Title: Hold On 4/5--Into Darkness (Formerly known as "Come Back to Me") Author: Smurf Email: KRUMS@worldnet.att.net Rating: R Category: Romance/ Angst Spoilers: Vague Keywords: Mulder/Scully married Summary: What is a pregnant Scully to do when her happy world crashes to her feet? Disclaimer: Since I don't own Mulder and Scully, I'd like to make their life a living hell. Here's my chance. I don't own any of the characters you recognize. With the exception of Zoe and Agent Sanchez. :› Archive: You know I don't care. Just tell me. Notes: If you've been following the series (the Hold On stories, not the show)--which I hope you have--you know that Mulder and Scully's lives have been just peachy since March of '99. The wedding was in June of 2000, the following story in December of 2000. This story takes place in February the next year. Life has been good for them for over a year. Frankly, it's starting to make me sick. Time for something bad to happen . . . let's leave it at that. I guess it's safe to call this a song story. It'll have one song, sort of in the background. Oh yeah, I guess this is kind of important. I'll give this thing a tissue warning. Read it with a box of Kleenex's beside you. Enjoy! "I think that nature is supremely indifferent as to whether we live or die. I mean if you're lucky you get seventy-five years, if you're really lucky you get eighty, and if you're extraordinarily lucky you get to have fifty of those years with a decent head of hair." ~~ Mulder--Detour ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Monday, 6:02 a.m. Two people jogged down the empty Washington DC sidewalk. It would still be over a half-an-hour before the ignorant business people of DC finally crawled out of their homes and went off for another redundant day of spending tax payers' money. The clue-less government employees who thought themselves to be of high-ranking authority. When in fact, their lives could be shattered in the drop of a dime. And let's not forget the wonderful democracy's naive little military guards, paid to sit on their asses and read comic books, 'guarding' top-secret equipment and facilities. The man watching the two joggers knew much of those weakly secured facilities. That was why he was almost thankful the 'real' top-secret stuff was inaccessible to most people. Even the President himself couldn't get into these places, where only a select few had entry. The man doubted the President even knew of such places. Not unless he read the Lone Gunmen garbage that only idiots and screwballs would believe. It was one of these few idiots and screwballs who was considered most threatening to the Project. This particular screwball who's extreme fascination and hunt for the truth had been grown and fed by the Group, only to keep him from the *real* truth. The mocked and ridiculed FBI agent Fox Mulder, was not even deterred from his hunt with marriage, a daughter, and a baby-on-the-way holding him back. The man turned from the window and took a final puff of his cigarette before snuffing it out in an over-flowing ash tray. He held the smoky breath in his ragged old lungs for a moment, letting the tobacco and nicotine circulate through his aged body before exhaling a cloud of gray. He walked across the room and sat behind the heavy oak desk in his penthouse. He could do nothing until he met with his associate. From there, they would decide what to do about Mulder now. Mulder's search for the truth had brought him to an abandoned project facility in Zacatecas, Mexico back in September of 1999. His presence in this facility exposed him to some of the high secrets of a branch of the Project. Mulder had contacted two of the child test subjects, who had told him of aliens. Somehow, Mulder had escaped the covert troops assigned to capture them. However, his partner had not. She was detained by what he thought to be aliens, which of course were not. After she was returned to Bethesda Naval Hospital, the trouble Mulder caused seemed to die down. He was too involved in marrying his partner, his life's work became second on the list. In recent months, the detection of Scully's pregnancy had renewed Mulder's goals. His eternal purpose was to find his sister, but that was always set aside when something came up involving Scully. This new goal set before him, was to find out what happened in Zacatecas. Surprisingly, Mulder had not returned to the facility known as Red Rover, as was anticipated by the Smoking Man and his associate. The Smoking Man opened the narrow desk drawer above the leg space and retrieved a new pack of Morley brand cigarettes. He tore off the plastic wrap and pulled a smoke out, just as another man entered the room. CSM struck a match from the book he always had in his jacket's breast pocket. He sucked the cigarette down a bit before speaking to the other man: "Have a seat." He said in his coarse, emotionless voice. The other man in his characteristic black leather jacket sat in one of the leather-covered chairs in front of the desk. He ran his hand through his dark hair, never letting his piercing brown eyes leave the old man. Though they had been working together for years, and before that, he working under CSM; he still didn't trust him fully. He did trust that his life was not in danger from CSM, he was too important. Being the last two high-ranking gentlemen in the Group, the Smoking Man would not risk another valuable assassin and decision maker. "Alex, I'm sure you've heard the latest news about our good friend Mr. Mulder." CSM said next. The sentence was meant to be a question, but was not asked. CSM trusted Krycek to keep up on the current events. "It's been awhile since we've last met. There have been a lot of things going on since then. But I'm guessing you mean about Mulder's marriage." Krycek answered confidently. "That is part of it. The marriage between Mulder and Scully is not only beneficial to us, but it is detrimental." CSM watched Krycek behind his blood-shot dark eyes. Krycek nodded, agreeing. "The closeness between Mulder and Scully has made it so that they cannot be separated." "Not by the means we've employed before. That is what we need to do, separate them. Without Mulder we will not need to worry about Scully. Especially in her current . . . condition." The Smoking Man sucked a moment on his cigarette before he continued. "Death is the only means to rid us of our problems." Krycek sat up straight. "I won't kill a pregnant woman. And I won't be held responsible for the death of one either." He had to draw the line some where. "We're not going to kill Scully. She is not the danger, not alone at least. That is why we must get rid of Mulder." CSM stated coldly. Krycek stood up, knowing their conversation would be ending soon. "If we kill Mulder--" He began to argue, reverting back to the past. "Those rules don't apply anymore. Desperate times call for desperate measures." CSM snapped quickly, cutting off his much younger associate. "Send one of the Pawns to do it." He suggested, referring to the government rats and moles that secretly worked as part of the Group. They were Pawns in the game, significant as individuals, important to the entirety, but worth risking in times of need. Risked Pawns were usually those who had squealed to Mulder. The names Kurtzweil and Kritschgau came to mind. Krycek shook his head. "The Pawns you're thinking of won't work. We need one who is well trusted by the group, one Mulder would never suspect." He turned to leave the way he came in. CSM understood just who was talking about. "It's good you are so confident in yourself. I hope you understand the consequences if you fail." The Smoking Man warned mockingly. Krycek didn't reply. He had failed before, and wasn't afraid to admit it. But he would not fail this time. He knew just who would be perfect to kill Mulder. And she wouldn't be any trouble in hiring. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Mulder Residence Wednesday, 2:33 p.m. The decision to take the day off had come very easily to Scully. Though everyone said the second trimester of pregnancy was far more comfortable than the first, it was still no picnic. Besides the fact that Scully felt like a hippo, and needed to buy new maternity suits to wear to work, people didn't really take five-month-pregnant FBI agents seriously. Her true maternal leave would not begin until the week of her due date, but she had been told days off were easier for her to get than other agents. She sat in the blue-gray reclining chair, flipping channels on the TV, trying to find something good to watch. Even though she didn't have to work, Mulder did, and Zoe had school. That left her alone, with only two cats as company. They weren't much for conversation. Scully never complained about being lonely, she liked the solitude and time to think. The only problem was, she could only think for so long before the boredom set in. Sometimes, she felt like getting dressed and going into work. Then when she would try to get up, all the blood would drain from her head and to the baby as gravity took hold. Her head would get so light, her vision would get blurry and she'd have to sit back down again. It was a problem for most pregnant women, but more so for women as small as her. Not to mention the godawful Braxton-Hicks contractions. She would never forget the first one she'd had. It had been a doosy. She was just sitting at her desk before she felt the totally normal intermittent contractions. She'd told Mulder and they both freaked out before she remembered that it was perfectly normal. That was when Mulder started encouraging her to stay home more often. She still had four months of gaining weight and discomfort, and was already tired of all the hovering and clucking over her. Surprisingly, Skinner was just as bad as Proud-papa Mulder. When ever she saw Skinner in the halls at work, or for a meeting, he looked at her funny. He was always asking if she was okay. It got on her nerves more than Mulder's common male habits (i.e. leaving the seat up, not hanging up wet towels, rude and sick bodily noises, etc.) Scully eventually decided there was nothing good on TV and put down the foot rest. She sat on the edge of her chair, eyes closed. She waited for a few seconds for her heart to pump the blood back to her brain before she could stand. She was getting used to the light-headedness, at least she knew this dizziness was not a cause of an alien cancer gradually invading her body. Nope, these faint feelings were due to the miracle of life. That was what kept Scully from complaining. She just thought about the baby growing inside her, the baby she and Mulder had created. Scully had pulled herself up and was heading down the hall to the bathroom to pee for the second time in thirty minutes when the phone rang. She thought at first to let the machine get it, but decided she could hold it. She walked out to the wall-mounted kitchen receiver where the cordless was recharging and picked it up. "Hello." She answered naturally. "Agent Scully?" A recognizable voice asked. "Yes, Sir?" Scully addressed, wondering why her boss would be calling her. "Scully . . . " Skinner delayed. This was when Scully detected the worry in his voice, she didn't panic though. "What is it, Sir?" She held her voice as firmly as possible. "Scully," He repeated again, the uneasiness apparent in his voice. "Scully . . . it's Mulder." He finally spit out. Immediately fearing the worst, Scully began to get alarmed. "What about Mulder? What's happened to Mulder?" There was a long pause as Scully heard Skinner exhale loudly. With each second he suspended her, her nerves became more jittery, her heart pounded faster and her breathing became more erratic. "He's been shot." Skinner finally told her. In that instant, Scully's breath caught in her throat, and she gasped. She couldn't think of what to say. After a few silent seconds, she managed to say, "Where is he?" "Bethesda." Skinner said. "I'll be right there." She replied quickly before setting the phone back in its cradle. She didn't even allow her mind to process what had happened. She just snapped into Scully- action-mode and headed for the door. She pulled her tennis shoes on as quickly as she could, before throwing on her trench coat that hung on the coat rack. She opened the door and stepped out into the biting February air, locking the door behind herself. As she got in the car (she could still fit behind the wheel if she pushed the seat back), she prayed that Skinner had only been exaggerating. That she had interpreted the anxiety in his voice wrong. But Walter Skinner was known for underestimating details, not overkill. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Bethesda Naval Hospital Same Day, 3:05 p.m. Scully drove as fast as she dared to Bethesda, fully using her government plate advantage. Once she arrived at the hospital, she rushed to the first floor Intensive Care Unit, using her badge to avoid all questions and paperwork. She was directed through the red lettered doors back to a waiting room. She saw Skinner sitting in one of the short-backed waiting chairs. He had his chin resting on his clasped fists, a worried furrow creasing his forehead. She hurried up to him, anticipating answers. When he saw her, he stood up. "Where is he?" She asked first, before he could say anything. She would see her husband first before finding out all the details. Skinner sighed and looked down at her through his gold rimmed spectacles. His face was filled with pity for her. "Is he . . ." She couldn't finish it, just hoping he would say no. Skinner shook his head. He began to walk down the ICU hall, leading Scully to where Mulder was. At the entrance to a room with an open door, he stood by the doorway, letting her go in first. It still felt odd to him to see one his most professional agents dressed in a dark floral print maternity dress, tennis shoes, and a big pregnant belly out in front of her. Scully had expected to see Mulder unconscious in a bed with a bandage around his leg, or his shoulder. Like when she'd shot him . . . What she imagined could never have prepared her for what she saw. She walked into the room slowly, only numbness filling her mind. At first, she couldn't even recognize him as himself, his entire head was covered with bandages. His eyes and cheeks, all the way down to the tip of his noes and his mouth. Twin tubes stuck out of his nose, traveling over to an oxygen supply. Only oxygen intake told her he was breathing on his own. Which was a good sign. She scanned down his body to the IV and plastic heart monitor over his finger. There were wide white bandages wrapped all around his torso, just below his chest. The shock was still all that registered on her emotions, but it wouldn't last long. Skinner walked into the room behind her as she stood closer to the bed. There was a short, hard cast around his wrist and between his thumb and index finger. She wrapped her hand around the limp fingers protruding from the plaster, being careful not to twist or move the obviously broken wrist. Skinner approached her at the side of the bed, looking down at the injured agent with a mixture of condolence and guilt. "What happened?" Scully asked softly, trying to keep her voice from cracking. Skinner shook his head. "I don't know. An agent found him like this in the parking garage. We don't know who did it, but they had to have some big brass ones to attack an agent just outside of the offices." Skinner look at Scully's still blank expression. "The agent that found him will be in later. She's decided to conduct the investigation herself." Scully nodded slowly and wiped a first tear from her cheek. She frowned and tried not to break down crying in front of her superior. "Is there anything I can do for you?" Skinner asked kindly, laying his strong hand on Scully's trembling shoulder. She sniffled and stood up straighter. "What time is it?" Skinner looked at the Rolex around his wrist. "Three-fifteen, why?" Scully turned from Mulder and looked at Skinner. "Could you do me a favor?" She waited for his nod and continued. "If she's not already home, Zoe should be getting home soon. Could you go pick her up and bring her here, please?" "Are you sure you want to do that, yet?" "Yeah, you can't hide anything from her. She shouldn't be much trouble for you, she won't be any trouble until she sees me." Skinner nodded and left, leaving Scully alone with her husband. Scully looked down at his motionless form, wondering what the hell happened to him. She didn't know what emotion to feel at this point. But the only one that came was guilt. A sick feeling of guilt that she, in some way, could've prevented this. She sat in the chair beside his bed and leaned over the edge. She took his broken hand again, and watched his chest as it methodically rose up and down. "Mulder?" She asked quietly. "Mulder, can you hear me? It's Scully." She hadn't expected one, and there was no response. "I'm here for you. I'm going to find out what happened to you. I'm gonna fix this." Scully frowned and knew she couldn't hold back the tears anymore. They flowed down her cheeks in streams, and the anguish caught up with her. She put her head down on the bed next to his arm and sobbed into the sheets. A few minutes later, there were three quick knocks on the door frame before a tall, dark- haired doctor stepped into the room. Scully lifted her head from Mulder's bed and wiped the tears from her face. She stood up as fast as her body would allow, trying to regain some professional composure. But she knew by the way the doctor looked at her that she looked like a highly distraught, pregnant woman. Which is what she was, but tried to look like the perfectly stable FBI agent she also was. "Mrs. Mulder? Dana Mulder?" The doctor asked her, studying her face. "Yeah." She answered clearly, trying to rub the red streaks from her face. The young doctor stuck out his hand. "I'm Dr. Rick Bauer. I assessed your husband when he came into the ER." Scully shook his hand obligingly, ready for some answers. "What happened to him?" The doctor looked over at the still man on the bed. He shook