TITLE  Picking Up the Pieces
AUTHOR: Rachel Wilder
FEEDBACK: rachel_wilder@hotmail.com
WEB SITE: http://rachelwilder.freeservers.com
SPOILER WARNING:  Post FTF
RATING: R
CONTENT WARNING: Adult situations and minor violence.
CLASSIFICATION: S, A; MSR
SUMMARY:  Mulder and Scully's weekend get away on the Appalachian Trail
turns tragic, challenging everything about them including their
relationship and their very existence.

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on the characters and situations created by
Chris Carter, the Fox Network and Ten Thirteen Productions.  As such, the
characters named are the property of those entities and are used without
permission, although no copyright infringements are intended.  The
following work is for the distribution and entertainment of fanfic members
only.  Any further distribution of this work without the author's consent
is in violation of international law.  

THANKS:  A huge thanks goes to Jo-Ann Lassiter.  As a first-timer I
approached beta reading with great trepidation, but you made it a rewarding
and totally non-threatening experience.  This story would not have grown to
what it is today without your help!  Additional thanks to my faithful
reader and fellow writer, Tey.  Thanks to my roommate Martha for her
Appalachian Trail knowledge and for letting me borrow her dad.
 
Picking up the Pieces
November 6, 1998
Shenandoah National Park 
Near Waynesboro, VA
10 a.m.

"Mulder, whose idea of a fun get away is this?" Scully asked as she shut
the trunk of her partner's car.  When he had suggested a weekend away from
DC, it had sounded inviting to her.  Since their return from Antarctica and
reassignment Mulder had been pretty depressed.  It had been a bit of a
shock to realize that although the X-files had been reopened, other agents
would be doing the investigating.  He had acted so strangely about it.  He
wouldn't talk about, in fact he wouldn't discuss anything.  Not their near
kiss, not their experience on the ice sheet; it was like the last five
years had never even happened.  The fact that he would suggest doing
anything outside of work and the thought of a mountain cabin and a nice
relaxing tub had sounded inviting when he broached the idea of the
Appalachian mountains.  Little did she know he meant the Appalachian
mountains literally, like hiking the Appalachian trail.

"C'mon Scully, I know you live for the idea of getting back to nature," he
responded in a teasing tone as he zipped up his Goretex jacket.  At this
higher elevation it was much cooler than the weather in the Capital and
Mulder was glad he had put on a layer of thermal underwear under his jeans
and turtle neck.

"Not this far back," she muttered under her breath as she struggled to pull
her pack over the slippery material of her own jacket.

"What did you say?" he asked as he tried to assist her.  She pointedly
stepped away from him and gave him a withering glance as she finished
arranging the straps of the back pack.  

"Let's get going.  I want to get this tent set up before it gets dark," he
said, heading for the trail entrance.

"Tent?  One tent?  Isn't that in violation of some kind of ordinance?" she
asked.

"First of all, we are on a vacation so FBI protocol does not apply here.
Second, two tents to sleep in are two tents to carry.  As long as you stay
in your sleeping bag and I stay in mine, we'll do just fine, Agent Scully."
 He picked up the remaining pack.  "Quit your complaining and get those
legs moving.  You'll be having fun before you know it."

"Sure, Mulder," she responded again under her breath as she followed him
onto the trail.  Her partner moved ahead of her unaware of her mood.

After they had been hiking steadily for several hours, Mulder came to a
stop and dropped the pack off his shoulders.

"Drink of water?" he asked, offering Scully his canteen.  She reached for
it without speaking.

"I don't know what kind of Indian guide fantasy you think you're reliving,
but may I ask where this campsite is?" she asked, wiping her mouth with the
back of her hand.

"It's not much further, but before I go any further I think I'm going to
take a quick tour of the woods," he answered, leaning his pack against a
tree.  He quickly disappeared into the brush. 

Scully pulled her pack off as well and sat leaning against a nearby tree.
Once again she was reminded of the gross unfairness of the human anatomy.
She tried not to think about it.  Once they got to the campsite, maybe
there would be some kind of facilities.

"Mulder?" she said, surprised to hear footsteps behind her.  November
wasn't a terribly popular time for hiking, especially during the week, and
the trail had been quite deserted.

She turned to see a strange man staring at her.  He wasn't a big person, a
few inches shorter than Mulder with dirty blonde hair pulled back into a
ponytail.  He had a full beard that looked unkempt.  There was something
unsettling about him, something that made Scully very nervous.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"I hope so, little missy.  What've you got in those packs?" he probed in a
rather threatening tone.

Scully slowly reached into her waistband for her service weapon.  Damn!
She had planned a trip to a mountain spa, not being threatened on a
deserted section of the Appalachian trail; she had left her gun at home.

"I'm not sure what you want sir, but my friend is going to be back in a
moment," she responded in a slow and deliberate tone.  Where was Mulder?  

"Is this the friend you were looking for?" a second man, older than the
first, his brown hair streaked with gray, emerged from the woods pointing a
gun at Mulder.  Shorter than the blond man, he also had an unwashed look,
as if he had spent a significant amount of time in the mountains.  He
shoved the young man toward his partner.  

The first man bound Scully's hand tightly while the second man held his gun
on Mulder.  She mentally pleaded with Mulder to make a break for it, but
she knew he would never leave her behind.  Her captor finished with the
ropes, cutting the circulation from her hands.  She had initially
struggled, but his strength was too great and she knew further efforts
would be futile.  She tried to work the ropes against each other, but her
captor had done a good job.  

He quickly bound Mulder's hands in the same fashion.  He turned to listen
as his partner spoke again.  "I found a gun on that one, Del.  I think he's
some kind of police.  They don't give this stuff to just anybody."  He
passed Mulder's service weapon over to the younger man.

Mulder looked at Scully, trying to reassure her.

"He caught me with my pants down . . . literally," Mulder said under his
breath.

"Hey, you two, shut up," Del said.  He turned back to the older man and
they continued to confer.

"So, any great ideas?" Scully asked quietly.

"I don't suppose you packed a little heat for the trip?" Mulder responded.

"No, I didn't bring my weapon.  The question is, why did you?   I thought
this was a pleasure trip." 

"What can I say?  Old habits die hard."  Mulder looked carefully at the two
men.  "I saw an alert about two survivalists who had last been sighted in
the mountains of North Carolina.  They're suspected in a number of abortion
clinic bombings throughout the region.  I don't suppose they would have
made it this far north?"

"I remember the briefing on the case.  Well, if that's who they are I think
the prospects are getting pretty dim unless we figure something out fast,"
Scully answered, looking over at him.

"Well, we could make a run for it, but that clip is full and I don't think
my inability to shoot straight is the fault of the gun," Mulder responded
with a wry grin.

It was amazing, Scully thought.  Here they were, being held at gunpoint by
two men who quite possibly were making plans to kill them and Mulder was
making jokes.  

"Quit talking!" Del shouted at them.  He gestured with his gun toward a
small trail Scully hadn't even noticed when they had stopped earlier.  "Move!"

The two FBI agents stumbled down the narrow trail. With their hands bound
their centers of gravity were disturbed and it was difficult to keep their
balance.  Del seemed to be calling the shots.  He appeared to be in his
late 20s. Mulder assumed that this was William "Del" Delton who had
recently been named to the FBI's Ten Most Wanted list.  A vast manhunt was
being conducted for him in his native North Carolina.  There had been no
indication that he would be so far north nor working with an accomplice.
He was considered armed and dangerous, thought to be very unstable.  He was
wanted for questioning in a string of nine abortion clinic bombings
throughout the South

His partner was older, maybe in his late 40s.  He was also rough-looking
with a beard.  Mulder thought he had heard Del call the man Beau, but he
wasn't sure.  In addition to being older, Beau seemed to also not be in
very good shape.  Mulder could hear him panting as they moved along the
path.  

