Fairfax Mercy Hospital
Fairfax, VA
Friday, 2:40 PM

"Mulder? Mulder, I need you to answer me."

He had his face covered with both hands, his elbows resting on his knees. Scully crouched next to his chair and touched his shoulder, feeling the rigid muscles that hummed like an electric current was running through them.

"Agent Scully, is he alright? Do you need any help?" Lieutenant Brophy was standing in the doorway watching them. His men had cleared out, Modell had been taken to the ER and the patient in the bed to Mulder's right remained oblivious to the events that had transpired in this room over the past half hour.

Scully turned slightly to meet Brophy's worried gaze with one of her own. "Just give us a few minutes, please."

Brophy nodded. "I'll be in the ER if you need me. Modell's still a prisoner, dying or not." He shifted his glance to Mulder then back to Scully, and she was startled by the pity she could read in his eyes as he turned away. She waited until he had closed the door behind him before turning back to her partner.

"Mulder, I need you to talk to me. Please."

He dropped his hands but kept his eyes downcast. "I'm sorry." If she hadn't been so close to him, she wouldn't have been able to hear the words.

"Oh, Mulder, you have nothing to be sorry for." She began to rub her hand up and down his back. The muscles on either side of his spine were as knotted up as his shoulders and quivering beneath her touch. He felt so cold.

"You were right, Scully. I shouldn't have come in here by myself." He pulled in a shaky breath. "My ego almost cost you your life."

"No..."

"YES!" He winced at the volume of his own voice, hunching his shoulders against the pain that lanced through his head.

Scully gripped his left shoulder in alarm. "Mulder! What's wrong?"

He panted for a moment, eyes squeezed tightly shut. When he opened them she could see tears of pain clustered against his lower lashes. "It's just a headache, Scully. I'm okay."

She moved quickly to kneel in front of him, lifting his chin with the fingers of her right hand to examine his eyes. In the light that was pouring through the window at her back, his pupils seemed unusually large. "Your head hurts, Mulder? Where? Did it start suddenly?"

A frightening list of possible causes ran quickly through her mind. "Talk to me." She squeezed his shoulder for emphasis.

"It's nothing, Scully. A headache is the least of my problems." He sat up straight against the chair back and tipped his head from side to side, carefully stretching the muscles of his neck. His movements spilled a tear from the corner of his left eye and Scully reached up to touch his face. Mulder grabbed her wrist gently and held her back.

"I shot an unarmed man and I nearly killed *you*. You can't protect me this time and I won't let you try."

"Mulder, he was far from unarmed and you know it. So does Brophy." Mulder began to turn away from her but she put her hands on his shoulders and pulled him back to face her. "There won't be any consequences other than the hell you seem bent on putting yourself through for what you think you could have done to prevent this."

They were silent for a long moment, each trying to read the other's eyes, until an involuntary wince from Mulder drew her attention back to the discomfort he was trying to ignore. She placed two fingers against the pulse point on his left wrist and counted the seconds on her watch, earning an exasperated sigh from her patient.

"Scully, I have a headache. Put it in park, will you?" He pulled his arm back and stood up, a bit too quickly as it turned out. He swayed and had to steady himself by gripping her shoulder for a moment which merely aggravated his already- black mood.

"I stood up too fast. Don't look at me like that." He released his grip on her shoulder and stepped around her, heading for the door. He hadn't made it halfway when he had to grab for the chair Scully had occupied during the confrontation with Modell. This time, his knees buckled and he would have wound up on the floor if Scully hadn't reached him first.

Holding him firmly by both biceps, she used her command voice. "All right, Mulder. That's enough. You need to be checked out before we leave." He opened his mouth to protest but she rolled right over him. "Now you can let me help you walk to the ER or you can continue with this charade until you fall flat on your ass."

He straightened his shoulders and tried to recover his dignity. "Fine."

Fifteen minutes and a somewhat shaky trip down the corridors later, Mulder was sitting on a gurney in Treatment Room #4, his lips pressed around a thermometer and his left bicep wrapped in a blood pressure cuff. A middle-aged, no nonsense nurse was watching the gauge while air hissed from the deflating cuff.

"Your pressure is somewhat elevated, Mr. Mulder. I'd like you to sit quietly for ten minutes and I'll come back to take it again." She removed the thermometer from his mouth and held it up the light. She made some notations on his chart and placed it back in the holder attached to the bedrail. "The doctor will be in to see you shortly." With that, she left the room and closed the door behind her.

