TITLE: "Candles of Ice" (1/2)


BY: Ten


E-MAIL ADDRESS: kristena@ocean.com.au





CATEGORY: V, A, deep friendship (My version of it anyway


- I usually write MSR - there is no kissinngg or


declarations of love, but I think their bond is clear


enough. In some stories I'm trying to strike a balance


like Vickie Moseley manages so effortlessly, to please


the romantics & the friendshippers. Let me know how I


go...)


RATING: PG


SUMMARY: With Mulder still unconscious from the


retrovirus, Scully faces a lonely birthday in Alaska.


TIMESPAN/SPOILER WARNING: Set during and after "End


Game". References to the Abduction trilogy, "Tooms" and


"Lazarus".





Author's ravings, er, notes are at the end. Put down the


wet noodles, Debbie; I've done it at last! (And thanks


for editing.)





DEDICATION: To Lisa, who has the same tastes in fanfic as


me, is always encouraging, stays up until 3:30am after an


episode to e-mail me the details and then answers my


barrage of questions about the important aspects (Like:


"What was the expression on his face when he said that?


How close were they? She *touched* him? Give me the grid


references!"). Thank you, my friend.





DISCLAIMER: The X-Files and the characters of Mulder and


Scully belong to Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions


and Fox Broadcasting, and are used without permission. No


copyright infringement is intended, no profit will be


gained.








The X-Files: "Candles of Ice" (1/2)


by Ten, written Dec/Jan, posted January 1998








Nine in the morning. Scully sighed as she squinted at the


watch in her hand. She lay back in bed and strapped it


onto her wrist. Nine - she would be at the Bureau by now


if she was in D.C., in the basement office with Mulder


shooting through slides of a case like he was at the


firing range. Talking animatedly.





If.





But Mulder had not spoken to her for three weeks.





And it scared her that she was struggling to recall the


sound of his voice. So much so, yesterday she even rang


his apartment just to get the answering machine. Hearing


him say: "Hello, this is Fox Mulder; leave a message


please." reassured her as well as upset her. He was never


_Fox_ Mulder to her.





However, his name could be Denise as far as she cared -


she just wanted him back with her!





Five past nine in the morning. She should get up. Slept


in again - because she tossed and turned last night.


Surely by now he would have woken up? But he remained


unconscious. Usually the weight of the world rested


heavily on his shoulders - she almost got him a statue of


Atlas for Christmas. This time, though, not being content


with that, her partner hefted a burden the medical staff


were calling "*out* of this world" - a retrovirus the


likes of which they had never seen before.





And Mulder had broken under the strain.





A naval recon unit found him on the ice flow and


choppered him to Eisenhower Field at Deadhorse, Alaska.


Two jolts to get his heart beating again. A respirator to


aid his lungs. Endless blood transfusions and anti-viral


agents. Scully prayed constantly that Deadhorse would not


become "Deadfox".





He survived. Whether through his own stubbornness or the


fact she would not let him go, it didn't matter. Inch by


inch over the days he progressed.





Nine-ten in the morning. /Come on, Dana. Time to get up./


She eased herself out of the cot. She didn't need to pick


her cross up from the tiny dressing table - it never left


her neck. She shared the room with one of the nurses, who


must have got up for duty today without waking her. Dana


only hoped that in her restlessness she had not kept Lisa


awake. The FBI agent had asked at the start of the long


haul if she could sleep in Mulder's room, but as he


improved Doctor Herek decided it would be best for Scully


if she went on breaks from him. "You staring at him while


he's got a tube up his nose might be giving him a


complex."





She dressed and went out to check on Mulder before


breakfast. These days she showered at night to ease


muscles and bones stiff from sitting.





"Ah, you're awake!" Lisa called as she came out into the


corridor. "No change in Mulder, yet."





"Thanks. I'll just say good morning to him, then I'll


head for the mess hall."





"Great, I'll meet you there."





Scully was puzzled by that. She knew everyone's shifts by


now and Lisa was on duty for another two hours. She


peered at the tall blonde, only to receive an innocent


look in return.





"Oh, your mother phoned. I said you'd ring back when you


woke up."





"Thanks." Dana went into Mulder's room. The same sight


greeted her. His eyes were closed. Fingers limp. Egyptian


mummies would be more animated. At least he was alive.


She forced a smile and sat down in her chair for their


morning ritual.





