Fall of the Axe by Vickie Moseley Summary: FITB for IWTB (fill in the blank for I Want To Believe -- Skinner hug to last scene) Category: Flikfic, MSR, MT Rating: everyone Disclaimer: Wow, it's been so long since anyone noticed! No copyright infringement intended. Author's notes: Ah, such gapping holes. So many loose threads lying around. This was the winter of our discontent made glorious summer by the god of the Surf. In short, yeah, I liked it. Dedicated to Sally and Lisa for beta services and everybody over at Mulder's Refuge -- point those pokey sticks at someone else for a while, now, people. Walter Skinner tried hard not to think of all the blood running down the face of his friend and former agent. He listened to the wind and the barking dogs and strained to hear the sirens he knew would be on the way. The moment he and Scully had arrived at the 'facility' -- little more than shacks and old trailers hammered together -- he'd called for backup, and at Scully's insistence, an ambulance. Now he just prayed the vehicles would hurry. Mulder started to shiver violently in his arms and Skinner tightened his hold. Finally, off in the distance, in that unearthly way that sound travels in the winter, he could hear the multitude of sirens approaching down the snow-packed county road. He relaxed a little. Until Mulder's shivers progressed to flailing. "Oh shit," Skinner cursed, recognizing the signs of a full out seizure. His first instinct was to yell out to Scully, but it would be a race whether she got there first or the ambulance arrived. Then he heard her footsteps crunching behind him in the snow. "I have the girl stabilized until the EMTs get here -- I hear them -- " She stopped abruptly when she saw what was happening. Taking Skinner's shoulder, she moved him aside to help her partner to lie flat. The jerking motions didn't abate and she chanced a quick glance over at their former superior. "How long?" she shorthanded. "About half a minute before you came out," Skinner informed her, rising to his feet. "I hear the ambulance. I'll go lead them here." "They'll need another one, but I don't know if either the girl or Mulder can wait that long," Scully bit out. "I'll show them where to go," Skinner offered. "Bring back blankets!" Scully called after him. "Oh, Mulder," she sighed, wiping the blood matted hair back from the cut above his eye. The convulsions had lessened to weak tremors and she gently pried open each eye. Concussion was an easy diagnosis, but did it include a skull fracture or bleed? Only imaging would tell. She fought back tears and tried to find the righteous indignation that had fueled her since they'd arrived on the scene. All she could manage was a deep shuddering fear for her partner's life. "Please God, don't do this to us," she prayed. "Not after the last things we said. Please." A hand landed on her shoulder and she jerked. It wasn't the hand of God, or even the hand of death -- it was Skinner back and accompanied by a young EMT. The young woman knelt down next to Mulder and started to assess his condition. "He was in a car accident earlier, a roll over. It's possible he's been drugged as well -- acepromazine." The EMT looked up at her, perplexed. "That's an -- " "Animal tranq, yes, I know. Treat him as if he'd been given any sedative." "It just makes it that much harder to assess the head injury," the young woman clucked. "He just had a seizure, it lasted approximately a minute and a half," Scully added. The EMT showed her concern by chewing on her lip. "He's gonna need immediate transport. I'll get the gurney," she said, covering the patient with a woolen blanket. "There's an injured girl in that shack -- she's had her throat cut. I stitched her up but she's going to need immediate transport as well," Scully called over her shoulder as the EMT trotted away. "We only have one ambulance," the EMT said regretfully. "But we have an SUV," Scully said forcefully. She turned to the EMT. "Take Ms. Cunningham in the ambulance." She looked up at Skinner, who was already pulling his keys out of his pocket. "Sir, pull your car around -- we'll get Mulder to the hospital ourselves." "I'm on it, Scully," Skinner replied, more than happy to have something to do besides stand and watch. She tucked the blankets around Mulder tenderly. "It's going to be all right, Mulder. I'm here. I'm here and we'll get you to the hospital and everything will be fine." She heard Skinner's car pull up to the door of the barn. For the first time, she looked around. Mulder's would be killer was still lying on the ground, groggy, but he was obviously coming around. As Skinner got out of the driver's side, she pointed to the Russian. "Sir, call someone over to