why. Skinner didn't like the agitation Mulder was demonstrating at this line of questioning, both because it might indicate his suspicions were correct and because it couldn't be good for him at his point. "Mulder, I want you to settle down. We can talk about this later." "No, I want to know what went on while I was out that would make you think what you're obviously thinking." "Mr. Mulder, are you feeling all right?" Apparently the monitor readings at the central console had alarmed the nurses enough to bring one down to check things out. She looked her patient over carefully, noting the elevated heart rate and blood pressure. "I want you to try to relax, Mr. Mulder. Is there anything wrong?" She cast a suspicious eye in Skinner's direction. "I'm fine. Really. We were just talking about the case and I guess I got a little....intense." He flashed her a smile. "I'll take it easy, I promise." The readings were already nearly back to normal and his smile had had its usual effect. "Please do, Mr. Mulder." She turned to Skinner. "No more shop talk." With that, she was gone. As soon as her back was turned, the smile disappeared. He resumed in a slightly more controlled tone. "I want to know what happened while I was out." "It isn't what happened while you were unconscious, it's what I observed in my office before you left that has me concerned. I want to know if that had anything to do with what happened to you." Mulder was quiet for several moments while his foggy brain tried to piece together what his boss was saying. As the implication took shape, he could feel the flush rising in his face. "Sir, you can't think that Scully is in any way responsible...." "Mulder, I don't know what to think. I only know that you've both been behaving very uncharacteristically and I won't allow you to continue as partners unless I'm convinced that you can do so without unnecessary risk to either of you." Mulder suddenly sounded as if he had been kicked in the stomach. "Sir, why are you doing this?" "Because I believe that the tension between you is in danger of getting one or both of you killed and it's my job to put a stop to it. If you can't talk to one another and get this resolved, you will leave me no choice but to separate you." He let that sink in for a moment. "I don't want to do that, and I won't unless I believe it's the only alternative. At the moment, it is." This time the nurse was accompanied by Dr. Lassiter who happened to be on the floor doing his rounds. His concern was evident as he checked his patient's vitals. The thing that had weighed most heavily against Mulder's recovery in the initial stages was his erratic heart rate, and it was back. "What's been going on in here?" His anger was barely under control and it was directed at the patient's only visitor who was just now realizing that he may have pushed too hard. Mulder was paler than he had been since he came out of surgery and his pulse, although not as seriously out of sync as it had been, was definitely a concern. It was hard to say whether the pain on his face was physical or a result of Skinner's tirade but Lassiter checked the chart and gave him another injection hoping it would help his heart rate level out again. Skinner finally responded to the doctor's question, his own heart pounding with worry. "We were talking. I think I may have said too much." The doctor shot him a look that spoke volumes."I would say that is a safe assumption. What the hell were you thinking?" He turned back to his patient. " Mr. Mulder, how do you feel?" "Just 'Mulder', please. I'm okay. It isn't his fault, I just overreacted." His color was improving slowly. Scully and her mother chose this moment to appear. One look at the concern on the doctor's face and Scully's heart was in overdrive once again. "My God, what happened?" She was at Mulder's side in an instant, gripping his hand with a strength born of panic. "Mulder, what's wrong?" "I'm fine. Please everybody, just relax." He was doing his best to smile for Scully's benefit. The pain in his chest was easing up but it still scared him. "We were talking and I overreacted, that's all," he repeated. Lassiter's eyes were on the heart monitor, his fingers gripping Mulder's right wrist. "Your heart rate is leveling off." He turned to his patient and gave him a stern look. "I don't want to see you back in ICU but that's where you're headed if you pull this again." He relaxed his grip on Mulder's wrist and forced a smile. "Don't go undermining my newfound belief in miracles, Mulder." He turned to the three visitors. "I think we need to restrict visitors to one at a time for awhile." Looking squarely at Skinner who seemed to have shrunk, "I would recommend that Miss Scully be the only visitor for the remainder of the evening." "I'm sorry, Mulder." Skinner was nearly as pale as Mulder had been earlier. He rose from his chair and headed for the door, picking up Maggie Scully on the way. "It's okay, Sir. It wasn't your fault." Scully looked from Mulder to Skinner, her eyes narrowing in speculation. "I'll stay with him. Why don't the two of you go get some rest?" She turned her attention back to Mulder. He really did look better. "We'll be fine." "We'll head back to the hotel. Call if you need anything." Skinner touched Maggie Scully's arm and led her from the room. Dr. Lassiter was waiting for them in the hall. "Mr. Skinner, what in hell were you doing?" His arms were folded across his chest, his expression