Ditched.... - an X-Files Fan Fic Part 1 of 1

by Medusa

Synopsis: After a tough case, Mulder and Scully have a disagreement, Mulder goes missing. 24 hours later he is found, seriously injured.

Shipper status - no romance. This is a story of angst and pain for Mulder, anguish and frustration for Scully.

Rating: PG - occasional bad language.

Disclaimer: All X-Files names and references are the intellectual property of Ten-Thirteen, Fox, Chris Carter (whom I thank eternally for coming up with such a brilliant show), etc. No copyright infringement is intended. I write this purely for my own enjoyment. Any characters you don't recognise are mine.

Archive - yes, but keep my name attached.

This work is dedicated to David - a truly beautiful person. I thank you for bringing the character of Fox Mulder to life in such a wonderful way. I apologise for putting the character through more pain and torture... he really doesn't deserve it, but I can't help myself - sick puppy that I am.

Comments can be sent to me at medusa_fox@hotmail.com but please be gentle, this is my first work. Hope you like it.

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Ditched...

8.30pm Wednesday

The gay carnival lights winked brightly from the various carny-rides and side shows. Fox Mulder's eyes were taking it all in, much like a young child's. He was enjoying the atmosphere, and was actually laughing!

His partner, Dana Scully, tagged along behind him somewhat tiredly. It would have suited her far more to have just had a quiet night in her motel room, finishing up her notes on the case they had just completed before heading back to Washington DC in the morning. The case they'd been on wasn't an X-File. Mulder's renowned profiling skills had been requested and Skinner had insisted they go. Mulder had been unhappy with the case from the word go, the local PD were resentful of FBI presence and as a result the investigation had become a nightmare.

But now, it was a welcome change to see Mulder smile. The case had been tough on her partner and he felt like he'd failed the last two victims by not catching the perp sooner. It wasn't his fault, but Mulder always blamed himself regardless.

So, there was a carnival in town, and Mulder had begged her to go with him with "C'mon, Scully, it'll be fun."

It was quite rare that he asked such things for himself, and he was so child-like in his enthusiasm that she melted and agreed to go along. Carnivals weren't her idea of fun, but she was getting some enjoyment from watching her partner's reaction to the side shows. Mulder could be so infuriating sometimes, so pig-headed stubborn. Yet there was a definite boyish charm about him. He could charm the spots off a leopard, she was sure. She sighed inwardly.

"Hey, Scully! Would you look at that." Mulder pointed to the garishly coloured tent with a sign outside proclaiming 'Madam Zara Sees All'. A fortune teller, great! The 'perfect' end to 'perfect' evening.

"Mulder, you're not serious?" she groaned.

"Sure, why not?" He turned his best puppy-dog face on and she half expected 'Please, mom, please. Can we? Huh?' She shook her head resignedly. "I give up, Mulder. Whatever."

Inside the tent, a wizened old woman was packing things into a hold-all. Without looking up she said, "I'm sorry, Madam Zara has finished for today. Come back tomorrow."

Somewhat relieved, Scully turned to go.

"Wait!" the old woman had stopped her activity and was staring at Mulder intently. "You..." she came toward him stopping a few feet away. She was studying his face and Mulder shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. Suddenly this wasn't such a good idea. He wanted to go.

"Come on, Scully, let's get out of here." He caught Scully's elbow to leave.

The woman's voice rooted him to the spot. "Stop!! I have a warning for you." She croaked. "Death is waiting for you with open arms."

Mulder visibly blanched and Scully became uneasy. "Come on, let's go." She tried to pull him toward the exit. She didn't think Mulder needed any of this crap.

The old woman continued, almost trance-like, and suddenly cried out as she touched his arm. "There is grave danger. Beware, I see death... You are .... POISON!"

Mulder blanched. "Are you all right?" He caught the woman as she swayed as if ready to faint. Madam Zara's eyes opened widely, frightened. She pulled sharply away.

"NO!" A strangled cry from deep inside her. "Go, leave me alone... " she retreated backwards away from Mulder as if he were the Devil himself.

Confused and a little hurt by the episode, Mulder hurried Scully away from the tent. He was no longer the happy child of just a few minutes ago. "What the hell do you suppose that was all about?" he asked Scully.

"Beats me, Mulder. Some crazy old woman trying to create an impression. I don't know. Amateur theatrics if you ask me. Don't let it bother you." But she knew it would anyway. "I'm tired, let's go back to the motel."

On the drive back to the Shady Palms Motor Lodge, the quaint little motel that had been their home away from home for the last week, Mulder was quieter than usual. He concentrated on the road with much more intensity than was absolutely necessary, shutting himself off from everything around him. Scully had seen that brooding look before. The old woman had rattled Mulder more than he was letting on. And it was such a sudden and dramatic change from the mood he'd been in earlier.

Mulder was so lost in thought that he almost missed the turn-off into the motel parking lot and swung the wheel suddenly, sending Scully careening into the door.

"Mulder!" Scully was shaken but not hurt.

"Sorry." His voice was small, distracted, almost apologetic. "Guess I wasn't concentrating."

The car pulled to a halt in front of their rooms and Mulder got out, slamming the door and headed straight to his room without any further explanation. Scully caught up with him as the door was being closed after him.

"Mulder!" she pushed the door back open. God damn him, he was just going to shut her out. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I'm fine." He was lying. "I'm just tired. I'll see you in the morning."

This time she let the door close and stood staring at it. She considered knocking and demanding that Mulder talk to her about what had happened at the carnival, but she recognised that determined 'I don't want to talk about it' look that she had been given. She heard the TV come on inside - Mulder's usual sleeping companion, but turned up extra loud tonight. She sighed and turned away, fishing her own room key from her pocket. She need a hot bath and a good night's sleep.

2.08am Thursday

Something woke her. The TV in the room next door was still on. She could hear it's muffled tones through the thin walls. She listened sleepily for a moment, wondering what it was that had woken her. A strangled scream came from through the wall. But it wasn't the TV. Mulder! She was out of bed, put her robe on, grabbed her weapon, and was at her partner's door in a flash.

She pounded on the door. "Mulder!" she yelled, pounded again. No response. Then more screams. "Mulder! ...... Shit."

She wasn't the only one that had heard the commotion. The motel manager came out of the small office at the end of the block to stare.

"I need the pass key!" she yelled to him, "Now!" She ran towards the office, met the manager as he came back out, saw his shocked look at the gun in her hand. "Go back inside." She instructed as she grabbed the key from his hand. He knew they were FBI, and decided that it was best to leave them to whatever it was that was going on. He wasn't paid enough to get his head blown off. He peeked around the doorway, back down towards the FBI lady as she got the door to her partners room open and went inside.

Holding her weapon at the ready, Scully slipped inside the door and swept the room with her eyes. No sign of trouble. The TV cast strange shadows about the room. The bed was empty. "Mulder?"

She couldn't see him. Quietly she closed the door behind her. A loud groan, "Nooo!" from the other side of the bed, on the floor. She edged along the wall opposite the bed, weapon ready for trouble, until she could see around to the far side of the bed and her partner curled on the floor, drenched in sweat, eyes squeezed tightly shut.

Scully laid her weapon on the bedside cabinet and crouched down beside Mulder. "Oh, God! It's all right, Mulder." She reached out and touched him on the shoulder. He cringed away, long ragged breaths more like sobs escaping his lips. Despite his resistance she gathered him into her arms.