his head, slowly and thoughtfully. Trying to think of how to word Mulder's condition. Before he could say anything, Scully spoke again. "Just tell me the truth." She crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm a doctor and I know how you guys sugar coat everything." The doctor nodded and stepped up to the head of Mulder's hospital bed. "I don't know exactly what happened to him, but I can tell you his condition. The most apparent injury would be the one to his head." He gestured to the bandages cover most of Mulder's face and head. "He's suffered a cranial gunshot wound." Scully gasped quietly and covered her mouth with her hand. A flood of memories filled her mind. She remember how Melissa had died of a cranial gunshot wound, her head had been wrapped in bandages, much like Mulder's was now. "Luckily, whoever shot him must've had really bad aim. From what we can tell by an external examination, the bullet hit his head in the back. It glanced off the right parietal bone, which--as you may know--is the main casing of the brain, the hardest of the cranial bones. It has shattered some. We can't tell to what degree though. A CAT scan will tell if and how badly bone fragments have been driven into the brain." Dr. Bauer watched Scully for a moment, waiting for any type of reaction. Her face remained blank in a thoughtful expression. Her medical doctor's mind was working, deciding and calculating the consequences of the wound. "However, that is not the injury we are worried about." Dr. Bauer explained. "Mr. Mulder was also shot twice in the abdomen. And he's suffered serious abdominal trauma. There is worry over internal bleeding, but we won't know for sure until we go in for an examination." Scully nodded slowly and frowned. "What are the options?" She asked, regarding what they could do for him. "No matter what else we do, we should at least find out if and how badly he's bleeding internally. We should also run a CAT scan and find out the extent of brain damage. After that, we'll discuss more progressive options." Scully turned and looked back at Mulder. She should--at the very least--find out what they could do for him. "Okay." She answered. "Do it." The doctor agreed and turned to leave the room. Before he could step out, Scully beckoned him back, still looking at a comatose Mulder. "What are his chances?" She asked firmly. Doctor Bauer sighed. "It all depends on where the slugs contacted in his abdomen. We're pretty certain the head injury won't kill him. We won't know that for sure with a CAT scan. If the slugs hit his liver, he has little hope for survival. It all depends on where and how badly his internal organs were damaged." Scully nodded again and eased herself back into the chair. A few minutes after the doctor left, two male nurses and one female nurse returned with a gurney. Scully watched as they transferred Mulder carefully to the gurney to be transported to the OR. She held her breath and bit her lip. Trying to keep herself from losing all control. She couldn't help but feel completely helpless. All she was able to do was sit and hope for the best. ~ About fifteen minutes after Mulder had been taken in for surgery, Skinner returned with Zoe. As Scully had told Skinner, Zoe didn't cry the whole way to the hospital. She had remained quiet and utterly shocked. That is, until she saw her mother sitting in a chair beside an empty hospital bed, her face red and tear streaked, her eyes puffy and moist. At that point, Zoe rushed to Scully and hugged her, her young blue eyes immediately filling with tears. Scully held her daughter tightly, trying to provide consolation and knowing she couldn't comfort the girl. Zoe would know what was going on whether Scully wanted her to or not. Fortunately for Zoe, Scully had not gotten big enough so that her lap had disappeared, and she could sit on her lap, resting her blonde head against Scully's chest. "I wanna see Daddy." Zoe told Scully softly, her voice high-pitched with sobs and sounding slightly croaky. "I know you do, sweetheart. But you can't. Daddy's in surgery." Scully comforted, kissing the top of Zoe's head. Scully knew that Zoe already knew where Mulder was, but emotional stress clouded Zoe's thought. When something caused much distress in the girl, she melted into any normal, upset young child. Zoe and Scully sat in quiet for a few more minutes. Merely reflecting on what had happened in the past few hours. How they had both seen Mulder; awake, alert, and well; only eight hours ago. When another knock on the door frame came, Scully and Zoe looked up, hoping for a doctor bringing good news. It ended up being Skinner leading a shorter, dark-haired woman. "Agent Scully." He greeted. "This is Agent Rebecca Sanchez. She found Mulder in the garage." Zoe slid off Scully's lap obediently, so Scully could stand and greet the agent. They shook hands accordingly, Scully now ignoring her apparent tormented expression. "Agent Scully," Sanchez began, a mild Hispanic accent matching her Mediterranean skin and near-to-black hair. "I found some information you may be very interested in seeing." Scully looked into Sanchez's unwavering brown eyes for another second. She then looked down at Zoe. "Zoe why don't you and Mr. Skinner go and get a soda or something, okay?" Skinner looked at Scully, then down at Zoe. He took Zoe's hand and led her out of the room. Scully turned her attention back at Sanchez. "What have you got?" She asked firmly. Sanchez set her dark brown briefcase on the plastic chair across from the foot of the hospital bed. She flipped open the top and pulled out a small stack of photographs. "I began my investigation by sending a full forensic team to the scene. Being a high traffic area, they didn't get much in the way of fingerprints or footprints." Sanchez handed Scully the photos. "We did get this." She showed Scully a close-up picture of the cement wall on the third floor of the parking garage. It showed a chunk of the wall missing. "A bullet hit the wall here, and ricocheted back two feet where we found the slug on the ground." The next picture showed a small copper bullet laying on the dirty pavement. "It's from a small caliber weapon, probably a thirty-eight. We need to match it against the bullets removed from agent Mulder's body." Scully cringed at this sentence, it sounded too much like he was dead. She flipped through the remaining photos, one showed a puddle of blood on the concrete. It seemed to be a large amount. "Was there a lot of blood at the scene?" She asked anyway. Sanchez looked at her solemnly. "I'm afraid so." She answered glumly. After a few awkward seconds, Sanchez came forth with her next piece of evidence. "The biggest lead we have is the surveillance tape." She pulled a videotape from her briefcase and approached the TV hanging from the ceiling in the corner. "May I?" After Scully's nod, she turned on the TV and pushed the tape into the VCR. She hit play and they watched the events unfold in silence. "Oh, God." Scully gasped as Sanchez stopped the tape. "As you can see, he obviously knew the woman. She never turns toward the camera, nor did any of the other cameras film her. The one in the other corner above the elevator was malfunctioning." Sanchez looked at the floor, waiting for Scully's reaction, they really didn't have much to go on at this point. Scully remained silent, trying to interpret what little data had been given to her. It seemed as though they weren't going to catch the attacker after all. "I'm having the Crime Lab go over the clothes the doctors gave us after he was brought in. It seems in the video that there was minimal contact between out assailant and Agent Mulder." Sanchez replaced her video tape and photos into her briefcase. "I'm afraid that's all we've come up with so far. It is a good lead for the first day. We'll have to wait for the rest of the forensic analysis." Scully nodded slowly. "Okay, just keep me up on anything you get." "Of course." Sanchez replied, picking up her briefcase. She walked across the room to the door. Just before she left she spoke again, "I hope he gets well." She said genuinely. "I know what it's like to lose a husband." She glanced at the floor, hoping Scully took that the right way. When she looked back up, tears had begun to fall down Scully's face again, but she seemed to understand. "Thank you." Scully muttered as Sanchez left. As soon as the other agent was out of sight, Scully also left Mulder's empty hospital room. She walked back out to the waiting room, and into the small public phone booth. She picked up the black phone, and in realizing she had no change, dialed a collect call to a number she was all too familiar with. After a few rings, and sweet, older woman's voice answered. "Hello." Scully sniffed a little into the phone, not able to break the news to her mother. "Hello?" Maggie Scully asked again, as if someone was prank-calling her. "Mom." Scully finally answered, trying to keep her voice from cracking. Maggie knew better, Scully's tone gave away her grief. "Dana, what's wrong?" Scully sniffled again and continued suppressing her tears and sobs. "It's Mulder." She merely replied. Now Maggie's voice picked up a hint of concern. "What about him?" Scully paused for a second again. "He's been shot." She finally blurted. There was momentary silence on the line. "Oh my." Maggie finally breathed quietly. "I- I'll be right there." She said quickly. "Hang in there." She hurriedly hung up the phone, not allowing her daughter another word. Scully gently hung the phone back on the hook and stepped out of the booth. Rather than return to the room, she sank into a chair in the waiting room. She decided it best to not hold back her emotions anymore, and covered her face with her hands, sobbing again. