TITLE: "St. Jude's Lost Cause" BY: Ten E-MAIL ADDRESS: kristena@ocean.com.au CATEGORY: V; Angst; MT; MSR RATING: PG-13 (adult situations alluded to) SUMMARY: Scully is worried that Mulder's recent number of trips to the hospital are excessive even for him. TIMESPAN/SPOILER WARNING: Set after "Signs and Wonders" - for story purposes I have made an assumption about the actual dating of the episode. There are also spoilers for the "Biogenesis" trilogy and most of season seven so far, as well as "Quagmire" and minor "Jersey Devil". It's probably best to assume that it was longer than a week between Mulder being rescued by Scully from the DOD and him being as relatively healthy as we saw him in the following hallway scene. ARCHIVE INFO: It goes to Gossamer through xff. Can be archived anywhere as long as my name, addy and disclaimer stay intact. FEEDBACK: I love it just as much as seeing M&S kiss. THANKS TO: Vickie Moseley who is a patron and a saint all in one and her husband, Brian, who sounds like a pretty good Mulder-substitute. Also to Mac (thanks re the weather - I'll post our next Daniel story soon), Debbie (bless your willingness to look up flight times for me), Suzanne (for sneaking this in at work) and Gerry for rising to the occasion (instead of going to the Gardening Centre with hubby). DEDICATED TO: The woman who emphatically said, "Okay, you've done an MSR, you've done humour, you've done angst - NOW DO ANOTHER MT!" Here you go, Sally. Thhanks for the encouragement. Now put that down... My website for all my X-Files fanfiction, thanks to the wonderful Skyfox, is now at http://tenxffic.iwarp.com DISCLAIMER: The X-Files, the episodes referred to, Mulder and Scully and all other characters from the show 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. Characters not recognised from the show are mine. The X-Files: "St. Jude's Lost Cause" By Ten, 20th February to 7th March, 2000 xXx Blessing, Tennessee: Scully woke to the sound of her portable alarm clock. She opened her eyes. Six-thirty am. Another motel. Another Wednesday. In February. Her birthday. She got up and had a shower. At least last night was not spent at the hospital, helplessly watching Mulder's suffering. A SINGLE snakebite was painful enough. Mulder had racked up a dozen. /But today he's being discharged,/ Scully reminded herself as she dressed. /And then we can take the noon flight home, providing he's physically up to it./ Reverend Mackey had still not been apprehended. Nothing more could be done on the case apart from to give the report to Skinner, as inconclusive as it was. After a quick breakfast she drove to Blessing General Hospital and entered Mulder's room, carrying his overnight bag. She held it up high. "Look, partner. Rescue is at hand! Your freedom clothes." He smiled. "Time to really become proud and fancy free." He was sitting up, finishing off his breakfast. Scully was surprised to see he'd eaten practically everything on the plate. The breakfasts here weren't quite as bad as the lunches and dinners, but they were still fine examples of hospital food in all its glory. /I guess he wants to make sure that they'll let him out of here. Unless he wants to impress one of the nurses? Nah. Probably just so glad he's not on soft mush or IV nutrients. Or perhaps it's his birthday present to me./ Then again, he could have slid some scraps under the mattress. An orderly came and removed the tray, dimpling prettily in Mulder's direction while she thought Scully wasn't looking. Scully held her tongue. /He must have turned on the charm this morning so that they wouldn't tell me how annoying he was last night. They'll be glad to see the back of him, I'm sure./ She thought for a moment. /With these open-backed hospital gowns, who *wouldn't* be glad to see the back of him?/ Hastily she cleared her throat and her thoughts, and got back to business. xXx The agents returned to their motel rooms to pass the time before they had to drive to Nashville. This also gave Scully the chance to make sure that Mulder was really ready for the flight home. He was not only physically ready, but mentally too. He paced the floor near his packed suitcase, staying away from potential snake-harbouring crannies like the bed. "I have no desire to remain in a rattlesnake zone for any longer than necessary," he commented to her wryly. The flight was supposed to be at noon, but when they got to the Nashville airport they found they were facing a delay of several hours due to technical problems. The partners sat in the lounge, using the time to go over Scully's report. As Mulder bent his head over the pages, Scully studied him. She hoped that returning to work would be the medicine he needed for his latest ailment: restlessness. In the last few months Mulder seemed even more antsy than usual when they weren't working on a case. Now he kept turning a pen over and over between his fingers, nearly causing her to grab it off him, or grab his hands to still them. /He's just got out of 'jail', he's got cabin fever./ She also thought of the recurring nightmare he kept having during his hospital stay - or at least in the gaps between sedatives and painkillers - of snakes slithering under his clothes and out of