"Shhh," she crooned, "It's all right, you're safe." She kept repeating it like a mantra, gently rocking the shaking body back and forth, stroking his hair.

Shit, Mulder. I should have seen this coming. The TV turned up too loud, almost like he knew something would happen tonight. She mentally kicked herself for not recognising the signs. She was tired herself and that had made her blind to her partner's need. She *should* have made him talk about it earlier. Mulder had been broody all through this case, needlessly blaming himself for screwing up when it was the local PD's fault if anything. They hadn't listened to Mulder and the result was two more homicides. She should have seen his mood building, but he'd seemed to shake it off by himself. Now she saw that he'd only buried his feelings as usual, bottled them up. And now the cork had blown. Tomorrow... we'll talk about it tomorrow she promised herself.

Eventually the ragged breathing eased and Mulder slept. He was too heavy for her to man handle back into bed and she didn't want to wake him, so she pulled the pillow off the bed and gently placed it under his head, then covered him with a blanket. She quietly crept to the door and let herself out, glancing back with real pain in her eyes wondering if her partner would ever escape the demons that continued to haunt him.

7.45am Thursday

"Come on, Scully. Let's go. We gotta be at the airport in an hour." Mulder called to her as he dropped his carry-all and suit pack into the trunk of the car. He bounded up onto the verandah with a lot more energy than she knew he should have, certainly more than she had considering how much sleep she'd missed.

She eyed him as she walked to the rental car. And couldn't resist asking, sarcastically, "Did you sleep well, Mulder?"

He rewarded her with a wary reply. "Like a baby. Why?"

"Oh, no reason." She handed him her bag to stow and climbed into the passenger seat as Mulder slammed the trunk.

Mulder folded his lanky frame into the driver's seat. He looked at her as he gunned the engine. "Oh, I get it," he sounded a little guilty.

"What?" she asked back a little surprised... did he remember last night?

"I'm sorry," he apologised.

"Mulder... It's ok. I... you don't have to...." She stammered, not knowing how to begin to discuss it.

"I left the TV on too loud last night didn't I? It kept you awake. I'm sorry, Scully. I fell asleep sooner than I thought I would. Didn't turn it off."

"I..." she sighed. There was no other way than the direct approach. "No Mulder, it wasn't the TV. It was you."

He looked sideways at her as they pulled into the traffic. "Me? What'd I do?"

"You... You were screaming in your sleep again." There, she'd said it.

"I was not!" Hot denial, a flush creeping into his cheeks.

"Yes, you were, Mulder." Her tone was rising to match his. "You have to talk to me about this."

"About what? There's nothing to talk about."

"Yes, there is. This whole week, this case has been getting to you. And last night, that gypsy woman..."

He shook his head, "No! There's nothing wrong. I'm fine!"

"What she said upset you, didn't it?"

"No. No! That was just a load of bullshit designed to impress the tourists."

She watched his profile, jaw working as he ground his teeth, trying to control his emotions. Eyes resolutely forward. Softening her voice, she asked, "Please, Mulder. Don't shut me out."

"There's *nothing* to talk about. I'm fine." Subject closed.

Scully wasn't prepared to just let it drop. Not this time. "Mulder.."

He glared at her. "Just drop it, ok Scully?"

Stubborn, pig-headed bastard, she wanted to scream at him. But he'd thrown up the barriers, and right now she didn't feel that it would do their friendship one bit of good to pursue it any further. She'd let him cool down and then maybe, maybe, he'd be ready to talk.

The rest of the way to the airport, and on the flight home, the conversation was stilted, professional, limited only to necessary questions and answers as she fumed and he sulked. Scully's anger at being shut out versus Mulder's own version of the hermit crab. A wonderful combination.

Once back in FBI headquarters, Mulder had retreated immediately to his basement office to work on his report without inviting Scully to join him. Although, technically, it could be considered her office as well, Mulder had never gotten around to giving her a desk of her very own, her own space.

Consequently, she maintained a desk upstairs in the main office. It was brighter, friendlier, not nearly as depressing as Mulder's cluttered X-Files 'den' could be. She decided it would be much more pleasant working there on her lab reports than having to work in stony silence alongside Fox Mulder in one of his 'moods' for the rest of the day.

She figured that Mulder would work this out of his system as he always did, and that in a few hours he would be calling her down to apologise in his own way, to compare notes, argue the facts of their case as each had interpreted them and pretty much be back to 'normal' as if nothing had happened between them. He was really good at doing that. And it bugged the shit out of her.

6.00pm Thursday

Scully had had enough. Mulder had sulked all day. She stalked to the elevator, punched the basement level button and fairly seethed on the descent. It was time they had their talk, whether he was ready or not. She was headed toward Mulder's office when one of the filing clerks (Amy was it?) called out to her.

"Are you looking for Agent Mulder?"

Scully nodded. "Actually, yes."

"Oh, he left a couple of hours ago."

What? Ditched. Again! Boy was she going to really let him have it this time. He didn't even have the common decency to tell her he was going. Calm on the outside, boiling on the inside, she asked, "He didn't mention where he was going by any chance, did he?"

"Nope." Amy called back over her shoulder as she wiggled off in the direction of the filing room.

Great. Damn you all to hell, Mulder! She was still mentally going through the list of expletives that aptly described her partner as she headed to the car park to retrieve her car.

"Agent Scully." A male voice snapped her focus back to the here and now.
Special Agent Jon Wilkins was hurrying up to her.

"Agent Wilkins." She greeted him with a tight smile, somewhat curious as to what he wanted with her. He was handsome, rugged, perhaps not as pretty-boy good looking as Mulder, but certainly better mannered. "What can I do for you?"

"Um, well. I was wondering." He stammered like a school boy. "Some of us are going to O'Shaunessy's for a drink, and well, I wondered if.." he saw the gentle negative he was about to get for an answer. "You see, it's my birthday.... And well.."

Oh, what the hell, Scully thought, I'm not going to let Mulder get to me. He can be a selfish bastard if he wants, I try to help him and he just throws up the barriers. Well, damn it, I have my own life to lead, I *won't* sit around until he's ready to open up, not this time. "Ok. Sure, I'll come" She said suddenly. Why not? And Agent Wilkins almost fell over.

***********
8.45am Friday

Scully had let herself into the basement X-Files office with her key and was going over the material left on the desk that Mulder had been methodically putting in order to support his report for AD Skinner on their case. The photographs, notes - were all well ordered and concise. The office may be a reflection of Mulder's cluttered mind, but his work was sheer brilliance.

She glanced at her watch, then the door. She had expected her partner in early today, but so far he was a no-show. And no word either. She was becoming worried and picked up the phone to dial his cell phone. She'd half dialled before she hung up. Mulder would just tick her off for checking up on him. He was probably on the way, maybe he'd had another bad night and had slept in. Unusual for him, sleeping that is, but not unheard of. She stared at the phone willing it to ring. When it did and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Mulder?" she asked into the phone.

"Agent Scully?" The deep voice of Assistant Director Skinner greeted her. "I was looking for Agent Mulder. I gather he's not there."

Damn. "Ah, no. Not at the moment, Sir. Is there anything I can help you with?"

"No. No, Agent Scully. I need both of your reports as soon as they're done."