Scully walked over and picked up the chart, reviewing the nurse's notes although she had seen the readings as they were being taken. His blood pressure was 180 over 112, too high for a man as fit as Mulder, but not dangerously so. His symptoms weren't even unexpected considering the emotional trauma he'd been through. There was no real basis for her alarm. Yet she couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong.

"How's the headache?" She returned the chart to its holder and watched him closely for a moment. The lines around his eyes told her he was still in pain but she could see the lie forming on his lips.

"It's fine, Scully. Can we just get the hell out of here, please?" She was watching him rub the back of his neck with his right hand. When he realized what he was doing, he quickly dropped the hand to his lap. "I need to get out of here." He suddenly sounded exhausted.

"Mr. Mulder?" The door opened and a fifty-ish, balding man in blue scrubs entered. "I'm Doctor Harmon, ER attending physician. I understand we have you to thank for ending the siege this afternoon." He crossed the room to Mulder and picked up the chart.

"I'm fine, Doctor. My partner is overreacting to a headache."

Harmon put down the chart, pulled a penlight from his shirt pocket and began to check Mulder's eyes, alternately flashing the light into one, then the other. "You experienced some dizziness?"

Mulder pulled away from the doctor's hand. "Like I told the nurse, I stood up too fast and lost my balance. There's nothing wrong with me that getting out of here wouldn't cure."

Scully had heard that explanation one too many times. "Doctor, I'd like you to do a neuro evaluation. Mulder is the most sure-footed person I know and I don't believe standing up too quickly accounts for the way he staggered all the way down here."

She ignored Mulder's glare and focused her attention on the doctor. "He's exhibiting symptoms of neurological trauma and I don't think it's wise to discount them out of hand." She shot a glance in Mulder's direction, long enough to see the fury that had replaced his moroseness. *At least he's not wallowing in guilt for the moment.*

Doctor Harmon prided himself on his powers of observation and he hadn't missed the obvious tension between the two partners. "I agree." He turned to Mulder. "This will only take a few minutes and then we can all relax." Back to Scully. "Would you mind stepping outside?"

Scully frowned and crossed her arms over her chest but realized that the doctor was probably right. He'd be much more likely to gain his patient's cooperation without her there to inspire Mulder's macho posturing. "Of course. I'll be right outside." She chanced another look at her partner. She didn't care how angry he was about this as long as he was okay. She walked out and closed the door behind her.

***

"I'll drive, Mulder." She held out her hand for the keys, one eyebrow raised against any resistance he might care to offer.

Mulder weighed his alternatives and chose the most expedient. He just wanted to get home and if letting his partner drive them there shaved time off the process, he was all for it. He dropped the keys into her hand and settled into the passenger side of the car, pulling the door closed with a barely- restrained slam.

If Scully was surprised by his acquiescence, she hid it well. She started the car and headed toward the freeway that would take them to Mulder's apartment.

Neither spoke until Scully pulled up to the curb in front of his building. She turned off the engine, obviously planning to escort him to his door.

"Go home, Scully." Mulder paused with his hand on the door handle. "The doctor said I'm fine. I don't need a nanny." He was feeling unaccountably irritable and that had come out more harshly than he intended. He softened his tone. "I'm really okay, Scully. Please. Just go home and get some rest."

She struggled with her instincts for a long moment. He needed to talk about what had happened today, not keep it bottled up. That's probably what was causing the symptoms he was having, but she knew better than to push him.

"All right, Mulder. I'll go home if you promise you'll call me if you need anything." She gave him a small smile.

He returned her smile and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "You know I will." He got out and closed the door. Instead of walking to his door he paused and tapped on the car window. She hit the button to lower it and he leaned in.

"I'm sorry for being such a prick this afternoon. It's been a rough day."

"Get some rest, Mulder." Her smile warmed his heart all the way to his door where he turned and waved good night.

Scully sat and watched until the lights went on in his apartment. *He's fine. Get a grip on your imagination.* But the chill stayed with her all the way home.

***

Mulder's apartment
Saturday, 1:18 AM

Mulder woke to the bizarre sensation of falling into his couch from a great height, his whole body jerking as he landed with a startled gasp. He lay there panting, bathed in sweat, feeling his heart pound frantically against his ribs.

Must've been one hell of a nightmare, but he couldn't recall any of it. Just the fall at the end. That in itself was unusual. As a rule, he remembered every horrifying moment of his dreams and it was somehow unsettling to have this one be such a blank. He lay still, forcing his breathing to slow and deepen, counting each one in a ritual that Scully had taught him after one of his more vocal nightmares had sent her bursting through the door that connected their hotel rooms, certain he was being flayed alive.