secure the suspect," she directed. He turned and yelled to some of the many agents and police officers now milling about the scene. In a moment, the suspect was cuffed and being escorted to one of the squad cars. After a thought, Skinner tapped a couple of the agents to help him get Mulder into the back of the car. Scully hurried around the car so that she could sit in the back, Mulder's head on her lap. He was breathing shallowly, but his pulse was strong. He still wasn't responsive, but with the strong possibility that he was sedated, that wasn't really her major concern. "Scully, where am I going?" Skinner asked as he pulled out onto the county road. "Richmond?" "No, that's at least an hour away. My hospital is only about 30 minutes from here. Let's get him over there," she said with more confidence than she was feeling. "Just take this road to the first stop sign, turn right and follow that road into town. There are signs for the hospital. Her hospital. Well, at least the place she worked. She'd never really felt that much at home there, regardless of what she'd told Mulder earlier in the day. Had their argument really only been hours ago? It seemed like forever since she'd seen him, she'd been so frantic to find him. With nothing but time on her hands, she turned on the dome light in the back and checked Mulder over for other injuries. When she pulled up the sleeve of his parka, she hissed. His hand and forearm had been bitten repeatedly, some of the bites were deep and bleeding now that she'd pulled the cloth away from them. She took the edge of one of the blankets covering him and held it against the wounds, wishing she'd grabbed some gauze from the ambulance. "How's he doing, Scully?" Skinner asked, watching her in the rearview mirror. "He's still not responding, but it's the bleeding that has me worried. If you can pick up the pace, sir, I'd appreciate it." She felt the car surge forward. After a few moments, Skinner spoke up again. "You know, you don't have to call me 'sir' anymore, Scully," he said gruffly. She allowed a brief smile to play on her lips. "Sorry, Walter. Old habit." "Well, it's about time to put that one to rest," he muttered. "I'm not that old." She caught his eyes in the mirror and gave him another smile. "Of course not." She looked down at her partner and felt tears prick at her lids. "Thank you, Walter -- for tonight." He looked back again but she wouldn't meet his eyes this time. "Scully, you know you can always call me. I might not have been the best friend through the years -- " "You've more than made up for it in the last few," she interjected. "Well, I hope I can help more now that you're both out in the open," he said with finality. She could only nod and focus on her partner. Even on snow-packed road, they made good time. Scully sighed in relief as they pulled up to the emergency entrance. She'd called ahead when they were just a few miles out of town when reception for her cell phone was better. Fortunately, the ER physician was a friend, John Murphy. 'Murf' as he was known to one and all, was a kind man who had a wife and six kids that he was always telling tall tales about in the doctor's lounge. He would help her but more importantly, he was one of the few people on staff who knew about Mulder and he would be discrete. Murf was standing at the double doors, flanked by two ER nurses and a big, burly orderly Scully had seen before -- all people she could trust. Skinner pulled the car to a stop and Murf yanked open the door, directing the orderly to help him move the patient. The two men had Mulder on the gurney and were disappearing through the doors before Scully could get out of the car. At the guard's pointed look at the SUV as it blocked the emergency room drive, Scully stuck her head back in and told Skinner where to park and how to find her when he got inside. The ER was a tight ship -- Murf's staff was efficient and quick. The minute Scully walked through the double doors, one of the triage nurses was on her. "Dr. Scully, do you have a history on the patient?" Scully swallowed. "Yes, I can give you that information in the examination room," she said. She was pretty sure once she told them all she knew about Mulder's previous medical conditions they would either lock her up in the psych ward or toss her out the door. Chances were good Murf would order her to the lounge anyway, since he knew her connection to the patient. "So, this is Mulder," Murf greeted her as she walked in. The two nurses were busy hooking her partner up to heart monitors and IVs. "Yes," she said still unwilling to divulge any additional information unless asked. "How did he, uh, what the hell was done to him?" Murf asked, half