Together . . . Always by Vickie Moseley vmoseley@fgi.net Dean didn't think Scully would let Mulder walk out of the hospital room in 'Wet Wired' without a 'discussion'. I disagree. Yes she could let him walk out of that hospital room because she let him do it to her when she woke up from the coma. But what about a few days later. . . Here's my answer to the challenge of that missing scene. It's not a romance, but there is plenty of angst to go around. And if you doubt that they would hug, go back and review your tapes >; ) Standard Disclaimer: What light through yonder window breaks? Tis in the east, and Juliet is the Sun. Arise. . . oh, sorry about that. Neighbor's kid is studying Shakespeare and I'm the only one with an anthology. I hereby do not infringe on any copyrights, including Will S. and all the people mentioned in this story belong to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions and FOX, respectively. XA disclaimer also in effect. VERY BIG SPOILER WARNING! BACK OFF! DON'T READ UNLESS YOU'VE SEEN 'WETWIRED'. You have been warned. I will not stoop to begging for comments. I'll just hold my breath till I get some. Apartment 42 May 15, 1996 2:30 am He couldn't believe how long it took Margaret Scully to answer the door. Each second seemed like an eternity. Finally, the porch light went on and the door opened just enough to reveal his partner's mother. "Mrs. Scully, I've been trying to reach you. Is she here?" Mulder asked anxiously "Fox," Margaret looked pale and worried and. . . frightened? "She's not here. I'll call you if I hear from her," she said with her eyes downcast, refusing to look at him. She tried to close the door. "Please, Mrs. Scully. I want to help her," and he shouldered past the older woman, who still was trying to figure out her place, what she should be doing. The room was empty. "Where is she?" he asked again. Then, from the shadows, she emerged, gun drawn pointed directly at him. "Scully, I'm on your side. You know that," he said, his mind reeling as he tried to think of anything that would break the spell, wake her out of the nightmare she was living. "You are the only one I trust." "No! You're one of them!" She raised the gun higher and fired . . . He shot straight up from the couch, clutching his chest. Sweat covered him and he was chilled from the breeze blowing through the window. That one had been bad. It was so real, he could still feel the bullet tearing into flesh. As his breathing calmed, he rubbed his left shoulder absently, a ghost pain from another bullet making the dream seem even more real. It had been real. . .once. Only that time, he was the one in the dark, haunted place and she was the one in the bright light of reason. "Shit," he muttered to himself, turning in his seat and standing. He stretched and glanced out the window. Pitch blackness greeted him. It was still the middle of the night. He padded out to the kitchen and started to get a drink of water, but stopped just as he was about to turn on the tap. "No, too many bad memories," he joked to no one in the room but himself. Instead, he reached into the refrigerator and pulled out a quart bottle of Gatorade. It was not what he wanted, but he felt relatively safe in consuming it. He went back into the living room and stared at the remote control on the coffee table. "Well, let's see. I can't drink the water and I can't watch television. What next? The couch will turn out to be a man eater? Rubber rooms are looking better all the time," he said to the fish. He leaned back in the cushions, hoping to recapture sleep, but knowing it was an impossiblity at this point. He wanted to talk to her. He knew she was feeling as bad as he did, but it was so hard to talk in the office. he thought angrily. But she had looked so pale and tired and he was still so frightened. It had only been 24 hours since he had been called to ID a body that was not hers. He wasn't up to any deep discussion while she was lying in a hospital bed. It just wasn't the right place or time. He looked at the clock on the desk. It was 2:30. He picked up the phone, not even hesitating as he dialed her number. If she took more than two rings to answer, she was asleep and he would hang up. If she answered right away, they would talk. The phone rang four times and the answering machine picked up. Suddenly, his best laid plan seemed stupid. She should have picked up, even if she was asleep. The phone was right beside her bed. She always picked up on the second ring. "Something's wrong," he said aloud. He slipped into his running shoes without bothering with socks and grabbed his keys as he headed out the door. His first thought as he used his key to unlock her door was that she really *would* shoot him if she had decided to take a bath to relax. He knew she did that sometimes, because he could hear the water running in her