He wanted desperately to call her right now. The sound of her voice never failed to chase away whatever demons he might be wrestling with, but he couldn't risk it this time. The throbbing pain in his head had returned with a vengeance and he knew she would hear it in his voice. She'd have him packed off to the ER before he could blink.

*Deal with it, G-man. It's just you and me.*

He felt the words rather than heard them, like trickles of ice water down his back, freezing him in place against the leather cushions and driving all rational thought from his head.

*Gotta play by the rules, G-man.*

Not ice water this time. Tongues of fire, consuming the air around him with a suffocating heat.

Suddenly the darkness was like a physical thing, bearing down on his chest and crushing the breath from his lungs. The need to escape was overwhelming. He pushed himself up from the couch, grabbed his jacket and headed out into the night.

***

Scully's apartment
Saturday, 5:21 AM

She's sitting at the table with Modell and Mulder, pleading with her partner to give her the gun. But his gaze is fixed on the man in front of him, oblivious to the pain in her voice. In one smooth motion, he raises the gun to his temple and pulls the trigger, sending a spray of blood, bone and brain matter over Scully's horror-stricken face. As she screams his name over and over, Mulder opens his eyes and speaks to her. *I'm cold, Scully. I'm so cold.*

The images faded slowly as she opened her eyes into the pre- dawn stillness. As she reached shaking fingers up to wipe her eyes, she felt something hard and cold against her face. It was the phone receiver, pressed between the pillow and her head.

She sat up quickly and stared at the receiver in confusion. What was she doing with the phone... and then she heard the voice, thin and shaky but unmistakably Mulder: "...get me? Sc-Scully?"

"Mulder? Are you alright? Where are you?" She was wide awake now and trembling with the rush of adrenaline generated by the fear in her partner's voice.

"D-don't know... dark..."

"Describe where you are, Mulder."

"N-no... Don't!" She heard the receiver clank repeatedly against a hard surface as he dropped it from his hands. His voice was suddenly far away from the mouthpiece. "NO!!"

A sharp noise, so incredibly loud that she couldn't be sure what she had heard, made her jerk the phone from her ear.

"Mulder! Mulder what happened?"

She strained to hear what was going on at the other end of the line, but there was nothing more for nearly a minute. Then someone hung up the receiver with a soft click. A few seconds later, the dial tone returned and broke her paralysis.

Scully quickly punched in *69 to redial the number that had just called her and wrote down the number as the electronic voice asked if she wanted to be connected. She waited through ten rings, growing more frightened with each hammering beat of her heart. No one was going to answer, obviously. Whatever had happened to Mulder, he was no longer able to get to the phone. She hung up and dialed Skinner.

She wondered if the man ever slept. He sounded as alert as if she'd called him in the middle of the afternoon.

"You have no idea where he could have been calling from?"

"No, Sir. I dropped him off at his apartment yesterday evening. I have no idea why he would have gone out."

"I'll get the location on this number and call you back." He hung up.

She was fully dressed and ready to leave the apartment when Skinner called back a few minutes later.

"He was calling from a pay phone in Bosher's Run State Park. It's in..."

"I know where it is, Sir."

"The Fairfax County police should be on the scene shortly. I'm on my way to your apartment right now to pick you up."

"Thank you, Sir."

His professional demeanor slipped for a moment. "He's okay, Dana. Just sit tight." He hung up.

***

Bosher's Run State Park
Manassas, VA
Saturday, 6:14 AM

They saw the cluster of flashing emergency lights through the partially-bare trees as Skinner turned from the main road onto the park's service drive. He pulled up behind a Fairfax County EMT van and gave Scully's arm a reassuring squeeze before they got out of the car.

The phone Mulder had called from was mounted on the side of a small wooden structure that housed the public restrooms. The detective in charge of the scene introduced himself and gave them a quick rundown of what they'd learned so far.

"There's no sign of a struggle, no blood or other physical evidence, no shell casings. Nothing other than a bunch of smudged and overlaid prints on the receiver and the surrounding surfaces." He regarded Scully's worried expression for a moment. "He's your partner?"

"Yes. He called me from here less than an hour ago sounding disoriented and frightened. Then I heard a shot." She shuddered slightly in spite of herself and the detective's expression softened in understanding.

"Detective, I hope you won't be offended if I have a Bureau team process the scene as well." Skinner was punching numbers in to his cell phone as he spoke.

"No, of course not." He glanced again at Scully. "I understand completely. My team should be finished here in a few minutes. I'd appreciate a call if you find anything we missed." He handed a business card to each of them, nodded politely and went back to supervise his people.

