TITLE: "After the Razor's Edge" (1/1) BY: Ten E-MAIL ADDRESS: kristena@ocean.com.au CATEGORY: V, "mildish" MSR (I was going to keep this one as deep friendship, but when I looked back at some of the things said in the ep, it was impossible!) RATING: PG SUMMARY: What happens to Mulder in "Aubrey" between his rescue by Scully and the end when Scully is typing. TIMESPAN/SPOILER WARNING: "Aubrey", mild "Lazarus" and the second season abduction arc. 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. THANKS: To Debbie for the sterling editing job, and to Doctor Crockett for invaluable medical advice. (Especially on finding a reason why Mulder could be seemingly so lucid after getting whacked with a fire extinguisher.) Any mistakes are mine. X-Files: " After the Razor's Edge" (1/1) by Ten, July 1997 Dana Scully hurried over to squat beside her partner. She and the policemen had entered to find Detective B.J. Morrow about to cut Mulder's throat - somehow she had managed to sprawl him on the floor, and Scully doubted a simple push would have been enough to down her six-foot tall partner. He was slowly sitting up, a trickle of blood coming from his hairline. In the dimness of the room she had hoped it was just a shadow. "It's all right. It's gonna be all right. It'll be okay." Lieutenant Tillman was whispering reassurance to B.J. and himself. Even though the married man had caught his lover in mid-attack, he was clearly having a hard time accepting she was responsible for the spate of recent murders. B.J. stared blankly at the floor. Her grandfather's body was slumped in the corner: her last slaying. Scully gently put her hand to the back of Mulder's head to support him. He looked justifiably shaken and leaned into her touch for a moment, drawing on her presence. It seemed he might collapse against her. "We need paramedics in here!" she called to another police officer. Good thing they had brought more officers with them. Tillman was too dazed to take charge. /Poor Mulder.../ Scully reflected as she tried to get a good look at him. Remembering his flippant words when he was explaining the case to her: "I've always been intrigued by women named B.J." Never again. /Poor B.J. too./ What could have happened to her to trigger this violent repeat of her grandfather's crimes? Could finding out she was Cokely's grandchild have snapped her? Mulder sat up straighter. His need of comfort and/or support had passed, or merely been suppressed. "Are you all right?" She kept her hands hovering, just in case. She wanted to wrap her arms around him; to keep him safe from the memory of the attack; for him to keep her safe as well, from the nightmares of Barry that she couldn't admit to. And her fear of losing him. She managed to suppress her need as efficiently as his. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." He pushed himself to his feet with a bit of help from her. "Thanks for the rescue." He seemed steady and lucid enough, and the blood was coming from a little cut above his forehead that wouldn't even need a stitch, but Scully wished they could get more light in this room so she could check him for sign of concussion. There was a drop of blood on his neck where the razor had been pressed and she swallowed hard. The wish for more light was suddenly granted, other policemen opening blinds and turning on lights to get a good view of the crime scene and body. One nearly tripped over an object on the floor and pointed to it. "We'll need photos and prints taken." Scully looked. A small fire extinguisher. Dinted. "Mulder - did she hit you with -" Tillman's voice cut her off. He was arguing with someone who wanted to handcuff B.J. "She needs a doctor! Put those things away!" The policeman swallowed in the face of his superior. "Uh, Agent Scully got us to call for an ambulance on the way here. It's just arrived." "Take B.J. out to them - under guard and have someone with her at all times," Scully insisted. B.J. went unresistingly towards the door, like a little girl. Now to get the more difficult child out there. She turned to Mulder, who was I.D.ing his own gun for the cop who'd found it halfway across the room. "Mulder, come on - I want you checked out." He laughed. "Scully, she knocked me down but I'm fine. And I have to give my statement." She set her jaw and he grudgingly capitulated to being examined by one of the ambulance officers, while the other settled B.J. onto the stretcher. The officer couldn't find anything wrong, and then B.J. began screaming and lashing out, causing them to have to put her in restraints and take off for the Gainesville hospital at speed. Mulder and Scully climbed into the back of a police car to follow. Mulder commented, "Good thing I rang you to warn about those roadworks on the highway that caught me - you made good time." "Backroads have their uses. Though you should have remembered they were setting up to start work when we first went to see Cokely." He shrugged an apology. The cop in the front passenger seat decided to begin taking his statement on the run, since it was a fifteen minute drive into town at legal speed. Scully listened to Mulder's version of events and his matter-of-fact report of being attacked by B.J. The police were a bit shell shocked over the actions of their friend and