"Good morning, Mulder. Yeah, sorry I'm late. I slept in.


Don't make them dock my pay, huh?" She patted his hand.


"You can't tell me you enjoy having the naso-gastric tube


in - just wake up and we'll take it out. I'll even feed


you jello by hand. And make the aeroplane noises."


Nothing. He had come so far but this was getting


frustrating. The mere fact that he was breathing had


sustained her on a high for days, then each time a tube


could be discarded was a victory, yet now... He was down


to a central line I.V., the feeding tube and a catheter.


Nothing else was going to shift until he did.





"Ah well, nothing much has happened. The Gunmen say those


UFO sightings in Arizona last week were a hoax by the


Coell ranch out for tourism dollars. Do you agree with


them?" She paused, giving him the opportunity to answer


as usual. Nothing. /Come on, partner! I filled you in on


all the details - you must have an opinion!/





"I think Lisa has the hots for Corpsman Marchant. But


he's so nervous around her. I think he's too afraid to


ask her out." A noise broke the silence. A grumbling


sound. She peered hopefully at Mulder, then realised the


culprit. She laughed. "Yeah, that was my stomach growling


- I haven't had breakfast yet. It wants reeaal food,


Mulder. Remember that? Food that your tastebuds actually


get to experience on the way down? I'll go get something


to eat and call Mom, then I'll come back and we'll keep


reading 'The Colour of Magic'. Can't wait to see what


Rincewind gets up to next. Just like you. But I'm warning


you, Mulder - we're nearly at the end of that one, and


the only book the nurses have left for us after that is


'Pollyanna'."





Well, apart from a lot of bodice rippers. Lisa lent her


one four days ago, saying she needed a change of pace.


Dana found she unconsciously carried it with her that day


into Mulder's room, and after a few hours of sitting with


him and talking, she decided to give them both a rest by


remaining there having a private read while taking


comfort in his presence. Unfortunately it wasn't until


she was so into it (several bodices and breeches already


casualties) that she realised she was reading it all *out


loud* by habit.





A hasty trip out into the freezing air hadn't taken much


of the edge off her bone-deep blush... /Probably be the


one thing he will end up recalling me reading to him!/





Terry Pratchett was much safer. /And funnier,/ she


thought as she went back into the corridor. Breakfast


first though - no, wait. She decided to ring her mother


first, over her tummy's objections. Past ten - it would


be mid-afternoon back home.





"Hi, Mom."





"Hello, darling. How's the birthday girl?"





Scully gaped at the phone. "Birthday? You mean it's..."





"Yes, Dana. I wondered if you were noticing the days.


It's February 23. Happy Birthday, Love!"





She remembered Mom being anxious last week, asking how


long she thought Mulder would still remain unconscious.


When Scully said that with recovery time they would be in


Deadhorse for several more weeks, providing Mulder kept


improving at the rate he was, Maggie sounded a little


disappointed, then rallied.





Scully had forgotten her own birthday before, when doing


her killer medical exams. This was different. She was


away from home and she didn't even have Mulder. She was


stunned and upset and wanted to cry tears of frustration


and fear. How could she celebrate?





"I sent some presents up for you in a big box," Maggie


continued. "Some from me and some from the rest of the


family. Ben made a drawing for Fox to look at as he gets


better. Lots of bright colours."





"I'll ask Lisa if it arrived. When did you send it?"





"I've talked to Lisa, dear. I let them know it was coming


days ago. They got it in plenty of time. How's Fox?"





"His vitals are stronger. He still hasn't woken up..."





"Tell him if he doesn't today, he'll miss out on the


cake!"





She managed to laugh to cover her feelings. Stuck in


Alaska today of all days. With not even Mulder's jokes to


keep her balanced. All the worries she had shouldered


were now pressing down unbearably hard. Her mother said


they were both in her prayers, and she would light a


candle for each of them - an ordinary one for Fox, a


birthday one for her.





Dana hung up the phone a few minutes later with tears


sliding across her skin. She sniffled and walked back


towards Mulder's room. Susan, the head nurse, passed her


on the way.





"Hey, D, you haven't had breakf - what's wrong?"





"Nothing...I'll be along soon. I just need to sit with


Mulder for a little."





Susan nodded. She was a woman of high efficiency and deep


tenderness. She and Lisa had provided great support for


Dana and her vigil over all this time. At the beginning


of it all, Lisa had been the one who tried to escort


Scully out of the ER when she barged in making demands.