rhetorically. "He was in a car accident -- a roll over -- that he walked away from, but then he was assaulted by a . . . " She stopped. She had seen the dog's body when they pulled up. The two-headed dog's body. "Two," she corrected herself, "two dogs and then he was possibly tranquilized using acepromazine." "The animal tranq? We'll look for that in the blood work," Murf interjected while doing his own examination of the patient. He'd just found the bites and was directing the nurse to clean the wounds and bring him a suture kit. "Yes. After that, he was dragged through the snow. He had a seizure about 10 minutes after we found him, but none since. It lasted about a minute and a half. He was unresponsive during the half hour ride here." "Alrighty then," Murf said affably. "So, he's been run through the wringer and hung out to dry." "In a nutshell, yes." "Well, Casey, let's call down to CT and get some pictures," he said to the nurse assisting him. "The seizure could be a sign of something nasty going on under all that hair. I detect more than one goose egg on the back of his head and this lac is swelling up too. We might have to call in a neurosurgeon -- one for big people, of course," he said with a wink toward Scully. She answered it with a wane smile that faded almost as soon as it showed on her face. "Dana, not to be nosy, but I thought you said this guy was a writer?" Murf whispered just loud enough for Scully to hear and not to alert the nurses. "He is. He wasn't always. He . . . used to be with the FBI," she admitted, keeping her voice low. "Before you two met?" Murf asked. Scully shook her head. "Uh, no, actually. We . . . we were partners . . . a long time ago." "Dr. Scully, we need that history now, if you don't mind," the nurse Scully remembered named Laura said from the computer desk off to the side. "Yes, of course," Scully said stepping over, thankful to avoid any further questions from Dr. Murphy. "You know, it might be faster if I just type it in," Scully suggested, anxious to be doing something. "The 64 thousand dollar question, Dana -- has Mulder here had other head injuries that I should know about," Murf asked from next to the gurney. Scully swallowed. "Yes," she said, taking a deep breath. "Nothing within the last six years, though." "Serious injuries?" Murf pushed, picking up on her hesitancy. She licked her upper lip. "Yes. He's had a number of concussions, two surgeries, one involving removal of something -- we're still not sure -- " "Huh?" Murf interrupted. "I wasn't there and there were no records. It was . . . experimental might be the best description. Illegal is another. When he was returned there seemed to be no long term adverse affects at first, but then later he suffered from . . . massive degeneration of the duramatter." Murf looked over at her, shaking his head in denial. "Dana, if he had a tumor removed . . . " "It wasn't a tumor and what happened afterwards I still have very little information on. But suffice it to say that a year and a half later, he was cured." "Do I want to ask how?" Murf joked. "No, and it has little impact on his treatment now. The short answer to the question is yes, he has had other head trauma. He responds to Mannitol and traditional treatment for swelling if it comes to that. He'll be slow to wake up, but once awake he'll want to leave right away -- he's a horrible patient." Murf smiled and shrugged. "Well, if you vouch for him and he's responding to treatment I see no reason to antagonize the nurses," he joked. "We'll send him home with you." The phone rang and Casey picked it up. "They're ready for him down in CT," she said. In a moment, they were preparing Mulder for transport, detaching the heart monitor leads and raising the side rails on the gurney. Scully grabbed one side and helped push the gurney through the exam room door. Murf caught her sleeve and she spun to a stop. "Dana, I know you want to go with him but I have a few more questions." She watched the gurney as it turned and was gone from view. "They'll take good care of him, I promise," Murf assured her. "Please? It will just take a minute and by that time they'll have him back here." He leaned against the desk and looked over at her, his expression telling her that he was seeing her for the first time. "The surgeries he's had in the past -- " "They were a long time ago," she answered. Closing her eyes she let a sigh escape. "Over ten years ago for the first one." "Tell me about it. Did it happen because of a blow to the head?" She snorted, but with more frustration than humor. She remembered the time so well, though she hadn't thought about it for six years or more. It was when she was battling her cancer. That he would go