"I'm trying to decide which lie to believe."

Deep Throat seemed to find Mulder's comment amusing. Chuckling softly to himself, he simply walked away. He disappeared into the fog at the far edge of the tarmac just as Scully reached Mulder's side.

Let's go, Mulder." Her voice was tight with fury but whether it was directed at him or their 'hosts', he couldn't tell. At the moment, he didn't much care. When he didn't respond, she put her hand on his elbow and steered him to her left toward the gate they had entered less than an hour earlier. She didn't speak again until they reached the car.

"Give me the keys." She held out her hand. Mulder quickly weighed his options and decided that discretion was the wisest course under the circumstances. He pulled the keys from his pocket and dropped them into her hand.

She unlocked the passenger door before moving to the driver's side. Her movements were as tightly controlled as her voice except for a brief slip when she allowed herself to slam the door with a satisfying bang.

Mulder fastened his seat belt and watched out of the corner of his eye as she shoved the key into the ignition and twisted it with such force that he expected it to snap off in her hand. When she spun the tires pulling onto the highway, Mulder had had enough.

"All right, Scully. Why don't you just say what's on your mind before you break something?" He knew it was a mistake as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

She kept her eyes riveted on the road as she spoke, making no attempt to hide her anger. "What the hell were you thinking, Mulder? Do you have a death wish or do you simply not give a shit?"

His unflappable partner was on the ragged edge of control and the sight rendered him momentarily speechless. She shot him a fiery glance and pounced on his silence.

"What? No wise ass retort?" Her knuckles on the steering wheel were bloodless and her arms were trembling. "What did you think that guard was going to do when you took off like that?"

Mulder's voice returned along with a rising anger that threatened to match hers. "I *didn't* think. Is that what you want to hear? I had to take the chance, Scully. There wasn't going to be another. What the hell did you expect me to do after what we went through to get here? Just walk away?"

"He was going to shoot you in the back!"

He was silent for a long moment, studying her profile. When he spoke again, his voice was very soft. "You stopped him."

His tone took the edge off her anger and she bowed her head for a moment before turning to look at him. "He could have killed you, Mulder. He could have killed us both. Was it worth it?" She saw the slight wince as her accusation found its mark.

He held her gaze for a moment, then turned away to lean his head against the side window.

"I don't know."

***

Super 6 Motel
Yakima, Washington State
Friday, 2:08 AM

Mulder's television was on. She could see the flickering light under the connecting door although there was no sound to confirm it. She could feel him on the other side of the wall, staring blankly at the screen as he brooded over this latest failure. She knew that her tirade had only added to the guilt he was always so willing to take upon himself, but he could have gotten them both killed. It was her duty as his partner to call him on it.

But there was more to it than that. When the guard had pointed his weapon at Mulder's back, she had been stunned by the depth of her fear for him.

Now every time she closed her eyes, she could see the guard's arm coming up, his finger tensing on the trigger. If she hadn't been able to divert his aim, Mulder would in all likelihood be dead. Her mind kept interposing the images with those of him bleeding on a dock in North Carolina, and she knew sleep would only bring it all to life in her nightmares.

With a sigh of frustration, she sat up and flipped on the television. Unlike her partner, she needed the background noise and lowered the volume rather than muting it entirely.

It was going to be a long night.

***

Mulder's attention snapped toward the connecting door when Scully's television came on. He heard a snippet of music before the volume dropped. With the limited viewing selections at this time of night in the middle of nowhere, he knew she had to be watching the same channel he was. An infomercial for some food preservation method that involved shrink wrapping. What he wouldn't give for another viewing of Plan 9 from Outer Space. His right brain could use the distraction.

He had been lying motionless for so long that his butt was asleep. *Too bad the rest of me refuses to follow suit.* Thinking suddenly that a few laps around the parking lot might help, he glanced around for his running shoes. He spotted them under the desk where he'd toed them off yesterday after his morning run.