grim. "When I saw the monitor readings at the nurses' station I expected him to be in arrest by the time I got to the room. Couldn't you see that you were upsetting him? Or was it your intention to kill the man?" Skinner ignored the question. "Is he all right?" "No thanks to you, yes he appears to be. I was serious about putting him back in ICU, however. One more episode and that's where he'll be." He added ominously, "If he survives it." "There will be no more episodes." Skinner had no intention of approaching this obviously tender topic again until Mulder was out of danger. Maggie spoke for the first time. "We'll be at the hotel if anything happens. The number is at the nurses' station. And thank you, doctor. For everything." When they were out of earshot, Maggie turned to the AD, her tone laced with worry, "Walter, what were you two talking about?" Skinner removed his glasses and scrubbed his hand over his face. "I asked him what happened. He thought I was implying that Scully was somehow to blame and it upset him." Her warmth cooled noticeably. "I don't blame him for being upset. Is that what you think?" "I don't think either of them would knowingly put the other in harm's way, of course not." He touched her arm reassuringly. "But it's my responsibility to field only viable teams. I'm not convinced that Mulder and Scully still fit that requirement." Maggie was stunned into a silence that held all the way back to the hotel. *** Detroit Receiving Hospital Room 318 April 12, 2000 8:14 am The pain shot combined with whatever had gone on between him and Skinner had Mulder sound asleep less than five minutes after they were alone, and Scully had joined him a short time later, head resting on the bed next to his hand. They had both slept through the night. Scully began to stir first, wakened by the protests of her back muscles held too long in the same awkward position. She stretched carefully and sat back in her chair. Mulder was still sleeping although the slight frown that creased his features told her he would be waking soon for his pain shot. Despite what she had told her mother in that astonishing conversation, she did want to move things forward with Mulder. It was just her misfortune that she may have waited too long to make that decision. He no longer seemed interested. The tears she had shed in the shower were as much for that awful possibility as they had been for the grief she had felt at his near death. She let her gaze rest on his face, his lashes laying softly against the dark circles under his eyes. The love and heartache swelled equally in her chest until she could barely breathe. 'He died in my arms...' He moaned softly and winced, then opened his eyes slowly to meet her gaze. "Scully..." The pain in his voice made her reach for the call button as she spoke, "I'll get the nurse, Mulder. Hold on." She stood next to him and brushed her fingers soothingly through his hair while the nurse brought the injection, continued comforting him until he began to calm. After a few minutes, the pain lines relaxed and his eyes sought hers again. "Hey, Scully." "Hey, yourself. You haven't had a full night's sleep like that in a long time. How do you feel?" Her voice was soft with the love she was willing him to see in her eyes. "Better than I did a few minutes ago. A little foggy. How about you?" "A little foggy, too." She smiled. "You sure know how to get my adrenaline going, Mulder. It's been an interesting couple of days." "How was the woman?" She knew who he meant, of course. "She seemed okay, from what I saw. Honestly, I haven't thought to check. Detective Bronson stopped by here the next morning but I didn't see him. I can call him later this morning and find out." "I killed him." His expression was far away. "If you hadn't, I would have." She had to consciously hold down the sudden fury at the thought of what the man had almost taken from her. His gaze met hers again, his expression odd. He seemed to be choosing his words. "What is it, Mulder?" "Why would you have killed him, Scully?" The question surprised her as did the sudden tears that filled her eyes. She struggled with her voice for a long moment. It came out barely above a whisper, full of the emotion she had felt as she held him in her arms that night. "Because he killed you." "Scully... don't...." His voice was as strained as hers. "I'm okay." "No, I want to tell you. Please." Her eyes were closed, reliving the horrible minutes after she realized his heart had stopped. She felt his hand take hers. "Mulder, you died in my arms. I felt your heart stop. At that moment, nothing else mattered. I couldn't move, couldn't think...." She was crying softly now. "Scully, please..." This is exactly what he had feared. On the heels of her strange behavior the other night, he had frightened her badly by nearly dying. Now she seemed ready to make some kind of commitment under the most extreme duress imaginable. He couldn't allow it. "Scully, I need you to listen to me. Please." "No, Mulder. I have to say this." She fought for control. "I didn't know what to do. I think I started CPR but I'm not sure. The next thing I remember is the paramedics shocking you with the defibrillator. There was no sound. Nothing." She looked down at their joined hands. "I prayed, Mulder. I begged, I pleaded for God to give you back to me." She pulled in a hitching breath. "And then I realized God couldn't give you back to me... because you were never mine." He