Finally after about an hour of hiking into the dense forest of the
Appalachian Mountains, Del gestured for the two agents to stop.  

"We'll set up here for the night.  Get your tents out."

The agents quickly set up their tent, loading their gear inside.  Del had
unbound their hands, keeping his gun trained on them the entire time they
were putting the tent up.  His oversight of not looking in their packs made
Fox wish he had packed more carefully.  Unfortunately the bags only
contained clothing and food supplies.

"Get in there and stay quiet," their captor said, gesturing with his gun.
Scully followed Mulder as he climbed into the small tent.  They quickly
settled onto the hard ground, their sleeping bags providing little padding.

"So, any ideas there, sport?" she asked quietly.

"Well, Del is known to be an avid outdoors man.  I don't know as much about
this Beau, but he must be Del's cousin, Beaufort Delaney.  He was mentioned
in the case file briefly, but there was no indication that he would be in
the wilderness with Del."

"Case file?  How much do you know about this, Mulder?" she asked, looking
more intently at him.  She had seen that look before.  "You knew about
this, didn't you?"

"Whatever do you mean, Agent Scully?" he asked, trying to keep his tone light.

"You did!  You knew about this!  How could you, Mulder?"

"How could I what?  After all the things we've seen, what we've experienced
we're monitoring investment scams!  What is that?  I guess I figured if we
caught one of the FBI's ten most wanted, they would have to let us work
where we want." 

"I can't believe you fell for that!  That whole 'catch the biggest bad guy,
write your own ticket' story is just that, a story, an urban legend.  I
thought you were smarter than that, Mulder."  She had no idea that he was
this desperate.  He wasn't the Mulder she knew, the one she had spent
nearly six years risking her life for and with.  This was a desperate man
who wasn't thinking straight.  She tried to control her anger, she would
need to have the balance of all of her faculties to get them both out of
this mess.

"I had to do something.  I couldn't just sit there anymore," Mulder said
quietly.

"Yeah, well if that was your great idea, you could have let me in on it.
Maybe instead of sitting in a tent under the watchful eye of two
psychopaths we'd actually be apprehending these two.  Did you think of that?"

"No, but I did think of the fact that about three years ago I started
wearing a second gun," Mulder responded.

"So, you have got your second gun?" she asked, her eyebrow cocked.  He
leaned down and pulled his pant leg up to expose a small hand gun securely
attached.

"I love you, Fox Mulder!" she exclaimed, kissing his forehead.  She quickly
pulled back, slightly embarrassed.  They pulled closer and quietly began
discussing their plans for an escape.

November 7, 1998
Appalachian Trail 
6:30 a.m.

"Could you loosen these for a minute?" Scully asked raising her bound hands
up.  Del had come in to wake the agents a few moments earlier.  They had
discussed their escape plans late into the night, only falling asleep after
they felt assured of a reasonable chance at success.

"I don't think so, missy," Del responded with a sneer.

"I'm feeling the call of nature; can you please . . .  " she asked again
raising her hands.  Del looked at Beau and shrugged.  Beau moved to untie
her hands.

"Just remember, missy, straight into the woods and back.  I'll have a close
eye on your partner here if anything happens to you," Del answered. 

Scully shook her hands free of the ropes.  There were visible marks where
it had bitten into her wrists.  She exchanged a glance with Mulder.  His
nod was imperceptible.

"You hurry back now, missy.  We've got big plans for you," Beau called
after her.  He and Del both laughed while Mulder looked visibly upset.
She moved quickly into the brush.  As soon as she got about 15 feet away,
she heard a commotion.  There were two quick shots and then a moment later,
a third one.  She was unable to tell if Mulder was successful in getting
away, but she started running anyway.  As difficult as it was to leave him,
she knew in her head that Del and Beau were going to kill them.  She had to
take this opportunity to get away and hope that Mulder was able to do the
same.

She had gotten about 40 yards down the trail when she heard feet behind her
and then the familiar hand at the small of her back.  She panted slightly
as the exertion and thinner air caught up with her.

"Are they behind us?" she asked, gasping slightly.

"Not too far.  I hit Beau; he might be dead, I didn't stop to check, but I
only winged Del," Mulder responded.

"What was the third shot?" she asked.

"It's just a flesh wound," was his answer.  She stopped dead and gave him a
concerned look.  

"What do you mean, a flesh wound?" she asked.  He showed her his arm.  The
bullet had just grazed his arm.  She pulled a strip of cloth from her shirt
and quickly dressed the wound.  They had to get moving.

The agents kept running while listening for feet behind them.  Mulder took
the lead as they headed deeper into the forest.  Finding their way out
would be their second problem.  Losing Del was the first problem.

They were fairly certain they had lost their captors, but they had also
lost the trail.  They would have to be more careful.  The Blue Ridge may
not be the tallest range of mountains, but they were still very isolated
and full of wildlife.

Their flight had taken them onto a path along the ridge.  It had been a wet
autumn and the ground was eroded in areas.  They moved as quickly as
possible, Mulder in the lead.  Scully looked at the hindside of her
partner.  It seemed like he was always in the lead.  She felt her
resentment growing as they moved down the path until her partner suddenly
disappeared in front of her.

The ground seemed to fall out from underneath Mulder's feet.  Before he
knew it, he was falling, first through the air and then against the
mountainside.  He grabbed out at trees and roots as he rolled further down
the hill.  Finally, after an eternity he came to a stop.

"Mulder?" he heard Scully call out.  "Mulder, where are you?"

"Scully," he called weakly.  "I'm down here, but be careful.  It's slippery
and . . ."  he couldn't continue, the fall had knocked the wind out of him
and he was finding it hard to speak.  He could hear Scully making her way
down the side of the mountain.  He gingerly moved testing for broken bones
and other injuries.  The salty taste in his mouth belied the bitten tongue
and cheek.  The ribs felt bruised, but not broken.  He moved his arms; they
seemed okay.  He moved onto his legs.  They didn't hurt, but they didn't
move either.  He concentrated again . . . nothing.  

"Mulder?  Oh god, Mulder.  What have you done this time?" Scully asked as
she knelt down beside him.

"It's bad.  I . . . Scully, I can't move my legs," Mulder said, looking at
her, his eyes filled with fear.

Scully made her best attempt to examine him without moving him.  His fall
had been stopped by a large oak tree which most likely had caused his
injury.  She would have to move him.  It was getting cold and if they
stayed here, they would die of exposure.

"Mulder, I'm going  to try to lay you down flat.  I can't tell without an
x-ray, but you probably slammed into this tree pretty hard."  She lifted
his shirt where she could already see a bruise forming.  She pulled the
shirt down and carefully lay him down on his back, working carefully to
keep his spine in alignment.  "I'm going to try not to hurt you any
further, but I've got to get you out of here somehow.  I'm going to go look
for a way out of here."

It seemed like forever until Mulder heard her come sliding back down the
hillside.  Despite Scully's admonitions, he pulled his arm up and checked
his watch.  She had been gone for almost three hours.  Where had she gone
and what had she found?  Scully reappeared with the remnants of a tarp and
two long tree limbs. 