He pushed himself up from the bed, swung his legs over the side and stood up. A sharp sting in his right leg made him pause for a moment. He searched his memory for a cause as he leaned down and rubbed the spot midway between his ankle and knee. Ah, yes. His graceless leap over the 'No Admittance' sign on the catwalk. He was lucky he hadn't broken his neck.

He fished his sweats out of the plastic bag where he'd stowed his dirty clothes and sniffed them gingerly before pulling them on. It wasn't like he was going to have company on his run, though the thought was tempting. He recalled the first time he'd asked Scully to come run with him. It was in Oregon on their first case together, and she had turned him down. She had looked so damn cute peering at him over her reading glasses, her hair pulled back in a pony tail, that her image had stayed with him the rest of the night.

*Don't even go there, Mulder.*

He laced up his shoes, grabbed his room key and headed out into the night.

***

Super 6 Motel
Friday, 5:20 AM

Scully woke to the sound of Mulder's shower running on the other side of the paper-thin wall. She had heard him leave his room around 2 AM and had gone to the window to confirm that he was going for a run rather than pulling one of his infamous disappearing acts. Despite the reassuring image of his lean body in sweats and running shoes, she had lain awake worrying about him until he returned. Worrying about her partner was an activity that seemed to require less provocation the longer she knew him.

*The man has absolutely no sense of self-preservation.*

She dragged her exhausted body out of bed and headed for the shower.

***

A sharp twinge as rubbed the towel briskly over his leg reminded him about the nick on his shin and he raised his foot onto the toilet seat to take a closer look. His leg had given him trouble on his run last night, just enough to be annoying, and the aspirin he had taken didn't seem to be helping much. If anything, it was even more tender now than it had been. He touched the scab carefully with one finger and was surprised by the heat.

He considered having his partner check it out, but it seemed silly. The cut was barely an inch long, hardly worth a band-aid though he would have to apply one to keep the drainage off of his sock. A thick, yellow fluid was seeping from beneath the scab and even his limited medical knowledge was enough to tell him it was infected. That was probably why the discomfort was so wildly out of proportion to the visible injury.

*Don't be such a baby.*

He got a band-aid from his suitcase and covered the cut, thinking how Scully would tease him if she knew he'd begun to carry a small first aid kit. It unfortunately didn't include antibiotic ointment. He'd have to pick some up when he got back to D.C.

***

Scully had just finished packing when she heard Mulder knock. She picked up her suitcase and took it with her to the door.

"Our flight leaves at 10:20. We've got time for a quick breakfast if you're hungry." Mulder's lop-sided grin dissolved the last of her tension. She hadn't known what to expect after last night but she should have known he wouldn't hold a grudge. She gave him her brightest smile.

"I'm starved."

***

United Airlines Flight 204
4:18 PM

Scully wasn't fond of flying in any form, and traveling from west to east ranked at the bottom of her list of ways to waste a day. Mulder, however, seemed to be in his element. The hum of the engines and the motion of the plane never failed to put him to sleep, even on short flights. He'd barely made it through take off this time.

It afforded her the opportunity to indulge in a guilty pleasure she had recently acquired a taste for. Mulder- watching was something she couldn't do when he was awake, although she did allow herself an admiring glance or two when he wasn't looking. That graceful swagger of his, for example, invariably gave her a little rush and she would occasionally hang back a few steps just to enjoy the view.

His swagger hadn't been quite so graceful this morning. He was favoring his right leg. When she had asked about it, he'd said he must have pulled a muscle when he was running. She had dropped the subject, having learned early on how he hated having attention drawn to his injuries. The fact that he had even allowed the limp to show concerned her a bit. It must really be bothering him.

The pilot's voice boomed abruptly through the speakers at that moment and startled Mulder out of his doze. She quickly turned to face forward, hoping he would miss the flush she could feel in her cheeks.

"We're landing in a few minutes, Mulder." She busied herself with gathering up her magazines and stuffing them in her carryon.

"So I heard." He rubbed his eyes and yawned widely. "Whose car did we drive to the airport?"