out and do something so reckless while she had to focus on her own disease -- "Dana?" Murf asked, reminding her that she wasn't alone in her trip down memory lane. "No, it wasn't due to a head trauma, exactly. Eleven years ago he, uh, he underwent a procedure to recapture repressed memories. A . . . quack, for lack of a more suitable word, drilled a hole in his cranium to stimulate the electrical impulses of the brain." "Did you say . . . ?" "Yes, Mulder actually does have a hole in his head," she nodded with a rueful smile. "Two, in fact, but the second one wasn't his fault." "So the surgery you're speaking of, the first one, was this hole being drilled?" "No. The drill nicked a tiny artery. The surgery was to repair the nick and evacuate the blood clot that had formed," she said, drawing in a breath. It was so easy to get angry with him all over again and she -- they -- couldn't afford that. Murf swallowed and continued a bit hesitantly. "And the second surgery?" "Was nine years ago. Mulder was experiencing extreme and traumatic hyperactivity in his temporal lobe. It manifested itself in severe pain and violent outbursts. He also . . . claimed to be able to hear people's thoughts around him. The doctors -- I -- was at a loss how to treat him. His mother handed him over to some men -- a consortium -- that performed a highly risky and totally unsanctioned operation on him. They removed something, there is some evidence that it might have been a tumor of some sort but nothing had shown up on the PET scans. I found him after the operation. He was in pretty bad shape for a few days but then when he woke up, his brain activity was at normal levels." The whole time she'd been speaking she had been examining the floor tiles with her eyes. Now, she allowed her gaze to meet her friend's, issuing a quiet challenge. "Now I understand why the two of you are squirreled away in the wilds of rural Virginia," Murf said with a smile. She nodded. "Well, you say nothing has happened recently, at least the last six years. How has his general health been?" She allowed a brief smile. "Good. Great, in fact. He's been running about five miles a day, his weight it good." She bit her upper lip as a particularly fond memory surfaced. "He's aging -- better than gracefully," she admitted shyly. "No allergies I should know about?" Murf had pulled up a chair at the computer desk and was typing in his exam notes. "No, no allergies. He had a nasty cold around Thanksgiving, but that's been the extent of it for the last couple of years." She remembered her heart breaking as he shoved her out the door to go to her mother's for Thanksgiving. He was coughing and wheezing and the last thing she wanted to do was leave him for 48 hours, especially when it meant the waking hours would be spent listening to her brother praise her for finally seeing the light and 'dumping that loser' to go back to medicine. Only her mother knew of Mulder's continued existence in her life. "We'll take a look at the film when it comes back and see where we are. I'm ordering the lab to do a quick check for acepromazine, just to make sure that's what's keeping him down. Why don't you grab a cup of coffee -- you look beat," Murf suggested, still typing in orders. She headed out the door and toward the ER staff lounge when she remembered Skinner. Filling two cups with coffee, she made her way to the waiting room. It wasn't terribly crowded and she found him in a corner, reading an ancient copy of Discover Magazine. "Coffee, Walter?" she asked, handing him the styrofoam cup. He smiled up in gratitude and sipped as she sat in the chair across from him. "You remembered," he said, saluting her with the cup. "One sweetner, no cream. Not that hard to remember," she said with a shrug. She'd learned how he took his coffee after Mulder's abduction. The Assistant Director would come by her apartment from time to time, just to check on her, she was certain, but he would always have a good excuse. She appreciated the company and the effort. "How's he doing?" Skinner asked, breaking into her thoughts. "They just took him down to X-ray. He's still not awake, but he's in good hands." She leaned back and sighed, closing her eyes. "I have to let them know up stairs that I'm down here," she muttered, half to herself to keep awake. "So, you like this life?" Skinner asked, relaxing back now that the news was positive. She opened her eyes and regarded him with a half smile. "As opposed to midnight flights to Cheney, Texas and liver-eating mutants?" she asked. "Let's just say it has it's own rewards." "The chance to help live people," he nodded. "The chance to come home at night. To sleep until 7," she sighed. "To not worry all the