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ It was another hour before Maggie Scully arrived at the hospital. Scully had also called Teena Mulder as well, who arrived at the same time. The three ladies sat in the waiting room, crying and trying to comfort one another. When Zoe returned with Skinner, she cried again as well, until she drifted off in one of the chairs. An hour after this, the nurses finally wheeled Mulder back into the hospital room. Teena became more frantic and followed them in, crying harder and harder over her injured son. Maggie remained with Scully just outside his room, waiting for the doctor to come and talk to them. After Dr. Bauer made sure Mulder was re-situated in his bed, he came out into the hall, a grave expression still on his face. Scully kept her anxiousness in check and waited patiently for the doctor's words. He didn't speak for what seemed like an eternity, after Scully asked, "Well, how is he?" Dr. Bauer took a deep breath and began, "The CAT results were overall positive. There was some damage to the brain. Luckily, we were able to remove most of the seriously threatening bone fragments. Any left shouldn't harm him. However, it is difficult to determine exactly how much damage there is. There was some massive swelling to the brain and we induced coma to relieve that. Any damage could be from very mild to . . . more serious." Knowing how vague he'd been in those aspects, the doctor paused and studied Dana. Her eyes were filling with tears again, but she was restraining her composure. "We also removed the two slugs from his abdomen, and sent them to the crime lab. The higher one had little damage to his internal organs. Mostly just tissue and nerve damage. However," The doctor's voice dropped, "the lower slug hit his liver, as we feared it would. We were able to stop the bleeding because it wasn't a direct hit. For now." "What do you mean 'for now'?" Scully asked, her voice just barely above a whisper. "If the bleeding begins again, we won't be able to stop it. He'll go into cardiac arrest and. . . well . . ." Dr. Bauer couldn't finish, he knew that Scully knew very well what would occur after that. Scully covered her mouth with her hand as more tears flooded down her cheeks. Dr. Bauer still had more information to release, so he ignored Dana's tears and continued. "The next few days will be very critical for him. If the internal bleeding begins again, it will be within the next few days. If not, he'll pretty much be in the clear. There is no definite telling when he could wake up. Judging by the cranial injury, that could be in the next week as well." Once they were certain the doctor was finished, Maggie released her grip on Scully's shoulder as Scully rushed in with Mulder. Teena was standing beside her son, shaking her head as a few tears continued down her cheeks. Scully sat in the chair beside the bed again, taking Mulder's hand. She squeezed his hand affectionately, showing she was there for him. Maggie came in and watched Scully with Mulder for awhile. She stood over her son-in- law's motionless form. She passed the motions of a cross over her chest, quietly whispering a prayer. She approached her daughter and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. Knowing Scully would probably spend the night, Maggie made a suggestion, "Dana, I'm going to go home now. I'm gonna take Zoe with me, so you don't have to worry about her. Okay?" Scully looked up at her mother, her eyes brimming over with unshed tears. "Okay." She whispered. Maggie stood up straight, and Scully stood as well. They embraced each other for a long moment. "Take care of yourself. I know it's hard, but don't stress too much. For the baby." Maggie patted Scully's bulging belly lightly. "I'll call you first thing tomorrow morning. Do you have your cell-phone?" Scully nodded. Maggie tried to smile for Scully, helping her with some stability. "Bye, Sweetheart." She kissed Scully's tear moistened cheek and left the room. Scully sank back down into her chair. She slowly turned her head and looked at Mulder. Merely looking at his condition made her sad again. She began crying once more. Knowing it was usually her that was in the hospital bed, slowly losing grip with life. It had always been him, leaning over the bed, holding her hand and talking to her in soft tones. She realized that she had never been faced with this situation before. She never had to look over in a hospital bed, and see her best friend clinging to life. Suddenly, she didn't know what she would do without him, if she could even go on. She gently laid her head down on the bed beside Mulder's arm. Her fingers remained entwined around his, hoping for some kind of response. She closed her tired, watery blue eyes and slowly drifted off. Her dreams in her sleep were not at all peaceful, filled with demons and fear. Things only Mulder could chase away, but he was never there in her dreams. Never there to scare away the nightmares and hold her, and tell her everything was going to be okay. Nothing seemed to be okay. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 9:14 a.m. Scully was awakened by the insistent ringing of her cell phone. She sat up and twisted around in her chair to her coat, hanging on the back. She pulled the little black phone from her pocket, and pressed the talk button. "Scully." She answered groggily, her last name a reflex to answering her cell. "Dana, it's me." Margaret Scully said. "Do you want me to bring Zoe down?" Scully sighed and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. She looked over at Mulder, who hadn't moved at all. "If you want to." She replied. She heard Maggie exhale loudly over the line. "I'll bring her if she wants to come. But from the sound of you, you should go home and get a *good* night's sleep." "Mom, I slept here." She protested. "Besides, I don't wanna leave Mulder." "I've slept in a hospital chair before, remember? I know you didn't sleep well because it is impossible. Go home, and get some sleep." Before Scully could argue again, she continued. "Would Fox want you hovering over him? Adding stress to yourself and his baby?" Scully remained silent for a moment. She thought glumly. "No." She answered slowly. "I'll go home later, I wanna stay here now." "All right. Bye." Maggie gave in, hanging up the phone. Scully ended the call by pressing the end button. She sat back in her chair and watched Mulder, wondering what he was thinking, if he was thinking at all. ~ She spent the whole of the day, just sitting. There was nothing she could do, except wait. And waiting was boring. After awhile, Scully went down to the gift shop for a magazine. She ended up buying two magazines, a crossword puzzle, a pack of gum, and a small bag of sunflower seeds. She'd picked up more than a few things living with Mulder, one of them being how to eat a sunflower seed. She even pondered about when he had taught her. The three of them sitting on the back deck, dripping wet from swimming and waiting for the sun to dry them. Mulder had been eating some seeds he brought out. Scully took a handful and fumbled with opening the seeds with her fingernails. Mulder showed her how to properly crack the shell with one's teeth, and extract the meat with one's tongue. Zoe couldn't get it right and just ate the hole seed, shell and all. It was an innocent little thing, but something that brought Scully tears. Why is it that people only remember happy times when something bad is happening? ~ Around three in the afternoon, after Scully had observed nurses wander into the room, and nurses wander out, she decided that maybe she should go home for a little while. After all, she needed a change of clothes and something better to eat than cafeteria food. She stood up from her seat and gathered her coat. She picked up Mulder's hand again and squeezed it. Then she leaned down and left him a kiss beside his mouth, just below his bandages. The induced coma meant visual stimuli had to be blocked out, which could be harsh on a recovering brain. "I'll be back soon." She whispered softly, before leaving his side. ~~~~~~~~~~~ On the way home, Scully stopped at a McDonald's for a late lunch. Normally, she wouldn't eat fast food, with the knowledge that it was bad for her, but the pregnancy brought cravings. And the baby liked McDonald's food. Once she got home, Scully sat in her