"Yours, Mulder." She hesitated for a moment. "Do you want me to drive?" She wondered if he was thinking that his leg might be a problem. He looked at her blankly and she felt the flush again as she realized that wasn't what he was saying at all.

"No, why would..." His confusion turned to mild irritation as he picked up on the reason for her offer. "My leg is fine, Scully." He softened his tone when he noticed the color in her cheeks. "But thanks for asking."

***

Basement Office
Monday, 8:06 AM

"Hey, Mulder. How was your weekend?" Scully's had been spent going through her closet, cleaning out drawers and generally catching up on her long-overdue spring cleaning. The simple tasks had been like bubblegum for the brain and she felt completely refreshed. Mulder, on the other hand, looked as if he'd spent two days hanging by his thumbs.

"Mulder, what's wrong?"

He had both arms folded in front of him on the desk as if he'd been resting his head on them before she came into the room.

He ignored her question. "You've got a message from Skinner." He nodded in the direction of the beat up worktable she'd commandeered as her desk. There was a pink message slip taped to her monitor.

As she crossed to pick it up, he continued, "You've been assigned to Quantico." She had begun to read the message but looked up in shock at his words. "For the week, Scully. What? Do you think I'd let them have you permanently?"

She returned her attention to the note, anxious to hide her relief. "What's the assignment?" Since the message was in his handwriting, she decided to let him fill her in rather than try to decipher his scrawl.

"Teaching. One of the instructors was hospitalized suddenly and they can't get anyone else to take his place until Thursday or Friday. Skinner volunteered you."

The thought of teaching for a few days was appealing and it made her smile. He smiled with her.

"Don't look so broken up, Scully. I'll be fine here all alone."

Her smile faded. "Are you okay, Mulder? You don't look well. Did something happen over the weekend?"

"I'm fine, Scully. Go teach." He made a shooing motion with both hands and it brought back her smile.

"Try to stay out of trouble, Mulder. I'll see you in a few days."

As soon as the door closed behind her, Mulder reached down and resumed massaging his right calf. It did nothing to relieve the discomfort, prompting him to wonder again how such a small wound could create so much havoc. It didn't even appear to be infected now, but there was no denying the pain it was generating. He had tried all weekend and it wasn't working.

With an exasperated sigh, he reached into his pocket for the bottle of prescription pain pills that he'd found in his medicine cabinet. He hated taking the things which is why there were several leftover from his little adventure in North Carolina. He tapped two of the pills into his hand and washed them down with lukewarm coffee.

For the remainder of the day, he immersed himself in backlogged paperwork and didn't give another thought to his leg until it was time to go home. He'd been reasonably pain- free while he sat at his desk, but that all changed when he stood up.

It actually made him gasp but he remained upright with his arms braced against the desk while he waited for the worst of it to pass. He was becoming accustomed to his body's reactions and knew that he'd soon be able to navigate without having to hang onto the nearest solid object. He stood there for several minutes, cautiously flexing the leg until he could trust it to hold his weight. Then he gathered up the papers he had been working with and made his way to his car.

Driving presented an entirely different set of problems. The simple act of holding his foot on the accelerator was painful. Moving his foot to the brake, let alone applying pressure, was excruciating, so he had adopted the two-footed method, using his left foot for the brake and his right for the gas. It was awkward but better than the alternative.

By the time he reached his apartment, he was sick to his stomach and dripping with perspiration. He dropped his briefcase on the coffee table and lowered himself carefully to the couch, too exhausted to do more than pant helplessly for a good twenty minutes. He was beginning to regret not telling Scully about this. A little hovering would feel pretty good right about now.

It was going to be a hell of a week.

***

Mulder's apartment
Thursday, 9:06 AM

He had made it in to the office Tuesday and Wednesday. At least he was fairly sure he had. At the moment, however, he wouldn't bet his life on it.

Or maybe that's exactly what he had already done.