"What is this Scully?" Mulder asked, looking at her new-found treasure with
a wary glance.

"I found a hike hut a few miles back.  The trail is about 500 feet above
us.  There was nothing else in there except some wooden bunks.  I suppose
we should try to take shelter there.  I thought I could use the tarp to
fashion some kind of litter and maybe pull you out of here."  She paused.  

"Scully, how can we. . . ."

" Mulder, we have to get up on the trail again.  The only way we're ever
going to get you out of here is to get back on the path and hope a ranger
comes along.  I'm just not sure we'll be able to get back up this incline.
I don't want to risk further injury, but I can't leave you here."

"So I'm pretty much trusting my life to a combination of MacGyver and Dr.
Quinn, Medicine Woman."  Mulder's laugh turned into a cough.

"Oh Mulder, please tell me you don't have broken ribs.  I really don't want
to have to deal with a collapsed lung too," Scully said in a
mock-exasperated tone.  She was trying to prevent him from realizing how
dire the circumstances were.  She didn't think she would be able to get him
up to the trail, and the chances his spinal cord injury wouldn't be
permanent grew slimmer every time she jostled him.

"What are you doing watching Dr. Quinn anyway?" she teased.

"Hey, a guy can't watch porn 24 hours a day," he responded in a like
manner.  "Besides, what else do you think I do on Saturday nights; stay at
home watching Cops?"

"You could try reading some literature or going to cultural events.  It's a
shame to live so close to the Kennedy Center and never go to any concerts."

"I think that chamber music is more your speed than mine," Mulder answered.
 He turned his head to watch her assemble the litter.

"Don't turn your head, Mulder!" she said sharply.  "I don't know where your
injury is; you should move as little as possible."

"So, this is probably bad, isn't it?" he asked, trying to hold his neck still.

She couldn't meet his eyes, working in silence assembling the litter.  She
pulled the laces from Mulder's boots and laced them through the holes in
the tarp.  She looked at the ancient tarp and hoped it would hold its
precious load.  She had tried to pull the wood from the built-in beds in
the hike hut, but without the proper tools there was no way to get them
apart.  

She pulled his belt off, moving him carefully so as to not injure him
further.  "We have no way of knowing what's happening until we can get out
of here and have you examined.  Let's just worry about getting out of
here," she said as she pulled the litter over.

"I'm not sure how this is going to work," she said as she laid the litter
next to him.  She carefully placed his legs on it and then, trying to keep
his spine aligned, she moved his torso.  Mulder groaned slightly from the
pain.

"I'm sorry.  Did that hurt?" Scully asked as she moved next to him.

"Just a little; don't worry.  So, now what?" he asked.

"Well, we get up this hill and then we find the trail.  I have to get you
out of here, Mulder.  You need to be in a hospital."

She used the ends of the laces to make a harness with the belt  and began
the slow process of pulling him up the side of the mountain.  It was slow
going.  The underbrush was thick and Mulder was heavy.  At some point it
was clear that adrenalin had kicked in.  Scully was determined to get her
partner up the hill, and nothing was going to stop her.

She had no idea how long it took to get back to the trail, but finally they
made it.  She laid the litter down carefully, moving back to check on her
partner.  He had passed out.  She stifled a tear as she checked his pulse
and respiration.  Despite the trauma, they remained strong.  Mulder stirred
and opened his eyes.

"Hey, we made it," he said weakly.

"Yeah, all the way up the hill.  Are you in much pain?  You passed out on
me," she asked.  

"No, not so bad," he responded.

"Liar," she retorted, reaching down to touch his forehead.  "At least you
don't seem to be running a fever.  I'm going to rest for a little bit, but
then we need to get moving.  The hut is still aways and I don't want to
move while it's dark."

Scully lay down next to Mulder.  She shivered slightly as the temperature
continued to drop.  The sweatshirt she had worn earlier under her jacket
was now draped across Mulder in an attempt to keep him warm. She closed her
eyes and tried to sleep.  The images of the day kept swimming in front of
her eyes, first Del and Beau, then Mulder at the bottom of the hill.  She
shook her head trying to clear her mind so she could sleep.

"Scully," Mulder called softly into the darkness.

"Yeah."

"It's going to be okay."

Scully laughed slightly.

"Why are you laughing?" he asked.

"Well, because we're in the middle on nowhere, you're badly injured, I'm
probably killing you just trying to get you out of here and at any minute
the two crazy lunatics who started this mess could find us and kill us,"
she responded.

"Well, that puts a damper on the beautiful night under the stars," he
answered.  "Besides, I told you, I think I killed one of them."

Scully sat up and looked at him, his face illuminated by the full moon
overhead.  "You are beyond help, Mulder.  We're seriously in trouble here
and you keep cracking jokes."

"I don't think wringing our hands is going to help us get out of this,
Scully.  So, if I want to crack a joke, I think I'm allowed.  We're going
to get out of this.  We haven't gone through everything we've gone through
to die here, like this.  I refuse to believe it."

Scully reached over and took his hand.  No other words were necessary.

Shenandoah National Forest
7:23 a.m.

Mulder awoke the next morning.  He quickly made a system-wide check of his
body.  A slight ache where the bullet had grazed his arm, dull, but steady
pain in his lower back and then nothing.  He quickly moved his mind past
it.  He would deal with it all later.  Despite her warnings, he turned his
head slightly to look for Scully.  She seemed to have disappeared.  He
turned his head back and lie there waiting.  The silence was excruciating.
Why would this be happening?  He had fought so hard for so many things and
now he was stuck out here, probably crippled for life and for what?  To
find a bomber?  To get his old job back?  Not only had he hurt himself, but
he had hurt Scully, and in many ways that was the worst part of it all.

The sounds of someone on the path broke into his self-loathing.

"Hey, I found a friend for us," he heard Scully say.  He wanted to turn his
head and see who she was talking about, but he knew she would not approve
of that movement.

Scully walked over into Mulder's line of vision.  Next to her was a
gray-haired man.  He looked like he was in his late 60s, early 70s.  He was
dressed warmly, with hiking boots and a walking stick.

"If you tell me your name is Jed, it's all over," Mulder said, looking from
his partner to the stranger.

"You said he was smart, but I had no idea he would know my name," the man
answered. 

At the look on Mulder's face, Scully was unable to answer, the laughter
that she needed so badly made it impossible for her to speak.

"Actually, the name is Dick Tucker.  My friend, Jack and I hike here on the
weekend.  We live down the mountain in Madison," the man responded.

"So, how are we going to get out of here?" Mulder asked, looking carefully
at the stranger.

"Well, my wife makes me carry a cellular phone for emergencies.  Jack has a
bad back, so we sent him back to the car where he should be able to get a
signal.  I was telling Miss Scully here that we should try to get you back
to the hike hut so search and rescue can find us and get you out of here."

"Sounds good to me," Mulder responded putting his hand up.  Scully grabbed
it in silent affirmation.  "I'd just as soon get home as soon as possible.
I hate to miss 'That 70s Show.'  That Fox network has really improved their
Sunday night programming."

Scully and Dick laughed at Mulder's attempt at lightening the mood.  They
all knew it might be a very long time before Mulder sat down to a Sunday
night of television.

The forest was too thick to bring in a vehicle to carry Mulder out, so Dick
helped Scully with the litter.  After about an hour of walking they came
into a clearing.  Another gray-haired man dressed similarly to Mr. Tucker
was waiting for them.  