motel room bathroom in the middle of the night when they were on cases. But the apartment was silent. Her jacket was gone from the coat tree. He glanced out the window and realized that her car was gone, too. He knew immediately where he would find her. The wind off the Potomac was cold, even though the night was mild. He shivered in his tee shirt. In his haste to leave his apartment, he had neglected to bring a coat. But he saw her on the bench and the sight of her flooded him with warmth. "Is this seat taken?" he asked. "No, but I'll warn you. I've been experiencing violent episodes," she said derisively. He sat down beside her. "Bastard probably deserved it," he joked in return. She looked at him sternly. "No. He didn't." "Scully, we have to get past this. You weren't yourself. I know that. You need to accept that and go on. Besides, nothing happened," he said casually. "You son of a bitch!" she spat out. "You know perfectly well that *something* happened! I almost shot you," she ranted. "Wouldn't be the first time," he teased and upon seeing her blanch, immediately regretted it. "Scully, I didn't mean . . ." "I'm thinking that it might be best if I request a transfer," she said quietly. Now it was his turn to blanch. "You can't be serious, Scully. You don't mean that," he pleaded. She reached out and took his hand. "It's not what you think, Mulder. I'm not still thinking that you're the enemy. But look what happened. They turned us against each other! I was positive that you were working with Cancer Man. I *saw* you, laughing with him, giving him one of the tapes. Mulder, it was like I was watching us on a stake out only it wasn't me sitting there--it was *him*. But I can handle that. I was under an unknown influence, just like you had been." "So why are you leaving me?" he demanded, anger coloring his tone. "Because you were trying to find me instead of the evidence, Mulder," she said, staring directly into his eyes. He started to protest and she brought her hand up to stop him. "I read the report. I might not have an eiditic memory, but I have a fairly good sense of time. And at a time that you would normally have been looking for clues and tracking down that doctor, you were busy chasing after me. And the evidence slipped away. I caused that Mulder. I might not have shot you, but I caused you to lose the evidence. I destroyed the case. Maybe, in some ways, that's worse." "Than shooting me?" he asked lightly. Then, he too grew serious. "I think I know what you mean. But Scully, it was my choice. I could have left the hunt up to Skinner. But I didn't want to. I wanted to find you. You are more important than . . ." "finding the truth?" she asked, interrupting. "Think about it Mulder. Think real hard and then answer me. Am I more important to you than the truth?" He bit his lip and turned away. "Why are you asking me this?" he muttered so low that she almost couldn't hear it. She took his chin in her hand and turned him toward her. "Answer me, Mulder. I need to know." "Yes," he whispered. "Yes, you are more important to me than the truth." "Then I have to request a transfer," she said sadly. He glared at her for a moment and then jumped up and started to pace. "Why?" he demanded. "I just told you that you're more important to me than the truth! Why are you leaving me?" "Because I can't stand the guilt," she shot back and suddenly he noticed that she was crying. "What are you talking about?" he asked softly and sat down next to her, their knees touching. "What guilt?" "Mulder, don't you see? I've done their job for them. The one they sent me to do in the first place. I've stopped you cold. Oh, I may not have done it the way they envisioned, but in many ways, I've exceeded their expectations. As long as I'm there, beside you, they will always win." She stopped and the sobs caused her shoulders to shake. He drew her close, his arm around her back and let her cry on his shoulder. "Shh, it's all right, Scully. It's OK, don't cry. Please, you know I hate it when you cry," he murmured in her ear. When the sobs subsided, he pulled her away from him, but kept a firm grip on her upper arms. "Dana, I want you to listen to me." She sniffled and wiped absently at her cheeks with a tissue she had in her pocket. Then she looked at him, with eyes so sad that it made his heart stop beating for just a second. "Dana. Scully. You are forgetting something very important here," he said evenly and paused, to let the words sink in. "Without you, I would have *stopped* looking a long time ago." She continued to look at him and he could tell that she wasn't convinced. "Look, Scully. I've never really wanted to talk about this, but I guess you've backed me into a corner. Remember when you were gone?" he asked and then nodded when she gave him her best glare. "OK, badly phrased. You can't remember, but you were