his sleeves and through the sheets. Mulder had said that snakes were all over him in the attack. /Plus we're still close to Blessing and the Reverend is still on the loose./ No wonder Mulder was a little fidgety. He went to get them coffee and a snack and came back with an extra: a cupcake with a candle stuck in it, the first time he had mentioned her birthday so far. "Sorry I can't light it in here." She smiled and took the cupcake, wondering if he was going to sing. Instead Mulder turned to her when he sat down and said, "What would you like for your birthday?" "To get out of this airport." "Seriously." "You surviving twelve rattlesnake bites and recuperating quickly enough so that we can go home today is enough of a present." Scully honestly meant that. She also meant more, but didn't dare elaborate. Instead she thought, or tried not to think, of how he had lain on the floor and in the ER and in the hospital bed, writhing with pain from the bites. And of before that, to October, when he hadn't even been able to show pain, trapped inside his body by the activity in his own mind. And then her brain jumped to New Year's Eve and their kiss. She distracted herself by splitting the cupcake with Mulder and eating her half. Despite it only being a one and a half hour flight, Mulder fell asleep, and Scully took the time to study him. When was the last time she had seen some healthy colour on his cheeks? The bite mark on his jaw was fading now, though she couldn't see it from this angle. His head was turned towards the window, and Scully couldn't help looking at the base of his skull, but she couldn't see any hint of the scar from his abduction. His hair had grown over it, but for Scully out of sight was not out of mind. Her stomach churned at the thought of Mulder being awake through a surgical procedure. People poking in his brain. Thankfully he could only recall snippets of his ordeal, just like her with her own abduction. But x-rays had not revealed any implants. She ended up falling asleep against him and woke up with a start. He kept sleeping. She had been leaning heavily against his right arm, and hoped she hadn't aggravated the remnants of the bites that were there. One had been right on top of the healing scars from his New Year's Eve battle in the basement with the undead. /Everyone wants to sink their claws or teeth into you, don't they, Mulder?/ Then she blushed. At least she hadn't drooled on him. His left arm had scored the bullet graze while investigating Henry Weems - the human version of Wile E. Coyote. Though Mulder could claim that title too. His left arm had also endured more snakebites. And her own bullet to the shoulder, but that was years ago now - she was concentrating on more recent injuries. He was really wracking up the frequent flyer points in the last few months, both in the air and in emergency care. Even his fingers - he had dislocated two from pounding the walls (and Skinner) when in the padded cell at Georgetown. Chafe marks from the restraints... Bruises from the IV insertions... It had been ages since he'd gotten a paper cut though, probably because he was usually too sedated to be let near work or even a newspaper. When they finally arrived at Dulles, Mulder disappeared into one of the airport shops and emerged with, of all things, a snakeskin purse. "Sort of a trophy for being a righteous babe and not getting bitten. This is your 'temporary gift'. I ordered something a few weeks ago and I hope I can pick it up in the next few days. Happy Birthday, Scully." Then he leaned down and kissed her on the lips. Almost, but not quite the same as their midnight kiss - this time he was not as tentative, his lips pressed a little more firmly, and his hand was on her cheek and lingered there for a few seconds. If he tilted his head, she knew their lips would part with ease, but he gently pulled away. They smiled at each other, not quite as self-conscious as last time. He didn't put his arm around her - they had luggage to haul. Scully drove him to his apartment. Then after saying goodbye, he went into his building and she returned to hers. She looked at the purse as she put it on her bureau and she thought of his kiss and smiled again, grateful he was still alive and able to make both gestures. Her partner was on leave until Monday, to make sure he had time to rest, but he came into the Hoover Building for an hour on Thursday so they could present the report to the AD. Restless Mulder was back. When they were sitting in the outer office waiting to see Skinner, Scully was half-tempted to remark that Mulder was acting like he still had a leftover snake in his pants, but saying that would be insensitive of her after what he had gone through. Plus (and more likely) that line would have begged for an off- colour reply, so she held her tongue. It was bad enough that his comment on snakehandling and Catholic girls from the start of the case was replaying in her mind. Things did not improve when they were in the inner sanctum. Mulder was shifting in his seat and fidgeting so much that Skinner looked like he wished that the chair came equipped with restraints. Finally their boss ran out of patience. "Agent Mulder, is there a problem?" Mulder looked startled, then said, "Sorry, sir. Just itching to get back to work." xXx Early Saturday evening, 26th February Washington D.C. Scully had spent Friday evening at her mother's for dinner. Then today she had an enjoyable time catching up with Ellen at her house in Rose Hill. Ellen apologised for Trent's absence - "Out with friends." Scully wasn't surprised at not seeing her godson. He was almost a teenager now and would be wanting to hang out with his peers. At least it had given her and her best friend time and peace to catch up. So now Scully was going to stop by at Mulder's on her way home so that he could give her the 'real' present. /What - tongue?