"I got through to search and rescue.  They should get here in an hour or
so.  They'll chopper you out of here to Charlottesville.  The University
hospital is a good one.  They should be able to put things back together,"
the man who Mulder assumed was Jack said.

"Yeah, I'm sure they will," Mulder responded in a self-effacing tone.
Scully put her hand on his shoulder, but he remained unresponsive.  He was
getting tired and it was harder to keep up a strong front for his partner.

"It's going to be okay, Mulder," she said as she squatted down next to him.
 If she just kept saying it, maybe she would start to believe it herself.
They sat quietly until the sky filled with the sound of the helicopter
coming to airlift them out.

November 8, 1998
University of Virginia Hospital
Charlottesville, VA
6:47 p.m.

"Dana!" Maggie Scully called as she walked into the cubicle to find her
daughter, dirty and tired, but fine for the most part.  The only injuries
she had suffered in their ordeal were not visible from the outside.

"Oh Mom," the red-haired woman said, pulling her mother close into an
embrace.  She had held it together while they waited for search and rescue
and during the flight to the hospital, but now with her mother there she
couldn't help it.  The tears began to flow freely.

"What happened, baby?" her mother asked, pulling away slightly.  She
reached up to brush the tears from her daughter's face.

"It got all screwed up.  I thought he wanted to go camping, but he was
hunting.  He fell down the hill. . . ."   Her voice trailed off.  It was
too difficult to go back over that rough terrain.

"Honey, you aren't making any sense.  When they called, they said you had
been taken hostage and Fox was hurt.  Who hurt him?"

Scully was unable to answer.  Instead the tears began to flow again.  She
hung her head, unable to look up at  her mother.  Maggie Scully reached
under the auburn hair and raised Dana's face up to hers.

"I did it.  I hurt him."

Maggie tried to get a more coherent answer out of her daughter, but the
exhaustion and stress had brought her to the edge of a breakdown. 

Maggie walked into the hallway.  She had convinced Dana and the doctor that
a night of observation might be in order.  Although there hadn't been any
physical injuries, Dana had nearly been hysterical with her guilt about
Mulder's injuries.  The doctor had admitted her overnight and after a light
sedative Dana had finally fallen asleep.  Fox was still in surgery, but the
doctor had said he would let Maggie know as soon as they were done.  The
initial report was not very encouraging.  There had been nothing else
Scully could do, but her actions had probably caused further damage to her
partner.  The injury was in his mid-thoracic region and would almost
definitely cause permanent paralysis.  No one was able to say it, but they
all understood what had happened.

She sat in the chair when a familiar figure turned into the hall.  She
looked up, thankful for the support he would potentially offer.

"Assistant Director Skinner, it's good to see you again," she said as he
approached her.

"Have you heard anything about Agent Mulder?" he asked as he sat next to
her.  "How is your daughter?"

"Dana's okay, a little shook-up; they're keeping her sedated tonight.  She
was pretty upset.  Fox is much worse.  I don't understand exactly what
happened, but there was some kind of accident.  He has a spinal injury.
They aren't very hopeful."

Skinner took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.  "I was afraid it might
be bad when they said they had been airlifted out.  Have you talked to the
doctor?"

"No, he's still in surgery.  They'll come up here when they finish.  Do you
have any idea why they were out there?" Mrs. Scully asked.

"I think I have a clue," Skinner responded.  "I found the latest bulletin
about William Delton on Mulder's desk.  He was last seen in that region."

"Delton?  Isn't he the one they think has been doing those bombings?  Why
would they go after such a dangerous man by themselves?" 

"That's something we'll have to ask Scully or Mulder, but considering the
results I think we can wait for that.  I've got a team of men going through
that area right now.  If what Scully said was true and I'm sure it is,
we'll find them," the assistant director responded.  Despite her concern
for her partner, Scully had managed to make a statement about their
experience with the two survivalists and Mulder's suspicion that at least
one of them was dead.

"Excuse me, are you the parties responsible for Fox Mulder?" the doctor
asked.  Skinner and Mrs. Scully had been so intent in their conversation
they hadn't noticed the young man in scrubs walk up to them.

"Yes, I'm Walter Skinner.  I'm Special Agent Mulder's supervisor," he
responded pulling out his identification.  The doctor gave it a cursory
glance.  "This is Maggie Scully, Agent . . . a close friend of Agent
Mulder's."  The doctor nodded at Mrs. Scully.

"The surgery went as well as can be expected, but the situation is not that
great.  We were able to stabilize the area of the spinal fracture, but
there was significant damage to the cord.  I would hold very little hope of
Special Agent Mulder recovering any movement below the area of the injury.
We're also a bit concerned by his kidney function or, rather, lack of it.
We have him on dialysis, but hopefully his kidneys will begin to function
normally."

"Why is that happening?" Mrs. Scully asked.

"The extended period before the special agent was able to reach the
hospital was detrimental.  His bladder and kidney function were compromised
by the injury.  As far as I understand the situation, this was unavoidable,
but we do have to watch him very carefully.  If you'll excuse me, I need to
go back to the recovery room and check on him," the doctor said as he got
up from his chair.  He shook Mrs. Scully and Skinner's hands as he left.

"That's another thing," Mrs. Scully said.

"Another what?" Skinner asked.

"Dana will blame herself.  She already blames herself for his injury, but
this may be too much for her to handle."

"What about his mother?" Skinner asked.

"I wanted to wait until we knew more before I called her.  I suppose I
should go do that now."

Skinner stood up and held his hand out to her.  "I'll take care of that.
You go sit with Dana.  I'll find you after I talk to her."  Mrs. Scully
nodded and walked back to the room where her daughter lay sleeping, finally.

November 9, 1998
University of Virginia Hospital
Charlottesville, VA
10:17 a.m.

Scully sat quietly in the chair next to Mulder's bed.  The nurse had
extubated him earlier and he was now breathing on his own.  He hadn't
awakened yet, but it was just a matter of time.  They had sedated him
fairly heavily.  His kidney function had returned to normal so they
wouldn't have to do any further dialysis.

She looked up as she heard a sound.  Mulder was stirring in his bed.  He
opened his eyes, slowly focusing on Scully's face.

"Hey," he said, his voice hoarse from the anesthesia and intubation tube.

"Hey there, yourself," she responded, reaching over to brush the hair from
his forehead.  

"So, what's the score?" he asked, now fully awake and looking at her intently.

"What score?" she asked in response, her hand now pulled away from his head.

"The damage, the final diagnosis," he said in a measured tone.

Scully reached up for his hand.  He grabbed it solidly.

"Scully, I need to hear what's going on, and I would rather hear it from
you than from some stranger."

"Please don't make me do this, Mulder," she said, her eyes now filling with
tears.

"You have to, you owe me that much," he responded.  She reached up and
brushed away the moisture.  She drew in a deep breath, gathering the
courage to speak the truth they both needed to hear.

"There was a fracture at the T-10 level.  They did a spinal fusion last
night to stabilize the fracture area.  They put screws and pins in to hold
it all in place.  There was some kidney damage, they had you on dialysis
last night; but they have started to function again."  Somehow Scully had
managed to hold her emotions in check while delivering her partner's
prognosis.

"So, T-10.  What does that mean?  Is this permanent?" he asked, his eyes
pleading for her to not tell him what he knew had to be true.