Skinner spoke into his cell phone for a few minutes while Scully walked slowly around the perimeter defined by the crime scene tape. She circled back to him as he ended the call.

"It's as if he was never here." She hated the waver in her voice and consciously squared her shoulders. "I think we should check out Mulder's apartment, Sir."

"I've already got a team on the way. We'll meet them there."

Scully glanced back at the phone. *He's not dead. I'd know it if he was.*

"Let's go."

***

They were less than ten minutes from Mulder's building when Scully's cell phone rang. She fumbled it out of her jacket pocket and answered on the third ring.

At her shocked gasp, Skinner pulled quickly to the side of the road and stopped the car. "What is it, Agent?"

Her shock was rapidly changing to a mixture of fury and embarrassment. "It's Mulder, Sir. He wants to know what the hell's going on."

***

Mulder's apartment
Saturday, 8:25 AM

"I was asleep on my couch when these guys kicked the door in. If my gun had been within reach, we'd have a hell of a mess here right now." Mulder clearly believed he was the injured party in this debacle and Scully didn't know whether to hug him or slap him.

Skinner was unaccountably restrained in his response. "Agent Mulder, these men were sent by me and I apologize for the confusion." He turned to Scully. "I'd like you to stop by my office on Monday morning so we can go over your statement for the Fairfax P.D." He motioned to the two agents from the crime scene investigation unit and they preceded him out of the apartment. He glanced back at Mulder and Scully, nodded and closed the door behind him.

"Skinner thinks I've gone off the deep end, Mulder, and I can't say that I blame him. What the hell is going on?" Her arms were crossed over her chest, partly in anger and partly to subdue the trembling that had begun when she had realized he was safe.

"You tell *me*. I went out early this morning to find something to eat, stopped at a diner and had some breakfast. Then out of nowhere I've got storm troopers kicking my door down. What brought *that* on?"

They were standing toe-to-toe in the middle of the living room which meant that Scully was at a distinct height disadvantage. She had to crane her neck back to look at him and it was beginning to hurt.

"Sit down, Mulder."

They took positions at either end of the couch and glared at each other.

"You called me, Mulder. From a pay phone in Bosher's Run park."

He began to protest but she held up a hand to stop him. "Just let me finish, please."

He settled back again, gesturing for her to continue before crossing his arms over his chest. "Please, go on."

"What time did you leave this morning?"

"A little after one."

"And how long did it take to get to the diner?"

"I don't know, it's only a few blocks away. Maybe five minutes."

"How long were you there?"

"Less than an hour. However long it takes to order, receive and eat three eggs and some hash browns. Where are you going with this?"

"Mulder, you called me at 5:21 this morning from the park. Where were you for the intervening three hours?"

"I didn't call you, Scully. Not from the park or anywhere else. I came back here and went to sleep." He was using that wearily patient, condescending tone that drove her up the wall.

"Then how do you explain the entry in my caller ID that shows the call coming in at precisely 5:21 AM?"

"It wasn't me, Scully. That's all I can tell you. I assume the phone was checked for prints?" He raised his eyebrows at her in that *I've got you* expression.

"The prints were badly smudged. I doubt we'll be able to identify any of them, but I don't need fingerprints to tell me it was you on the phone, Mulder. And you were scared. You wanted me to come and get you but you didn't seem to know where you were." Her voice lost some of it's assertive tone and she looked away before she continued. "I heard you yell at someone. Then I heard a shot."

The memory brought back the feeling of helpless terror and it came through in her voice. Mulder's posture relaxed in response.

"I'm sorry, Scully." His voice was soft. "I'm sorry you were put through that. But it wasn't me. Think about it. You were probably sound asleep and just assumed it was me calling you." He touched her chin and turned her face back toward his. "It *was* the natural assumption."

"But what would be the point?" Her certainty was fading into confusion.

"I don't know, Scully. Maybe to get you alone in the park? When you didn't come alone, whoever it was ran off. I think we need to consider the real possibility that this may have been an attempt on your life."

He was right. It was the only thing that made sense and she began to go through her mental list of possible suspects. There were many people who had reason to want either or both of them dead. She may simply have been their first choice this time.

The tension drained out of the situation and was replaced by a mutual concern that drew them back together, united against this new threat.

Scully and Mulder compared mental lists for the next several hours while they waited for his door to be fixed. With no sign of the repairman the landlord had promised, Mulder had quipped that the man was probably ready to toss him out in the interests of public safety. The initial appeal of having an armed Federal Agent in the building for protection had long ago been supplanted by weary forbearance in the face of the violent episodes that had become disturbingly commonplace.