"Yes, Sir." She hung up and released the breath that she suddenly realised she had been holding inside her, ran her hand through her rich red hair. She snatched up the receiver and punched in Mulder's cell phone number. No answer. She dialled his apartment. The phone rang.. once.. twice... three times. The machine picked it up. "This is Fox Mulder. Leave a message." Mulder's terse voice, then the beep.

"Mulder? Mulder if you're there, pick up." Silence. "Ok, you're probably on your way here or in the shower. If you're just hiding out, you'd better get in here soon. Skinner wants our reports ASAP."

Scully scribbled a note to Mulder for him to contact her *when* he returned, and left the office locking the door behind her. She had some pathology samples to run in the lab. Let him come looking for her.

1.00pm

The growling of her stomach made Scully realise that breakfast was a long time ago, she glanced up from the microscope to the clock on the wall and frowned. She still hadn't heard from Mulder either.

She dialled his extension. And got the message bank. Called Skinner's secretary, no she hadn't heard from Agent Mulder and yes, AD Skinner was becoming pissed off. She'd let Dana know if he called. She tried Mulder's cell phone, then apartment again. Same answering machine message. She hung up.

"Jesus, Mulder" she muttered under her breath, "where the hell are you?"

One more phone call and Scully had exhausted everyone she knew that Mulder had regular contact with. Frohike, Byers and Langly (the Lone Gunmen) had not heard from him either. She was becoming more worried with every minute.

1.52pm

Scully had the spare key to Mulder's apartment. She turned it in the lock slowly, scared almost to open the door. During the drive from the J. Edgar Hoover Building her imagination had been working overtime. She pictured Mulder's body on the floor of the living room. 'Pull yourself together, Dana. You're becoming as paranoid as Mulder'.

She let herself into the apartment. Everything appeared to be in it's usual place. No sign of struggle. She breathed a sigh of relief. But no sign of Mulder either. A quick search revealed Mulder's wallet and gun tucked in the drawer of the desk. He wouldn't have gone out and left those behind, would he? Now it was time to hit the panic button. Scully quickly dialled Skinner's direct line.

Within twenty minutes the place was swarming with FBI agents and local law enforcement officers. AD Skinner appeared in the doorway. "What have you got?"

Scully was sitting in the garish orange chair that Mulder had insisted was 'comfortable'.

Looking up at the tall, bald-headed, bespectacled man, she saw the concern she felt reflected in his eyes. "Nothing." she said tiredly. She'd helped the other agents and police go over every inch of the place looking for clues as to why Mulder would vanish without taking even so much as his wallet with him. "Zip, Nada. ZERO!" she stood and looked out the window, not wanting Skinner to see the glistening in her eyes. "He's just disappeared."

"No one 'just disappears'," Skinner answered.

Scully snorted at that. Oh no? Samantha had. God, Scully herself had. For 3 months. Samantha was still missing. Cassandra Spender had, from right in front of Scully's disbelieving eyes (if her memories recovered through regression hypnotherapy could be trusted). Her look told Skinner as much.

Just then Tomlinson, one of the local detectives, came in with a neighbour in tow. "This is Mrs Anderson. She lives downstairs," he explained. "She saw Agent Mulder last night."

Mrs Anderson was clearly overwhelmed by all of this. She was an elderly woman with white hair and bright darting eyes. "I didn't know Mr Mulder was an FBI Agent." She sounded impressed.

"What happened last night, Mrs Anderson?" Scully asked gently after introducing herself and Skinner. "When did you see Agent Mulder?"

"Oh, I was putting Felix, my cat, outside. Mr Mulder held the door open for me. Such a nice young man. He always stops and says hello."

Skinner prompted the old lady, "What time was that, Mrs Anderson?"

"Quite early, just after 5 o'clock. He was just going out."

"You're sure of the time?" Scully asked.

"Oh, quite sure. Felix has his dinner at 5 every day and always goes outside after his dinner, you know, to do what cats need to do."

Skinner smiled encouragingly at her. "Did you see or hear him come back in?"

"No, no I don't think so. I'm sorry."

Skinner just nodded his thanks and Scully tried to smile as the woman turned away to leave. Tomlinson began to lead Mrs Anderson out the door. "Oh wait." She stopped and turned back to the FBI agents. "He was going out for a run, I think."

Scully and Skinner stared at each other. It would explain why the wallet and gun were still here. Scully checked the bedroom. Mulder's favourite jogging shoes were missing. 'Oh God. Where the hell are you, Mulder?' He could be anywhere. It wasn't unusual for Mulder to run 10 miles or more when he needed to blow off steam but he should have been back last night. Something must have happened.

Skinner was already coordinating with the local PD to get an APB out on anyone matching Mulder's description and to check all the hospitals in the city.

Scully felt her blood run ice cold.

*************
Flashback to 5.08pm Thursday

Mulder stretched the calf muscles in his left leg by hooking his heel up on the railing beside the steps leading into his apartment block. The nice old lady from downstairs was fumbling with the door so he reached over and held it open for her so she could let her cat out. He greeted her with a smile as he changed legs. The cat rubbed up against him before heading off in the direction of the alley, no doubt to look up some prey or other. Mrs Anderson thanked him and went back inside.

If he would only admit it to himself, he was feeling pretty rotten about having snapped at Scully the way he had. But, dammit, did she always have to interfere? Trouble was, she was usually right about him. The old woman had rattled him and he knew that when he was troubled the nightmares were worse. He'd call her when he got back from his run and apologise. Well, maybe. Right now he desperately needed to run off some excess energy, clear his head and hopefully exhaust himself so he'd be able to sleep without dreaming.

7.20pm Thursday

It wasn't until headlights dazzled his eyes that Mulder even realised it had gotten almost dark. Mentally he calculated that he must have been running almost constantly for over two hours. He was drenched in sweat from head to toe, his lungs burned but his head was clear. He looked around and didn't recognise a single landmark. 'Shit! Jeez Mulder' he thought to himself 'you really should pay attention to where you're going'. He was sure he was lost. Great. Now he'd look like a fool and have to ask directions home.

He was tired now, maybe just catch a cab. He didn't have his wallet with him but he could get it when he got back and pay the driver. Or maybe he could call Scully. Only trouble was... no phones around, no houses, and no more cars. Somehow he'd run past the city limits and was on a lonely highway. All that had been important was punishing his body and letting his mind phase out. 'Well, asshole, you've done just that.' He admonished himself.

He turned and started walking back the way he had come. He couldn't remember passing anywhere that had a pay phone he could call a cab from, but that didn't surprise him since he couldn't remember getting where he was anyway. He had a stitch in his side and desperately needed a drink of water. His blood pounded in his ears as he bent double to ease the pain in his side and a growing nausea. He didn't hear the truck bearing down on him from behind......

Buddy Preston had been driving the rig since early in the morning. Just a couple more miles and he'd be at the depot, could unhitch the trailer and head home to Joyce. Sweet, sweet Joyce. His thoughts were totally absorbed in her as he thundered down the deserted highway. Make up some time out here, he thought and then the DC fringe traffic wouldn't make him late home. Joyce had promised him a 'special treat' if he was home by eight thirty.

"Shit" Buddy pulled the wheel left. He'd almost run off the road. Wake up Pal!. He heard a soft thud. Damn, he thought, fucking roadside markers. They were scratching hell out of his expensive paint work on the rig.

Mulder opened his eyes, catching his breath, pain in his side receding, he realised that the roar he could hear was not just inside his head. He turned, saw the massive headlights of the rig and jumped to the side as the 18 wheeler headed straight for him. He almost made it out of it's path...