"I had no idea what I was dealing with," Lisa said one


night, chuckling as she lay in her bed and Dana in her


cot, "but seeing you with him, I do now..."





Scully re-entered his room and sat down in the chair by


his side. She reached out and stroked his cheek with her


finger. "Mulder? Mulder, it's me. If you can hear me, I


want you to listen really, really carefully, okay? It's


my birthday. Fancy that, huh? More grey hairs." She tried


to smile, but swallowed. "I need you here, Mulder. I need


you here with me for my birthday. I know you've already


fought so hard to live and I'm so grateful for that. But


please try. Just for a little while. Wake up for me."





Surely that would bring him back? Give his soul a


spiritual kick? Surely he wouldn't be as selfish as to


sleep through today? He wouldn't be that lost...





And what about *his* birthday back in October? Dana


realised she had not been there for that. She didn't know


*where* she had been in that horrible three month blank


of time. Just that it was gone, Mulder's birthday


swallowed up in it. Wherever she was, did she know of the


passing of days - whether it was night-time or even


sunshine? Did she know when it was October 13? How must


Mulder have felt? He didn't even have her comatose body


to plead with - that hadn't come until weeks later.





She knew what Mulder did on his birthday last year. She


knew with certainty. He had sat in his apartment staring


at photos of her and Samantha. And holding his gun. Just


as lifeless as he was now.














Mulder listened to Scully's regular morning message, glad


she had slept in, and mildly alarmed about the threat of


being subjected to 'Pollyanna'. The routine of her talks


comforted him and let him know everything was all right.


In his time at Oxford he couldn't remember anyone looking


forward to the Queen's Christmas Message as eagerly.





He wished he could reassure her by responding, by opening


his eyes and talking. But at the moment he was inanimate.


Other people manipulated his body - the doctor, the


nurses, hands bathing and changing him, checking, poking,


rearranging him in the bed so he wouldn't wake up with a


heck of a crick in the neck - but as yet he couldn't do


it himself. All he could do was breathe and listen and


focus on getting better. He was so tired. Sleep was his


only truth at the moment. Darkness a comfort for once.





Then came her second message of the day. Not a message -


a plea. He was jolted by the difference in the words. Her


birthday and she was alone. /No, she has the nurses, and


they're planning a party for her - you heard them


discussing it over you like you were a coffee table./


However, it was clear that Dana wanted him present for


this. Some present...





Could he do that? Could he open his eyes for a minute or


so? He really did not know. He tried to while she talked.


Nothing.





He owed her. After all she had done to save him, the


least he could do would be to wake up for a few seconds.


He kept trying, even after her presence was gone from


him. Zip. He was just wearing himself out.





Birthday. The birthday he faced last year. Alone. Nothing


comforting about the darkness which surrounded him then.


A light had taken Dana away from him. The same light he


was sure took Sam all those years ago. Both gone. His


world destroyed twice over. All his efforts in vain.


Happy Birthday, Fox.





No cake. The only thing he wanted to eat was his gun. He


did not know how he survived that day.





Dana was facing the darkness today. The horrible


loneliness and loss. For as long as he had been able to


hear her voice, for however long he had floated here, her


voice was strong and reassuring. (And so sexily


breathless while reading that snippet of what sounded


like a script for a porn vid...) Now he realised her


voice today held a fear, an anxiety he never heard


before, no matter what the situation.





He could not let her face the darkness for a moment


longer than necessary. It would end today.





Brave words. Now to work on turning them into the truth.














The second Dana entered the mess hall she was inundated


with cheers of "Happy Birthday!" (and "We never thought


you'd get here!") The staff had gone to such effort for


her, digging out decorations and party hats and making a


chocolate cake. Maggie's presents were already carefully


unpacked and set out on a table with other gifts.


Presents from everyone on the base, it seemed. Their


kindness overwhelmed her, and she felt guilty for


unknowingly making them wait by delaying her breakfast.





"You...you all didn't have to get me anything..." she


protested quietly as Lisa moved in to hug her. "All the


help you've given Mulder and me, we can never repay it."





Dr Herek shook his head, resplendent in his green paper


cone hat. "Dana, we were the ones who nearly killed him."





"You didn't know about the virus. You were following


procedure."