"Do you know anyone who might be looking for a roommate?" The return of his trademark leer would have been reassuring but for the fact that it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I may not be tidy but I'm never dull."

"No, Mulder. That you are not." He had expected her customary put down, but a wistful softness in her voice surprised them both. Something shifted between them. They both felt it.

Mulder's landlord chose that moment to appear with the repairman and the spell was broken, but it had left a tantalizing echo in its wake.

By 6 PM, the repairs were completed and they decided to go out for some dinner, neither ready to part company quite yet. They chose their favorite Italian bistro in Reston, a forty minute drive from Mulder's apartment. By the time dinner was served, they had a short list of suspects to start on Monday morning.

Mulder grew quiet as they ate, his focus turning inward as Scully searched for a way to draw him out. The brief connection they had formed earlier had once again moved just out of reach.

"Mulder?" He had been motionless for the past five minutes and she reached across the table to touch his hand. He jumped slightly and looked up from his plate. The lines of pain were back around his eyes and although she stifled the urge to comment, he read the question in her eyes.

"I'm fine, Scully. Stop hovering." He took the napkin from his lap and dropped it on the table as he stood up. "I'll be right back." He forced a small smile and headed toward the alcove at the front of the restaurant where the restrooms were located.

She watched him until he disappeared through the archway, her frown deepening at the stiffness of his posture, the set of his shoulders that told her how much he was hurting. The uneasiness was back, the chilling certainty that something was terribly wrong. She knew better than to press him for an explanation but she had no intention of allowing this to continue.

"Will you be ordering dessert, Miss?"

The waiter standing next to their table startled Scully out of her reverie. She hadn't even heard him approach. "I don't think so, but I'll wait until my friend returns. We'll let you know."

His smile faded. "Your friend? He just left, Miss. I thought you knew."

"What?" Scully leaped from her chair and sprinted to the front door of the restaurant, heedless of the waiter's pitying expression. She stepped out into the chilly evening air and crossed to the spot where they had parked.

Mulder's car was gone.

***

Scully's apartment
Saturday, 9:50 PM

"The first thing I *did* was check his apartment, Sir. He's not there. As far as I can tell, he hasn't been there since we left to go to dinner." She had held off calling Skinner until every possibility had been exhausted. Her partner had simply vanished and she was no longer angry or upset. She was terrified.

"You don't think he left of his own volition." Despite his earlier doubts, Skinner had to agree that there was now legitimate cause for alarm. Leaving Scully stranded a $40 cab ride from her car without a word of explanation was not like Mulder at all.

"No, Sir, I don't. But I can't explain what's happening. He's been suffering from pretty severe headaches since yesterday afternoon. We had him checked out but I'm starting to think that we missed something significant." ...like an aneurysm or a stroke or a tumor... The possibilities were all equally horrible and she had been furious with him for hiding his condition until she realized that he may not even be aware of it. That was when she made a very Mulder-like leap and connected the situation with Modell to what was happening to him now.

"You think Modell is somehow involved? Agent Scully, the man's in a coma. What is it that you think he's doing to Mulder?"

"I contacted the hospital just before I called you. Modell has been in and out of consciousness since he was admitted yesterday. They can't go in after the bullet because of its location and they honestly didn't expect him to regain consciousness at all but he's had two fairly lucid periods." She braced for his expected reaction to her next words. "Sir, both of the episodes coincided with Mulder's inexplicable behavior. The nurse said that Modell seemed to be talking to someone who wasn't in the room. She thought she heard him say Mulder's name several times."

"I'll put out an APB. Mulder can't have gotten very far. I'll meet you at the hospital."

"Thank you, Sir." Her relief was palpable. "I'll see you there."

***

Fairfax Mercy Hospital
Intensive Care Unit
Saturday, 11:02 PM

Skinner found his agent standing at Modell's bedside. She looked up when he opened the door.

"He lapsed into a coma about twenty minutes ago. A final one, it appears. His EEG is flat and they expect to have to vent him before long." She walked around the end of the bed and consulted the chart, then replaced it and motioned for Skinner to precede her out of the room. When they were in the corridor, Scully walked down to the visitor's lounge. They took the couch in the corner, away from the few occupants of the room.

"I spoke with his nurse on the phone and again when I got here. She says that Modell has been semi-conscious and agitated for the past several hours, just as he was last night."

"And you believe that Mulder's been influenced in some way by this activity? How? And why?"