quiet dining room and ate her lunch. Though she hadn't eaten since the day before, she wasn't all that hungry. But, she ate the food anyway, the baby needed it. After she was finished, she just stood by the patio doors, looking out at the winter-covered pool. Mulder's beloved pool that he may never get to swim in again. NO! She refused to think like that, he would live. It began to flurry lightly as she stood and watched. It was the first snowfall all year. There was a heavy one back in November, Mulder and Zoe had built a snowman in the front yard. A lingering tear rolled down Scully's cheek and dripped off her chin in remembrance. She wandered upstairs to her bedroom, to change clothes. The room was still darkened with the blinds down, the bed unmade from the day before. Usually Scully made the bed in the morning, but she didn't yesterday. She walked over to the large walk-in closet they shared and opened the doors. His suits and shirts hung on the left, while hers had their spot to the right. Her suits were draped in plastic dust covers, because she would not be wearing them for awhile. Mulder's clothes, however, were well worn. She gently pulled one of his clean white shirts off its hanger and held it in her hands. It smelled like him and laundry detergent. She unzipped the dress she was wearing from the back, letting it fall to the floor. She ignored it, and pulled on his shirt, buttoning it up in the front. The shirt was huge on her, the sleeves extending inches beyond arm's length. Even with the added girth of the baby, it still hung down to her thighs. She wrapped her arms around herself, like she was cold and trying to warm herself. Closing her eyes, she stood by the closet door, breathing in her husband's scent. After a few minutes, she came to realize that this may be the only way she remembers him. By the little things. Like his shirts, his shoes, the beer in the refrigerator, the water slide on the pool. Little things that he had done, that would unknowingly remain in her heart forever. All his things at the office . . . Oh, the office. If he left her, would she ever be able to walk into that office again? Like the first day they met, only without his warm grin greeting her? It pained her to even think of such things, how life would be if he died. He was still alive, but as the doctors sounded, not for long. Facing the fact that her husband was dying tore at Dana's heart. She frowned and absently looked at the ceiling, past the ceiling, to the heavens above. She tried to keep herself in control, for reasons only known to her. She walked around the bed to the side usually occupied by him. They shared a queen-sized waterbed, another idea of Mulder's. The two sides had separate mattresses, with different supports. Recently, hers had to be firmer, or she wouldn't be able to get up. She ignored that for now, sitting on the hard, leather bound edge of Mulder's side. The water-filled mattress still conformed to his figure. Scully eased herself onto the bed, the side that smelled like Mulder. She pulled the heavy comforter up to her chin, and turned to her side. Gently, she rubbed the ever-growing mound of her belly, wondering if the baby she carried would be raised with a father. The more she thought about what *could* happen, the more she couldn't stop. She pressed her cheek against the fluffy pillow that smelled like her husband and cried. She cried into the pillow, letting it muffle her sobs. She had come to grips that the only man she had ever loved was dying, and that the happy world they had fallen into, was crashing to her feet. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ FBI Headquarters Friday, 8:47 a.m. Much to Scully's surprise, she actually fell asleep in the bed. Her sleep was still restless and full of nightmares, but she slept through the entire evening into the night and until six in the morning when the alarm clock went off. Rather than dress and go to the hospital, Scully decided to go to the office. She didn't think she could just sit around at the hospital, watching Mulder remain in the state he was. When she got there, Scully parked on the third floor, next to Mulder's car which had not been moved. The corner by the door was taped off, all except for a three-foot-wide passage to get to the door. The forensic team had either not arrived, not begun, or had already given up, because the scene was empty. Scully pulled the tape up and ducked beneath it, wanting to get a look at it for herself. The first thing she noticed was the dark spot on the pavement. Mulder's blood, which had dried to a brown stain in the middle of the concrete. She looked up from the dried puddle and saw the chunk missing from the wall, just as in the picture. In her mind, she retraced Mulder's steps. Then the attackers. Her analysis brought her across the garage, to the other corner, where an elevator stood. This was what was guessed to be the assailant's exit. Since they could not block off the elevator because of the amount of traffic, Scully pressed the white down button, and boarded the elevator. She reached the first floor, and stepped off, looking in every nook and cranny for anything that could help with the investigation. To the right, of the entrance to the garage, was a metal detector and guard booth. The guard was out of the booth, sitting on his stool by the elevator. His job was to check security clearances, badges, and visitor identification. The booth contained the monitors for the security cameras. As Scully looked above the exit, she noticed another camera. This camera could not be avoided, and was probably missed by the average passerby. Scully thought that perhaps this camera could contain the information she needed. The guard--a tall, military-cut young man--watched her as she studied the camera and pondered. "Can I help you, Miss?" He asked kindly, looking for something to ease his boredom. Being a new guy, he didn't recognize her as an agent, and thought maybe she was a lost visitor. She glanced at him dismissively, one eyebrow raised in a thoughtful expression. "Umm, yeah." She finally answered. "I'm Agent Scully. I was wondering if you could answer a few questions for me." She pulled out her badge and showed it to him naturally. "Sure," He consented. "I don't know how much help I can be, because I'm new." "Were you here Wednesday?" She asked and he answered with a nod. "Did you see anyone come out of that elevator in a particular hurry?" The guard shrugged. "Not that I can remember. Not many people come down this way." Scully nodded. "Do you still have the videotape from that camera from Wednesday?" She pointed at the camera above them. "Yeah." He answered, sliding off the stool. He walked over to the closed blue door and unlocked it with one of the many keys hanging from his belt. Scully followed him into a closet-sized room, housing three monitors, a chair, a TV/VCR, and a metal cabinet. The guard opened the cabinet. "The tapes are in hour increments. Which time are you looking for?" "One in the afternoon. I'm looking for someone who may have come down here around one forty-seven." "Okay." The guard pulled a tape from the cabinet and popped it into the VCR. After a but of rewinding, he came to one forty-five. He fast-forwarded to one forty-seven on the dot. From there, he let the tape roll. "What's this for, anyway?" He asked curiously as the watched the still corridor from the elevator. "An agent was shot Wednesday afternoon, and the shooter was thought to have taken the elevator down." She answered vaguely. "Oh yeah, I heard about that." The guard said. "Pr--" The guard was cut off by Scully. "Freeze it there." She said as a woman stepped off the elevator. She had shoulder-length dark hair, and the same dark suit as the faceless one in the other tape. "Okay, now freeze frame it until she's just at the camera before she goes underneath it." The guard pushed a button, and the woman took long, exaggerated steps to the camera. He froze it again as her face was clear on the screen. Scully leaned over his chair, studying the woman. As recognition poured into her mind, her eyebrows raised in a surprised expression. She was looking at the face of the devil herself. The woman who had caused so much grief over the years, and had finally come back for one last showdown. Diana Fowley. "Is that who you're looking for?" The guard asked. "Yeah." Scully replied absently. "Can I borrow that tape?" "Sure, just sign here." The guard handed her a sign-out sheet on a clip board. She scratched her name and badge-number in quickly and the guard handed her the tape. "Thank you." She said hurriedly as she rushed out the door. As quickly as she could, Scully went back upstairs and located Sanchez's office. She knocked on the door and was beckoned to come in. Sanchez was hunkered over some paperwork, her black hair barely brushing the papers. She looked up and a mildly surprised expression crossed her face. "Agent Scully, I didn't think you'd be coming in today." She said. Scully looked at the floor. "Yeah. . .well . . . I needed something to occupy