"Well, I think you need a celebration. We would have


loved to have Mulder sitting up here too. If we could


have, we would. The best thing we can do is light these


candles and give you the opportunity of a wish."





"He might wake while I'm -"





"Susan's watching him," Lisa reassured. She had juggled


her shift so she could be here for Dana. "I'm sorry you


can't be with your family today."





"I'm not giving up on Mulder making an appearance. And I


think I have a pretty damn good substitute family around


me at the moment. Now I'll deal with these candles so we


can hit this delicious looking cake!"





Cheers went up. Herek lead everyone in singing Happy


Birthday. Dana blew the candles out. No one needed to ask


what her wish was. But Susan did not come rushing in to


tell her that her extinguishing of so many flames had


sparked off another down the corridors.





Dana found herself feeling happy yet disconcerted. It


took her a while to work out that it was strange to be


around so many people at once. And awake people, no less.


No one-sided conversations. These people responded and


initiated. Their cheeks were rosy, eyes sparkling. She


still couldn't quite enjoy herself.





The doctors raised a glass of non-alcoholic drink to the


discovery and defeat of the amazing retrovirus, and


though they were scientists, heartily hoped they would


never encounter it again. It was one of the reasons why


Mulder had not been medi-vaced back to D.C. after he


could breathe on his own; even though his body was


showing no signs of the virus any more, the top brass


wanted him to remain in this isolated setting a while


longer.





Scully unwrapped presents and mingled, thanking the


people who had to leave because their shifts were going


to start and they couldn't stay any longer. She observed


Lisa looking round in vain for a sign of the absent


Corpsman Marchant, and began silently plotting.





Ten minutes later, Marchant did enter the mess hall,


carrying a present. He came over and gave the birthday


girl a smile and peck on the cheek. /Whooooo.../ Dana


thought, /What a grin! Why doesn't he use it on Lisa?


He's not aware of its power,/ she realised, /and even if


he did, he'd be too shy to use it on her. He doesn't feel


that way about me, so there's no pressure./ She wondered


if Lisa felt any twinge of jealousy at the little kiss.


/Nah - she's so sweet, she wouldn't. She knows it's just


a congratulations kiss. No reason to want to deck me./


Then she pictured Lisa giving Mulder 'a little kiss' to


welcome him back to the world, and her knuckles started


itching of their own volition...





Miles Marchant handed over the brightly wrapped parcel,


and Dana took it with a feeling of guilt, knowing that a


lot of her friends here had unselfishly raided their own


possessions to give her something because at this time in


winter the Post Exchange was loaded with food and


practical supplies, not very much in the way of special


gifts. And by the time they knew it was her birthday


there would not have been much time to plan or order in.





"I hope you like it," Miles said as she worked at the


paper. She noticed his gaze was drifting not-so-casually


around the room, and he swallowed abruptly, dropping his


eyes as he encountered paydirt.





Scully tried to disguise her smile. He was six-foot two.


Mulder was six foot, which seemed hard to believe now.


Three weeks of him being *below* her eye level had


changed so much of her perception. The globe had tumbled


off the shoulders of Atlas, and everything was upside


down. There was hardly any light in the world.





A Terry Pratchett book: "The Carpet People". Dana laughed


in delight. "Miles - thank you!"





"When I came into the room to give you your mail, I saw


you were reading the first Discworld one to Mulder. I


don't have my full collection with me, otherwise I would


have given you the second. I know this one isn't one of


that series, but it is funny."





"Just what I need. And Mulder will thank you for delaying


the onslaught of 'Pollyanna'." A thought struck her.


"Actually, Miles, Lisa was the one who lent me 'The


Colour of Magic' - sounds like you are both big fans."


/Of each other too,/ she thought as she waved Lisa over.





Miles looked stricken. And alarmed. And happy. As he


watched Lisa heading over to them, Scully kept him beside


her with a gentle, casual hand on his arm. "We can all


discuss Discworld," she reassured him, hoping that her


presence would relax both their nervousness. Then when


they loosened up a bit, she would strategically excuse


herself...





It worked like a charm. Miles and Lisa soon forgot she


was there, and Dana did not blame them. Just watching


them made her feel happy. She had done some good - they


looked perfect together. She decided to do a final lap of


the remaining people before bowing out of her party to


sit with Mulder.














Scully encountered Susan in the corridor leading off the


mess hall and instantly sucked in breath. "Is he awake?"