/ She blushed and scolded herselff. But she knew that one day that would happen. It was inevitable and not something she was dreading. It would happen when the time was right. Soon she was driving along Hegal Place. They hadn't arranged a time. Mulder hadn't been able to pick the present up until Friday night and so Scully said that if she couldn't drop in over the weekend, he could bring it to work when he returned to duty on Monday. She found a parking space relatively close to his apartment building and was soon knocking on his door. "Scully, um... Could you let yourself in?" she heard him call out. Something about Mulder's tone... She turned the key in the lock with one hand and pulled her gun out with the other. Blood. There were spots of blood on the floor. Her shocked eyes traced the splashes. They went into the kitchen, which was empty. She followed them towards the bathroom and found Mulder standing over the basin, pressing a gauze pad to his right hand. "Mulder!" He looked at her with a mix of chagrin and sheepishness. "Opening a can of soup. Pretty sure I didn't get the artery though, so will that prevent you from killing me?" He let her take his hand and examine it and the bleeding closely. "Stitches. But, you're right, no artery. May have come close to the nerves though, so I'd like it looked at in the ER, otherwise I'd fix you up myself." He didn't protest; he just nodded. He actually held still while she bound the wound up for their trip to the hospital. "Sorry, Scully." "That's all right, Mulder. This is the first injury for months that's been because you're accident prone instead of injured in the line of duty. So you've actually done well. But your poor hand..." "Yeah, after all I've put it through, they may not let me keep it this time!" Soon they were back in Georgetown Memorial Hospital. "Hi, Mel, hello Rachel, Good evening, John. Penny - is that a new hairstyle? Looks good," Mulder said upon their entrance. Doctor John Menid had a long track record with them. He shook his head. "Mulder, I'm sure we just threw you out the door!" "Nope, Blessing General Hospital was the one that had that pleasure." "Damn, I lose the staff pool. I thought you'd stay away until at least Monday." Menid frowned at Mulder's jawline. "What's that?" "Snakebite. You missed that party." "Geez..." "I got eleven more. Wanna see?" Mulder gave him an impish look. John gave him and Scully a look, then realised they were serious. "They should devote an entire medical encyclopaedia to you. Come on." Scully took up her position at the desk for form filling- in duty. Mulder was taken into one of the rooms and she wanted to call after him that if he kept still while John worked she would buy him a lollipop. Otherwise John would probably bludgeon him with a handful of tongue depressors out of sheer frustration or end up stitching his fingers together. Task finished, she walked into the room and stopped. To her surprise, Mulder was relaxed as John went about his work. She kept watching, and Mulder barely moved at all, even when John was saying things like, "I'd tell you this won't sting, but you know it will." The expression on Mulder's face... /Almost like he's meditating or something./ No, that wasn't quite it. She just couldn't put her finger on it. Sort of blissful. /Boy, those drugs must be good./ No nerves had been damaged. After seven stitches and a round of bandages and prescriptions for antibiotics and ibuprofen, Scully was able to talk alone with John for a moment. "So, threatening him to keep still worked, huh?" John looked at her. "Didn't have to do anything. He was as good as gold. Not even one whine." At her look, he said, "Perhaps he's growing up. Or perhaps he's just glad that he doesn't have to be admitted for this one." /Or perhaps he's embarrassed about how it happened,/ she thought as she led her partner back out to her car. She pondered his behaviour all the way home. It wasn't just his expression, it was his body language too. Finally the right analogy hit her. /He looked like a smoker who's just had a puff of a cigarette after a week of trying to quit./ And what did THAT mean? Satisfying a craving? Ridiculous. Mulder HATED hospitals. He hated being hurt. He always wanted to get back to work as soon as possible, and, for a field agent, that meant getting healthy again. /Look at how hard he worked on recovering after his abduction./ Mulder had to build up his strength after being bedridden for so long, plus whatever they had done to him had weakened his right side more than his left, so