colleague. Scully determined that when they got to the hospital, she would insist that Mulder stay in at least for the usual observation period. She began to build up her side of the argument she knew would eventuate. They were nearing the outskirts of Gainesville when Mulder inexplicably sat forward in the seat, or at least tried to. He stared down in confused annoyance at the seatbelt restraining him and began fumbling to release it. "Mulder? Hey, Mulder, what are you doing?" "I have to get off the floor..." "Mulder - you're not on the floor. You're in the car, remember?" "No, I have to -" /Oh God.../ Scully tried to stop him opening the release catch. The glimpse she got of his eyes was enough to confirm that he wasn't fully conscious. Something was very wrong. "Get us to the hospital, *now*!" she demanded of their driver, who hit the siren and the accelerator obediently. "No, Mulder. Just sit still. You're concussed, you have to sit still. We're in the police car." She hoped the hospital wasn't far. And she hoped concussion was all it was. Still trying to talk him down, she was struggling to hold his arms, as he was now attempting to open the car door. "She'll get me!" he cried out. "Let me go!" He twisted his head from side to side, as if trying to avoid slashes from a razor. "It's okay, it's going to be all right," she soothed, vaguely aware on another level where she had heard those words today; holding him as best she could as his arms came up as if fending her off. When the police car pulled up at the emergency entrance, B.J. had already been admitted. The policeman driving the agents had called ahead to warn about Mulder, so the ER staff were ready and waiting with an examination bed. Now barely even semi-conscious, he didn't fight as he was transferred onto it. "He was attacked about half an hour ago - small fire extinguisher to the head," Scully informed the attending doctor on the run. "He was conscious and lucid in the interim; it wasn't until about five minutes ago there was any sign of trouble." They did a skull x-ray and a CT scan. The latter picked up the damaged area: a torn middle meningeal artery in the surface of the brain forward of his left ear. There was a build up of blood between his brain and skull. If untreated, he would die. The staff rushed him into emergency surgery to relieve the pressure and tie the artery. It took an hour. Scully sat in the waiting room, praying that Mulder would not drift into a coma. The surgeon came out. Mulder had been lucky they had been on the way to the hospital when his consciousness began to drop. A person with that damage could seem perfectly lucid and unaffected for around half an hour. No cursory examination would have picked it up - but Scully's instinct had jumped past that. Fortunately there were no fractures or brain compression. He had avoided a respirator and a coma. Mulder would be in the hospital for three to five days. Then he would have to be off work between a fortnight and a month. Probably a fortnight. He always bounced back quickly. Scully sighed and wondered how she would manage to keep him down for that amount of time. Well, she'd done before and she'd be doing it again for sure... She smiled at the memory of how concerned for her Mulder had been after her return. So protective she didn't know whether to hug him or kill him. Yet *he* was the one with the worrying track record. *He* was the one with all the hospital stays and denial of any trouble. She was the one who managed fine - he shouldn't be so concerned. If he wanted to be that way, then for both their sakes it would be better for him to be concerned on the right time to DUCK! She went to check on how B.J. was - a quick look because she wanted to sit by Mulder - and her earlier words to the policewoman came back to her as she watched Tillman, sitting by the woman who was not his wife, who was carrying his child. "I've had feelings for people I've worked with. Interoffice relationships can be complicated." She had meant Jack by that. And Tony from Quantico in her second year of teaching. That was all. Not Mulder. /And who's in denial now?/ Dana Scully went and waited by the bedside of the man she could not yet admit was her lover, in almost every sense. The next day Scully arrived back at the hospital and went to the desk. The nurse started to talk to her, then stopped. They could hear faint screaming. "Mulder!" Scully raced for his room, disregarding the logic of no running in hospital corridors. Left turn, right turn. "B.J., don't - NO! NO! B.J. ..." The door was open, orderlies and a nurse were already in there. Scully burst in to find Mulder on the floor over the other side of his bed. He was on his back, trying desperately to push away from the vicinity of the orderlies, who weren't touching him, but attempting to talk him down. "Sir - you're in hospital. You were injured, but you're safe now. Do you remember?" Scully went round, registering the messed sheets pulled practically off the bed. One bedrail was down. He'd nightmared and fallen out. /Why is the rail down? Thank God it is - he didn't fall as far, but who the hell put it down? I ordered them to keep them up until I know for sure he's back to normal. Damn, I should have stayed with him.../ She'd only gone back to the