my mind." After a second, Scully placed the tape on Sanchez's desk. "I found this. A surveillance tape from above the elevator exit. It clearly show our attacker's face." Sanchez sat up and pushed her chair back from her desk. She then got up and put the tape in the little TV/VCR in her office. The tape was already wound to the right spot, courtesy of the bored guard. Sanchez pressed play and subsequently freeze framed until the suspect was clearly under the camera. Scully watched Sanchez's expression. She was obviously surprised, and unbelieving. "That . . . that's Agent Fowley!" She looked up at Scully, who was nodding slowly. "I can't believe that." Scully shrugged a little. "What else have you found from the forensics?" She asked. Sanchez stood up and went back to her desk. "They found one conclusive fingerprint and hair strands. They can't do anything with hair because they have no target to match them to." "Did you run the print through the database?" Sanchez sat behind her computer, accessing the Intelligence Network Gateway, containing all available databases. "I was just about to do that." The scanned information was already loaded, all she had to do was search the databases. Because of the videotape, she first clicked the FBI database, mostly to see what came up. Scully stood behind her, watching the computer process. After a few seconds, a picture and name came up. "Diana Fowley." Scully mumbled, half to herself. They had enough conclusive evidence to make an arrest, but she knew they should still test the hair. In that instant, Scully unknowingly made a vow, for justice. In any form it may take. "I can get a hair sample from her." Sanchez stated, breaking Scully's thoughts. "Okay," She answered dreamily. "Go ahead." Sanchez left Scully for about ten minutes. Scully remained in Sanchez's office, thinking. She knew Diana Fowley was jealous, that she didn't have Mulder. But to stoop this low? It was unthinkable. "I got it." Sanchez announced, returning with a small baggy containing a single strand of hair. "I'll send it down to the Crime Lab for testing." "That takes too long. I want to question her now." Scully said, heading for the door. "We have enough evidence to make an arrest." Scully opened Sanchez's door. "Okay," Sanchez agreed, almost reluctantly, "I'll be over in a minute." Agent Fowley's office was on the same floor as Sanchez, in the terrorist activities division. Scully stormed down the hall quickly, not exactly looking forward to seeing the woman's face, but all too delighted in taking her away in handcuffs. Once Scully reached the right door, she knocked once and entered without consent. Fowley was sitting at her desk, doing something on her computer. She looked up innocently as Scully entered the room. "Agent Scully, this is a surprise." She said casually, as if nothing was going on. "I heard about what happened, I'm so sor--" "Cut the crap." Scully snapped. "I know you did it. I have two videotapes, hair samples, and fingerprints all pointing at you." Fowley stood up, a falsely appalled look on her face. "That's ridiculous. I did no such thing." It was obvious to Scully she was lying. "Sure, I'm still taking you down for questioning." Fowley stood up straight, knowing she had been caught. "I'm not going anywhere." She stood firm beside her desk. "I didn't do anything." As Scully pulled out her handcuffs, Diana reached slowly into her jacket, pulling her gun out of the already unbuttoned holster. She pointed it's muzzle directly at Scully, flicking off the safety. Scully looked up from her cuffs and saw what was about to happen. In a split second, she grabbed her own gun, pointing it at Diana. The shock registered clearly on her own face, eyes wide, jaw agape. She hadn't anticipated a stand-off. "If I'm going to go, you're coming with me." Diana muttered. Scully watched in horror as Diana began to squeeze back the trigger. Her cuffs clattered to the floor. "Drop it, Fowley." She commanded as firmly as she could muster. She pinched her eyes shut, expecting the worst. Sanchez marched quickly down the hallway, carrying the file that outlined the evidence against Fowley. She was three doors from Diana Fowley's office when she heard the deafening explosion of gunfire. Fearing the worst for Scully--being that Diana was the assailant--she broke into a run as other mingling people jumped and ran for the source of the sound. She broke through the crowd and made it into Fowley's office. She saw Scully crouching (as best she could) of Diana's motionless form. She had her hands over a dark spot on Fowley's chest, they were covered in bright, red blood. Sanchez gasped watching in a mixture between panic and a little guilt. "I need an ambulance!" Scully commanded as other agents flooded in to help her. Sanchez darted over to the phone and picked it up, dialing 911. This was, by far, not what she had expected would happen. If Fowley died, Scully was most likely going to be in very big trouble. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ FBI Headquarters Monday, 1:00 p.m. Scully spent the weekend trying not to think about what had happened Friday. It had happened so fast, it ended before it began. More than that, she didn't want to think about the fact that she had fatally wounded another FBI agent. She and Zoe mostly stayed at the hospital, keeping a loyal vigilance over Mulder's bed. The doctor's solemnly told her he wasn't getting worse, but they were hiding the fact that he wasn't getting better either. Monday, Scully had to return to work and answer for herself before the FBI assembly. She sat at the large conference table in the dimly lit room, trying to not let her superiors intimidate her. Skinner sat across the table from her, watching her every move. She had explained to him what happened, that Fowley had threatened to shoot her. He had little doubt that the board would take this wouldn't lightly, Diana Fowley was a prized and superior agent. The section chief raised her stone gray eyes from the papers before her and scanned the younger redhead sitting before her. She had much to take into consideration during this trial, mostly the fact of Agent Scully's marriage to her partner as well as her pregnancy. Neither of these two factors would play in Scully's favor. "Agent Scully," She finally addressed, her voice firm and almost cold. "Would you please restate the matter we are here to clear up." Scully nodded. She took a deep breath and briefly let her eyes dart around the room to each of her superiors faces. Most were older men, and then Section Chief Armoz, who was the only other woman in the room. The yellowish desk lamps cast an eerie yellow glow on their faces. She remembered when she had been here before, three years ago, lying for Mulder. Defending him, as she was defending herself now. She cleared her throat. "Last Wednesday, February 18, I was called by Assistant Director Skinner to come down to the Bethesda Naval Hospital. AD Skinner told me that my partner, Agent Mulder, had been shot. I arrived there to find that he had suffered two abdominal gunshot wounds as well as one cranial. They had not--at that point--found the assailant or even developed any suspects." Scully paused and glanced up. Some of the gentlemen were scrawling notes on their notepads, Skinner and Armoz had their eyes locked firmly on Scully. "Agent Sanchez was the one who found Agent Mulder in the parking garage. She had decided to head the investigation into his shooting. She brought me a surveillance tape taken from the third floor of the garage, it showed Agent Mulder being shot. The assailant was female, between five-eight and six feet in height, below shoulder-length dark hair, and was wearing a dark dress suit on the day of the shooting. She never turned to that particular camera and the one above her escape route was malfunctioning. "Last Friday I came into work, where I found another surveillance camera above the elevator exit. After viewing the tape from around the time of the shooting, I found out that Agent Fowley had left the building through that elevator, two minutes after Mulder was shot. She wore the same clothing as the assailant's and the hair length and height matched. Agent Sanchez also presented to me hair strands taken from Mulder's clothing and one fingerprint. After running the fingerprint through the databases, it was matched to Agent Fowley's. The hair samples were sent to the Crime Lab for processing. We had enough conclusive evidence to make an arrest for questioning, which is what I proceeded to do next." Scully stopped, checking everyone's reactions. Armoz rustled her papers and spoke, "Agent Scully, isn't it true you told us this was Agent Sanchez's case?" "Yes, it is." Scully answered confidently. "You shouldn't have been working on this case at all. You know the Bureau's policy on emotional attachment. The pure nature in this case should have kept you out of the investigation." Scully tried to swallow, finding that her throat was dry. Instead of commenting on Armoz's remark, she continued. "When I arrived to arrest