He had come very close to calling Scully last night after his third gut-wrenching trip to the bathroom. Although he hadn't quite made it to the toilet that time, there had been nothing left in his stomach. As he'd lain panting on the bathroom floor, he had contemplated his partner's probable reaction to the condition he'd allowed himself to get into. He'd had a pretty accurate picture of it in his mind by the time he could move again and it was enough to keep him away from the phone.

He couldn't believe things could get much worse by morning, because he frankly couldn't imagine anything short of death that would qualify. Nevertheless, if he *was* worse, he would call her.

The moment he had opened his eyes this morning, he'd known he was in trouble. Serious trouble.

He couldn't remember crawling to his bed, but that's where he now was. He also didn't recall being dropped from the top of the Hoover building onto a bed of spikes, though that's the only thing he could imagine that would account for the way he was feeling.

Now that he'd allowed that image into his mind, he could almost *see* the spikes protruding through his legs, his chest, his arms. They were holding him fast to the bed and, though he wanted desperately to reach the phone, it simply hurt too much to move.

If today was Thursday, Scully would be back in their office. His only hope was that she would come and find him. Soon.

*Miss me, Scully. Miss me before it's too late*.

***

Basement Office
Thursday, 9:20 AM

Scully had come in early, just before seven, to get a head start on the paperwork she was certain Mulder would have left for her. There had been enough in her 'in' basket to keep her attention away from the clock until a few minutes ago.

She had just begun to get concerned about Mulder's absence when the phone rang, making her jump halfway out of her chair.

It was Kimberly, summoning her to the A.D.'s office. Whenever Skinner asked for her to meet with him alone, it was invariably to discuss her partner. The fact that she hadn't heard from Mulder yet this morning only added fuel to her rapidly escalating alarm.

The meeting turned out to be quite brief, lasting only as long as it took to establish that Mulder wasn't in the office and hadn't called either of them to say why. Skinner had wanted to tell her how ill Mulder had looked for the past couple of days and ask her medical opinion. When he learned that his problem agent hadn't yet made an appearance, his concern matched Scully's.

"Have you called his apartment?" He was reaching for the phone as he spoke.

"No, Sir. I was focused on a report and didn't realize how late it was until you called for me."

Skinner punched the speaker button and they listened to Mulder's phone ring for nearly a minute. He didn't answer his cell phone, either.

"I'm going over there." She stood quickly and headed for the door.

"I'm coming with you."

***

They approached the door with weapons drawn and listened for a moment. Mulder's apartment was utterly silent.

"Mulder, it's me." Scully used her key without waiting for a response and stepped cautiously into the dimness. The drapes were drawn and the air was thick with the smell of sickness and sweat.

"Mulder?" He wasn't on the couch or anywhere else they could see. The door to Mulder's bedroom was closed. She called to him again, then pushed it open.

Sunlight flooded the room in sharp contrast to the shadowy dimness they had just left. Mulder lay sprawled across the bed still dressed in the suit he'd worn to work the day before, his blue dress shirt soaked with perspiration.

Scully reached him first and gasped when she touched his face. "He's burning up. Call 911." But Skinner was already on the phone.

Mulder turned his head in the direction of her voice and swallowed thickly, trying unsuccessfully to focus on her face. "...so cold..."

She stroked his face and gently pushed the sweaty hair from his forehead. "Shhh. It's okay, Mulder. Help's on the way." The temperature of his skin was alarming.

"...Scully... I'm sick..."

"I know, Mulder. Why didn't you call me?"

He moved his head back and forth slightly. "No... sick..." and he began to retch. Scully yelled for Skinner as she got up on the bed and tried to roll Mulder. Skinner came quickly to her aid and they got him moved to his left side.

The retching was unproductive and obviously painful. When he was finished, they lowered him gently onto his back.

"What's wrong with him?" Skinner's concern matched her own.