time -- except about a patient. The chance to be normal," she concluded. "So you two would never consider . . . coming home," Skinner asked hesitantly. "We are home, Walter," she said with a shrug. "At our age, to go back to what we were doing . . . that would be insane! More insane than doing it in the first place." Skinner nodded, not in understanding but in acknowledgement of her feelings. "He did good work, you know," he said slowly. "You both did. They never would have found that young woman in time -- " Scully stood and walked over to the lounge door, looking toward the treatment rooms. "I really need to get back there," she said abruptly. "Look, if you need to be at the crime scene, I can call you . . . " "Officially, this case wasn't under my supervision," he said with a shrug. "I'm pretty much here on my own time. If it's OK with you, I'll just wait here until we know something." The full impact of his words hit her harder than she'd expected. That he would come at a mere phone call, of his own accord, to help them was too much for her at that moment. She fought to keep the tears from choking her. "Thank you, Walter," she murmured. "I'll be out again soon, to let you know. The cafeteria is just down that hall," she said with a wave in the direction opposite the Emergency Department. "Stay away from the 'chef's surprise' but if they have any French Toast out, grab it. They make it with cinnamon rolls." He smiled at her effort. "Thanks, I might wander down there in a bit. If I'm not here -- " "I'll find you," she assured him. She made a detour just to check her service and let the peds floor know that she was in the hospital but unavailable except in extreme emergencies. Tracey, the charge nurse, gave her a quick run-down on Christian's condition, which relieved her greatly. Buoyed by good news on her patient, she walked confidently down to Mulder's exam room. Only to step into total chaos. In reality it was carefully orchestrated chaos, but chaos nonetheless. Murf was in the center, directing the nurses. It took Scully only a minute to realize they were preparing Mulder for surgery. "Dana, perfect timing, I was just about to have you paged." He stepped away from the activity to pull her aside. "We found a bleed," he said, walking her to the side of the room with the view screen. He pointed to the film on display. "There's something here, looks like a previous drill site, but it's on the side. From the scarring -- it looks like a furrow. Not like what you mentioned and we found the other drill site right above his left ocular cavity." He reached up and circled the area with his a pen from his pocket. "See what I mean?" She closed her eyes. "I forgot about that one. He was shot. That's the graze from a bullet," she said with dismay. "You _forgot_ that your significant other was shot in the head?" Murf whispered with a raised eyebrow. "He was my partner at the time -- not my . . . " She didn't complete the thought, changing the subject slightly. "Besides, I was . . . out of the country," Scully said, knowing exactly how lame that sounded. Out of the country, according to Mulder about to be out of the solar system. Ah, yeah, no way was she going to say all that. "When I got back it was healed -- for the most part." "Well, that's where our problem is located right now. It could have happened during the accident and just worsened as he moved around. But from the looks of it, it should be easy to repair. I've put in a call upstairs, Jake Gleason is on call." Scully grimaced. "Jake? Is there anyone else?" She bit her lip when she realized how petulant she'd sounded. "Could you call Denise Wilson?" "Dana," Murf said, shaking his head. "It's a simple procedure and Jake is a good neurosurgeon -- " "I know, I know, it's just . . . he has the bedside manner of a grizzly bear," Scully fumed. "And there's no way he'll let me observe." She shut up when she saw Murf's eyes flash. "As well he shouldn't. You're much too close to this one." He put his hand on her shoulder. "Dana, this time you just have to sit by . . . and pray." She swallowed, her breath caught and her chest felt like it was in a vice. "I . . . I just want to walk him up to the OR," she whispered. "I think that's something we could arrange," Murf assured her with a grin. "Go on, before he leaves you behind." She hurried over and helped raise the side-rail. "Mind if I help push?" she asked the orderly. The young man gave her a smile. "Sure, Dr. Scully. Just let me steer," he said affably. As they walked the gurney down to the elevators, Scully fought hard to keep the tears at bay. "They're just going to fix that bleed, Mulder. It's not that big. And here I thought you have a hard enough head -- more scar tissue is just going to make it harder. I'll never get you to give me the remote now." The tear that hung on her lash finally broke free, careening down her cheek to drop silently on the side-rail. "We'll take good care of him, Dr. Scully," the orderly told her gently. She looked over at the young man and smiled. "I know you will." "Just try not to worry," he smiled back. She nodded, not able to speak. The elevator doors opened and they pushed the gurney into the small space. It was a very short ride that seemed to take forever. When the doors opened, an OR nurse Scully immediately recognized stepped forward to help negotiate the next hallway. "Dr. Scully, are you assisting?" she asked. "No, Donna, I'm . . . " Scully's mouth moved but no words would come out. The orderly looked over at the nurse and smiled. "Next of kin," he whispered. The nurse's eyes widened, but she remained composed. "I'll come out with updates," she promised. Without a thought, Scully leaned over and kissed her partner tenderly next to his lips. "I'll see you soon," she whispered in his ear. Her hand slid along the side-rail as she stood there, watching as the gurney disappeared behind the double doors of the surgical bays. She felt totally alone. It took her a few minutes of standing there before she remembered Skinner, still down in the ER waiting room. She turned and headed in that direction. They settled in the surgical waiting room. Scully snuck into the doctor's lounge and got Skinner and herself a cup of the premium roast coffee that one of the surgical nurses always brought in. She set her cup on one of the side tables and proceeded to pace the room. "Scully . . . Dana, why don't you sit down?" Skinner suggested. She was at the far end of the room and stopped, her back to him. "Do you know the last thing he said to me?" she asked, not turning around. "Scully . . . don't do this . . . "Skinner tried to object. "He said 'that's why we can't be together'. Of course, that's after I handed him his hat and showed him the door because I was so tied up with a patient. A very sick little boy, it's true, but I told Mulder I couldn't help him -- that I wasn't going to help him." She barked out a laugh. "He wished me good luck. I don't think he heard me when I wished him luck back." Skinner stood and came up behind her, turning her around to face him. "Scully -- you did help him. You knew something was wrong and you went looking for him. You found him. You saved his life." "Did I?" she whispered as the tears streaked from her eyes. "He's in there -- right now -- because he had no back up. I should have been with him, I should have tried to find him sooner -- " "You can stand here and second guess your actions till the cows come home and I can tell you from experience -- it won't change a damn thing," Skinner told her firmly. "All you can do is try to make it right -- starting right now." She looked up in his eyes and saw the shadow of the guilt he'd carried around all the time Mulder had been missing, the guilt that almost overpowered him when Mulder was returned 'dead'. "That's why you came so quickly," she whispered, wiping at her cheeks. "It's why you can always count on me -- regardless of the situation, the time, the year . . . " "Walter, it's not a life debt," she said sadly. "To me it is," he replied. "Thank you," she murmured, encircling his waist to give him a gentle hug. He returned the hug and then gently pushed her away. "Scully, you two have been together for 15 years. Do you honestly think a few heated words could be enough to destroy all that you've built in each other?" She bit her lip and looked away. "I hope not," she said quietly. "I don't know what I'd do without him." Twenty minutes dragged on to two hours and Scully was beginning to get seriously worried. Just when she was ready to storm the operating theater, the door to the doctors' offices opened and Donna stepped out with a smile on her face. "Sorry, we got bumped. Pushed us back a half an hour, but once we got started, it went well. Dr. Gleason is ready to talk to you." That was all Scully needed to hear. She pushed by Donna, flashing her an apologetic smile as she hurried down the hallway. She knew enough about Jake Gleason to know he was a creature of habit and always used the consulting room in the corner of the suite because it was the largest of the three. She tapped on the door and heard Gleason call her in. "Ah, Dana, I heard this one was yours. So, guess that's why you always turned down my offers for dinner, huh?" "Jake, let's please just stick to business. How did the surgery go?" "Perfectly, but there was never any doubt of that." He pointed to the film on the view screen and walked