gone. And I, well, I was . . . God, Scully, I went nuts. I mean it. Ask your mom. I'm sort of surprised that Skinner didn't get me committed at some point. But I was functioning, at least on some level, so he left me alone. Even so, I was just barely hanging on. The only thought in my mind was to find you. And it took up every waking moment. Which were plenty, because I didn't sleep." He stood up, suddenly embarrassed by the topic, but not able to stop talking now that he had started. "I kept thinking 'once she's back, we can go back to normal'. It was the only thing . . . it was the only thing keeping me alive," he admitted quietly. He paced a moment and turned his back on her, facing the river. "When your mom called me to go look at the headstone she had picked out, I went home and cried the rest of the afternoon. And that night, I put the clip to my gun in the back of my closet, on the shelf, behind a bunch of boxes, because I knew if I could get to it easily . . . well, I didn't want to be able to get to it easily. At least, not during that night." He heard her sigh behind him, but he didn't turn around. He continued talking. "Then you were found in the hospital, and for a while I had something to focus my anger on. I almost killed poor old Dr. Daly. Your mom was the only thing between me and a murder charge that night. But she calmed me down. I have so much respect for your mother, Dana. She, ah, she means a lot to me. Anyway, then, it was all revenge. Something to live for-- avenging you. Because I couldn't stand the sight of you lying there with all those tubes and knowing that each time I left you I might be seeing you for the last time." The words caught in his throat and he hurriedly wiped his eyes, all without turning around. "I just wanted to talk to you, Scully," he moaned. "I just wanted you to wake up and tell me 'you're crazy, Mulder' and give me a kick in the ass for being such a dolt. But you didn't move and I was losing it fast. Melissa saw that. She took your place and kicked me in the ass. But it was temporary, Dana. Very temporary." He rubbed a hand through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck. "If you had died that night," he paused and the next words were a whisper, "I would have been right behind you. I hadn't hid the clip to my gun that well." She was sobbing again, but for a very different reason. She had never realized how much pain he had gone through during that time. Or rather, she hadn't wanted to realize it. She got up and walked up behind him, circling her in his arms. He was still turned away. "See what I mean, Mulder? They are using me against you." He covered her arms with his. "No, Scully. Don't you see? Without you, I die. And then, they really do win, don't they?" He gently pushed her arms away and walked a few feet before turning to look at her. "Look, if you want to leave because you're tired of the running and the being scared all the time, I can understand that. Or if you've lost the faith, the desire to search for the truth, I can abide by that. Or if you've finally woken up to what an absolute asshole I am and can't stand the sight of me, well, I wouldn't be surprised. But God, Scully, if you're leaving me because you think you're doing me a favor, don't bother. Because I'll be dead within 6 months and the answers will still be buried, the truth will still be hidden and Samantha will never be found." He watched as her lip quivered for a moment before her bone hard calm took over. "Don't do their work for them, Scully. Please don't. We're better together. And we're smarter than they are, or we wouldn't be alive right now." Her heart lightened at his confidence. It was hard, but she had to admit to herself that he had a point. In that moment she made her decision. They were better together. "I know why you want me to stay, Mulder," she said, a wicked twinkle in her eye. He couldn't help but notice it and looked at her with a bemused expression, waiting for the trap to slam shut. He shrugged his shoulders, waiting for the inevitable punch line. "You just don't want to be alone when you turn in the April expense report with the boat deposit on it," she said dryly and he grinned broadly. "You got me there, Scully. You've always been able to see through my 'caring' facade." He was thrilled when she gave him a rare precious grin. "Come on. I'm freezing. Let's blow this pop stand." He sneezed twice to prove his point. She nodded and headed off toward her car. She stood and watched him jog to his own. She couldn't have left him. She'd miss him too much. "And calling in sick won't work, either, Mulder," she called after him. "We go into Skinner and admit we sunk that boat TOGETHER." As he got into his car and started the ignition, he waited until she pulled away from the curb and headed home. "Always together, Scully. Always." the end