The tractor missed him as the driver spun the truck back onto the blacktop, but the trailer caught Mulder a glancing blow. He heard a sickening crunch as it struck him on his right side. He was thrown sideways and saw stars as his head hit the ground. The force of the blow carried him down into the roadside ditch. He tasted blood and dirt for an instant then everything went black.

9.46pm

"Ow. Fuck!"
Pain. All over. It hurt to breathe, to think. He was disoriented, couldn't remember what happened. Slowly, it started to come back to him as consciousness and awareness returned. Instantly he wished it hadn't. The pain intensified. It was fully dark now and he had no idea how long he'd been out.

He was cold, shaking, even though it was a warm night. 'Got to get out of the drain,' he thought, 'up on to the road. Someone might see you, get help. Scully - where are you when I need you?' He felt so groggy.

Experimentally, he tried to lift his head. A mistake. Everything swam dizzily and he felt the rush of nausea in the pit off his stomach. He lay back, breathing as deeply as possible with the pain in his ribs, trying to control the urge to vomit.

The world settled down again eventually, or at least as much as it was going to given the circumstances. 'C'mon Mulder, try to think smart for once in your life. It's obvious you can't just get up and walk home, you're hurt. But how bad?' He knew his head hurt, probably concussion. He could move his left arm without pain, but not his right. There was pain in his shoulder. His ribs hurt. He tried to move his legs and cried out. 'OH
GOD!' The pain was excruciating. It shot through him like white hot fire. It burned and sudden tears escaped from under his tightly shut eyelids. The spears of light that shot through his closed eyes subsided into blackness as he faded from reality, back to the netherworld depths.

The endless night passed in a hazy mixture of pain, cold and sweating in between the blackouts. Occasional sounds tugged at the edge of his consciousness but he couldn't make himself focus. One time he imagined wolves watching him. Their hot breath drooling over him, waiting for him to die. His gut burned worse each time he came around. He was lost, desolate. He was going to die here all alone. Please God no. He prayed to a God he didn't believe in. It couldn't end like this.

He'd often imagined his death, even wished for it sometimes. He always knew he would die alone. 'Scully!' His mind cried out for her. She represented sanity, safety. He tried to cling to the thought of her. She was going to really be ticked off at him. He regretted their last morning together. She was right. He was a pig-headed sonofabitch. If he ever saw her again, he'd tell her.

6.25am Friday

"Phantom!" The young boy pedalled as fast as he could after the dog. The golden retriever was playing it's favourite game - catch me if you can. He was a good hundred yards ahead of his young master, tongue hanging out the side of his mouth, loping easily along. Suddenly he slowed, sniffed the air. A strange smell. Phantom bounded down into the ditch and stopped. He gingerly sniffed at the form lying there. It didn't move. He barked, retreated, barked again, telling his master that he'd found something.

The young boy slid the bike to a halt on the gravel and stared wide eyed into the ditch. "Holy Shit!" The bike dropped noisily to the ground and the boy slid down the loose dirt side of the ditch to stand over the body. Phantom came to his master's side, tail wagging and nuzzled the hand that automatically patted his head. The dog sniffed at the man's ear and the boy jumped in surprise at the low moan that came from the body. The eyes fluttered, opened. He turned, scrambled to climb out of the ditch as fast as he could.

"Help......" the plea was so quiet that the boy almost missed it. He stopped and looked back. The glazed eyes silently pleaded with him, then the eyelids were closed again. After a moment's indecision about what he should do the boy scrambled out of the ditch and rode home as fast as he could. He turned into the yard, yelling at the top of his lungs. "Mom!...... Mom!" His bewildered mother came out of the house wiping her hands as he breathlessly rode up babbling about what he had found.

7.05am Friday

The police officer thanked the woman and her son for their help as the stretcher was being loaded into the ambulance. No, he had no idea who the stranger was or where he might have come from. And he really had no idea if the man was going to be ok.

The paramedics had put an oxygen mask on him, started an IV, strapped on a neck brace and carefully edged a back board under the body. They checked his eyes and found no response. The pupils were dilated and slow to react. They had relayed all his vitals back to the hospital and were told to transport immediately.

The trauma team was there waiting for them as the ambulance backed up to the emergency room doors. On the way in the patient had gone into respiratory distress and one of the paramedics was now hand squeezing the ventilation bag to keep him breathing. The gurney was rushed into the trauma room and the medical team went smoothly into action. Aa airway was inserted into the patient's throat and a respirator attached. Clothes were cut away. X-rays, blood pressure, heart rate were taken. None of the initial results looked good. Blood was drawn and rushed to the lab for cross matching and analysis. They performed a peritoneal lavage and confirmed that there was
internal bleeding. More IV fluids and O negative blood were hung, morphine and other drugs pumped into the body to try to stabilise it enough to withstand surgery.

It was going to be touch and go with this one. Carol, the head ER nurse, carefully watched the portable monitors as they wheeled him into the elevator which would take them to the OR. Such a handsome young man under the ugly scrape and bruising that ran from the forehead down past the eye to the cheek. No ID either, so they couldn't let anyone know that this man - someone's son? husband? lover? was close to death. So sad. She hoped they would not lose this one. He looked like he still had a lot of living to do.

11.21am Friday.

Carol had finished her shift for the day but wanted to go upstairs to check on the John Doe that had been brought in that morning before she went home. She entered the ICU and smiled a greeting at Jenny, the nurse in charge. Jenny walked with her over to the bed where the still, pale body lay, tubes snaking in and out, machines beeping and humming, the respirator pushing air into the lungs.

"He seems to be hanging in there." Jenny told Carol.

Carol reached down and smoothed the soft brown hair back off the man's forehead, away from the purple bruise. "Have the police found any next of kin yet?"

Jenny shook her head. "They came and took photos and fingerprints just a little while ago. They'll check with missing persons." Carol thanked her friend and left.

2.48pm Friday

Officer Tim Mullings hated desk assignments. Someone had to do it, he guessed, but he considered the real police work to be out in the field. Here he was, checking missing persons records for a match on the John Doe they'd picked up from the ditch out along Highway 41. Body would probably be cold in the morgue by the time they found anyone to claim him.

Sergeant Hamilton had given him the photos and fingerprints to put into the computer. Fingerprints! Jeez, unless the guy had a record that was a waste of time. Still, he followed orders and was now yawning, looking forward finishing this boring shift, and waiting to see if anything came up on the screen.

Mullings got up and stretched. He ambled over to the coffee machine and stopped to chat with Bronwyn, the pert little blonde clerical assistant he'd been trying to get a date with for weeks. He was sure she was about to say yes finally when she let out a little shriek.

"Hey, Tim! Something's up on your screen!" She pointed to the terminal on his desk that was indeed flashing "match" in bold yellow letters across the screen. He raced back to the desk and hit the key that would bring up the details. He sucked in his breath sharply.

"What's wrong?" asked Bronwyn.

"Get the sarge," Tim said. "Now!" he practically yelled. "FBI. Jesus." He breathed. He hit the print button as Bronwyn dialled the sergeant's extension, wondering just what Tim had found.

***********
Friday 3.01pm

Dana Scully paced back and forward. She was in AD Skinner's office and they were going over all the information they had gathered from the police reports about Mulder's disappearance. She just could not settle in one place.