Her head had dropped as he spoke.  When she looked up, her eyes had filled
with tears.  She put her hand up to wipe the tears away, sniffing her nose.

"I'm so sorry, Mulder," she said, the tears now flowing freely.  She
dropped his hand and rushed from the room.

November 11, 1998
University of Virginia Hospital
Charlottesville, VA
9:25 a.m.

"Hey, how are you doing?" Scully asked as she walked into her partner's
view.  He was recovering from the surgery well, but he had yet to raise the
head of the bed more than a few degrees.

"Pretty good," he responded.  "I waited for you to come yesterday, but
Skinner said you were busy with a deposition.  I guess they'll come here
since I don't seem to be leaving any time soon."

Scully merely nodded and then sat next to the bed.  Mulder carefully turned
his neck until he could see her again.

"So, the physical therapist came in today.  Target date for Fox Mulder's
release back into society . . . February 1999.  I'm glad I didn't book that
New Years' cruise to the Bahamas," Mulder said.  Scully looked up sharply.
The bitter tone of his voice caught her off guard.  He continued without
seeming to notice her body language.

"Yeah, stuck in some nursing home place for months, pissing in a bag.  Did
I mention the pissing in a bag?  'Of course, now Mr. Mulder, if you work
hard, we can get your bowel and bladder on a schedule.'  What the hell is
that?  I'm some kind of baby, I need to piss and shit on a schedule?"

He stopped to notice that Scully was crying, again.  He hadn't often seen
her emotional and now he had reduced her to tears twice in as many visits.
How could he have been so insensitive?  He had been concerned with his own
situation, and justifiably, but he should have been more sensitive to the
trauma she had suffered as well.  Their experience had left them both with
scars, his physical and hers emotional.  They would both need a great deal
of time to recover.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to . . . " his voice trailing off, his eyes
conveying the same concern his voice did.

"Don't worry about me, Mulder.  You should think about yourself and getting
better.  I'll be back, but I need to make some calls."  Before he could
answer she had exited the room.  He lay for several moments until he heard
the door open and footsteps enter.

"Dana?" he asked.

"No, Fox.  It's me, Maggie Scully," Dana's mom said as she pulled up the
chair her daughter had recently vacated.

"Mrs. Scully, did you see Dana?  Where did she go?" he asked in a worried
tone.

"She was worried about how she might react, so she asked me to come with
her.  She's upset, Fox.  She'll come back in when she is able."

"What do you mean?  Did something happen to her?" he asked, becoming
agitated.  The heart monitor indicated the increase in his rate caused by
his anxiety.

"Please, relax.  I don't want you to worry," Mrs. Scully said, brushing her
hand across his forehead, attempting to ease his pain.  "The deposition was
hard.  She basically had to relive the incident and talking about your
escape brought some issues to the surface."

"Issues?" he asked.

"I think you should discuss this with Dana," her mother answered.  She
looked up as the door moved open.  Without being able to look, he could
sense that it was his partner.  Mrs. Scully leaned over and kissed him
lightly on the forehead.  "Be well, Fox.  I'll see you again soon."

After Mrs. Scully left the room it remained silent.  Dana made no move to
come closer to the bed and Fox didn't say a word.  After a seemingly
endless two minutes he cleared his throat.

"Is this some kind of observation, or are we going to talk about what's
going on?" he asked.

"I'm trying.  It's just . . . it's hard.  Give me a minute," she responded
as she walked over to the chair and again took a seat.

"What's so hard, Scully?" he asked.

"Mulder, the deposition just made me realize that we can't do this anymore.
 I'm sorry to leave you now, but it's the only thing to do."

He lay silent, looking her straight in the eye, trying to assess where she
had come up with the unreasonable demand.  After a moment she looked away,
staring at the floor next to her chair.

"Leave?  Are you out of your mind?  Have I done something?  Is this about
keeping you in the dark?  Ditching you?  What else?  Do you want more
visibility?  Your name on the door?  Name it; it's done.  You can't leave.
Not now," he responded, almost pleading at the end. 

"Not after what I've done," she said, pulling her eyes back to his face.

"What have you done?" he asked.  "I was there, too, and what I remember is
us on a camping trip that I arranged, two criminals kidnaping us and then
you saving my life.  I guess I'm confused about the sin against humanity
you seem to think you committed."

"This," she said, waving her hands over his unmoving body.  "I did this.  I
pulled you up that mountain without proper precautions and now here you
are.  If I hadn't been there, you wouldn't have fallen down a mountain
anyway.  I did this.  I ruined your life."

Mulder turned his head so he was looking straight up at the ceiling.  He
remained silent for a moment.  So that was it, she felt guilty.  He
couldn't let her feel guilty, not for this.

"So you dragged me up a mountain and for this you ruined your life and
mine?  God Scully, it was my fault we were out there at all!  It seems to
me that if you hadn't pulled me out of there I would be dead. I don't blame
you for this, Scully," he said, his voice softening.  "What happened to me,
what happened to both of us was the work of two very sick men.  If we
hadn't gone when we did, those men would have raped you and then they would
have killed us.  I could never have allowed that to happen.  This, this is
little to pay for not allowing that to happen."  He paused and cleared his
throat.  His voice had grown more choked with emotion as he talked.  "I
realized something as we were making our way through that forest.  I love
you Dana Scully.  I've been an idiot for years.  If this is what it takes
for me to figure that out, then this situation in some twisted way seems
worth it."

Scully sat there and looked at him.  She couldn't believe he was saying
this.  Not now.

"Don't say those things, Mulder.  We'll discuss this when you're better.
Until then I don't think either one of us should make any strong
pronouncements."  She hoped he wouldn't take it the wrong way, but this was
a very intense time for both of them.  It wasn't the time to make any
sudden commitments or dramatic changes in their relationship.  She looked
at Mulder.  He seemed to be considering her comment.

"Okay, for now, but I'm not going to change my mind," he said, looking at
her very intently.  She nodded slowly.  She sat by his bed holding his hand
until he fell asleep.  Being in the hospital, unable to move, was
terrifying, but with her hand in his it wasn't quite so bad.

November 16, 1998
University of Virginia Hospital
Charlottesville, VA
1:24 p.m.

"So are you ready to rock and roll," Scully asked as she walked into
Mulder's room.  His eyes trained on the bag in her hands.

"What's the present, Agent Scully?" he asked, smiling at her.

"Well, we can't have you riding home with your buns hanging out, can we?"
she asked.  Mulder was being released from the hospital that afternoon.  He
was stable enough after the surgery to be transported back to Washington.
He would have to spend a few more days in the hospital there before he was
discharged to rehab.

"What?" he asked, his eyes wide.

"I don't know if you remember, but they cut all of your clothes off of you.
 I had to get you some new ones," Scully answered, reaching into the bag
and withdrawing a matched set of UVA sweats.

"You have got to be kidding," Mulder said, his voice filled with mock horror.

"Give me a break, Mulder.  The nurse pointed out you needed some clothes
and I sure wasn't going to schlep down to Walmart to get you something to
wear in the ambulance.  The bookstore was close so I got what they had."

"Please tell me there isn't an NCAA approved pair of boxers in there,"
Mulder responded.  Scully pulled the plaid undergarments out with a smile.
She moved carefully as she untied the hospital gown and folded it back.
She carefully pulled the IV bag through the gown's sleeve and the back out
the arm of the sweatshirt.  

"Here, lean forward a little bit," she said, supporting his back and neck
as he put his head through the neck of the shirt.  She followed through
with the other arm.  She began to pull the sheets back when Mulder's hand
grabbed hers.

