Title - The Strength of Your Love
Author - Jaimee Kidder
Email - SpecialAgentDana@aol.com
Rating - R (for blood & gore and general violence)
Classification - SA
Spoilers - none
Keywords - Character death
Summary - Mulder and Scully are shot, but love is a powerful
thing...
Disclaimer: Yeah, really...for every person who reads this
story, I magically receive $5. Just kidding, FOX...anyway, NO
I'm not making money from this story, and I have no claims to
any characters on The X-Files that I borrow for six pages
here. I do admit to personal (however deluded) claims on a
certain *very* handsome fictional F.B.I. agent named Mulder.
But anyway. FOX, 1013 Productions, and Chris Carter
(otherwise known as THE MAN) own it all. All theirs.
Good enough, now on with the show...
==========
"Come, cuddle your head on my shoulder, dear,
Your head like the golden-rod,
And we will go sailing away from here
To the beautiful land of Nod."
=========================
Arlington, Virginia
12:42 a.m.
=========================
The sniper leaned closer out the window, his prey in view. He
peered through the gun sight, trying to find a way to get a
clear shot at either of his two targets. He could barely see
her through the window, farther back in the room than the man
was. The man would be easy to shoot where he now stood, but
the woman was still too far away, and he had to take them both
if he was to survive the night.
He waited. Patience had always been one of his strong points.
=========================
Scully stood stiffly in the center of Mulder's living room,
her arms crossed across her chest impatiently. "Mulder, this
is ridiculous."
"Scully, I don't want you to leave," Mulder said firmly,
standing with his back to the window. There was a scrap of
paper in his hand.
"It's late, I'm tired, and I want to go home. I can take care
of myself, Mulder."
He held up the piece of paper, showing her what was written on
it for the tenth time. "If someone left a note under your
door saying 'Your partner is not safe,' you'd have been
concerned, too."
She sighed, knowing he was right -- she would have -- but she
hated feeling helpless. Giving in to danger's threats was
simply not in her nature. But finally she relented, and sat
down on the edge of Mulder's couch.
=========================
The sniper growled. Still too far away. If only something
could make them both come to the window...
Well, he could manage that.
=========================
Mulder stood by the window, his sharp eyes taking in
everything despite the fact that he wasn't really paying
attention. Maybe she was right. No --
"Mulder," she said suddenly, curiosity and a smile plain in
her voice. "Where are your fish?"
He turned around, a mischievous grin suddenly spreading across
his face. "I haven't--"
Just then, a brilliant light poured through his window. He
spun around to look, shielding his eyes from the glare.
"Scully...?"
She slowly stood and walked to the window. He backed up a few
steps, motioning for her to stand in front of him. She was so
short without her shoes on; he could easily see over her head.
"It looks like it's coming from the apartment across the
street," she observed. He squinted. "Scully, I think there's
someone in there...look."
She held her hand up to block the light so she could see
better. She could just barely distinguish the silhouette of a
person, but it was there. "I think you're right, Mulder--"
she began, then stopped as a flash of something red caught her
eye. She looked down. A small red pinpoint of light was
tracing across her upper abdomen. Like a...like a laser. The
light across the street went off.
She opened her mouth to tell Mulder to get down, to warn him.
Time seemed to slow to a sickening, sluggish speed. The
window split in an instant's flash of fire and metal, and she
heard the glass on the fish tank crack apart. She felt water
gushing around her face and shards of glass, sharp against her
arm, and only then realized she was lying on the floor.
After a few moments of nothing, no thoughts, no pain, she
opened her eyes and understood what had happened. Someone had
shot at them through the window.
Mulder.
She rolled over and struggled to push herself to a half-
sitting position. He was on the floor behind her, his grey t-
shirt now stained crimson. Her mind racing, she quickly
lowered her ear to his chest, and let her breath out in a rush
as she heard his heart beating. His eyes were open, and she
leaned over him to look into his face.
"Mulder? Talk to me, Mulder," she said, her breath coming
strangely short. He blinked, and his eyes focused, and
finally met her face as she pushed his shirt up to reveal a
massive gunshot wound to his chest. She was unable to hold
back a stunned gasp, and he looked at her, alarmed. "Wh--"
"You've been shot. Probably by whoever was in that apartment
across the street." He sat up slowly, shutting his eyes
tightly against the pain, and leaned his back against the
couch as she pulled her jacket off and pressed it to his
stomach. "Try to hold that there," she said, looking around
for something else, anything that she could use to slow the
flow of blood. The blanket on the couch.
She tried to stand, but found for some reason she couldn't
without supporting herself by leaning on the coffee table. As
she pulled the blanket off the couch arm and stumbled back to
Mulder, he looked at her and his eyes widened a fraction.
"Scully..." He gestured, suddenly breathless.
She looked down to see something dark and glistening spreading
across the front of her shirt. Shaking, she touched a hand to
her upper abdomen; her fingers came away sticky with fresh
blood. A sudden wave of pain overwhelmed her, and she
collapsed in a crunch of broken glass next to Mulder on the
floor.
Her vision blurred once, then came into focus again to see
Mulder leaning over her, unbuttoning her shirt. "Is it bad?"
she asked huskily, not really caring about anything but the
pain.