"I don't know but he needs to get to a hospital." He had begun to shiver uncontrollably but she didn't dare cover him up, not with a body temperature as high as his obviously was. "Where the hell are the paramedics?" It had only been a few minutes but she could feel the panic starting. Mulder's condition had begun to deteriorate in the few minutes since they'd found him. His breathing was growing labored and his color showed signs of cyanosis.

They heard the sirens then and Skinner left to show them the way. Scully kept up a soothing patter with her partner, stroking his cheek and trying to reassure him. He was barely conscious now.

Skinner returned, followed by the paramedics. Scully quickly moved out of their way and stood next to Skinner as the men went to work. One started an intravenous line in Mulder's right forearm while the other ran his vitals, relaying them to the hospital via his headset.

"Temp 104.6, resps 30 and shallow, pulse..." the man swore softly under his breath, "pulse 160 and thready. His BP's barely there. We gotta move him NOW." He turned and spoke directly to Scully. "We're taking him to Georgetown Memorial. Are you his wife?"

"No, I'm his partner and a medical doctor. He's an FBI agent." She was reeling from the implications of Mulder's vitals. It was even worse than she had thought. "I'm coming with you."

***

Georgetown Memorial ICU
Thursday, 1:40 PM

Each test result had been more disheartening than the last until she'd found herself unable to listen any more. Translating it all into layman's terms for Skinner was proving to be no easier.

"They still don't know what's causing this?" Skinner was sitting opposite her in the visitor's lounge just down the hall from Mulder's room. He was leaning intently forward, elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped together between them.

"The working diagnosis is septic shock. Mulder was lucid for long enough to tell us about the injury to his leg and that seems to be the site of the initial infection. Why it became systemic so quickly, no one can say at this point."

Skinner sat back and glanced toward the door, shaking his head slowly. "He looked like hell yesterday. When I asked about it, he said it was nothing."

"This infection moved very quickly, Sir. I don't think he realized how sick he was until it was too late." The thought of him helpless and in pain, unable to get to the phone, made her throat ache. She took a sip of her lukewarm coffee to clear the lump before she continued.

"All they can do at this point is treat the symptoms. Once they identify the specific bug, they'll go after it with both barrels." She stood up. "I need to get back to him. The doctor should be coming by soon and I want to talk to him."

Skinner walked with her to Mulder's door. "I've got a meeting that will take the rest of the afternoon. Call me if there's any change." He hesitated, as if there was something else he wanted to say.

"Sir?"

Whatever it was, he apparently decided to keep it to himself. "I'll drop by later this evening."

Scully watched him with a puzzled frown until he disappeared around the corner.

Skinner pulled the cell phone from his jacket as soon as he was out of Scully's sight. He knew where his two agents had been last week and he understood the implications. Mulder's doctors were not going to be able to fight this bug. He punched in a number and waited. Not without some help.

***

Friday, 3:14 AM

Mulder kept shifting his limbs in a futile effort to ease the pain. His temperature had been stable at 102.5 for several hours but had begun to rise rapidly twenty minutes ago. The cooling blanket was intensifying the ache in his bones to unbearable levels.

"Mulder, try to lie still. You're only making it worse."

He tried to focus on her face but settled for leaning into the soft touch of her hand on his cheek. "...can't help it." He ran his tongue over parched lips. "Hurts."

Scully picked up his glass and held the straw to his lips. "I know, Mulder. I know." He tried to pull on the straw but winced and turned away.

"I'll get you some ice chips." She set the cup on the table and started to get up. Mulder reached out and gripped her hand with surprising strength.

"Stay with me." The expression in his eyes squeezed her heart.

"Mulder, what is it?"

He tightened his grip on her hand. "Something's... wrong." His eyes widened, then lost focus and rolled back as another seizure began.

"We need help!" Scully shouted over her shoulder as she tried to prevent him from hurting himself against the bedrails. The room was suddenly filled with medical personnel and Scully was escorted to the hallway.

"Wait here." The nurse gave her shoulders a reassuring squeeze and returned to Mulder's room, closing the door behind her. Scully stood frozen, trying to bring her emotions under control.