"I don't know about that one, Doc.  Isn't there an orderly or something
that can help us with that?" he asked, unwilling to expose the last bit of
his privacy to Scully.

She looked momentarily stunned and then nodded and left the room without a
word.  The orderly entered shortly.

"So are you ready to go?" the orderly asked Mulder, who nodded.  The
orderly pulled down the sheets as Scully had earlier.  He laid out a
plastic pouch on the bed.

"What's that?" Mulder asked, pointing to the bag.

"It's a leg bag.  We'll attach it to your catheter for the trip.  Once you
get to Georgetown they'll start the bladder training.  I just need to get
you there high and dry."  He moved quickly, attaching the appliance,
pulling the boxers on and then the sweat pants.  He patted Mulder's
unfeeling leg and left the room.

Mulder lay back against the bed and sighed.  Thank god he had gotten rid of
Scully.  This was in fact, too much.  How would he ever regain any dignity?
 People turning him over like overdone pancakes, sticking tubes into every
hole in his body, exposing the most private parts of his existence; it was
beyond humbling.  It was downright humiliating.

November 19, 1998
Northeast Georgetown Memorial Hospital
Washington, D.C.
2:35 p.m.

Scully hurried down the hallway toward Mulder's room.  She had gotten held
up with an autopsy, and traffic back from Quantico had been a bear.  No
matter what time of day there always seemed to be traffic backed up on the
bridge over the Occoquon River.  She walked into the room just as the
doctor started talking.  As she walked in, he stopped and looked at her
expectantly.

"Dr. Wheeler, this is my partner, Dana Scully," Mulder said by way of
introduction.  The doctor looked at her again, this time with interest.
They shook hands and exchanged greetings.

"Well, Ms. Scully, as I was telling Mr. Mulder, we are planning to
discharge him to rehab.  The longer he spends in bed now, the longer it's
going to take him in physical therapy." The doctor addressed Mulder once
again. "As it is, we've had you flat on your back long enough.  The
surgical site has healed and the vertebrae are stable.  We need to get you
up and working," the doctor said.

"How long do you expect the rehab process to take?" Scully asked.

"It's hard to say, Ms. Scully." He turned back from Scully to Mulder.  " A
lot of that depends on you, Mr. Mulder.  We'll have you working with
physical and occupational therapists.  We'll also assign you a case manager
to help with the transition.  What is your living situation?" he asked,
looking expectantly between Scully and Mulder.  Scully laughed.

"No, we're not that kind of partners.  We work together.  At the FBI," she
said, shaking her head.  Mulder was chuckling as well.

"Oh, I understand.  Sorry about that," the doctor responded, his face
reddening slightly.

"Don't worry about it, Doc.  I have an apartment in Alexandria.  I live
there alone," Mulder said.

"Accessible?" the doctor asked.

"No, not at all," Scully answered, moving closer to the bed.

"It has an elevator; it'll work," Mulder retorted.

"Mulder, be reasonable.  Yes, there's an elevator once you get into the
building, but there have to be at least 10 steps in front.  Besides, you'll
never get in and out of that bathroom with your chair let alone getting
anything done in that kitchen."

"You know I don't use the kitchen," Mulder answered with a laugh.

"I realize that, but it isn't going to work.  You'll need an actual bedroom
with a bed and other things.  You need to find a new place."

They discussed it until Scully had to leave.  They finally decided that she
would look for an accessible apartment close to his old neighborhood.
Mulder felt comfortable there and it was close enough to the King Street
Metro stop that he could use that transportation until he began driving
again.  That decided, Scully got up to leave.

"Hey, Scully," Mulder called out to her.  She turned back to him.  "Can we
talk for a minute?"

"I'd love to, Mulder, but I left a pile of paperwork on my desk and I have
to stop at Hoover and talk to Skinner."  She leaned in and kissed his
cheek.  "I'll see you tomorrow.  We'll talk then."

He opened his mouth to respond, but she walked out of the room.  She would
be back the next day, but he held little hope that she would talk then
either.  No matter how he tried, she wouldn't engage him in a conversation
about what was happening.  This experience was so overwhelming and she was
the only person he could share it with.  Unfortunately, she seemed
incapable of dealing with what had happened.

December 27, 1998
National Rehabilitation Hospital
Washington, D.C.
7:25 p.m.

Christmas had been depressing.  Awful.  Worse than any Mulder could
remember.  His mother had come from Connecticut.  He could tell that she
was trying to be brave or something, but it wasn't really in her nature.
She had relied on him for years and hadn't really stepped up to the
challenge of offering any moral support for her son.  She had tried, but in
the end they both felt bad.

Mulder was slowly regaining some of his independence.  The initial
frustration and bitterness he had experienced had given way to a
determination to take control of  his life.  He worked hard on
strengthening the muscles he still had control of so they could compensate
for the ones now lost to him.  He had no feeling or movement from his waist
down.  Like the doctor had predicted in November, he was able to control
his bladder and bowel with training and medication.  He had been fortunate
that his injury had been low enough that he still had use of his arms and
hands.  He was able to move himself in and out of bed, into his chair or a
car as necessary.  

He had received a lightweight wheelchair at the beginning of the month.
Frohike had even complained when he came over to set up Mulder's laptop
that Mulder moved too quickly now.  The increased independence was good for
Mulder's spirits, but they weren't enough to counteract the depression he
felt over the change in his relationship with Scully.

She was still a part of his life, but she had removed so much of the
relationship he had come to value and count on.  She came nearly every day,
did whatever he asked as far as getting things he needed like socks, boxer
shorts, even reading material once in a while, but she never offered any
emotional support.

He wasn't sure what had caused the change.  At first things were so strange
and new he didn't notice anything.  By the time he had been transferred
back to Northeast Georgetown the change had taken place.  He replayed the
conversation they had with Dr. Wheeler about his apartment.  It had
happened then.  She was all business.  

She hadn't come for Christmas.  She had gone to California with her mother.
 She had asked him if he minded and he didn't have the heart to ask her to
stay.  Instead he had made an excuse about his mother coming to visit and
sent her on her way.  It had been a mistake.  He had known that the minute
she turned to leave.  He wanted to call after her, but he couldn't.  

He reached up for the chair next to his bed.  Using his newly developed
upper arm muscles, he lifted himself from the bed onto the padded seat of
the wheelchair.  He heard someone clearing her throat at the door and
looked up.  Scully had been standing at the door.

"Are you still accepting presents?" Scully asked, walking into the room
with a small box under her arm.

"Sure," Mulder said, flashing her a big grin.  He adjusted himself in the
chair.  He had to lift himself up every once in a while to help his
circulation.

Scully pulled up a chair and sat next to him.  She handed him the box
without a word.  He took it and pulled the wrapping off.  

"So, did you have a good time in San Diego?" he asked, as he pulled the lid
off.

"Yeah, Matthew has grown up so much this year.  Tara asked about you."

"And Bill?"

"Well, you know he just tries to ignore the fact that you exist."

"Nice Scully, I'm spending the holidays in a residential facility and you
share family insults with me."

She laughed and he smiled.  It was the first time he had heard her laugh in
almost two months, not since the last night they spent in the forest.  The
present lay forgotten in his lap.

"Hey, don't you even want to see what I carried all the way across the
country?" Scully asked, motioning to the box.

He pulled out a T-shirt.  It was from the San Diego zoo, covered with monkeys.