was desperate to stop what he knew was coming and reached out to touch her face, "Scully, STOP!" The sudden strength in his voice surprised her. She looked up at him, silently pleading with him not to say what she could see in his eyes. He slowed his breathing, trying to calm both of them. "I can't let you say any more. Not under the circumstances. No more deathbed declarations, Scully. It's not fair to either of us." He took her hand again and squeezed gently. "I know this scared the hell out of you, but isn't any of this sounding familiar? Haven't we been in this position too many times?" "Mulder, it isn't what you think..." "Yes, it's exactly what I think. When we thought *you* were going to die, you let me in. When you think *I'm* going to die, you let me in. When the crisis passes, it's back to the same old routine." He took back his hand and pressed gently against his chest for a moment, closing his eyes. "Mulder, are you all right?" "Yes, I'm fine," a little impatiently. "Just give me minute." When he continued, his voice was softer. "It says a lot about our relationship that it invariably takes the impetus of a near death experience to bring you closer than arm's length." He held up a hand to stop her from interrupting. "What happened last fall is a pretty good example, don't you think? How long did that closeness last, Scully? What made you pull away from me again?" How could she possibly make him understand what she couldn't explain to herself? How could she expect him to believe her this time, after what he accurately described as having happened every time before? "Mulder, everything you're feeling is my fault and I would give anything to be able to change it. If you don't want to let me try, I understand, but you can't ask me to stop loving you." He looked as if she had punched him and his voice was strained. "Don't do this. Please." "Mulder, I don't care any more about why we've held back from each other. The reasons don't have to matter if we don't let them.." She touched his face to bring his gaze to hers. "I don't care about anything except being with you and making up for the time I've wasted." He was silent for a long moment. "Scully, you know I've loved you for a long time. I'm not trying to make you feel responsible for the fact that we've never been able to get closer. Whatever it is that keeps us apart is going to continue to do so, and we both know it." His eyes were breaking her heart. "Loving each other just doesn't make up for everything else we've been through. I don't think anything can." The power of habit was so strong that her walls were swiftly reforming despite all of her intentions. She got up quickly from her chair and walked to the windows, stood with her profile to him while the silence stretched between them for several minutes. On the upper parking deck just outside his window, she watched a car search for a space, find it. Watched the driver practically skip toward the stairwell door, carrying a huge mylar balloon with "I love you!" printed boldly across it. 'Maybe I should have tried putting it in writing.' she thought sadly. Then she remembered her journal and turned quickly to face him. "Mulder, I'll be back in a little while." She left without waiting for his reply. Mulder stared blankly at the door for a long time after she had gone. That was it, then. He could see her pulling away from him again in the minutes before she left. It gave him no pleasure to be proven right so quickly. He turned his head toward the window but the sunshine streaming in hurt his eyes, so he closed them and willed himself to sleep. *** Detroit Renaissance Center Hotel Room 2212 9:00 am Scully pounded frantically on the door to her room until her mother pulled it open, eyes wide with fear. "What's wrong?!" She brushed past her into the room, pulled her suitcase from the closet, reached into the front pocket and came up with a slim leather bound volume. "Nothing's wrong, Mom. I just needed to get this." She took a deep, calming breath and smiled at her mother. "Please don't worry. I'm taking your advice." She squeezed her mother's arm reassuringly. "Everything will be okay," hoping with everything she had that it was true, she crossed to the door and was gone. Walter Skinner appeared at the connecting door in dress pants and undershirt. He had been in the process of getting ready to return to the hospital when he heard the commotion next door. "What's going on?" Maggie turned to look at him, the beginnings of a smile easing the worry lines around her eyes. "I'm not sure, but I think we need to postpone our visit for awhile." *** Detroit Receiving Hospital Room 318 10:50 am Mulder woke to the overly perky voice of the nurse he had come to think of as 'Fluffy' because her generous silhouette and poufy blonde hair. Her assignment seemed to have followed him from ICU to the step down unit and they were like old friends. "How are we doing this morning? It's such a beautiful day!" She straightened his pillow and was beginning to pull the top sheet up when she noticed the book laying at his side. "Doing some reading, Mr. Mulder?" She picked up the leather volume and held it up in front of him. "Look, there's a note taped to the front, addressed to you." He recognized Scully's handwriting immediately and took the book from her hand. "Did you see anyone here earlier?" The note was folded and had his name written neatly across it. "Yes, I did. Your partner was here about half an