Skinner sighed, "Agent Scully, please sit down. Wearing a hole in my carpet won't help find Agent Mulder." His poor attempt at humour made her smile slightly despite the tenseness. She was about to retort that at this point, anything might help, when the phone rang.

"Skinner." The AD listened a moment then his head snapped up suddenly, he looked straight into her eyes. Scully's heart stopped. "You're sure?" he asked. He was nodding, writing something down. Scully stared at the paper he was writing on, unable to move. "Yes, thank you Sergeant Hamilton. We'll be right there."

Scully didn't dare breathe. Skinner broke into a rare grin. "They've found him!"

"Oh, Thank God." She cried. Her elation quickly gave way to concern. "Is he all right?"

"He's in the ICU at County Hospital. A kid found him in a ditch early this morning." They were already half way down the corridor heading to the car park as Skinner related the few details the police sergeant had given him.

3.42pm Friday

Scully came to a halt at the side of the bed in the ICU. Her hand flew to her mouth and tears stung her eyes. "Mulder! Oh my God." She stared down at the still form of her partner, her friend. She took his limp hand carefully in hers and gently squeezed. "I'm here, Mulder." She whispered. A tear escaped and rolled down her cheek.

Skinner came up behind her. "Agent Scully, this is Doctor Russell." He introduced the young looking ICU resident.

Scully let go of Mulder's hand and took the one proffered to her by the doctor. "How is he?" she asked, hoping her voice didn't tremble.

Dr Russell gestured toward the X-rays displayed on the viewscreen near the bed, began reciting the many injuries Mulder had suffered. Skull fracture, two ribs broken and cracked pelvis. "We had to operate to stop internal bleeding. He was very weak when they brought him in. I'd say it happened some time last night, around 7 or 8 o'clock. We're doing all we can for him. But the next 24 hours will tell."

Scully felt so helpless. There was nothing she could do except watch and wait, and pray. The nurse had brought a chair over and she sat beside the bed, once again taking Mulder's hand in hers. Stroking the long elegant fingers. She fought to hold back the flood of tears that she felt building. She couldn't let go in front of Skinner, or Mulder.

Skinner's voice sounded a long way off. "I'd better go call his mother." He offered.

Scully looked up at him. "I guess so. But I should do it." She went to get up. Skinner's hand was on her shoulder.

"You stay here. *He* needs you more, right now." He looked pointedly at the young man he often found so frustrating, then Skinner left the ward to find a telephone.

Scully was grateful. She wondered how Mrs Mulder would take the news. She could never hope to understand the strained, tense rlationship between mother and son, but underneath she *was* still Fox Mulder's mother and should be here.

Dana turned her attention once more to the comatose man in the bed. "Don't you dare die on me, Mulder." She whispered fiercely to him. Elbows on the bed, she lifted his hand to rest against her cheek, held softly between her own two hands. The sound of the machines around the bed was the only reply.

**********

<He could hear snatches of voices but couldn't make out the words. He wanted to cry out when they touched him. Tell them how much it hurt. The words wouldn't come. Somewhere, as if down a long dark tunnel, he could hear a siren. Then he couldn't breathe. Help me! ..... Air forced into his lungs. He sank back into the darkness where there was no pain.

Light shining in his eyes. He felt someone grasp his jaw, something cold went down his throat. He wanted to choke. A burning sensation as more needles sank into his veins. He wanted to tell them.. No more needles. He hated needles. They were talking rapidly, shouting at each other almost, yet it sounded so far away and it was sooo hard to concentrate .......

Quiet, so quiet. He felt comfortable, secure. No pain. Am I dead? ..... No.... Scully? Is that you? I can hear you, Scully. But I'm tired, so very, very tired......>

**********
5.20pm Friday

Teena Mulder entered the ICU and turned pale. She pressed her lips tightly together, holding in all her emotions. Scully could see where Mulder got his reserved nature from. Show no pain, no weakness.

Scully got up to allow the woman privacy with her one and only son, but Mrs Mulder motioned for her to stay where she was. The nurse brought over another chair for her and she perched primly on it's edge.

Scully didn't know what to say to the older woman. She knew that the doctor would have told her how seriously injured Mulder was and what his chances of survival were. Every hour that passed without crisis gave him a better chance.

The two women sat, side by side in silence for a long time. Their concern for Fox Mulder the only thing they had in common. Scully jumped slightly when Teena Mulder finally spoke softly.

"Seeing your child hurt, in pain, is a sight that you can never get used to." Scully looked into her eyes. Eyes too bright with unshed tears. "When Fox was younger, he was in the hospital quite a lot. He was always hurting himself. Sometimes he was beaten up by the other boys at school, after Samantha..., and sometimes..." She couldn't finish. She put her hand to her mouth and physically forced the tears back. Scully put her hand on Teena's arm to comfort her as much as the older woman would allow.

Scully was totally unprepared for this insight into Mulder's childhood. She hadn't thought much about his past because Mulder never referred to it. He avoided the subject like the plague. Scully's own childhood had been very happy. She had loving parents, two brothers and an older sister to keep her company and play with. Bill, the eldest was protector to the girls, especially when Daddy was away at sea. He would never have let any harm come to them.

She thought about how different Mulder's family was to hers. They didn't share that closeness that the Scully family enjoyed. There was no outward demonstration of love between mother and son. Scully knew that Mulder and his father had hardly spoken in the years between the divorce and Bill Mulder's death. She knew that Fox felt guilty over his sister's disappearance, but beyond that she knew very little. They must have been happy once, surely.

"Mrs Mulder, can I get you anything? Something to eat or drink?" Scully suddenly felt like she needed air.

"No, thank you." Mrs Mulder went back to staring into space, dealing with her own memories and demons in her own way.

Out in the corridor, Scully leaned her head against the cool glass window. The world passed by outside, totally unaware of the dramas unfolding within the hospital walls every hour of every day.

"Agent Scully? Are you all right?" Dr Russell enquired as he passed.

"Oh. Yes, I'm fine." She turned to face him. "I just needed a little break." She sniffed involuntarily.

"I understand perfectly." The doctor may be young, but he'd seen a lifetime of suffering in the ICU, she'd be willing to wager. "Would you prefer to be alone? I was actually just going down to the cafeteria for a coffee break, if you'd care to join me."

"Thank you." She answered, "I think I will join you. Just for a few minutes."

Scully played with a wooden stirring stick in her coffee. The liquid had gone cold. Dr Russell had ravenously tucked into a slice of bad lasagne and swigged down a large cup of coke. His appetite reminded her of Mulder's. She wondered sometimes how Mulder stayed so thin. But she knew. Most of the time he lived on nervous energy, burning up all the calories he consumed, and then some.

"I should be getting back." She sighed.

"He means a lot to you, doesn't he?" The doctor queried as she was about to get up.

"He's my partner, my friend."

"I think there's more to it than that."

Scully flushed. "I don't know what you mean." Indignant that this, this stranger, dared to analyse her relationship with Mulder.

"I think you do"

"No. I... Mulder and I work together. Yes, we've shared some pretty incredible experiences, and I care a great deal about him.... As he does me. But there's no more to it than that."

Dr Russell gave her a look that asked who she was trying to convince.