"Very nice," Mulder said, holding it up to him.

"The people in P.T. told me they were sick of seeing you in that ratty
Knicks T-shirt.  You need to wash it more frequently, Mulder.  You stink!
I just thought with more selection maybe we could take care of that problem."

"Hey, it's my lucky shirt!  How am I supposed to get better and get out of
this place if I don't have my lucky shirt on?"

She laughed.  Again he thought how good it was to hear her laughing again.
It had been too long.  Now was his chance, maybe finally they could have
the conversation he knew they had to have.

"Hey, Scully," he said, his tone turning more serious.  "Remember that
woman we met last spring, in Delaware, Marty Glenn?"

"The blind woman?" she responded.  Mulder nodded.  He looked down, flexing
his hands.

"She worked so hard to not be controlled by her disability.  I guess that's
what I have to do.  There are people here who refer to themselves as quads
or paras.  I don't want to be a para.  I may not be able to use my legs,
technically defined as paraplegia, but first of all I am a man.  I need to
figure out how to maintain some kind of life for myself."

"I think that's good.  I think we both need to get to that point."  She
stood up and ran her hand over his head.  "Merry Christmas, Mulder."

He watched as she turned and left the room.  It was a beginning.  They had
gotten a lot further, maybe almost back to where they were in November.
There just seemed to still be a gulf between them and he wasn't sure how to
get rid of it.  He would simply have to try again.

January 27, 1999
Dana Scully's residence
Georgetown
11:30 p.m.

Scully heard the knock at the door.  She looked down at her watch.  11:30
p.m., a little late for anyone she knew.  She walked across to the door,
picking up her service revolver from the table near the door.  

"Who is it?" she called softly, moving to the door carefully.  She peered
out the peephole, but didn't see anyone.  The tapping came again, but it
was lower than she might expect.

"It's me, open up," she heard a familiar voice.  She released the dead bolt
to reveal Mulder.  She still hadn't gotten used to seeing him in a
wheelchair.  She didn't know if she ever would.

"God, Mulder.  What are you doing here at this time of night?  How did you
even get here?" she asked.

"I was lying in bed tonight mulling it all over in my mind and I decided we
needed to get a few things out in the open," he said, rolling past her into
the apartment.  She followed him into the living room where he carefully
transferred to the couch.  

"Well, it must have been quite a conversation for you to get out of bed and
figure out how to get here at this time of night," she said in a tired tone
as she sat next to him.  Not thinking about it was the only way she kept
going every day.  She did not relish the thought of going over this
territory here, now, with him.

"It wasn't that difficult.  You live in Georgetown, not the Outback.  I
called a cab.  It's a trip across town.  With a tip it barely cost me ten
bucks."

"So, you made a big cab ride.  What do you want, Mulder?  It's late, and
I'm tired."

"That's bull shit, Scully and you know it.  The truth is we have never
talked about it and I'm not sure we can go any further without talking
about it."

"About what?  What are you so damned set on us talking about?" she asked.

"About the accident.  About why we were in the mountains, how I got hurt,
how I got out of there, how we got out of there."

Scully didn't say anything.  She looked down at the floor.  Mulder reached
over for her hand.  He held it for a moment and then she pulled it away.
She moved further into the corner of the couch.

"You didn't do this," Mulder said quietly.

"What do you mean?" she responded, turning to look at him.

"You didn't put me here.  An accident did.  You have to let this go."

"Mulder, I really don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do.  You come to the hospital, you sit there and you look like
Dana Scully, but that's about as far as it goes.  You aren't telling me how
you feel, what is making you so cold, unresponsive.  Tell me what is
bothering you!"

"Nothing, Mulder.  Nothing is bothering me," she answered.

He wasn't going to let it go, not tonight.  It had been building in the
months since their fateful trip into the mountains.  He knew she was upset
and it was starting to wear on her.  He could see how the lines had
deepened in her face, how thin she had gotten and he couldn't remember the
last time she had genuinely smiled.  Sure, she put on a good front every
day at the rehab hospital, but things were far from right.

"So what is it?  Guilt?  Do you feel guilty?" he asked.

She looked down at the floor for a moment and then slowly moved her head
back up and fixed her eyes on her partner.

"It's not guilt.  I'm mad," she answered quietly.

"Mad?"  He was surprised.  That wasn't what he expected to hear from her.

"Yeah, Mulder.  I'm mad.  What the hell were you doing dragging me out
there, under false pretenses?  We both could have been killed.  Look what's
happened to us and you still don't have your precious X-files back.  I
guess the whole damn thing blew up in your face," she said, her voice thick
with venom.

"Good, let it out," he responded, reaching for her hand.  She snatched it
away.

"No!  I'm not in the mood for your psychoanalyzing.  Dammit Mulder, don't
pull your shrink shit on me!  You asked how I was feeling and I'm telling
you.  I will not have you try to explain it away."

He knew this could all explode, but he had not been prepared for Scully's
reaction.  He reached again for her hand and held it firmly this time.

"Dana, you are not to blame for this anymore than I am."

"That's fine and well for you to say, Agent Mulder, but I'm the one that's
living with this.  Do you understand how heavy this weight is on my heart?
I can't look at you without remembering again about how we got here.  It's
as if I threw you down that mountain myself."

Mulder looked at his friend, his own heart breaking.  How could she have
been feeling this way over the past months?  She had been there at every
turn, helping him in therapy, finding him a new apartment, moving his
things.  She had been his rock.  He wouldn't have made it this far without
her.  

"You've felt this way, the whole time?" he asked.

She nodded and then looked at the floor.  They each sat quietly for a
moment and then Mulder reached for her face, taking her chin in his face
and raising her eyes to his.

"I'm only going to say this once and I want you to listen.  You did not do
this.  This is not your fault.  I've lain in my bed many nights and tried
to figure out how I got here and the rationale for it all.  And you know
what I've come up with?  Nothing.  Not a damn thing.  And you know why?"

Scully just looked at him, silent.

"It was an accident, Scully.  That's it.  It's shattered both of our lives,
but we had no control over this.  The fact is, I need you.  I needed you
that night and I need you tonight.  You are the single most important thing
in my life and I need you to be a part of that.  Please say that you will,"
Mulder said, his voice pleading at the end.  

Scully got up and walked over to the window.  Mulder watched her for a
moment and then transferred back into his chair.  He moved over to where
she was standing.  

"Please," he said, reaching out for her hand.  His plea was so simple, yet
it drove straight to the depths of her soul, a soul that had been shattered
into so many pieces she didn't think it could ever be put back together.

She turned to look at him.  Her eyes were filled with tears.  She dropped
down to her knees so she could look at him straight in the eyes.

"I did this.  I can never get rid of that," she said, the tears now
spilling out of her eyes and down her cheeks.  He reached up and wiped the
tears away.

"We can't go down that road.  We'll never get back.  Think about the things
that have happened to us.  We've never kept a tally of our insults, our
injuries, real or imagined.  If we did that, I would lose every time.  I've
hurt you in so many ways, Scully but I have to hope that you forgive me for
those sins.  If you didn't, if you didn't love me the way I love you, I
don't think I could continue." 

Scully looked at him.  He had said the things they both knew.  They loved
each other.  They had said as much on several occasions, but this was
different.  She didn't blame him for the things that had happened, her
cancer, Melissa, Emily.  She couldn't.  She loved him.  Why couldn't she
accept that love for herself?