Physical Therapy was needed to compensate for that too. The Occupational Therapist was so pleased at how hard he worked and how determined he was. Scully had been pleased too, and Mulder should be proud of his own efforts. She dismissed her ridiculous notion about what had just happened. He was NOT satisfying a craving. Scully didn't have to keep telling herself that over the next week - Mulder was back to normal. They didn't have a field case during that time, but there was plenty of other work to continue on with - accounting was going over their expense reports with a fine-tooth comb - and Mulder had stopped that incessant fidgeting. /I guess it's not as much fun one-handed./ xXx Saturday, 4th March: The weekend had finally come and the beancounting accountants could be left behind, at least for a little while. Mulder invited Scully around to pick up her present and kick back with some TV sports. When she arrived, she noticed that he looked relaxed. The present turned out to be a pair of exquisitely made candleholders, the metal forming waves and dolphins that seemed to leap out in their play. "They're beautiful, Mulder. Thank you." They had their version of a 'candlelight dinner': Mulder dug out two old candles of his own to put in the holders, and they sat them on the coffee table while they ate popcorn and watched the game. The partners sat closer than they would have last year, but didn't touch. They cheered opposing teams and talked about minor things. A few hours later, Scully excused herself to go to the bathroom. The smell hit her even before she entered the room. Mulder had cleaned his bathroom. Despite being a messy bachelor in some ways, he still kept things clean. But this... The room utterly reeked of heavy solvents and pine to a degree that it never had before. It smelled like a damn hospital room. When she came out, she said teasingly, "Wow, Mulder, you were a little excessive with the Pine Sol in there." He shrugged. /I'm worrying over nothing,/ she told herself, but couldn't help asking, "What brought that on?" "What do you mean? Women. Can't believe I'm being nagged for having a clean bathroom! Hell, you probably get down and scrub the claw legs of your bath with a toothbrush." /He looked very relaxed when I arrived. He couldn't... He wouldn't be sniffing the cleaner, would he? Or be addicted to the painkillers?/ "How's your hand?" "Fine. I'll get the stitches out on Monday night." "I'll do it for you." "What do you mean?" "I can take the stitches out. The wound is healing well. I can do it easily and save everyone some time." /Hell, at this point in his hospital career, he could probably take them out himself!/ "I don't want to impose -" She couldn't believe it. He looked stricken and alarmed. /What on earth is going on here?/ "No, Scully, it's fine, really. Thanks for the offer." /He's BABBLING!/ "Mulder, why are you so adamant?" "I'm not being adamant. It's not that I'm saying you're not capable, it's just that..." He seemed to realise that he was backed into a corner. "Okay, I'd appreciate it." Appreciation looked furtherest from his mind. "Mulder, is everything okay?" "I'm fine." Could his spate of recent injuries have left him punch drunk? Scully changed the subject, but still listened carefully to his replies. He was articulate and didn't seem to be under the influence of any substances. She took his stitches out Monday night, and resolved to watch him closely through the next week. She was probably worrying over nothing. The last few months had probably gotten to her too. xXx A week later, Saturday 11th March Around 6:30am: Winter was having its final fling. Scully had slept with extra blankets on her bed since the night had been icy, and she woke up to find that snow had fallen in the small hours too. She decided to lie in for half an hour, then get up. After breakfast she would shop, then build a fire and relax in front of it with a novel. She started to doze, then the phone rang. "Scully." "Hello, Agent Scully. This is Doctor Goldman from Georgetown -" She sat upright. She knew Mark Goldman and she knew exactly whom this was about. "What's happened to him? Is he okay?" Goldman skipped the preliminaries. "He's unconscious with a head injury and hypothermia. We're doing the X-Rays now, then an MRI. A police patrol found him lying in Moseley Park." That was the park and games ground near Mulder's apartment building. "When?" "About three-quarters of an hour ago. They don't know how long he was lying there." Scully was up and pulling clothes out of drawers. "I'm on my way. Tell him that." She knew that Goldman would, even if Mulder couldn't hear him. At the hospital she was met by one of the deputies who had discovered her partner. "Deputy Stein, what can you tell me?" "We were doing a routine patrol and saw someone lying on the jogging track. He was lying on his back. His coat was unzipped and his pockets were empty. No ID, but the staff here took one look and rang you. The only noticeable injury was on his temple." /Was he meeting an informant?