"Agent? What's going on?"

She turned and saw A.D. Skinner walking up to her. He must have seen something in her eyes because he grasped her arm gently as soon as he reached her. "What happened?"

"He's dying." Saying the words made it real and she felt her knees buckle.

Skinner's grip tightened and he steered her to a bench a few steps to their left. When they were seated, he reached into his breast pocket and extracted a disposable syringe filled with amber fluid. He took her hand folded it around the syringe.

Scully looked blankly at her hand, then up at him. "What is it?" Some part of her already knew.

"It will allow the antibiotics to work against the infection." He seemed unable to look her in the eyes.

"Where did you get this?" When he remained silent, she put her hand on his arm and squeezed until he looked at her. "Sir, I need to know."

"No, Scully. I..."

Mulder's door opened and Scully was immediately on her feet. A man in scrubs came out to talk to them.

"Are you waiting for Mr. Mulder?"

"Yes, how is he?"

"Let's have a seat here." He took Scully's arm and motioned toward the bench. She held her ground and pulled away from him.

"Just tell me his condition."

Skinner hadn't moved or spoken. He stood up now, offering his hand. "Doctor...?"

"Sorry, I'm Doctor Lyndell." He shook hands with both of them. "I wish I had better news. The patient has lapsed into a coma. I'm afraid that the seizure coupled with everything else was more than his body could handle. If Mr. Mulder has any relatives, I would suggest you contact them now. I'm very sorry." He touched Scully's shoulder briefly, nodded at Skinner, and walked away.

Skinner waited until the man was out of earshot. "Scully, we've run out of options."

She looked up at him, nodded and preceded him into Mulder's room.

A nurse was adjusting his central line, hanging another bag of antibiotics. The cooling blanket was gone but Mulder was now on a respirator. The O2 sat readout on the monitor was 86 despite the pure oxygen being forced into his lungs. His blood pressure was 89 over 40, his pulse was 142. Time had indeed run out.

The nurse finished what she was doing and turned to leave. "His temperature is down a bit. I'll check back in a little while." She left and closed the door behind her.

Scully pulled her chair back to Mulder's side and sat down. "I know you can hear me, partner," she began, then had to stop to get control of her voice. She took a sip from his water glass before she continued. "I know you can hear me and I need you to listen very carefully. We've run out of conventional options, Mulder. A.D. Skinner has brought me something that may help you and I'm going to try it." She reached up and stroked his face. His skin was not as hot as it had been but his temperature was still too high. "I don't know what's going to happen when I give this to you, but there's really no choice now." She squeezed his fingers. "Mulder, do you understand?"

Against all odds, the man in the bed managed to raise his eyelids a fraction, just enough to allow a glint of hazel to show beneath his lashes. It lasted for less than a heartbeat but it was enough to make Scully's eyes fill.

She stood up and leaned close to his ear. "Keep your fingers crossed."

She pulled the syringe from her jacket pocket and removed the cap from the needle. With hands that shook, she inserted the needle directly into the port on his central line and slowly depressed the plunger. When the contents had been fully injected, she recapped the syringe, returned it to her pocket and sat down to wait.

Skinner had been motionless at the foot of Mulder's bed since he entered the room. When there was no immediate reaction to the injection, he seemed to sag.

"Nothing. I should have known." His voice held a deep bitterness.

"No. If what you were told is the truth, we won't see any reaction for some time." She was holding Mulder's right hand, tracing lazy circles over the back of it with her thumb. She turned and glanced at Skinner. "Why don't you get some rest, Sir? I'll call you if there's any change."

He almost insisted on staying with her but something in her eyes stopped him. She wanted to be alone with Mulder, he realized. "I'll be in the lounge if you need me."

When the door closed behind her boss, Scully turned her attention back to Mulder. "It's just you and me now, partner. You can quit playing possum." She tugged his hand gently. "Come on, Mulder. Time to wake up." She reached up and pinched his earlobe, watching his eyes closely. There was no reaction.