"No, D. Sorry to get your hopes up. I just came to catch


the tail end of the party, if it was still going."





"Winding up now - thank you for the sweater. Lovely


colours, and it will be great to wear something


different."





They turned and went back the way Susan had come.





"Who's looking after -"





"We left the intercom on and the girls were going to do a


regular visual check, just like when you're asleep or on


break. Remember?" She smiled at the FBI agent's


apologetic look. "I know you're full of hope for today.


They're probably doing the visual checks a little too


often, but when I comment they just say there isn't


anything that handsome on TV..."





Susan left her at the door to the room which had become


her world. It was a prison, yet one simple, monumental


act could change it into paradise.





The feeding tube was gone. Dana stared, wondering why.


Only for a second though; the tube had probably gotten


blocked and so been removed. His head was turned away


from her. She knew it was from the range-of-motion


exercises, but it stung like a rejection. She sat and


held his arm. She was out of words. Almost out of hope


and strength.





Drained, Scully bowed her head to collect herself. And so


she missed the moment her present opened itself.





Himself.








END PART ONE OF TWO.











The X-Files: "Candles of Ice" (2/2)


By Ten


E-mail: kristena@ocean.com.au


Disclaimer in Part One








The faint sound of his stirring did reach her, and she


opened her eyes to find his own roaming dazedly across


the ceiling. Joy swept through her at this gift. Sure,


she had received and unwrapped dolls in her pre-teen


years that were in better condition than the weakened man


in front of her. But she would not trade him for even a


superbuff, superendowed man in a g-string bursting out of


a giant cake.





Light. Mulder blinked in confusion. Everything was so


bright and he had no idea where he was. He felt so


crushingly tired and wondered why he was even bothering


to look around. Sleep... Sleep was beckoning to him, more


bewitching than any singing siren of old.





"Hey, how you feeling?"





*Almost* any siren. He managed to turn his head. Even


exhausted, Scully looked great. Things started coming


back to him as he answered her question. Not finding


Samantha but finding some hope to hold onto. Lying in the


darkness for so long, unable to tell when the transition


occurred between the iceflow and here. Wherever here was.


However he got here. He asked. She answered in a voice he


knew she used when she was trying to rein her emotions


in.





Had he found what he was looking for?





In a way, yes. "Faith to keep looking..." He felt her


fingers tighten on his arm.





"You're okay," she reassured him. "You need lots of


rest."





No argument there. Sleep was weaving around him in a more


powerful grip, and he didn't want to fight it any more.


There was something though. Something important... "What


day is it?" How long had he stranded them both here for?


Three days? Her voice had come more often than that. He


tried to think...





"February 23." Scully waited to see if he made the


connection, but if he didn't, it didn't matter. He was as


frail as tissue paper, but he was back. He would not


remain awake much longer. What she had just been given


was enough.





"Oh..." he murmured, eyes closed. Drifting off. His weary


mind still did a little processing: he had gone out on


the ice-flow on Feb 3. Twenty days. /Yee. I'm in


trouble... And we're still up here at Eisenhower - no


D.C. hospital has walls of corrugated iron.../ There was


more to it than that though. Sleep was tugging, his body


gripped firmly amongst its teeth. He tugged in turn at


his mind, annoyed yet as curious as ever for an answer.





Scully fought to keep tears of joy and relief and


exhaustion stuck to her eyeballs as she watched him


surrendering. A few minutes of awareness. Okay,


'Superstars of the Superbowl' had gone for an hour and a


half...no way could it compare though. She took the image


and wrapped it in a bow to store with her important


memories.





His eyes popped open. "Omigod!"





"Mulder -"





His gaze was full of anguish, full of tears. "Your


birthday... Oh God, Scully, *your birthday*!" He tried to


move, but couldn't. He was so weak, he couldn't even shed


his tears. "What've I done?"





"Mulder, it's okay -"





"*Okay*?" he croaked, incredulous. His eyelids drooped


and he forced them open again. "You're stuck here...in


the freezing wastes of Alaska...on your birthday, because


of me." His voice kept croaking and breaking up.





"Shhh, Mulder, please calm down. You need to rest. It's


okay. It's not your fault." Her spilling tears were not


backing up her confession, and she knew he would misread


them. "All I wanted..."





"Dana, please don't cry. I'm so sorry." He battled at the


exhaustion with even more determination than he'd faced


down the bounty hunter, raining silent insults on himself


like blows. How *could* he have done this to her?