"I do.  I love you," she said quietly.  She stood up and turned to the
window.  Her back remained to him as he spoke.

"You know what I miss?" he asked.  "Being tall.  I mean, I know I can be
vain, but I never knew how much I enjoyed being tall.  It's a totally
different perspective down here.  So much that I do has changed, but that's
the one thing I can't get used to."  

She turned to look at him.

"Do you understand that at all?" he asked.

"Yeah, I think I do," she responded, her face softening.  "Emily.  I guess
I just never knew how much I wanted that child until she was here.  I still
. . . I still can't believe that she was here, that she's gone."

"We've lost things, Scully.  We've lost things that are terribly important
to us.  I may never find out what happened to Samantha.  I'm not sure I'm
ready to deal with that on my own.  I can't do it without you.  Please say
you will be there with me."

They sat staring at one another for what seemed like an eternity, then she
moved toward him.  She held out her hand and led the way into her bedroom.
Without a word she sat on the bed.  Mulder looked at her for a moment, then
carefully moved himself next to her on the mattress.

Scully carefully unbuttoned his shirt.  She ran her fingers down the cloth
and into the hair on his chest.  During therapy his upper body muscle had
become even more pronounced.  Her hands moved lower to his torso and then
to the button on his pants.  His hand stopped her.

"Don't," he said, quietly pulling her hand to his mouth and kissing it
lightly.  She shook her head

"I know what to expect.  I just want to see you, all of you.  Let me love
you, Fox," she pleaded gently.  She pulled her hand from his and moved back
to the now loosened button.  She finished the task and moved to the zipper.
 She carefully pulled it down and then eased the pants from his lower body.
 He reached for her zipper, helping her out of her clothes.  

They lay next to one another silently, gazing at their now naked bodies.
She again noted the firmness of his torso and chest.  Her eyes trailed down
to his motionless legs.  They were thinner but had retained some of their
shape.  Muscle spasms were sometimes embarrassing, but they helped his legs
stay toned.  Her eyes moved back up to his where she knew he had been
watching her survey.

"Is it what you expected?" he asked.

"Well, I always knew you had big hands," she teased.  He laughed.  How had
Scully known just the thing to break the heavily-charged moment?

"Actually all the girls at the academy called you the "Penis of Death," she
teased, kissing him first on the lips, then on the chest, nuzzling his
shoulders.

"Well, I guess we'll have to change that to the "Dead Penis," Mulder
answered. She wasn't sure if he was joking or not, but there was a smile on
his face and if she dare say it, a little movement down below.  She knew it
had to be her imagination, but if it was an involuntary movement, it had
incredible timing.

She rolled on top of him and gently kissed his shoulders.  She slowly moved
down his body, probing each area with her tongue.  As she sucked on his
nipples, they became hard.  The decreased areas of sensation made other
parts of his anatomy more responsive to her touch.  

Fox reached up and ran his hands through her auburn hair.  He pulled her
head down to his and kissed her. First gently, then with more intensity,
probing the interior of her mouth with his tongue.  She sat with her legs
on either side of him, now his hands traveling her body, first on her arms,
then her breasts, her lower back and onto her buttocks.  The gentle rubbing
motion was as erotic and stimulating as any other lover had been before.
She wanted to make love to him.  She felt the pressure inside growing until
finally she climaxed.  His hands had returned to her breasts, each growing
hard with pleasure.  She shouted out as she reached the orgasm.  She looked
into his eyes and saw the smile.  When it had passed, she rolled off of him
and lay by his side.

"So, it was good?" he asked, rolling onto his side so he could see her.

"Very good," she responded.  "But, what about you?"

"There is a certain pleasure in seeing the person you love succeed, even if
you can't," he responded.  She lay there silent, again grieving for what
they had lost.

"C'mon.  Don't do that.  This will only work as long as there are no
regrets," he said, leaning over to kiss her. 

"I know.  It's just that I want you to have what I have, to share my joy,"
she said, pulling away from the kiss.

"Seeing you happy, that's enough for me," he answered, pulling her once
again tight against his body.  "You know what we're doing here?"

"I think what we're doing, no matter how unconventional, is pretty
self-apparent," she responded.

"No, we're finally taking that last step.  Or maybe we're taking the first
step.  But whichever it is, here and now, we're finally picking up the
pieces," Mulder said, putting his hand on her face, cupping it in his palm.

"What pieces?" she asked.

"The pieces of our lives.  For as much as my body was shattered in that
accident, your spirit was as well.  Somehow, we've got to get that back.
It doesn't matter what we look like, if I walk, even if we ever have the
X-files again.  What this has taught me is that I don't want to lose you,
not now, not ever."

"So now I guess the time is right," Scully said, looking at him intently,
running her hand down his chest.

"Right for what?" he asked, pulling her hand back up to his mouth and
kissing it softly.

"When you were in the hospital, in Virginia you tried to tell me how you
felt and I said it wasn't the right time.  I think maybe we have finally
gotten to that point," she said.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"I couldn't tell you then, but now, I feel like I can tell the whole world.
 I love you, Fox Mulder.  No matter what happens from now on, I know that
we can face it together."

Epilogue
January 22, 2000
St. Aloysius Church
Washington, D.C.

"You're not supposed to see me before the ceremony," Dana Scully admonished
her fiance.  She was dressed in a beautiful cream-colored gown that set off
her red hair and creamy white skin.  Fox was dressed in a tuxedo, suitable
for the occasion as well.

"I needed to take care of something first," he said, his eyes twinkling.
Byers stood near the door, obviously a partner in Mulder's plot.  "Turn
around."  She looked at him with a questioning glance, he gestured for her
to turn and she did.

What could he be doing?  What was Byers part in the plot?  Her head filled
with questions as there was the sound of movement, a grunt from Mulder, an
'easy now' from Byers.  Finally she was requested to turn back to them.

"What?  But how?" she exclaimed.  Mulder stood before her, erect at his
former 6-foot self.  He was leaning heavily on crutches and she now noticed
the leg braces under his tuxedo pants.  He wobbled slightly and Byers put
out a hand.

"It's my latest little project," he said, smiling at her.  "I decided that
we needed to have those things we missed, the things we never even knew
were so important to us."  She looked at him, her eyes filled with the
question she couldn't yet ask.

"I know it's not Emily, but maybe . . . " his voice trailed off as he held
out a vial to her.

"Mulder?" she asked, accepting the vial from his hand.  She looked at it.
"This is my name.  What is this?"

"They're eggs.  They're your eggs.  I made an appointment for us to see a
fertility specialist as soon as we get back from Vancouver.  If I can be
tall again, you can be a mother."

Scully turned away from him.  The movement of her back indicated that she
was crying.

"Dana, don't do that.  C'mon, come here.  This isn't fair.  I can't get to
you, so I need you to come here," he said.  She turned to him and walked
into his arms.  The crutches dropped from his arms as he embraced her.
Byers slid unnoticed from the room.  Mulder reached up and wiped the tears
from her face.  She smiled up at him.

"It's been a long time since we've done this," she said.

"Done what?"he asked.

"You holding me like this, drying my tears.  It feels good, Mulder."

"So how do you think it'll feel when there's some big baby between us?" he
asked.

"Do really think it's possible?" she asked, pulling away to look at him
with her typically skeptical glance.  

"Today, I feel like anything's possible," he said pulling her close again.
"Let's go get married so we can spend the rest of our lives figuring the
rest of this out."

FIN