/ "Any leads on his attacker?" "I'm no doctor, but he could have just been jogging and slipped and fell. Which was pretty inevitable, seeing the ice on the track that would have been there even before the snow started. Not a bright thing to have been doing. Then someone could have come along and not been able to resist temptation, turned him over and went through his pockets." "How was he dressed?" "Running gear, but warm stuff." /Not that it made a difference when the coat was unzipped.../ Dr Goldman confirmed the deputy's theory. The wound had come from a fall on a smooth surface, and there was no sign of assault like a dent from the impact of a blunt weapon or a rock. The MRI showed a hairline fracture to Mulder's skull and a concussion, but fortunately no bleeding in the brain. He had mild hypothermia and was starting to respond to the treatment. /How long were you lying out there? And what were you DOING out there?/ Scully thought. /Though you can't have been lying out there all night, otherwise the hypothermia would be worse./ Mulder hadn't woken up yet. He was responding to painful stimuli, flinching, jerking his leg or arm away. /Once again, I'm in the position of watching and waiting to see if he's going to wake up with all of his brain intact./ The police asked around the neighbourhood about the incident. Mulder's neighbour in apartment 40 said she heard his front door closing at around three in the morning. "It woke me up." She hadn't heard anything else. xXx Several hours after his admission, Mulder began muttering in his sleep. Scully tried to make out the words. "Safe..." "Yes, Mulder, you're safe." "Know that..." Festooned in blankets and heating pads, he drifted off again. xXx Mulder's temperature was back to normal. The doctor informed Scully that the hypothermia appeared to have had no lasting effect on his body, but once again he would have to recuperate and regain his strength. /About time something went our way, but Mulder, this is beyond a joke. You get well, then it's taken from you. Your energy is up and down like a yo-yo. That's not healthy./ He opened his eyes and focused on her. Scully could tell that he wasn't quite with things. The concussion was still in residence. "I'm in hospital again, aren't I?" "Yes, Mulder, you are." He let out a contented sigh. "Good." /Uh oh./ "Mulder, why is it good?" "'Cause it is. Best place to be. Especially if you're me." He chuckled at his rhyme. "I'm not you, Mulder. But I want to understand why. Please tell me." Mulder held up his hands to form a 'T'. "Time out. Scully, can we talk later? I'm tired..." "Of course. I'll be right here. But the doctor will want to check on you soon, ask you a few questions." "Okay..." She squeezed his hand, deciding to let him get away with his deflection for now. He wasn't exactly in the best condition. Mulder smiled down at their joined hands. "That's another thing I like..." Then his eyes closed. Scully buzzed for the nurse and asked her to pass on to the doctor that Mulder had woken. Soon Goldman came into the room. They were able to wake Mulder again without much effort and he responded to questions. He knew his name and the right answers to the standard questions. "What do you last remember?" "Going out jogging." Scully eyed him. "You weren't meeting anyone?" "No." "Mulder, there was ice on the pavement. And you went jogging?" "I didn't notice. I just woke up and really wanted to jog." "At three in the morning?" Then she remembered other times that he'd done that. And why. "Did you have a nightmare?" "Think so. Wanted to clear my head." "Well, you nearly did. You nearly spilt your brains out on the ground!" She made herself calm down. This wasn't going to get them anywhere. Soon he was asleep again and the doctor was gone. Scully found herself pondering Mulder's "Time out." /Was he saying that he didn't want to tell me just then what was wrong, or is *that* why he thinks it's good to be in hospital?/ She sat staring at him. She went over and over the last four or five months in her mind. Things certainly had been stressful, but surely he wasn't seeing the hospital as some sort of haven? No, surely not her Mulder. Little things popped up, like when Mulder was in the hospital after she rescued him from the DOD - he hadn't asked "When am I getting out of here?" nearly as much as he usually did. He didn't grumble as much about being woken every hour for neuro checks. /I just thought it was because he was so tired and just grateful to be alive and safe./ Safe. That was what Mulder had said earlier. xXx Scully roped Goldman into a little experiment before he finished his shift. It was time to push Mulder a little and hopefully he'd respond in the right manner. The doctor entered the room and announced, "Well, Mulder, you're probably not going to like this, but since you've been in and out of the hospital lately, and due to the hypothermia, we want to make sure your body is getting enough nutrients. I want to put you on Ensure until you're discharged." Scully waited for a protest spiked with colourful metaphors, but instead Mulder just nodded. No protest. Calling his bluff, a can was produced at dinner time. "On the thousand to one chance that he does actually down it, it won't do him any harm," Goldman had said. Scully watched her partner drink the vile stuff as if it was a can of soda. Part of her was dumbfounded, part was not