Agent Fowley, she pulled her gun, and threatened to shoot me. Since she refused to drop her weapon, I used force." Scully paused, letting the information sink in. "Agent Fowley died late Friday morning on the way to the hospital. The cause of death was a single cardiac gunshot wound. Afterwards, her gun was test shot, the round fired matched the two taken out of Agent Mulder and the one found in the parking garage. " "So, you admit to shooting Agent Fowley?" An older man asked. He looked at Scully with an icy gaze behind thick rimmed glasses. "Yes, but I only used force to protect myself." Scully explained. "As we have stated before, you had no business arresting Diana Fowley in the first place." Armoz said again. "That would have been Agent Sanchez's duty. You had no duty in this particular investigation." "Just because I am married to my partner, doesn't change my abilities as an FBI agent. That had no part in my decision for seeking justice. As I remember, the Bureau also has a policy on back-up. I assume that's what Agent Sanchez was thinking when she showed me the evidence." Scully explained. Armoz looked down at the table, shuffling some papers again. "Agent Scully, if you would step outside, the board will now make a decision regarding this matter." Scully rose slowly from her seat, gathering the few notes she had brought in but not used. She turned to the closed black door, opened it and stepped out. The hallway outside the conference room was considerably brighter, and almost harsh on the eyes. It was cooler though, no longer under the criticizing glare of the big-wigs. She paced back and forth in front of the door, arms crossed over her chest. She tried to guess what their decision would be. She knew that being pregnant and married to her partner was not going to help matters. These people weren't big on sympathy votes. About ten minutes later, the door eased slowly open again and Skinner stepped out. He found Scully sitting on the hard wood bench beside the water cooler. She was resting her head back against the wall, eyes shut. Her hands were folded over her big belly. At first glance, she looked peaceful, but then there was a crease in her forehead, giving her a frustrated expression. When she heard the door open, she looked up. As soon as she saw it was Skinner, she stood up. "What's happening?" She asked impatiently. Skinner pulled her out of the middle of hall, over nearer to the wall. He spoke in the hushed tones that made everything sound of the utmost importance. "They're talking about whether or not you are competent in the field anymore." "What?!" Scully exclaimed in a hissing whisper. "My competence?" "Yes. There's worry over if you can cut it as an FBI agent anymore. With everything that's happened, you and Mulder, the baby . . . " "What does that have to do with anything?" She hissed, as if he was the one making these accusations. "Everything." He stated coolly, trying to keep her calm. "Basically, they're wondering if it wasn't emotional attachment that shot Diana Fowley. They think your thinking was clouded due to the events of the past few days." Scully turned away from Skinner, pacing back to the bench. "This is ridiculous." She muttered under her breath. "Maybe so." Skinner said a little louder, not moving from his spot. "But it is serious. There's discussion over putting you behind a desk . . . permanently. The other two options they're considering are a transfer to the Crime Lab where your forensics expertise would be appreciated, or sending you back to Quantico." "And this is all because I shot Diana Fowley? Or do they just like to kick people when they're down?" Scully asked, turning back to Skinner. "Agent Scully, it's not taken lightly when an agent kills another agent." He explained, before realizing that what he said wasn't going to help. Scully stepped back up to her superior, eyebrows raised. "Skinner, Sir, Agent Fowley shot *my* husband, another agent. This made her not only a criminal, but a federal criminal. Shooting a government employee is a federal offense. The second she pulled that trigger, she was no longer a federal employee, but a government offender. A criminal. Maybe even a murderer. At least *I* had the decency of mercy, killing her with little suffering. If Mulder dies, I'll wish it was him that died quickly, and her that had lay in a hospital bed, suffering." Skinner exhaled loudly. "The decision isn't even final yet." He merely stated as the door opened once more. A shorter, black man stepped out. "Agent Scully, AD Skinner." He addressed, indicating that they were needed back inside. Skinner outstretched his arm, gesturing the way. Scully went back in, a solemn expression and thoughts of sadness hung over her head. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Bethesda Naval Hospital Same Day, 6:45 p.m. As soon as she could, Scully returned to Mulder's bedside. Nothing had changed since she'd seen him yesterday. He hadn't worsened, but he hadn't progressed. Maggie had brought in Father McHue on Sunday to pray for him, even though it wasn't Mulder's religion. He was still family. Scully sat in the chair she frequently occupied, turned towards Mulder's bed. It broke her heart every time to see him, bandages covering most of his head and face, an oxygen tube running out of his nose. She knew now, what he had felt like when she had cancer. Completely helpless, unable to do anything but offer love. To just sit and wait, watching the one you love die. If he left her, she would lose more than her partner and her husband. She would lose her best friend, and the only person she could ever trust. She leaned up to his face and kissed him gently on the cheek, feeling the hot tears well up in her eyes and slide down her face. She took his hand again, listening to the lonely beep of the heart monitor. "Fox?" She whispered gently. Wishing . . . no . . . *hoping* he could hear her, where ever he was. "I miss you so much. Zoe misses you too. You can't just leave us, Fox." She closed her eyes, shaking her head and trying to speak through sobs. "I killed her, Fox. I killed Diana Fowley. Now . . . now I don't know what to do. They're talking about sending me back to Quantico, or making me office furniture. They don't think I can hack it anymore." She paused, and tried to swallow over the lump in her throat. "If they do, they'll shut down the X-files. Everything you've worked for, everything *we've* worked for. . . And . . . and I don't know if I can do it alone." She let out a cry as more tears left wet trails on her skin. "I need you here with me. Remember? You are my life, and my soul. You are a part of *me*. You make *me* a whole person. I'm nothing without you. You can't just leave me." She shook her head again. "I can't raise these two children by myself." At the mention of children, Scully felt something inside her move. Like air bubbles trapped in her stomach. It was really just the baby moving. A wonderful feeling, if you had someone to share it with. She stood up and pressed Mulder's limp fingers against her belly. "You feel that, Mulder?" She sobbed. "That's your son. He needs you too." She sat back down, laying her head just beside his upper arm. "Please come back. Come back to me. I love you, and I need you here." Scully frowned and stopped trying to speak, she let her sobs come in a quiet flood. Scully closed her eyes as tears fell off her cheeks and soaked into the bed sheet. After a few minutes, she lifted her head again, and propped her chin on clasped hands. It had been a long time since she really prayed, but she felt as though it was the last route she could take. "Please, God." Were the only two words she actually whispered. ~~ Hold on Hold on to yourself for this is gonna hurt like hell Hold on Hold on to yourself you know that only time can tell What is it in me that refuses to believe this isn't easier than the real thing My love, you know that you're my best friend you know that I'd do anything for you And my love let nothing come between us my love for you is strong and true Am I in heaven here or am I At the crossroads I am standing So now you're sleeping peaceful I lie awake and pray that you'll be strong tomorrow And we will see another day and we will praise it And love the light that brings a smile across your face Oh God if you're out there won't you hear me I know that we've never talked before Oh God, the man I love is leaving won't you take him when he comes to your door Am I in heaven here or am I At the crossroads I am standing Now you're sleeping peaceful I lie awake and pray that you'll be strong tomorrow And we will see another day and we will praise it And love the light that brings a smile across your face Hold on Hold on to yourself For this is gonna hurt like hell ~~ Scully thought she must have fallen asleep, because when she woke up, it was very dark outside, she also noticed outside the window that there was about four inches of snow on the ground, and it wasn't snowing at all when she arrived. She lifted her head from it's spot, rolling her neck as the bones crackled and