He met her eyes, then reluctantly nodded. "The bullet went in
here --" he gestured to the spot he was now pressing the
blanket to, between her heart and the bottom of her ribcage.
"I think it somehow caused one of your ribs to puncture a
lung," he said slowly. "You've been having real trouble
breathing." He was shaking and looked pale. His teeth were
clenched; she could tell he was in excruciating pain.
She pushed herself up against the couch and pulled the blanket
to cover him. It was Mulder who was the real concern, she
thought. If they didn't get help in time, he would die from
loss of blood. It was then she remembered the phone, and
reached up to Mulder's coffee table to pick up the portable.
"911, what is your emergency?"
"This is...Special Agent Dana Scully...my partner and I have
been shot..." she gasped, then covered her mouth as she
suddenly began coughing violently. She opened her mouth to
speak again, but Mulder slipped the phone out of her fingers
and began to speak to the operator. She looked down at her
hand, splashed with scarlet, and realized the blood on it had
come when she coughed.
She heard the click of the phone as Mulder hung up. "They're
on their way," he whispered, dropping the phone to the floor;
as it fell, she noticed with a strange sense of calm that it
was covered with blood. Mulder spread the other half of the
blanket over Scully. His arm brushed against her cheek; it
felt oddly cold and damp and was trembling. She looked at
him. His face was grey and he was breathing heavily. She
didn't need the blanket, she thought to herself, and pressed
it down onto his chest. Her mind was numb, and the only other
thing she could think to do for him was to keep him warm. She
lay down on top of him, her head on his shoulder, reaching up
shakily to stroke his arm. "Hold on," she murmured, her voice
barely audible. She tried to hold back a cough, but it burst
out anyway, and she nearly choked on a surge of blood. Mulder
looked down at her, his eyes filling with concern.
She looked up, wiping away a trickle of blood running out of
the corner of her mouth, and then began coughing again, the
tremors ripping agonizingly through her chest. Her head fell
back onto his shoulder, and she closed her eyes. Sleep seemed
so inviting, like a warm robe in a freezing room, and she
drifted towards it slowly. Through the fog she could hear
Mulder's faint voice, calling her back. "Scully! Wake up,
Scully...you have to wake up," he said, his voice raw and
weak. His hands were on her shoulders, and reluctantly she
opened her eyes to feel blood thickening in her mouth. She
shivered, pulling herself closer to him. So this was how it
would end.
He looked down tenderly at her, and his hand came up to stroke
her hair. His eyes were beginning to glaze, and the blanket
was completely soaked through already. Pushing it aside with
a shudder of fear, she put one hand over the wound and reached
for a pillow with the other. She could hear his heartbeat, in
rhythm with the blood pulsing out of him, blood that ran
warmly through her fingers as she kept her hand tightly
pressed to his chest. "Thank you," he murmured thickly, his
voice sounding strange and slurred, and his hand slipped
loosely off her head. She looked up in alarm. His head had
fallen limply to one side and his eyelids were halfway closed.
"Mulder!" she said, as loud as she could, and then had to gasp
for breath, trying desperately to fill her lungs despite the
unbearable pain. She held the pillow tightly to his chest
with one hand, and used the other to stroke his face. He was
freezing cold. His eyes were open again, at least, but to her
dismay she realized they were glassy and unfocused. He was
losing consciousness. "Mulder, wake up," she said again,
sharply, and his eyes opened again. As she saw the tears in
his eyes, on his cheeks, she became aware that tears were
pouring down her face. He's dying, she thought with a shock.
Before she knew what she was saying, the words were already
out of her mouth.
"Mulder...I love you, Mulder," she sobbed, watching the life
slowly drain out of him. He was covered in blood, some of it
hers, but most of it his. Their eyes locked, and for an
instant, his eyes cleared. He nodded, the motion
infinitesimally small but full of meaning, and his lips
struggled towards a smile. As she looked into his eyes,
seeing them begin to dull, she was dimly aware of the sound of
rushing feet down the hall.
"Mulder...!" she cried, as she watched his chest slowly stop
rising and falling and felt his body go slack. She coughed
again, painfully, ignoring the blood that filled her mouth.
"Mulder...please...." She pressed herself against him, trying
to somehow impart to him strength, her only remaining
strength, whatever she had. She was so cold, and her
breathing sounded harsh and shallow. It didn't matter what
happened to her, she thought, if only he could live. She lay
on his chest, ignoring the pain in her own, tears and blood
mixed on her face, pressing her faintly beating heart to his
still one. He had to live...
She shuddered involuntarily, as if something had been taken
out of her, and felt herself fall completely limp onto the
blood-covered floor.
Then something...shifted. She saw with dimming vision the
paramedics running into the room and felt two strong arms
around her supporting her. A wave of pain hit her and her
eyes blurred. She could feel her blood pouring from her
chest. It was cold...and...she...couldn't...breathe; then a
grey film came to rest over her eyes, and all was night.
=========================
8:36 a.m.
=========================
The familiar sound of a heart monitor was the first thing
Scully heard as she slowly drifted to consciousness. Then she
heard his voice, calling her back.