"No, *I'm* sorry - you've just given me a great gift, and


all I'm giving you is tears."





"I've kept you from your family and presents and home on


your birthday - and I only meant to protect you..."





"I know. I understand. You didn't plan it this way. I'm


just so glad you came back. Now give me an even bigger


present - go to sleep and heal. Heal so we can go home."





Mulder's eyes closed. Scully kept sitting and watching


him. It was frightening how he just reverted back to the


corpse-like state. She almost wondered if she had


imagined him waking.





Suddenly his tired voice broke through her thoughts. He


was awake again. He probably hadn't gone off to sleep -


merely lay there to gather his resources. "Meant to get


you something... Saw a pair of earrings two months ago


but thought it was too...risky..."





"A pair of hazel eyes was all I wanted." She laughed.





He joined in weakly, managing a few chuckles. "Dana the


Macabre..." After the stunt he'd pulled he should be


lucky that she didn't want two other round pieces of his


anatomy as earrings instead.





"Hey, the Gothic look is in," she protested. Then


whispered, "Sleep." It sounded as tender as a declaration


of love. "Come on, Present. Time to wrap you up in dreams


for a while."





"So you can play with me later?"





"As soon as I find the batteries," she promised with a


wink.





His eyes nearly popped out. She giggled at his


expression. Another wrappable moment.





"Okay..." he said slyly. "I guess with the state I'm in,


that's fair enough. I'll muster my resources so we can


try the scullery scene. In detail." His hoarse voice


deliberately lingered on 'scullery'. "Sounds fitting to


me."





This time her expression was the classic. It *had* been a


scene so hot it was a wonder the page wasn't on fire...


She choked, halfway caught between howling with mirth or


strangling his skinny neck. She composed herself. "Sure,


as long as you're the maid and I'm the head of the house.


Only fair, because you are, after all, completely at my


mercy... I'll read every syllable of 'Pollyanna' so you


don't miss a detail. And I'm sure it has scullery scenes.


You can do the maid's voice."





Mulder sighed at her wicked grin. And her wicked words.


"I just can't beat you, can I?"





"Nope."





"Fair enough..." He let sleep reel him in.














Dana sat by him a while longer, then went out into the


corridor, where she let her tears fall as she wrapped her


arms around herself and slumped against the wall.





"Dana!" Susan's voice was sheer alarm. "What's wrong?


What's happened?"





Scully managed to look up through her tears. "He woke up


- he woke up for me. Everything's fine. Iff  he didn't, I


don't know what I would have..." She broke off and buried


herself in Susan's shoulder, crying and laughing.





A bit later she pulled away, wiped at her face and took a


swipe at her hair. "Sorry; I'm a mess." She sniffled.





Susan chuckled. "D, you're glowing so much you'll melt


the snow! Now I'd better let Dr Herek know so he can


check on our boy. I can't wait to see if he's as stubborn


as you say he is."





"He is," she answered with joyful pride. "Just as


impossible as ever." Suddenly she was even more glad that


she could not remember her missing three months. Not just


for whatever happened to her, but if Mulder had not been


with her she definitely did not want to know about it. If


only she could wipe out the horror of the time for him


too.





"So I should put out a warning that those sexy hazel eyes


are in back in business?"





"He'll be in no condition to beat anyone off."





"That's why he has you, isn't it?"





They reached the nurses' station, and Susan went to make


the call to Herek. Dana remembered something and hurried


away to the payphone.





"Hello?"





"He woke up, Mom," she blurted.





"Thank God! Is he all right?"





"Yeah - I think he'll be grovelling for weeks when we get


back to D.C. I'll make the most out of it. He woke up


about -" She glanced at her watch. "- forty minutes ago."





There was a long pause.





"Mom?" Scully asked worriedly.





"That's when... Dana, I lit your birthday candle three-


quarters of an hour ago."





"What?"





"I lit a candle for Fox after I spoke to you today, and I


was about to light the one for you when Jean dropped by


for a gossip and coffee. I didn't get around to it until


within the last hour."





"Oh." It was all she could say. What else could she say?


Her mother's news just reinforced what she already knew.


So she began thanking her mother for the presents, giving


her messages to pass on to the rest of the family, and


telling her about the party. Her finger traced the links


of her necklace.