"We need to talk. No, just let me finish." She held up her hand as if he had tried to interrupt. "This is the second time in two months that we've been in this situation, Mulder. Sitting by your bedside while you test the limits of medical science is not my idea of a good time, I want you to know that." She was trying for a light tone and failing miserably, even to her own ears.

"You're a good partner, Mulder. You're a good man, much better than you seem to know. You care so much..." she had to pause for control, "You care so much that it hurts to watch, but it's always about others. Never about yourself."

"You don't seem to accept the fact that there are people who care about you very much. *I* care about you, Mulder. More than you know. And despite what you may think, Skinner cares about you, too. I don't know how he did it, but it was Skinner who located the medicine I gave you and I think he may have paid a very high price to get it." Did he make a deal with the very men Mulder was trying to expose? It was a possibility she wasn't ready to examine.

She scanned the monitor readouts, but there was no change. "I want you to fight this, Mulder. There's a lot of work left to do and I can't do it alone." Her voice fell to a whisper. "You can't leave me now."

She was suddenly exhausted. The emotional and physical stress was finally taking its toll, and she could no longer keep her eyes open. "I'll be here if you need me, Mulder." She rested her head on the bed next to him and pulled his hand to her cheek. "I'll be right here."

***

Friday, 7:13 AM

Fingers moving against her face made her bolt upright in her chair. She turned to check the monitor readouts and found herself looking directly into a pair of sleepy hazel eyes.

"Mulder!" He was trying to cough around the vent. She stood and reached for the call button. "It's all right, Mulder. Just relax. You're on a vent but I'll have it out of there right away. Just hold on."

The panic in his eyes receded. Dark lashes blinked once, twice, then closed. "Mulder?" She stroked his face, softly pushing back a lock of hair from his forehead. His skin was cool under her touch. *Thank God*. He blinked at her once more before drifting off again.

The nurse came through the door fully expecting to find that her patient had expired. When the young woman at his side turned to face her with a huge smile, she halted in confusion.

"He's fine. He's going to be fine."

***

Friday, 12:45 PM

Dr. Lyndell had removed the respirator five hours ago and Mulder had been sleeping ever since. Scully had gone home for as long as it took to shower and change while Skinner sat with him. She hadn't wanted her partner to wake and find her gone but she'd been equally concerned about letting him see the havoc that the last 24 hours had wreaked on her. Skinner had gone on to the office when she got back.

Before he left, she had thanked him for saving Mulder's life. He'd been unwilling to accept her gratitude and asked that she not mention it again. The expression in his eyes had made her wonder again what terrible price he had paid for this miracle, but she had agreed to let the matter drop. Time would reveal the answer to that question soon enough.

"Scully?" Mulder's raspy whisper jerked her sleepy mind back to the present.

She reached automatically for the cup of ice chips on his nightstand and place a small spoonful on his tongue. "How do you feel?" She watched his face closely as he allowed the ice to melt, swallowing painfully as the cool liquid bathed his throat.

He made a soft sound as he cleared his throat carefully. "I've been better."

"But not recently," she quipped, hoping for a smile. He didn't disappoint her.

He studied her face for a moment, taking in the deep creases around her mouth, the purple shadows beneath her eyes that she had tried to cover with make-up. "Rough night?"

Her smile slipped a bit. "Yeah, you could say that."

The pain that had flashed briefly in her eyes told him all he needed to know about what had happened to him. At least for the moment.

"I'm okay, Scully." He gave her a sleepy smile. "When can I get out of here?"

Her eyes widened in disbelief. "You nearly died, Mulder. What are...", she saw the glint in his eye and stopped. He was teasing her. That brilliant mind was intact and she sent up a silent prayer of thanks.

"I was recently reminded that I've still got a lot of work to do."

She felt her throat tighten. He *had* heard her. In a coma, on the brink of dying, he had heard her. She gave him a watery smile.

"It'll keep, Mulder. It'll keep."

***

end