hour ago for just a few minutes. She asked me to tell you that she'll be back at the hotel if you need her." Her hand was on his wrist performing the routine checks. "Would you like me to call her?" "No!" She looked startled by his tone and he softened it before continuing. "No, thank you. I'll call her myself." He wanted her to get out of the room so he could see what was in the note. After a few minutes she did, and he pulled the note from the book and read: 'Hey, Mulder - I know this looks pretty cowardly, but I didn't want to sit here watching you read. Not because I was afraid to see your reaction but because I didn't want you to feel you had to sit there stone faced while you read my journal. You may find some of it hard to believe but I want you to know that I've never been more honest in my life. You're welcome to read any part you want, but the last entry is where I want you to start because I think it might help explain the rest. Please believe this if nothing else. No matter how this ends, I will never regret a second of the time we've been together. S' He carefully refolded the note and laid it on the bed beside him, taking a moment to steel himself against what he was about to read. But did he have to read it? Wasn't it obvious that she would have written more of what she was trying to tell him earlier? He closed his eyes and pictured her face just a couple of hours ago, when she had been trying to make him believe her. He realized it was a good thing she wasn't going to be here to see his face while he read. She wasn't going to like what she saw. He picked up the journal, turned to the last entry and began to read: 'Monday, April 10, 2000 Dear Mulder, I haven't begun any other entry with that greeting although I've always known who I was addressing these thoughts to. This one is different, though, because I have a feeling that you will someday read it. Regardless, every entry in this journal is either to you or about you, just like my life has been for a very long time. 'You have never known how important you are to me, and that's my fault. I've spent the better part of the last seven years making sure you *didn't* know. I need to tell you why. I don't think you can understand what it's like to be a woman in a male-dominated institution like the FBI. Emotions are a liability and showing them is fatal. By the time you and I became partners, I had spent two years perfecting my icy facade. I did an excellent job of keeping my feelings to myself, so much so that at times I kept them *from* myself. I even managed to make myself believe that I didn't feel anything more for you than friendship. Why did I feel the need to hide myself from you? The truth is, I felt so much for you that it terrified me. It still does, in a way. Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to watch you take the risks you do? I live each day with the knowledge that I could lose you at any moment. That's true for everyone, of course, but your track record makes you a more likely candidate for sudden death than the average person. It's compounded by your seeming lack of concern for yourself, and it breaks my heart every time you show how little value you place on your own life. There's no life on this planet, or anywhere else, that I value more. It infuriates me that you hold yourself in such low regard and I would do anything to change that about you. I know how hard this must be for you. Despite everything, I know you love me and you don't want to hurt me. But there's a limit to anyone's patience and I'm terrified that I may have finally pushed you past it. While you've always been there for me with nothing held back, I've doled out my support in careful, measured doses. Just enough to keep you alive, but no more. The only times I've allowed my guard to drop even slightly have been when you were sick or hurt enough that you might actually die. Even at those terrible times, knowing I might never have another chance to tell you, I held back. If you had died, I would never have forgiven myself. But you always forgave me. Every time you came back from the edge, I would thank God for another chance, promising myself that I would make the most of it. But I never did. Two days ago, we reached a new low. When I think of the way I treated you, I feel sick. It's ironic that while I wouldn't think twice about reaming out anyone else who dared to talk to you that way, I seem to feel it's my sacred duty to 'keep you in line'. You've only taken me to task for it once that I can recall. When you were telling me that you believed the Brown Mountain lights might be related to the Schiffs' disappearance, I gave you my pat, scientific explanation and asked if you ever planned to look for the simplest explanation first, just for the novelty of it. Your frown warned me that this was one jab too many. Then you let me have it and I was stunned. You made me wonder if my role as devil's advocate might not have become a thoughtless reflex.. It was honestly the first time it had occurred to me. I know you have serious reservations about the things I told you last night. With what you know about me, I can't expect you to accept this seemingly overnight conversion. What you don't know, because I've done such a good job keeping it from you, is that this has been in the works for over a year. The incident I mentioned a moment ago, when you correctly pointed out that I owed you the benefit of the doubt? That was the