Mulder's sleep was peaceful for a few hours, but then his


subconscious began ticking over again. /It's her


birthday... It's her *birthday*, you dolt! And thanks to


you, what is she doing? She's stranded in Alaska looking


after you!/





He felt terribly guilty. Three weeks ago, Scully's


birthday had seemed so far away. Actually, a few days


before that he had been frantic that Scully would not be


alive for her birthday. He had Sam back, but then Scully


was kidnapped. Because of him. Because of Sam. It was the


abduction all over again. He managed to get her back,


only to relose his sister. It was like one could not


remain in his life if the other was present.





Scully, her head bleeding, small frame shaking with


shock... So when the opportunity came to go after the


Pilot, there was no way he would put his partner in


danger again. He thought he'd done it right - left a


note, said why, covered his tracks.





Yet he'd still screwed it up. Sure, he had not meant to


contract the retro-virus, but that was little consolation


for Dana now. Thoughts tumbled through him. Shooting the


Pilot, seeing the green blood, the awful gases hitting


him, invading his body. Remembrance of the Erlenmeyer


flask case, and what Scully said about Agent Weiss.


/Well, Scully, I know how the virus is transmitted.../ He


was painfully aware of his blood curdling, trying to deal


with the threat.





How had he survived? Not wanting to leave Scully and


Samantha was a big part of it, but Scully's medical


knowledge, especially about this virus, was an even


bigger factor, as well as her character. He recalled


snatches of conversation he'd picked up from the doctors


and nurses. When Scully wasn't speaking he usually


disregarded all other voices. They weren't speaking to


him anyway. But sometimes they mentioned her name and


instantly had his attention.





They spoke about her with awe and respect. Storming into


the ER, taking on any authority in her way. The long days


and nights which followed. The treatments she insisted


on.





/You didn't even get her a present.../





Did she say that *he* was her gift? /How can she think of


me as a gift? She should exchange me! Perhaps she will./














Dana was coming back from a walk around the hallways when


she saw Lisa escorting Miles into their room. /Hmmm.


Wonder if that's just to chat about Discworld?/ She


grinned. /Better not go in there for a while anyway, just


in case./ She mentally signed her name to the memory, put


a case-file number on it, congratulated herself on a job


well done, and filed it away.





She headed for Mulder's room. Too late she thought of the


drawing her nephew made for him. Well, it was back in her


room, so it would have to wait until tomorrow. She


doubted Mulder would wake up again today. It was a


miracle he remained conscious for as long as he did.





Susan was just exiting. She had the exact same "I am


*not* happy" look Skinner wore after meetings with her


partner.





"What's wrong?"





"I'm going to give him a sedative if you can't calm him.


I warned him, but he won't settle. He summoned the nurses


over the intercom. Said he didn't want them to get you -


he had something else in mind. Had them running around


trying to do his bidding. And refused to let another


feeding tube within 50 yards of either nostril, so I told


Trish to feed him...it worked, only he kept trying to


rope her into his plans, so I'm not sure how much


sustenance he got between talking... And you were spot on


about those eyes - what you didn't warn me about was how


sexy his voice is even when it's hoarse. Whew! I'd try to


firmly tell him to leave my girls alone and go to sleep,


then I'd try threatening him, but hell, one look and I'm


mush..." She shook her head and tapped absently at her


wedding ring. "No wonder you're so strong willed. It's


the only way to cope!"





"Why? What does he want?"





"You'd better ask him yourself." Susan put both hands up


in defeat and backed away. "I'm keeping everyone away


from him until he's unconscious, otherwise none of us


will get any work done."





Scully reentered the room to find a frustrated Mulder.


"What's wrong?" she asked him calmly.





"Is it still your birthday? I didn't sleep right through


the rest of the day, did I?" he asked anxiously, trying


to judge the darkness through the windows. He was


frantically trying to recall just how many hours of


sunlight per day this area of Alaska got at this time of


the year. The figure escaped him, but it would not be


much.





"Still my birthday here. Not in D.C. Why, Mulder? I told


you it didn't matter."





He sighed, relieved. "Of course it matters. I've been


lying here thinking of what to give you."





"Mulder..."





He pressed on, "I was asking the nurses if they had


anything I could buy off them or get them to go to the PX


for, but I keep losing my trail of thought." He was


disgusted with himself. "I can't concentrate properly...