surprised. He wrinkled his face afterwards, but that was all. She tried another tack half an hour later. "Those neuro checks must be really annoying. Waking you up every hour to check on you." "Gotta be done." "It doesn't annoy you?" "I guess - but it's to help me, isn't it? Routine." Time for the bigger test. "Mulder, since the hypothermia was jumped on early and there have been no complications from the head injury, the doctor thinks you can go home tomorrow morning." She watched his eyes very carefully and saw a flash of panic. "But - I've got concussion and a skull fracture." "A hairline fracture. You'll have to take it easy, but your neuro signs are all right. They're keeping you in overnight to make sure, but people are shuffled in and out pretty quickly, remember. And I'll be keeping an eye on you too." He sank back against the pillow. "Oh. Okay." She had her proof. "Mulder, we need to talk." "About?" "About you ending up in hospital so often." "Scully, most of my injuries have been line-of-duty." "I know that most have not been your fault - though some of the risks you've taken... Anyway, some of them have been different. Like the last few." "So I can be accident-prone too. Everyone cuts themselves in their own kitchen at one stage or another, no matter how careful they are. And as for the jog, yes, I shouldn't have gone out that late at night and in those conditions, but I'd just had a bad nightmare and wasn't thinking straight." He met her sceptical look. "I've always had a knack for getting injured, Scully. It's nothing new." "True, but your attitude towards being in the hospital has changed." "In what way?" How could she put it? "You *like* it now." /Damn, that's not the right phrasing./ "You -" Mulder stared at her. "That is the most ridiculous statement I've ever heard. I *like* it? Don't you mean that I've finally realised that it's much better to stop bitching and annoying the staff and just get on with getting well? Can't you accept that I've actually matured?" "No," she insisted. "There's more to it than that. I know it." She held up a hand. "Mulder, please just hear me out. I'm worried. Nobody will be happier than me if you can convince me that everything is fine." "I've never been able to convince you of anything, Scully," he said with bitterness. "So I'll be fighting a losing battle now." She reached for his hand, hoping he wouldn't pull it away. "I'm doing this because I care for you, Mulder. You said that hospitals made you feel safe. You seem...dependent on them now." She outlined what she had witnessed: the Pine Sol in his bathroom, the expression on his face when his hand was being tended to. "Mulder, somehow you've gone from a person who would climb down the side of the hospital building via a bedsheet rope while still suffering from gunshot wounds to someone who is treating it more like home than their own apartment!" "Are you suggesting that I'm addicted to hospitals?" "It almost looks that way from here! Getting your hand stitched gave you another 'hit'. Mulder, I swear it was like watching a smoker!" He just snorted and shook his head. But she could see that flash of fright in his eyes again. She had to reach him. "Mulder, seeing you end up in the hospital tears me up inside each time it happens. I want to know that this isn't going to keep happening. You're the psychologist, not me. Please just think over what I've said and your own feelings about being in here." xXx Georgetown Hospital: The next morning, Scully entered Mulder's private room. He was sitting up in bed. "Goldman should cut you loose by ten thirty." She hesitated, then plunged on. "Is that okay?" "Not really." "What do you mean?" "You're right. I want to stay here," he said, dropping his eyes to study his fingers resting on the sheets. "Mulder?" "I was thinking over what you said. I thought about it a lot last night. I realised that I do feel safe in here. It's when I step outside that I don't." She was relieved at his admission, but she also felt afraid. "Do you know why?" He took a deep breath, looked reluctant, then made an all- encompassing gesture. "This is a routine. I don't have to worry about it. Better still, I'm not *expected* to worry about cases or crimes or looking for Sam or guilt. All I have to do is focus on getting better. That's something I can actually achieve. And it's time out for my brain. The hospital is where I get the most rest these days." She sat down slowly on the edge of the bed. "Oh, Mulder..." she said softly. He kept talking. "Sometimes I feel like I deserve the pain anyway. It's something more preferable to focus on than what we're up against. And when it gets too much -" /The pain or the odds?