motel for two hours to shower and change and check in at the police station. "Leave him, please. Let me talk to him." The orderlies gave her room, seeing him relax a bit at her voice and presence. "Mulder," she said gently, seeing he was still only half awake. "Scully..." "Yes, B.J.'s not here. You had a bad dream. You're safe. These people are trying to stop you hurting yourself. They just want to get you back to bed, get you off the floor." "I...I have to get off the floor," he agreed. "That's right. Good. They and I are going to help you up and back to bed. Will you let us?" He tried to nod then stopped, more awake but still affected and shaking. He didn't let her out of his sight as they settled him down and pulled the covers back. He'd lost the I.V. in the tumble, so they started a new one. "I'm staying right here," Scully promised. Then she remembered something and turned to the nurse. "Why was his bedrail down?" she demanded. The nurse looked nervous. "I was about to do a neuro check. He woke up and stared at me...and just went frantic... I tried to stop him but he scrambled out. I'm pretty sure he didn't hit his head. In fact, he was trying to protect it with his arms." "Oh..." Scully blushed. /Of course. Why didn't I think before I snapped?/ "I see, thank you." The neuro check was made and the nurse pointedly fixed the rail. She looked down at the exhausted patient and informed Dana she was going to get a mild sedative to settle him, though not enough to zone him out completely and ruin the next neuro check. "Wait," Scully said, knowing she was in danger of being thrown out. "It shouldn't be necessary. Just give me a little while." She met Mulder's gaze, still fixed on her. "I'm here. Now go back to sleep." "I don't want to sleep." That familiar set of the mouth. "What's the point? They'll just wake me for another check. "Do this, Mr Mulder," " he parroted. " "Do that. Can you move this, can you raise that?" I know what I'd *like* to do when they -" "Not for a few hours yet, they won't," she hastily cut in. She hid a smile, relieved by the reappearance of *her* Mulder. "Sleep. You need it. Or I'll get them to sedate you." "Now Scully. You know I know they won't. I've had enough concussions to pick up a few facts on how hospitals work." "They will sedate you enough to take the edge off if need be. And frankly, you're all edges!" He grinned and gave a long, sleepy blink which she thought was very cute. Victory was close at hand. "I'll be here," she reminded him, squeezing his hand. "Someone's got to observe you to make sure you didn't just undo all that fine surgery... And that would be me." She did not realise her thumb was stroking over the back of his hand, back and forth, because it was the most natural thing in the world to be doing. "Please just try to drift off." "Oh, all right. Okay..." He sighed in defeat, and tried to sound flippant. "You can sweet talk me into anything." But he didn't let go of her hand. When he'd woken she had been there and after a while on his insistence had gone to the motel to get some sleep for herself, promising to come back later on. None of the staff dared mention a little thing called visiting hours to her. They'd tried before and being intelligent people, learnt from their mistakes. He looked up from the file he was reading when she returned. "Sorry about the performance this morning, Scully." She let her expression show there was nothing to forgive, and saw him relax. "But I do think you should stop reading that or there might be an encore." "And how do you know this is about the case? It could be *my* medical file." "It's not thick enough for one thing! Tolstoy would be proud of you. More war than peace though. And you never bother with your files - you just begin badgering the doctor about when you can be released. I'm the one who wades through and translates for you." "How's B.J.?" He tucked his chin down, but Scully picked up the swallow he was trying to cover. Before Scully could answer or reach out to comfort, an attractive nurse came in, fussing about, and giving Mulder what Scully's grandma would have called "the glad eye". Mulder appeared to be ignoring it. /My my, he must really be below par./ Scully found she was disregarded after the nurse checked out her ringless left hand. /He's *not* fair game!/ she wanted to snap. /All because I haven't got a ring doesn't mean - hang on, what am I thinking?.../ "I'm Dana, Mr Mulder," the nurse said. At that he noticed her. She gave quite a smile. "If you need anything, feel free to give me a buzz." She winked and exited. Scully thought she was overdoing the hip swaying. Mulder stared thoughtfully after her. "You know, I've never been intrigued by women named Dana." "No?" "Just *a* woman named Dana." Scully tried to keep her tone conversational, "For how long?" Mulder glanced at his watch - or tried to, coming up with his I.D. bracelet instead - then frowned in consideration. "About five minutes... plus one hour, fourteen days, nine months and two years. Approximately." A stare. She tried to casually let out the breath she realised she had been holding. Then Scully began giggling. He laughed. What they shared was something Tillman and B.J. had not come close to. Nor could all the rings in the world symbolise it. The End.