Most of the nurses had already given you what they could


as their own presents." He gazed blankly at the ceiling,


suddenly frowning and struggling, lost, before he picked


up the thread of the conversation again. "I wondered what


I have to offer. I tried to remember what I was carrying


on me in my pockets, but nothing appropriate, unless you


want a cool computerised compass, slightly battered."





She sat down and took his hand, shaking her head in


wonder. "You don't have to do this." A sedative might be


a good idea, however she wanted to convince him first


that he didn't owe her anything more. An exhausted,


determined Mulder was dangerous, especially to himself.


She let him talk out his options so he wouldn't wake up


tomorrow bashing himself up in anger.





"I'll spare you my singing -"





"Yours wouldn't be any worse than mine."





"Tried to think of a suitable poem I'd read so I could


recite it. Even tried to make one up. Couldn't think of


one which said just what I wanted to say." His eyes went


blank for a few minutes, and just when she was about to


go get a sedative he got back on track. "Could offer you


my body...but let's face it, it's in worse shape than the


compass."





"It's okay. What you have given me is more than enough.


Mulder, I was scared that you would die. But you held on.


And you woke up with perfect timing. That was all I


wanted. It was more than I had the right to ask for."





"But I still want to - as a thank you -"





"Mulder...last year...*I* missed your birthday..."





His fingers tightened. "You came back."





"Not on your birthday. I would have if I could have..."





"I should have found you. But you came back. You lived.


That was all *I* wanted. More than I deserved. I wish it


had been sooner, but I'm just glad it was at all."





"We're both here today. You don't owe me anything more.


Actually, I owe you a video. We don't swap birthday


presents, we swap 'congratulations for coming out of your


coma' presents. Only in the X-Files..."





There had to be *something*... A few more lost minutes


passed. A memory came to him. Another time he felt so


tired. A surprise move from Scully, a quick and regretted


reply from him. "I can give you one thing. One thing that


is in my power," he said.





She tilted her head as an inquiry.





"I give you permission to call me Fox. I know that isn't


much..." He saw from the way the smile bloomed on her


face that it meant much more than he thought possible.


Such a small thing to make her happy. Just like opening


his eyes. He would have to remember that. The smiles she


had granted him with today had been incredible. His


memory put each in a gold frame, ready to present to him


whenever he wanted to think about them. He had a feeling


they would keep him from falling over the edge in


dangerous times to come.





"It means a lot." /My God, this man gives wonderful non-


present presents!/ It was another connection, another


piece laid down to strengthen their partnership. He was


entrusting her with a name he let few others use.





"I'm glad."





His face muscles on his right cheek began moving, and


Scully wondered if he was about to smile. But he seemed


more frustrated than... She realised that he was trying


to move his right hand across his body to join his left


in holding her hand, but he only had the strength to inch


it onto his hip and no further.





/He's already holding my hand, why does he have to do


things the hard way?/





Because he was who he was. Or they would not be here. And


the simple moments would not feel so special.





Scully picked up his left hand, then placed it against


her cheek. She secured it there with her left hand and


gently rubbed his forearm with her right.





"Happy Birthday, Dana," he whispered as his eyes closed.





"It is, Fox. Thank you."








THE END. (PART TWO OF TWO)








AUTHOR'S NOTES:





I was watching "End Game" (as is my habit because I love


it to pieces) a few months ago when I noticed something I


never had before - when Mulder is out on the iceflow


heading for the submarine, there is a closeup of his


computerised SatNav global positioning device, which


gives the date as February 3, 1995.





The date sent me scurrying for a calendar. Fanfic has


given Mulder varying lengths of coma/unconsciousness


after being treated for the retrovirus - three weeks


seems to be the most often used period, and I've always


liked that because it really showed how serious Mulder's


condition was (and didn't just dismiss it like in


"Fearful Symmetry"). So if we took three weeks from Feb


3, wouldn't that put it damn close to Scully's birthday?





Yes! So she would be stuck in Alaska for her birthday. No


wonder Mulder didn't remember it that year... And I also


realised that Scully was missing during October 1994,


which was Mulder's birthday, so there was a fanfic


begging to be written. I touched on it briefly in another


fic, but wanted to give this idea its own little story. A


lot of the dialogue came to me in a pub where my aunt and


I went to celebrate her birthday, so I had to whip out my


notebook and scribble it down. She understood but


commented: "If you were on a date, the guy might not feel


the same!"