"I don't know, Sir. All I can say with certainty is that it began yesterday, just after he confronted Modell." An involuntary shudder ran through her at the dream memory of Mulder shooting himself in front of her. "I witnessed the power that Modell was able to exert. Mulder's theory is that it's a form of telekinesis resulting from the temporal lobe tumor Modell's being treated for. I don't think we can afford to discount the possibility that he's right."

"So, with Modell in a coma, the influence he had over Mulder should be terminated."

"Yes. We should be hearing from Mulder soon." She brought the cell phone out of her pocket, checking to make sure it was turned on. "I'm going back to his apartment to wait. Call me the second you hear anything."

***

Location unknown
Saturday, 11:02 PM

*Hey, G-man. You gotta let go sooner or later. Why don't you save us both a lot of time and just do it?*

He was in the car. That much he could tell without opening his eyes. His hands were gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his fingers were numb and the muscles in his forearms were beginning to ache. He had no idea where the car was or why he was in it. And for a reason he couldn't name, he was terrified of finding out.

*You can't hold on much longer. She doesn't want you to.*

Wherever he was, wherever the *car* was, it was pitch dark, deeply cold and utterly silent.

The damp air penetrated his thin jacket and soaked into his bones, sending tremors through every muscle. He listened for a sound, anything that might tell him where he was, but there was nothing. No traffic noise, no wind, no voices except for the one coming from somewhere inside his head. *That* voice he could hear all too clearly.

His head hurt in a way that made him want to bang it against something. A deep, squeezing agony that ran from his eyes to the back of his neck, pulsing with every heart beat.

*It's going to keep getting worse until you let go, G-man. Trust me on this.*

He didn't need to ask who the voice belonged to any more than he needed to ask what it wanted. The pain would stop when he gave in. As if to affirm his conclusion, the pulsing fire in his head surged to a level that made him gasp, then quickly ebbed.

*It looks like you need a refresher. How's this?*

The images flooded his mind: Scully in a coma, her reward for joining him in his quest... Samantha being pulled into the light, screaming his name as he huddled on the floor and watched her go... Reggie murdered while he talked to him on the phone by a man he should have killed the first time he had the chance... all the children who died in terror while he retched his way through their killers' profiles...

*What's the tally, G-man? How many lives?*

The physical pain in his head intensified along with the agony in his soul until there was nothing else... and suddenly he was ready to pay what he owed. It was time.

***

Mulder's apartment
Sunday, 2:18 AM

She snatched up the phone halfway through the first ring.

"Dana, I just received a call from the Reston P.D. They found him in his car parked on a forestry service road off Route 29. He's on his way to Georgetown Memorial."

"How is he?"

Skinner hesitated for mere seconds, but it was long enough to bring tears to her eyes. "He's alive. That's all they could tell me. I'll meet you there."

***

Georgetown Memorial Hospital
Trauma Unit
Sunday, 2:51 AM

"There's a minor bleed in the left temporal lobe." Doctor Lassiter circled the area on the lighted screen with his right index finger. "We've got that under control for the moment with medication. It's not the cause of his symptoms, however."

He turned to face the man and woman seated across from him. "He's completely unresponsive to deep, painful stimulus. He's had two episodes of tachycardia that required defibrillation and his pulmonary function is sufficiently compromised that we've placed him on a ventilator. There is no physical cause that we can identify for any of this, though of course we're still doing tests."

The woman was a medical doctor and the patient's partner in the FBI. The man was their supervisor. Both had listened intently to his summary, asking no questions. He folded his hands together on the desk and waited. The man spoke first.

"There's no physical trauma?" The man was looking at the woman as he spoke and Lassiter was unsure who he expected to respond. When she remained silent, he repeated his earlier comments.

"None whatever. There's not a mark on him."

"I need to see him now." The woman looked at her supervisor, then at Lassiter. "He needs to see me."

Lassiter had expected to be grilled on his diagnosis and treatment plan, especially by another physician. Her lack of curiosity was puzzling, almost as if she already knew what was wrong and had been listening to him as a courtesy.

"Of course. He should be settled in ICU by now. I'll take you to him." He rose.

"That won't be necessary, Doctor. I know the way." And she left the room.

Lassiter turned to the man, eyebrows raised in surprise. The man stood and offered his hand over the desk, his handshake firm and brief.

"Thank you, Doctor." He moved to the door and paused, turning back to offer what he apparently felt was an explanation for the woman's behavior.

"He's her partner."

***

ICU Room 6
Sunday, 4:31 AM

She had encountered the usual resistance to her demands. No one was permitted to remain with a patient beyond the scheduled five minutes per hour. It would interfere with their ability to provide adequate care and was against hospital policy. She had listened with weary forbearance, just as she had to the doctor's discourse. They were just doing their jobs, she understood that. But they didn't understand what Mulder needed. He needed her. And she would be here for him, whatever it took to accomplish that.

She rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand, curling her fingers against his cool palm. She usually preferred to hold the hand they'd placed the IV in, but the equipment was too close to the bed on that side to accommodate the chair they'd brought in for her.

"You can stop this shit any time now, Mulder." Scully squeezed his hand and watched his eyes. They were open, staring unblinkingly into whatever horror Modell had sent him to.

"I know what you're doing, Mulder. You're letting him hurt you out of some crazy macho notion that you're protecting the rest of us." She touched his cheek, gently turning his face toward her. "You can let go now. He can't hurt you anymore. He can't hurt anyone. Please, Mulder. Look at me."

Nothing. She reached up and pinched his earlobe. Hard. He should blink, try to pull away from the pain, but there was no reaction at all.

"You know, this is becoming something of a bad habit. You going out and getting yourself hurt so I can sit here and develop an ulcer waiting for you to come back to me. And you wonder why I live on yogurt and salads," she smiled at the memory, "while you wolf down every greasy burger you can get your hands on. My digestion has taken too many hits, thanks to you. It's called heartburn for more reasons than the location of the pain, partner. I think you owe me a break this time."

A sudden increase in the frequency of beeps from his heart monitor drew her attention and she sat bolt upright. Not another episode of tachycardia. Please.

"Mulder, I want you to relax. Right now." The beeps increased, the spikes on the display getting alarmingly close together. "I said stop it, Mulder! This isn't the reaction I was hoping for, now knock it off!"

A nurse came quickly into the room and crossed to the the other side of his bed.

"What happened?" Before Scully could respond, the beeps that counted his heart rate blended into one continuous squeal, setting off alarms on every monitor he was attached to.

"Mulder!" Scully stood quickly and shoved the chair out of the way to make room for the crash cart that was being rushed into the room by the code team.

Scully moved to the foot of his bed, helpless to do more than watch as the fight for her partner's life was taken out of her hands.

***

He actually missed the voice. Even the taunting words were preferable to this smothering silence.

Something was holding him back. He'd accepted responsibility, shouldered the blame, put on the sackcloth and ashes... however you wanted to define it. He was ready to pay what he owed.

Then everything had stopped. The voice that had shown him the light was gone and he was alone in the darkness. Without the guidance of the voice, he drifted. He could feel the doubt creeping back and fought to hold his place against it.

By the time he felt the change in his surroundings, it was too late to stop it. The sound had been floating on the far edge of his awareness for some time, he realized. And there was light, too. Brief flashes that rapidly lengthened into a continuous, blinding glare, just as the sound resolved itself into a shrieking cacophony that thrummed along his nerve endings like a current.

He made one desperate attempt to stay where he was, but it was hopeless. He was falling from some unimaginable height, arms flailing in the rush of air that drew him precipitously toward whatever awaited him.

***

ICU Room 6
Sunday, 4:33 AM

"Charging!" Lassiter had arrived in the midst of this current crisis and had quickly taken over. "Clear!" The paddles were applied for the third time to Mulder's chest, arching his back completely off the bed and dropping him back again.

The frantic scream of the cardiac monitor abruptly stopped. For ten interminable seconds, Scully held her breath. All eyes were fixed on the monitor's display screen, watching the flat green line sail noiselessly across its face.

Then a beep and a spike, followed by another and another.

"We got him!" The activity changed from desperation to routine as the successful code run was completed. Scully stood at the end of Mulder's bed, gripping the footboard. Her attention was riveted on the cardiac monitor, willing his heart to maintain its rhythm.

"Doctor, his eyes are closed."

Scully's gaze flew to Mulder's face and her heart jumped. She looked quickly to Lassiter for confirmation and he nodded.

"I wouldn't have recommended it as a treatment but I'd say the defib brought him out of it." He performed a quick exam, lifting Mulder's lids and shining his penlight in his eyes. He pinched Mulder's earlobe and smiled when his patient flinched slightly. "He's unconscious but he's responding to stimulus."

Scully returned his smile. "Thank you." It was all she could manage at the moment.

***

Sunday, 7:25 AM

Scully had called him with the news of Mulder's improvement and he'd finally been able to grab a few hours sleep. As he approached Mulder's room, he donned his professional mask for the benefit of the nursing staff. He found that his imposing physical presence coupled with an official air produced the best results when his aim was to break a rule or two. He wanted to see how Mulder was doing before he went in to the office and he was not inclined to wait for the scheduled visiting time. As it turned out, the staff was in the midst of a shift change and barely nodded in his direction as he strode to Mulder's door.