"I have to get back." Scully stood abruptly and headed out of the cafeteria, back to the ICU. No. She and Mulder were good friends, confidantes, co-conspirators sometimes. But never would it be more than that. She was painfully aware of how hard it was to get past Mulder's reinforced emotional stone wall. She had become closer than most, hell, than anyone, to him. But he treated her like a sister. There would be no point to wanting more than that, because it would never happen. She wasn't sure she wanted more. Sometimes when he treated her like shit, it hurt so much. When she saw him with other women, with Phoebe, with Diana, she was tinged with jealousy, unjustifiably in her own opinion. She occupied a special place in his life, there was no doubting that. But more? No, never. She couldn't stand the thought of losing him either.

7.45pm Friday

As she entered the door of the ICU she knew something was wrong. Teena Mulder was standing against the wall, shell shocked. Alarms were ringing on the monitors in Mulder's cubicle. Nurses were running in from all directions. She was about to ask what was happening when she heard the words that sent a cold fist around her heart.

"Someone get the crash cart! Stat!"

She went over to Mrs Mulder and put her arms protectively around the other's shoulders, led her a safe distance away from the bed to give the ICU team room to work. She watched as one performed CPR, one bagged the respirator, another prepared a hypodermic.

Dr Russell came running in and assessed the situation in seconds, receiving reports from his staff. He gave the order to charge the defibrillator to 200 mega-joules.

"Clear" he ordered. And Mulder's body arched as the volts surged through it. No change on the heart monitor. "Again!" a second or two for the charge to build, then, "Clear!"

This time as the frail body landed back on the bed with a thump, the monitor beeped, then again. And again, until it continued in a steady rhythm. Dr Russell ordered which drugs were to be administered and a closer eye to be kept on him. Then he came over to the two women huddled together, watching.

"What happened?" Scully asked shakily. She knew they'd almost lost him.

"Something caused his heart to fail. Most likely post operative shock. It happens sometimes. We'll monitor him more closely, so hopefully it won't happen again."

Scully, being a medical doctor herself, knew about post operative shock. That hadn't really been what she asked. The question was really directed at Mulder. But he couldn't answer her. She was determined that she wasn't going to leave his side again. Not until he was breathing on his own, telling bad jokes and giving the nurses a hard time.

Mrs Mulder looked terrible. She was shaking. Scully spoke to one of the nurses then returned to Teena. "There's a room at the end of the ward for relatives," she said gently, "why don't you go have a lie down for a while? I'll stay with him."

Teena nodded tiredly. "You'll call me if anything else happens?"

"I promise." Scully smiled at her.

The nurse led Mrs Mulder towards the restroom. The poor woman desperately needed to rest. Scully had told the nurse of Mrs Mulder's condition, and that although she had recovered miraculously from the stroke, she was no longer a strong woman. The last thing they needed right now was two Mulder's in the ICU.

Scully sat beside the bed and again picked up Mulder's left hand. It was the only part of his body that was either uninjured or free of tubing and monitors. She sighed as she looked for any sign that Mulder was aware of what was happening to him.

"Trying to check out without paying the bill, Mulder?" she asked him softly.

<Scully... I thought you were just a dream.>

"Don't try anything like that again! Do you hear me?"

<Stay with me Scully. Don't leave me. I'm so scared. I feel so alone.>

"I'm staying right here until you open your eyes and tell me to leave." She gently kissed his fingers and a tear slid down her cheek.

1.56am Saturday

Scully had been in one position in the chair so long her back and neck hurt. Her head was resting on the edge of the bed and she realised that she'd fallen asleep. She checked her watch, couldn't believe that she slept for the past couple of hours. Mrs Mulder was still sleeping in the rest room after the nurse had given her a mild sedative.

A new nurse was on duty and came over to check Mulder's IV and the various readouts on the monitors. She frowned, wrote down the findings.

"What's wrong?" Scully asked.

The nurse picked up the aural thermometer and held it in place to get a temperature. She looked at it. "Damn"

"What?" Scully was wide awake now.

"His temperature's up to a hundred and one." The nurse went back to the nurses station to summon the doctor.

Scully put her cool hand to Mulder's brow as if she didn't believe the nurse's findings. He definitely felt feverish. There was the chance of infection after any surgery, or pneumonia. Maybe they'd missed something and he was still bleeding inside. It could be caused by any of a multitude of things. The important thing was to identify and treat it quickly.

Scully was surprised that Dr Russell was still on duty, although he looked like he'd just been woken up. Russell checked Mulder's eyes for any change in his level of consciousness, felt his belly for 'guarding' the sign of further internal bleeding, listened to his lungs and heart with the stethoscope.

Scully could see in his eyes that he'd found the likely cause for the fever.
"Pneumonia?" she asked, worried that she was right.

Russell nodded. "'Fraid so." He ordered the antibiotics upped in dosage and frequency and added Ventolin to the cocktail in the IV bag as well as having it administered as an inhalant through the respirator.

"We'll see if that helps." Russell wondered when this poor guy was going to get a break.

Mrs Mulder had returned with the nurse who had been sent to get her. She sat beside Scully. "He's not going to make it." She said matter of factly.

"Yes, he is!" Scully was adamant. "I'm not going to give up on him. I won't let him give up either."

But Scully saw the resigned look on Mulder's mothers face. She had already accepted her son's death. Well Scully was damned if she was going to give in without a fight.

'Come on, Mulder,' she thought, 'don't you dare give up just yet. Fight damn you, FIGHT! Don't start getting soft on me now.'

<It's too hard. I can't try any more. I'm just too tired. Just let me go. It's no less than I deserve. It's my fault. Samantha, your suffering, my father, Melissa. Those two little girls. All my fault. And this is my punishment. I don't deserve you. And you should have your own life back. I've ruined it enough. The gypsy was right, I'm poison. Just let me go and everyone will be happy.>

The fever continued throughout the rest of the night. Teena Mulder had gone back to the visitors rest room, fully expecting the news that her son had lost his fight for life to come at any time. Scully could not, would not accept that it was anywhere near over yet. If necessary she would lend Mulder her strength. She'd see him through this to the bitter end.

By morning, Mulder's temperature was up to 104 degrees. They had put a special cooling blanket over him to try to bring it down. His breathing had deteriorated further, despite medication to open the air passages. His lungs were filling with fluid, they would have to insert a drain tube into his lungs to try to reduce it.

9.22 am Saturday

Skinner came back to the hospital and was clearly shocked by the scene. He sternly told Scully she should go home, take a rest and come back later. She refused. She wasn't leaving Mulder alone. Mrs Mulder had decided to go find a motel room nearby to shower, change and have a decent meal.

Scully explained to Skinner that there was not much more that the doctor could do for Mulder. It was all up to him. All they could do was wait. Skinner told Scully he would go and get her some coffee and a sandwich since she wouldn't leave, even for a minute. Scully said she wasn't hungry, but that she'd love some coffee.

Sitting there alone with her lifeless partner was sheer hell. "God damn you, Mulder." She chided him. "Don't you think it's high time you stopped feeling so fucking sorry for yourself and started thinking about someone else for a change?" She really didn't care if anyone thought she was insane, she had run out of patience for feeling so helpless. "I'm
always there when you need me. I don't think I ever let you down. Even when I had my cancer! Now look at you. I need you here with me. I don't know if I can go on by myself. I don't know how to find the Truth like you do. Are you going to let all you've fought for go down the drain now? This is exactly what your foes have been waiting for. You have to fight back! If not for yourself, do it for me!"