/ she wondered. "Then sedatives and painkillers can take it all away for a while. Even if I'm not badly injured, the catharsis I get just from being in a hospital... physical rest, enough sleep, fairly healthy - though not delicious - meals, lifting of the mantle of responsibility because I have an 'excuse'..." He stopped and reached out for her hand. "But I didn't deliberately cut myself on that can, Scully. And I know I was an idiot to go out jogging when it was icy, but I didn't consciously mean to end up in here." "I know." She wanted to say more, but she could see that he had more to tell her and needed to say it. He met her eyes. "Remember when we were hunting for the lake monster?" "Big Blue." "Yeah. And we were stuck on the rock and I told you that I'd always wanted a peg leg?" She made a connection. "Dealing with an injury or Physical Therapy is a temporary peg leg for you?" "I think so," Mulder said slowly. He looked bemused at his recent epiphanies. They were still sinking in. "Recovery from illness. As pathetic as I sound, it's something achievable I can manage, instead of government conspiracies. Something to take my focus off my personal vengeance against life and my megalomaniacal cosmology." "Mulder, when I said that, I never meant -" He smiled. "I know it's hard to live with me, Scully. Being me is no fun either." The smile faded. "Sometimes I want a break from being Ahab. I want some shore leave, but this is the only way I can let myself, because even if I take a normal vacation, my subconscious keeps at me and I can't relax." He touched the bandage on his forehead. "If this was a pegleg - permanent brain damage or something - then it would be enough to simply carry on living." There was a pause as Scully felt her heart constrict painfully at his words. He saw her stricken expression. "I'm not planning on throwing myself under a bus though." "I know. But Mulder, the things that you've survived, that you've come back from... You are heroic. Every obstacle, you've climbed." "And then that takes me back to the same square. The X-Files." "You don't think there's anything in them anymore?" "No." He was firm. "I know for sure how vital it is that we keep going, keep investigating." "Then when did this all start? Do you know? Things weren't this bad that far back, were they?" "It really took off because of what happened to me after I saw that rubbing of the artefact. I could read minds. When I was lying in the DOD, I could read the minds of those around me. Diana. Cancerman. I can't remember much of that part, but I can remember enough. For once I had proof of just what they're up to, the scope of it. But what I dreamed was what really caused all this... I dreamt that I was no longer an FBI agent. That I'd put all that aside. I didn't have to do that anymore. I was in a house in a suburban street. It was mine." He looked at her. Scully just sat there, holding his hand, willing him to continue with her eyes. "I have always accepted the risks to my life through this quest and the cost to my relationships and reputation. On the whole, I didn't care. But I always kept a small hope alive that one day I would be able to settle down in a small town somewhere and have a normal life. Here it was. "Deep Throat was still alive. He absolved me of guilt for all the things I felt responsible for. Cancerman lived nearby. He looked after his 'daughter', Sam, and her grandchildren. I... I was with Diana. We had kids. I gave up chasing my quest." Mulder bit his lip. Scully willed her body not to show any reaction at mention of Diana's name. "So Armageddon happened while I lay dying of old age in a comfortable bed. You came in and kicked my ass for my presumptuousness. You were there, telling me to get up, and I could feel my body in the dream dying and dragging me with it, but I followed you and you pulled me back over." Scully remembered finding Mulder in the DOD building. He had been dying. Whatever Cancerman's people had done to him, they had caused a bleed between his brain and skull. It was a miracle that Mulder had roused and hung on long enough for her to get him out of there - she had found a gurney, thank God, and the Lone Gunmen had been waiting for her in their van in the parking lot - and get to the hospital. Mulder shifted against the pillows. "I had a dream within my dream too. There was a little boy. A little boy on a beach. I don't know if he was my inner child or representation of the future generations that colonisation would wipe out, or another version of my conscience, but I do know that my complacency was destroying his dreams. I had to give him a chance to live too." "And you don't regret that," Scully stated. "I know I can't just sit back and have a normal life. You and the boy taught me that in the dream. I can't have normality. That's my sacrifice so that everyone else can. I understood that and I accept it and I came back to resume the fight with you against it." /But despite all that, the dream version of me effectively destroyed that last little bubble of hope he had. The one that kept him sane and now he keeps ending up in here?