The lights were dimmed but he could easily make out Scully's sleeping form. Her head was resting on the bed next to Mulder and she had his hand clasped in both of hers, just touching her face. His gaze traveled up toward Mulder's face and he almost gasped aloud when a pair of hazel eyes blinked back at him. Mulder gave him a sleepy grin and made a shushing gesture with his free hand.

Skinner walked quietly to the opposite side of the bed.

"I'm fine, Sir." Mulder's whisper was roughened from his hours on the respirator but his smile was intact.

"What happened, Mulder?"

The smile faded. "I don't know, Sir. I..."

Scully raised her head at the sound of Mulder's raspy whisper and kissed his hand before she realized they weren't alone. Mulder's grin returned.

"We have company, Scully."

Skinner couldn't recall ever seeing her blush before. "I just dropped by to see how Mulder was doing. I see you have things under control." He felt a smile tickling the corners of his mouth and headed for the door before it could blossom.

"Could I have a word with you outside, Agent?"

Scully rose quickly and followed him out into the hall.

"How is he, Scully?" He was sorry to see that the blush was fading. It had made her look very young.

"He'll be moving to a regular room as soon as one is ready. They plan to keep him the rest of today for observation and release him tonight." Her eyes drifted back toward the door and her voice grew soft. "He's going to be fine."

For a moment he allowed his thoughts to roam past his self- imposed boundaries. What must it be like to share a relationship like theirs? He'd had good relationships with women in his life, but nothing like the one he had watched them create. It was inspiring and disheartening at the same time. The inspiration came from the proof they provided that such a union was possible. The sadness came when he reminded himself how rare what they had actually was. All at once, he felt an overwhelming need to acknowledge the beauty between them.

He let his gaze follow hers to Mulder's door. "Take care of him, Dana."

His voice, the softness of it, startled her and she turned quickly to meet his eyes. What she read in them made her throat ache with the tears she'd been holding back since Mulder disappeared.

"I will, Sir. Thank you." It was all she could force out but she could see in his eyes that it was enough.

And suddenly the moment was gone. His professional mask fell back into place and he squared his shoulders.

"I'll expect to see you in my office at 8 AM Monday." He turned on his heel and strode to the elevators without another word.

She watched until the doors closed behind him. He never looked back.

***

Fairfax Mercy Hospital
Neuro ICU
Sunday 7:40 PM

He'd been so quiet on the way here that Scully was seriously reconsidering the wisdom of exposing him to Modell so soon. She parked the car in the Emergency lot and turned to face her partner.

"Mulder, are you sure you want to do this?" She touched his arm when he didn't respond. His gaze swung slowly to meet hers.

"I have to." His voice wasn't much above a whisper and his words were heavy with memories he wasn't able to share with her. Not yet.

When they reached the ICU, she stopped to speak to Modell's nurse. "Go ahead, Mulder. He's in room 8. I'll be right there."

"All right." He walked slowly, deliberately, toward Modell's room and Scully could read the tension in his posture. It took everything she had to let him go on alone.

"Is something wrong?" Scully's attention was drawn back to the nurse just as Mulder made the turn into room 8. She closed her eyes for a moment, then turned to the nurse.

"No. Everything is going to be all right." It was a prayer more than anything.

"Did you have a question about the patient?"

"No. I just needed to give my friend a little room." Scully smiled. "Thank you."

When she reached Modell's room, Mulder was standing just inside the door.

"There's no telling how long he'll hang on, but he'll never regain consciousness."

Mulder's gaze never moved from the man in the bed. "You know, we thought he was undergoing treatment. We were wrong."

"What do you mean?"

He gestured toward the thick notebook clipped to the footboard of the bed. "Read his chart. The M.R.I's were a way to gauge how much life he had left, but he consistently refused treatment. The tumor remained operable right up until the end but he refused to have it removed."

"Why?"

"I think it was like you said. He was always such a ... little man. This was finally something that made him feel big."

There was bitterness in his voice, and a sadness that she couldn't begin to fathom. Whatever Modell had done to him had nearly taken his life along with his sanity, and she knew there was much more that he hadn't found a way to tell her.

"I say we don't let him take up another minute of our time."

She reached between them and took his hand, squeezing his fingers briefly before letting go. *I'm here, Mulder. Whenever you're ready.* She turned began walking down the hall, forcing herself to allow him to find his own way.

She didn't breathe again until she felt him beside her, his hand finding its place at the small of her back.

***

End