beginning.. What followed nearly cost us our lives but we gained something you never knew about. Sharing hallucinations with you, Mulder, was horrifying and exhilarating at the same time. I identified your remains and attended your wake and lived for a day with the certainty that you were forever beyond my reach. Maybe it was the drug that intensified the sensations, but it was more real, more awful, than any of your real life brushes with death. What was wonderful about it all, though, was that I began to experience the events as *you* do. And I saw you seeing things through *my* eyes as well: doubting what you saw just as I've always done. I firmly believe that we survived solely because we were able to 'switch roles'. That's what saved us, Mulder, and it can save us now.' You've always been willing to experience your emotions, to allow others to see them. In that area too, we are very different. While you were in England, I relived a period of my life that I had buried so deeply that it no longer seemed real. You listened to me last night as I told you about it, but I don't think you understood what I was trying to say. My vision in the Buddhist temple was, in a sense, like the hallucination we shared a year ago. I saw myself through your eyes for the second time, and this time I could feel what you feel. Suddenly I understood myself in a way I would never have been able to without you. The part of the puzzle that you have missed in assessing my 'conversion' is *you*. I don't expect you to accept what I'm telling you without proof.. You see, I *have* rubbed off on you just a bit. The last year has changed me, Mulder. Oh, there have been some glaring lapses along the way. I guess I had to reach the lowest point before any real change was possible. That happened the day you left for England. Am I too late to change your mind? I know that you will be honest with me, no matter how much it might hurt. If you tell me that there is nothing left for us beyond what we have now, I will accept your decision. You may not believe this, but you've always been the strength of this relationship, such as I've allowed it to be. I respect and admire you more than you can possibly know and I will always treasure our friendship. If that's all you can offer me, I accept. But my heart will always be yours, Fox Mulder.' It was signed "S". He closed the book and rested his hands on the cover for a long time, staring through his window at the early spring sky. ... a time for beginnings... He wanted so badly to believe, she couldn't possibly know how much. Skinner was right, they were putting themselves in considerable danger living this way. It was time to make a change *** Detroit Renaissance Center Hotel Room 2212 12:34 pm Maggie had been very surprised and a bit alarmed to see her daughter return so quickly. Dana had come back less than half an hour after she left, changed into her sweats, announced that she was heading for the hotel's gym and bolted from the room. She had returned twenty minutes ago and disappeared into the shower without a word.. Whatever had happened between her daughter and Fox hadn't taken very long, that much was certain. Worry furrowing her brow, she went to the bathroom door and raised her hand to knock just as the door opened. "Mom! You startled me." Dana, fully dressed in jeans and sweatshirt, was clutching her chest in surprise. She moved past her mother quickly and parked herself on the edge of the bed nearest the phone. "What happened to AD Skinner?" she glanced toward the closed connecting door. "He got a call from Washington and had to get back right away. I imagine he's at the airport waiting to board by now." Dana seemed very surprised. "He didn't stop to see Mulder before he left?" "Fox is out of danger, Honey. And I promised to call him with a report later today." She didn't add that she herself had asked him to bypass the hospital, thinking that Fox and her daughter would be deep in the most important conversation of their lives. "Oh. I..." The shrill sound of the phone ringing cut her off and she jumped noticeably, her face taking on the same expression of mixed hope and dread that her mother had seen in the hospital that first night. She sat motionless through three rings, then snatched up the receiver just as her mother was moving to do it herself. "Scully." Her voice was calm but Maggie could hear the depth of emotion in that single word. Her daughter sat silently with the receiver pressed to her ear for what seemed like forever but was closer to two minutes. After the first few moments, Dana had closed her eyes and Maggie had started holding her breath. Then Dana's face relaxed into the most beautiful smile her mother had ever seen and her eyes slowly opened. She looked at her mother with such hope and happiness that it took her breath away. She whispered into the receiver, so softly that Maggie could barely hear, "Yes..... yes...... I love you, too." She listened for another minute, then gently replaced the receiver, her eyes closed again. She was still for so long that her mother touched her hand. "Sweetheart?" "I'm okay, Mom. For the first time in a very long time, I'm really okay." She held both of her mother's hands in her own briefly, then stood. "I have to go to him now." "Give him my love." "I will, Mom. I will." And she nearly danced from the room, closing the door softly behind her. *** End Author's Note: Anyone up for a sequel to the sequel? Just say the word...