/ Scully wondered. "But?" she asked, to hear how he would confirm her suspicion. "But... Even though I accept it, doesn't mean that I'm not scared of what's coming and whether we can beat it. And even though I accept our destiny, I miss that I won't be able to be normal. That other people get to and I don't. That you can't either. It's just so much for me to take in sometimes that I just hare out, I guess. It's like I need a smoke or a puff on an inhaler." "That's perfectly understandable, Mulder." She started to say that now they knew what the problem was, they could do something about it, but she realised he wasn't finished. He took a very deep breath and held her hand loosely. "And... I hope you're not going to take this the wrong way, Scully, or get mad at me... But when I'm injured it gets your attention and your affection." She stared at him. He soldiered on. "You're more openly affectionate towards me. I know I shouldn't think like that, it's not right. I know from your mind how much you care about me." "My mind?" Shame was clear on his face. "I wasn't snooping, Scully, I swear. It was just so... *there* that I couldn't possibly miss it. When I was in the padded room and when I was in the hospital room and you told me to hang on, I could feel it and I know I mean as much to you as you do to me." Scully stared at him. Was that why he had taken the plunge on New Year's Eve - because he knew she really was in love with him? And why his kiss at the airport had been bolder? "I don't mean to make you uncomfortable. What I sensed should be enough for me without pulling any stupid stunts. To have you feel like that too was more than I des..." He trailed off at her angry look and corrected his wording. "...expected. And once I was better again we were closer, happier, but sometimes I begin to doubt what I felt from you because I can't get that glimpse into your head anymore..." Scully leaned forward. "Mulder, *never* doubt that. What I feel for you is so strong that it's a wonder that you can't read it being broadcast from my mind." That rare, gentle smile of his appeared. "I think I can." "Good." They rested their foreheads together for long minutes, Scully being careful that she wasn't touching his injury. Then, reluctantly, she looked at her watch. "The doctor will be in soon. Do you still feel uncertain about leaving hospital? We could -" "Now that you've pointed out my behaviour and I got all that off my chest, it doesn't feel as bad. Not cured, but I've got a lot to absorb and process. I can work this out - we can." "That's even better. Because I've got plans for you, Mulder, and they hinge on you being healthy." "Really? Do tell." "We may not be able to have a house with a picket fence, partner, but we can still do some normal things." She gave him the same look she had given him in early January when playing with his tie and asking him to please investigate the more logical explanation first 'For me...' in regard to the 'Speedy Gonzales' teenagers. He considered her words carefully. "So, our first two kisses have been fairly chaste. Do you think that the third time's the charm?" "Once that fracture heals, I'd say it will be." There was a knock on the door. Dr Goldman walked in. "Okay, let's just do the usual discharge exam, then if all's well, kick you out. Ready, Mulder?" "Bring it on." xXx Mulder's apartment Two months later Saturday: Scully opened her eyes. She was lying on the couch. So was Mulder. They were under an afghan and holding each other languidly in the morning light. They hadn't meant to sleep here all night. They had been aiming for the bedroom, but things had happened - as evidenced by her panties, which she could see dangling from the lampshade. The underwear had landed there around eleven when they finally got home from the airport. It wasn't until dawn that they'd had a slower session in which Scully had finally discarded her skirt and the rest of her clothes. /Hmmm, have we traded one addiction for another?/ She liked this normal. She liked it a lot. In between cases, they had this. They did set this particular extracurricular activity aside while on cases, but the partners didn't box themselves away from each other like they used to. Mulder, who was still half in his unbuttoned shirt, stirred in her arms and opened his eyes. He smiled and brought his lips to hers for a kiss. She ran her hand along his ribs. "Congratulations, Mulder." "Yeah, I was pretty good, wasn't I?" He was clearly thinking about their dawn session. His fingers stroked her hip. In some ways he was still restless and fidgety, but in good ways. It wasn't pens that he kept playing with anymore. And it wasn't like she could still her hands when he was so close, either. Scully rolled her eyes. "I wasn't talking about THAT. Don't give me the pout, it was fantastic; but what I was referring to was that you haven't ended up anywhere near a hospital for ages." "I don't know. What you did last night nearly put me right back in there! Jesus, Scully, it's a wonder I could move at all this morning." She smiled in satisfaction. "I'm a Catholic girl, Mulder. I'm supposed to be good at snakehandling..." /In its many forms./ He roared with laughter. He had good colour in his cheeks and a healthy light in his eyes - or rather 'unhealthy in a good way', she revised, knowing that they would be late to visit her mother this morning. But at least he was taking his exercise indoors now, at all hours, instead of going jogging on ice. He was much more cheerful all round. Though he did have a few bite marks on him... But even though she could see all this, she had to ask, "I know you haven't been admitted for a while, even as an outpatient, but... Have you felt the need to be back in the hospital lately?" "No, that's the last place I want to be." He held her closer. "I'm quite content where I am." THE END