'Please God, hear my prayer. Give him the strength to fight. Help me to help Mulder. Don't desert him in his hour of need.' Scully prayed hard. She knew Mulder thought it was a waste of time and effort, but right now she was bucking for a miracle. And praying wouldn't hurt.

"Dana?"

Scully looked up. Her mother smiled at her, held her arms open. Scully melted into them. "Mom."

She cried. The tears came freely now. She sobbed into her mother's shoulder, clinging to her as if she were a life-line. Finally she could cry no more. The dam had burst and she felt so much better. They sat together, holding hands. Dana resting her other hand on Mulder's.

"How did you know I was here?"

"Ah, that's my fault. I called her." Skinner had reappeared and held out a cup of steaming liquid. Scully gratefully accepted it. "I didn't think you should go through this alone."

Skinner wasn't such the ogre he made out to be really. He believed in looking out for his agents best interests. And right now it was in Agent Mulder's best interest to have Scully here, and in Scully's best interest to have her mother with her.

"I should be angry with you." Scully said to her boss. "But how can I be when I'm so grateful."

Skinner cleared his throat, embarrassed. "Yeah, well just don't let it get around." Meaning he didn't want his hard-core reputation sullied by what could be described as compassion.

11.21am Saturday

Mrs Mulder arrived back and was still distant. She sat stiffly, not speaking, staring at her son's flushed face as his fever raged. Margaret Scully saw the distress Teena was in. She quietly suggested that Teena go with her down to the cafeteria to get some tea for Dana. Teena was grateful for the distraction and agreed to go with her.

Margaret felt genuinely sorry for the woman. She knew all too painfully what it was like to lose a child, and she said so. It was like opening the flood gates. Teena started pouring out all her pain and sorrow for the disaster that had become the way of life for the Mulder family. Margaret listened without interrupting.

"The last of my family lays near death in the bed upstairs. My baby boy. It was not that long ago that the positions were reversed you know. He was facing my death, or worse, the possibility that I might never wake from a coma. Some people can cope with illness, death. I'm not one of those people. So I shut myself off, the same way I did when Samantha was taken from us.

I didn't, I don't blame Fox. He was only a boy. There was nothing he could do to stop what happened. He should stop punishing himself. I should have been there for my son then, but I just couldn't cope. Bill had to take over, but he wasn't used to domestic things like raising children. He was always away. Fox had himself become more and more withdrawn. He'd lashed out at everyone who tried to help him get past the feeling of guilt, that it was his fault that Samantha was gone.

Even the psychologists didn't help. Eventually, Fox had no friends left at school, his father had no patience with him either. Bill drank heavily to try to deal with it all and I simply cruised by on tranquillisers, shutting out all the pain and suffering around me.

It was on an occasion much like this that I finally found the courage to break out of my self pitying cocoon. Bill had lost his temper with Fox, yet again, and had started to beat him. He was only a 14 year old boy. In his drunken stupor he had hit him too hard, and Fox fell down the stairs, hitting his head hard enough to cause a severe concussion. That was when I decided to divorce Bill. I had to or my son would never survive. Whilst Fox was still in the hospital, I told Bill we were leaving. I packed up all our belongings and left Chilmark. I rented a small cottage until the house was sold and I could afford to buy a new, smaller house in Greenwich. Bill bought the house in Martha's Vineyard.

It's Fox's house now. Though he hardly ever goes there.

I kept the summer house which has been in my family for five generations. But I couldn't face the ghosts that inhabited it. The demons. I suppose I should sell it, but the children had loved the summers there. With Bill, myself and... It had all been so simple back then.

Fox didn't even try to make any new friends at the school in Greenwich, but he continued to excel in his schoolwork. It was like it was the only way to express himself. Having a photographic memory helped, of course, and when he was tested he was found to have an IQ of nearly 200. When he received an offer of a scholarship to Oxford University in England, Fox had jumped at the chance to get as far away as possible from everything he knew. A fresh start where no-one knew him, or his family, or the tragedy that was his life. He worked hard, completing his degree in psychology.

I never quite worked out why he'd chosen psychology. Then the FBI, no doubt through Bill's contacts, had approached him and recruited him. He was handed the golden opportunity to search for his sister and he jumped at it. With his uncanny knack of accurately profiling serial killers, he soon made a name for himself. The rest, as they say, is history."

When it was obvious that her narration had ended, Margaret said, "Have you ever spoken to Fox about all this?"

"About what?"

"That you don't blame him for what happened."

Teena sighed. "Yes. But it was all too late. The damage was done. It can't be undone and I fear Fox will never find peace on this earth."

"So, you're willing to give up on him and let him move on? He deserves more than that from you." Margaret's voice suddenly hardened.

Teena drew herself up, indignant. "What right do you have to tell me what my son deserves? Of course he doesn't deserve to die!"

"Then help him fight! Tell him you need him. He'll hear you. It might just be what he's waiting for."

12.48pm Saturday

Everyone was exhausted. Skinner had left when Mrs Scully had come back with Mrs Mulder to the ICU. Mrs Mulder had red eyes and had obviously been crying. Mrs Scully's eyes spoke wordlessly to her daughter and Dana didn't question anything. They just sat, watching Mulder for a while. The sweat trickled off his brow, the respirator kept forcing air into his lungs. He wasn't responding to the drugs and quite frankly the doctor had run out of ideas.

Margaret insisted Dana come with her for a bit of fresh air. Scully didn't want to leave Mulder, but her mother insisted and when they got outside she told Dana that Teena needed some time with Fox, alone.

Inside, Teena Mulder sat for a while in silence when Margaret Scully and her daughter left. How could she begin? Would her son even hear her? She took his hand in hers and began to tell him all the things she never could before.

<Mom? Mom, I'm so sorry. I let them take Samantha. I couldn't stop them, I should have, but I just..... couldn't. I know Dad blamed me. I lost her. I deserved to be punished. Everything's my fault. You and Dad would still be together, everything would have been ok. It's all my fault. I'm so tired of feeling guilty all the time. I need to rest. I can't go on. I know Scully needs me, but I feel so tired. I'm in such a dark place.... I'm falling toward the light. I'll be safe if I go there. No more pain.... Just let me go...>

"Damn you, Fox." Teena Mulder cursed as the heart monitor started to beep a warning that all was not well. The nurses came rushing over.

Someone called for the doctor.

Teena still had hold of her son's hand. "Fox! Don't do this to me! Don't give in. Fight! I need you so much. Don't leave me all alone. Please. Fight! You can't let it end like this. You have so much left to do."

<The voice spoke to him from the darkness. 'Fox.. You have to decide, Fox. It's not easy to go on, you could take the easy way out and just let go. You could just let everyone down, just like before. Or you could go back.'

Who's there? What right do you have to tell me what's easy? Samantha?! Where are you? I don't want to go back. I... Scully? Mom? I don't want to let you down again. Please, I'm sorry. Help me, I don't know what to do. Help me!!!

Mom? Scully? Help me please. Help me decide.>

The nurse compassionately but firmly pulled Mrs Mulder away from the bed.

"Please, let us work."

Dana and Margaret Scully came rushing back in. They had been just outside the door, giving Teena the time she needed with her son. Margaret comforted Teena, Scully stared at her partner, silently praying. "Please, Mulder, please! Don't give up. I need you. Remember, if you give up, They win!"

She realised she had said aloud when her mother's arms went around her. She felt the tears sliding silently down her cheeks.