the muscles stretched sorely. She leaned back in the increasingly uncomfortable low-backed chair. Eventually, she closed her eyes again, leaning her head back against the wall, hoping that if she slept long enough, Mulder would be awake when she awoke. She was just about to slip away into uneasy dreams again when she heard a noise. Her eyes flashed open, not at first knowing what the sound was. When she heard it again, she looked over at Mulder. It was coming from him, a groaning like something waking up from a very deep sleep. She stood up quickly, shocked and thrilled all at the same time. "Mulder!" She exclaimed, touching his hand. He didn't make any noise at first, and she began to think she was just imagining it. But he slowly, wrapped his fingers around her hand, squeezing it. "Mulder, can you hear me?" She asked excitedly. After a few minutes, he moved his head a little. "Yeah." He answered in a raspy voice. Scully was filled with a thousand emotions at once. She smiled and laughed, more tears pouring down her face. He was back, and she didn't know how to react. "I can't see you though." He said, his voice sounding dry and weak. Scully reached out and folded the bandages up over his eyes. He opened them briefly, before pinching them shut just as fast. He opened one first, slowly letting it adjust to the light. Then he opened the other, repeating the same thing. After they were both open, he reached his cast hand up, wiping the sleep build up from them. He still squinted, it would be awhile before he could suffer bright light. Scully noticed this and went to the switch, flicking off the bright overhead lights. She returned to his bed, switching on a dimmer, incandescent lamp hanging from the wall. "Better?" She asked gently. He opened his eyes more. "Yeah." He looked at his hands, one with an IV poking out of his wrist, one covered halfway to his elbow by a cast. He shifted his weight back to his elbows, trying to sit up. "No, don't try to sit up." Scully directed, pressing gently onto his shoulder. "What happened?" He asked, staring into her eyes for answers. "You don't remember?" She asked, questioning the obvious. His gaze shifted from her to the meaningless dots on the ceiling. He searched the corners of his aching and abused mind for any recent memories. "I remember . . . I left something in the car at work, and I was going to get it. Then, I saw, a woman. I can't remember who it was. After that, I can't remember anything." Scully gazed at him for a moment. "You were shot. That woman you saw, that was Diana Fowley. She shot you." She waited for Mulder to react before she said anything else about his condition. He continued staring at the ceiling, trying to decipher in his mind all the information he had just received. Diana Fowley had shot him? That was absurd. He knew Diana, she may be stubborn, and at times bitchy, but shooting him? Actually, he could think that same thing about Scully, but she *had* shot him once. But that had been for his own good. "Why?" He asked Scully. "Why did she shoot me?" Scully shook her head slowly. "I don't know. No one knows why she would do such a thing." She said glumly, knowing she was going to have to tell him she had killed Fowley. The one thing most wives would want, their husband's ex-wives dead, she had. And she was a little guilty. "I want to talk to her." Mulder stated. He had to find out why she shot him. Scully sat back in the chair beside him. "You can't." She answered cautiously. "Why?" "Because she's dead. I killed her." Scully answered, not worrying about the amount of guilt apparent in her voice. Mulder turned his head slowly, wincing a little at the pain. "What?" "I shot her. I was going to arrest her for questioning, and she threatened to shoot me. So I shot her first. She died on the way here." Scully drew in a deep breath and looked down at the floor. Mulder didn't respond. He just watched Scully avoid his eyes. He turned his head back to its original position. "I almost died." He said, as naturally as anything else. Scully looked up at him, surprised. "You did." She whispered. "How do you know that?" He took a deep breath, listening to his own heart monitor for a second. "I had a dream." He gazed back into his wife's shimmering eyes. "At least I think it was a dream. I was in a long white hallway. At one end was you, and Zoe. At the other, was bright light. It was almost welcoming, the light. But somehow, I knew it was death. That if I went into that doorway, with the light, I would never come out again. So I ran. I tried to run up the hallway, to you and Zoe. But every time I looked back, I was the same distance from the light. Like something was pulling me back in it." "So how did you come back?" Scully asked, whispering to keep her voice steady. "I heard a voice. It was your voice and you were crying. I ran as fast as I could, and I reached the right end of the hallway, with you." He smiled weakly. A tear slipped down Scully's cheek. "You almost left me." She whispered, failing to be strong. Mulder reached out with his right hand--the one without the cast--and touched her face. "Don't cry." He cooed. "Don't cry, Freckles." He stroked her cheek with his thumb, wiping away the tears. She put her hand against his, delighting in his life. She couldn't help it, crying more as he touched her. He was alive, and she was forever thankful. He smiled at her, which only made her tears of joy fall harder. "I love you." She confessed through her tears. "Don't ever leave me." "I promise." He whispered honestly. He smiled wanly at her, trying to comfort her fears. He would never leave her. Not in a million years. His one in five billion. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Personal Journal Entry: Dana Katherine Mulder January 26, 2000 10:13 p.m. "Even now, as I look back at my husband's near death, it still frightens me. Our life is one with many twists and turns. Walking around blind corners and dark alleys. We may never know when something could happen, to end everything we've built upon. Everyday to wake up and have everything be normal, and calm, is a blessing. Normalcy in itself is even something we've probably never achieved, and never will. What is 'normalcy' anyway? Having a husband that goes to work every week day, returning by five sharp where the house wife/mother has dinner sitting on the table? Two perfect children, a mediocre house and lifestyle, a dog, and a cat? Is this normal? Or just a dream? I know our lives can't be normal. Both Mulder and myself, risking our lives on nearly a daily basis, just for the search for the *truth*. Though Mulder is out of the hospital now, I still see myself leaning over his hospital bed, loosing all control of myself and my emotions. Pleading with God to give him back to me. This time, we were lucky. Life prevailed over death. And as Mulder sees it, love over loss. If nature is supremely indifferent to whether we live or die, it makes me wonder if there weren't other forces at work here. I am a scientist, and I still can't offer a truly plausible explanation to why or how he came back. My faith tells me that God wanted him to live. I thank Him every night for it. But my scientific mind is still unrest. I suppose I should let it be, let sleeping dogs lie, and be thankful for what I have. I didn't know until now the emotional toll something like this would have on me. Us. I have strong hope that we will both see tomorrow together, and many more to follow. I see Mulder has appeared to have found a new leash on life. He doesn't want to take anything for granted. It is still unknown what Agent Diana Fowley's motive was for the shooting. It will most likely never be known. If a mad jealousy was the cause to spark this off, maybe it is better that she's dead. But I have strong convictions that it was something or someone else all together that did this. Who or what I am not sure, and I don't think I want to know. The FBI board voted today on my fate. It was ruled that I would remain partners with Mulder. Somehow, it was proven that Diana Fowley was indeed a criminal, and I was defending myself. I don't know why they did not see this before, perhaps it just took something more for it to sink in. I've decided that the best thing to do now, is simply move on. I should live life to it's fullest, not worrying about what *did* happen or what *could* happen. No matter what I do, I can't stop something over my head. Like fate. The best thing to do is just look ahead, and pray it doesn't happen again. Just . . . cherish the present." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Ding-dong the bitch is dead, the mean old bitch, the wicked bitch! Ding-dong the wicked bitch is dead!! . . . hehehe, sorry, couldn't resist. Allrighty, feedback. You got it, I want it. GIVE IT TO ME!! Archive: Where ever, lemme know first. Or, you can contact my publicist, Lill. Her Email addy is......ummm......TinkerbellAmidala@x-phile1013.freeserve.co.uk I hope you don't mind me putting your Email on here hun, after all you are my publicist!! :o) Till next time....... 14