her through the procedure. "See, simple and fast. He'll be up playing 'hide the evidence' before you can say 'search and seizure'," he said with a smarmy grin. "FBI. I have to say, Dana, I'm very turned on. But then I guess I'd have to stand in line." It never ceased to amaze her how fast the hospital grapevine managed to work. Scully bit her lip and hid her clenched fist in her pocket. "May I see him?" "He's in recovery. We brought him up in the OR, he was groggy but responded well. I don't expect him to wake up soon, but hey, you can sit and stare at him all you want. We'll give him a room on 2 west till we cut him loose to your tender mercies." Scully wisely chose to leave the room before she was arrested for assault and battery. Our Lady of Sorrows Room 215 10:13 am His dreams were disjointed but always seemed to loop back to one moment -- standing in the hallway outside Skinner's office. He was standing there, arguing a point and suddenly Scully just walked up and put her arms around his neck and hugged him hard. "I won't let you go alone." She said that to him then and sent Skinner to go with him to Oregon. It was a long time before he came home, a long time before he saw her again and when he did their lives had been so different. Was that how it was to be now? After six long years when they had only each other -- when he had only her -- was he now on his own again? They'd had disagreements over the last years, but they were the minor inconveniences of two independent people spending all their free time together. Did she realize how much he listened for the sound of her tires on the gravel in front of the house? How even when she came home tired and grumpy from a long day of dealing with sick kids and unfeeling bosses, he just basked in the knowledge that she was there, with him. She was his lifeline, his only connection to the outside world save what he could get from a cable modem and a digital TV signal. She was everything to him. Which was why it hurt him so badly when she turned her back on him. Oh, a part of him could rationalize it all. Hadn't he been the one to tell her to 'go be a doctor' some ten years before? Hadn't he always known that nothing scared her but maybe she never wanted to live in the darkness? Hadn't he known that one day it would come to this -- she would leave and he would be totally and completely alone, despite her promises whispered in the heat of passion or the cold hours before dawn when the nightmares refused to let him rest? The darkness was looking pretty darned inviting when he considered what would happen when he opened his eyes. Maybe getting to him just before that axe had fallen had only delayed the inevitable because he knew in his very soul that he wouldn't be alive a month without her. He could hear her thinking. Sleep dragged at him and he didn't want to face her yet but her thoughts were loud enough to wake the dead. Slowly Mulder forced his eyes to open. Though blurry, she smiled down at him tiredly. "Hey," she said. "How are you feeling?" He licked dry lips and swallowed, finding his voice in the multitude of aches and pains. "I'm feeling . . . " He stopped and swallowed down the pain. "A strong sense of deja vu." That merited him a brighter smile, but there was a definite shadow in her eyes. "How's the girl?" he asked, wanting to delay the inescapable discussion of dividing their lives -- who got the dishes, who got the crop circle bedspread. Maybe he could sublet his office from her if he promised to stay out of her hair? "She'll be fine," Scully replied with a tilt of her head. Modesty always looked so very good on her. "I . . . I was able to stop the bleeding at the scene. She'll have to undergo some therapy, of course." "Were there any other victims alive?" he asked, sorting through thoughts that were now simply banging against the sides of his brain. "You mean besides you?" she quipped. At his rolled eyes she shook her head. "No. None alive. There was . . . there was a body of a woman in the barn." "I saw it," he cut in. She winced but continued. "I think it might have been Agent Bannon's body." "If they search that barn, they might find others. " "Mulder, I don't want to talk about the case, all right," she snapped and then dropped her eyes. He noticed a spot on her mouth where she'd been worrying her lip. That was never a good sign. He braced himself for what she would say. After a silence that seemed to extend into eternity, she looked up at him. "Mulder, I was so scared." He nodded slowly, although it only made his head pound. He knew how much it took for her to admit that, but he also knew she was being totally honest with him. He could only return the favor. "So was I," he agreed. "There