For what seemed like an eternity the doctor and nurses worked frantically to try to stabilise Mulder. Nothing was doing any good. The doctor was running out of things to try. His eyes sympathetically met Scully's, preparing her for the worst.

Then a miracle happened. Well, that's what one of the nurses called it. Just as suddenly as the monitors had gone crazy, proclaiming what might have been the end of Fox Mulder's miserable existence, everything settle down. The doctor had expected the monitor to continue it's frenzied beeping until it let out a long steady scream, but it didn't. It settled into an almost steady sinus rhythm, slowly getting stronger. The doctor checked each machine in turn and noted that the patient's temperature even seemed to have lowered, slightly, ever so slightly.

"I don't know what happened," he explained to the incredulous women a short time later, "I really thought we'd lost him there. Somehow, I don't know how, somehow he seems to be past the fever crisis. He's not entirely out of the woods yet, but he does seem to be getting a little stronger. Maybe it is a miracle."

Margaret Scully smiled a small smile at both Mrs Mulder and Dana. An almost 'I knew he would pull through' kind of a smile. She said to the doctor, "No, not a miracle. All it took was faith."

1.32am Sunday

For the rest of the afternoon and into the evening, Fox Mulder did indeed continue to gain strength. His heart rate, blood pressure and temperature all returned to within the bounds of normality. He seemed far more at rest, and the doctor was even talking about taking him off the respirator within 24 hours if the rate of improvement kept up.

Margaret Scully had even managed to talk her daughter into getting some sleep in the room down the hall whilst she kept watch over Mulder. Mrs Mulder had been ordered back to the motel to get a good night's sleep. She had protested and resisted for an hour or so, but gave in when she could see for herself that her son did indeed appear to be out of danger. The young man on the bed appeared to be sleeping peacefully. Only now did Margaret Scully allow herself the luxury of turning her thoughts to herself and all she had been through in the last few years. And she shed silent tears for her lost husband and eldest daughter. She was so glad that this time, life had won out over death.

She dozed in the chair, her hand loosely holding Mulder's, so she almost imagined she dreamed the slight pressure on her fingers. It happened again and she was instantly wide awake. She signalled to the nurse to get Dana, quickly. She knew her daughter would want to be there if Fox was waking up.

She spoke softly to the still unconscious figure. "It's all right, Fox. We're here. You're safe. You're going to be ok."

Dana came running into the ward, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, a questioning, worried look at her mother. She stopped beside the bed suddenly when she saw her mother's wide smile.

"He squeezed my fingers." Margaret Scully told her.

Dana's gaze went from her mother's face to Mulder's. Was she imagining it? No, his eyelids were fluttering, trying to open. She took his hand in hers, Margaret Scully moved aside to allow her daughter to be nearer.

"Mulder? Mulder, can you hear me? It's Scully." Nothing. "Mulder, squeeze my hand if you can hear me. Come on, Mulder, you can do it. Squeeze my hand."

Movement, ever so slight pressure from his fingers onto hers. The eyelids fluttered again, opened slightly. Neck muscles tensed, gagging, fighting against the tube in his throat. Scully put her hand on his forehead, leaning over him, making soothing noises. "It's all right, Mulder. Don't fight it. You're on a respirator. It's been helping you breathe. Just relax, relax. That's it, that's it. You're going to be fine now."

His eyes were open now. Glazed, tired eyes, but they looked beautiful to Scully. He stopped struggling against the respirator, but he looked confused, frightened.

"Can you hear me, Mulder? You can't speak, just blink if you understand me." A slow blink in response. Scully's heart soared. "You had an accident. Do you remember?" A slight frown answered no. "That's ok. It doesn't matter now. Just rest, rest and get better." The eyes closed again, sleep claiming him this time, not the murky depths of coma.

3.41pm Sunday

Mulder had woken on and off all morning. His temperature was almost back to normal and he was considered stable enough to breathe for himself.

Scully had been home earlier, when she was sure he was going to be ok. She'd showered and changed and was back by his beside in around an hour.

Mulder had been awake for a half hour now. Mrs Mulder and Mrs Scully were there too, smiling at him. The doctor told him that he was going to take the tube out of his throat, and that he had to breathe out hard. The tube came out and he coughed, gagging. God it hurt. The nurse threaded an oxygen cannula under his nose and adjusted the flow.

His throat was so sore and dry, he couldn't speak. Scully seemed to read his thoughts and put some chipped ice into his mouth. It was cold and wet, and oh so good. She asked him if he wanted more and he nodded.

"Just a little," the nurse said, "we don't want you to throw up."

His head hurt, all of him hurt, but he was alive.

"What happened?" he croaked.

"The police said you were hit by a car or truck out on highway 41. Do you remember? You were out jogging on Thursday night."

Car? It felt more like a steam roller had been over him. "No, it's all a blur." His voice was no more than a whisper. It was hard to talk.

"It's all right. We won't talk about it now. You need to rest now and get your strength back." Scully told him as the nurse injected a sedative into the IV port to make him go back to sleep. Weakly he tried to protest, but had no choice in the matter. He kept his gaze locked on Scully until his eyes dropped closed.

10.20am Monday

He was beginning to feel almost human again. He'd been moved out of the ICU into a private room. A pretty brunette nurse had given him a sponge bath (and chided him for his bodily response to her tender ministrations). He was still in a lot of pain, but it was dulled by the painkillers coursing through his system. His head was a little clearer and he was beginning to remember bits and pieces of what happened before his accident. He had to lie flat on his back until his broken pelvis healed enough to allow him to sit up, about two weeks the doctor had said. He didn't know how he was going to stand it.

Scully came in and smiled at him. "Well, I guess you're feeling a whole lot better." She commented, noting Mulder's gaze following the nurse's rear end as she exited the room.

Mulder chuckled, then winced as his body protested. "Please, don't make me laugh. It hurts too much." The tubes were still poking in and out of his body, but there was the beginnings of healthy colour appearing in his cheeks. He looked away from Scully's face and stared out the window for a moment.

"Scully, I..." He swallowed, he looked back, looked deeply into her eyes, "I want to thank you."

"For what?"

"For helping me get through this. I never would have made it without you."

Scully didn't know what to say. "Mulder, I didn't do anything that you wouldn't have done for me. I didn't do anything special."

"You were there for me when I needed you. I knew you were there. I heard your voice. You stopped me from giving up. I.. I'm sorry. For the way I treated you before."

Scully felt her cheeks burn. "It's ok. I understand. Really. But you see what happens when you won't let me help. You've got to remember that you're not alone." Seeing that this line of discussion was causing him some distress she changed the subject. Plenty of time to talk about this later, she thought. "Has your mom been in today?"

"Yeah, she was here early." He sounded a little deflated. "She had to go back to Greenwich. She said she'd be back later in the week."

"Oh. I see." She didn't really but couldn't say anything. An awkward silence stretched between them.

"Well," Scully finally broke it, "I guess I'd better go and get some work done. Skinner will have my ass in a sling if I don't finish that report you started last week."

"I guess. Scully? I wanted to thank your mother, too. For all she's done for my mom. And me."

"All part of the Scully bed side service." Dana said lightly. "I'll drop by and see you later." She turned to leave and as she got near the door, Mulder called her back.

"Hey, Scully." He waited until she turned back to face him. "Bring me some files to read. Please. I'm gonna go nuts in here without anything to do."

He was definitely on the mend. Scully could hardly believe that just hours earlier he had been at death's door.

The end.

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