have been times when I thought I'd lost you. The other afternoon when you walked out of the hospital -- it hurt so much." That brought him up short. She had been hurt the other day? Hadn't she been the one to tell him she wouldn't follow, couldn't allow the darkness in 'her' home? She was still speaking and he fought to catch up with her words. "And I felt I was letting you go, to be free to do what you had to do and I thought I could handle that. But when I couldn't find you, when I knew something horrible was happening to you -- Mulder, I couldn't handle that. I couldn't. I was so terrified." He started to nod but thought better of it. Instead he reached for her hand and she clasped it tightly. He was now totally confused but hopeful. Maybe it wasn't as desparate as he thought. "I thought," he rasped, his throat tightening. "I thought I was losing you," he said finally, his chest so tight he was afraid it would register on the heart monitor. She shook her head with a sad smile. "Never gonna happen, former G-man," she told him firmly and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. He felt it all the way up his battered arm as a warmth spread through him, thawing all the frozen places in his soul. "Never," she reaffirmed. "We've been through too much. No one else in their right mind would take either of us on. And when we're apart -- well, bad things happen. So you're stuck with me." "Promise?" he croaked out. Leave it alone, his inner voice screamed. Don't scare her off. But her little speech sounded so like something he would have said to her. Maybe it was true, maybe as a couple got older they really did slowly become one individual. One person with two hearts. He felt his own heart start to beat again. The shadow faded from her eyes and all he saw there was the love they'd shared for more years than he wanted to count. "I promise," she said. She leaned forward and rested her forehead against his. "Ouch," he winced when her head made contact with a particularly painful spot. He heard her chuckle and she placed a kiss on the bandage above his left eye. "I guess I have to thank Agent Drummy," she said, sitting back after a moment. "What on earth for?" he breathed. "This case managed to get you to shave that god- awful beard," she replied with a smirk. "Hey, it keeps my face warm in the winter. That house is damned drafty." "Sure, fine whatever," she answered. He wanted to laugh, he felt so giddy. It was so good to see her smile. And the dance was one they both knew so well. It was his turn to lead. "So, when do I get out of here?" She shook her head and rolled her eyes. He had to nibble his lip to keep from chuckling at her. "You've only been here twelve hours and you have another surgical scar to add to your already impressive collection," she said with false admiration. She sat back, crossing her arms. "I'd say you're here for at least a couple of days." "You could spring me," he suggested with a hopeful wiggle of his eyebrows that only stretched his stitches and ended up making him wince. "Why would I want to do that? Here, I know exactly where you are and what you're up to. Plus, I don't even have to take off work. Looks like a 'win- win' to me." He sighed, too tired to debate the issue with her. At least they were on solid ground again and that was more than he could have hoped for. Besides, now that he had a chance to see her clearly, he saw how tired she looked, too. She'd obviously been up all night by his side. "Why don't you go grab a nap in the on-call room?" She shook her head. "I have a better idea," she told him and stood up, slipping her shoes off her feet. "Scoot over." "Why Doctor Scully, as you coming on to me?" he asked with delight as he moved over to make room and held up the blankets for her to cuddle under them next to him. "When we're in the same bed at least I know where you are," she replied sternly. Once settled with his arms around her and her fingers entwined with his, she sighed and closed her eyes. "We can go home after we both get some sleep. If I tried to drive now, I'd only drive us over a cliff. Oh wait, you already did that." "Hardy har har," he chuffed but kissed the crown of her head and she tilted her head up to kiss him tenderly on the lips. "Go to sleep," she ordered. "Yes, ma'am. But what if they catch us? The nuns here look like they mean business." "I have connections," she assured him. As he was just about to drift off to sleep, she spoke again. "Mulder, I don't want the darkness in my home, but it's not a home if I'm not with you," she whispered. He felt the tiny shards of his heart start to mend. "We won't let the darkness in, then." She nodded and together, they drifted off to sleep.