"Scully? Doctor..."
She opened her eyes, seeing blurrily at first. She was lying
in a hospital bed, a doctor was looking at her closely while
checking her vitals...and Mulder was sitting in a wheelchair
beside her bed.
"Mulder..." she wheezed, so tired she didn't even try to sit
up. The doctor eyed her, and then glanced at Mulder. "I'll
leave you two alone," he said quietly, then left the room.
Mulder grinned at her. "Welcome back," he murmured, leaning
over to brush a loose strand of hair out of her face. She
closed her eyes, trying to remember why she was in a hospital.
"What happened?" she whispered.
"You don't remember?" Mulder asked. She shook her head
wearily. "You were at my apartment and someone shot through
my window. You almost died, Scully," he said quietly. "The
bullet went into your chest and caused your right lung to
collapse, and the combination of loss of blood and lack of
oxygen nearly killed you." She remembered now, but...it
didn't seem right. She hadn't been shot in the chest, he had,
and...
"But you...Mulder, you were the one who was nearly killed."
He frowned. "No, Scully, I lost a little blood, but that's
all." He pulled up his sleeve, exposing a neat white bandage
just below his shoulder. Seeing her disbelief, he continued.
"The paramedics said it was a miracle you were alive at all,
you had lost so much blood. You were completely unconscious
when they arrived." He swallowed. "I was really afraid for
you, Scully."
She was quiet for a minute, knowing she would never fully
understand what had happened. It was impossible, a
miracle...and yet here they were. She had had the strength of
his love.
She smiled inwardly. "Thank you." He leaned over to kiss her
forehead. "What for?" he asked softly.
"For...being there with me," she said, aware of how inadequate
her words were. He looked at her deeply, both filled with the
realization of how close they had come to losing each other.
"Scully...you know..." He trailed off, unable to finish his
thought. She smiled and took his hand, and he met her eyes.
"Anytime."
=========================
Author - Jaimee Kidder
Email - SpecialAgentDana@aol.com
Rating - R (for blood & gore and general violence)
Classification - SA
Spoilers - none
Keywords - Character death
Summary - Mulder and Scully are shot, but love is a powerful
thing...
Disclaimer: Yeah, really...for every person who reads this
story, I magically receive $5. Just kidding, FOX...anyway, NO
I'm not making money from this story, and I have no claims to
any characters on The X-Files that I borrow for six pages
here. I do admit to personal (however deluded) claims on a
certain *very* handsome fictional F.B.I. agent named Mulder.
But anyway. FOX, 1013 Productions, and Chris Carter
(otherwise known as THE MAN) own it all. All theirs.
Good enough, now on with the show...
==========
"Come, cuddle your head on my shoulder, dear,
Your head like the golden-rod,
And we will go sailing away from here
To the beautiful land of Nod."
=========================
Arlington, Virginia
12:42 a.m.
=========================
The sniper leaned closer out the window, his prey in view. He
peered through the gun sight, trying to find a way to get a
clear shot at either of his two targets. He could barely see
her through the window, farther back in the room than the man
was. The man would be easy to shoot where he now stood, but
the woman was still too far away, and he had to take them both
if he was to survive the night.
He waited. Patience had always been one of his strong points.
=========================
Scully stood stiffly in the center of Mulder's living room,
her arms crossed across her chest impatiently. "Mulder, this
is ridiculous."
"Scully, I don't want you to leave," Mulder said firmly,
standing with his back to the window. There was a scrap of
paper in his hand.
"It's late, I'm tired, and I want to go home. I can take care
of myself, Mulder."
He held up the piece of paper, showing her what was written on
it for the tenth time. "If someone left a note under your
door saying 'Your partner is not safe,' you'd have been
concerned, too."
She sighed, knowing he was right -- she would have -- but she
hated feeling helpless. Giving in to danger's threats was
simply not in her nature. But finally she relented, and sat
down on the edge of Mulder's couch.
=========================
The sniper growled. Still too far away. If only something
could make them both come to the window...
Well, he could manage that.
=========================
Mulder stood by the window, his sharp eyes taking in
everything despite the fact that he wasn't really paying
attention. Maybe she was right. No --
"Mulder," she said suddenly, curiosity and a smile plain in
her voice. "Where are your fish?"
He turned around, a mischievous grin suddenly spreading across
his face. "I haven't--"
Just then, a brilliant light poured through his window. He
spun around to look, shielding his eyes from the glare.
"Scully...?"
She slowly stood and walked to the window. He backed up a few
steps, motioning for her to stand in front of him. She was so
short without her shoes on; he could easily see over her head.
"It looks like it's coming from the apartment across the
street," she observed. He squinted. "Scully, I think there's
someone in there...look."
She held her hand up to block the light so she could see
better. She could just barely distinguish the silhouette of a
person, but it was there. "I think you're right, Mulder--"
she began, then stopped as a flash of something red caught her
eye. She looked down. A small red pinpoint of light was
tracing across her upper abdomen. Like a...like a laser. The
light across the street went off.
She opened her mouth to tell Mulder to get down, to warn him.
Time seemed to slow to a sickening, sluggish speed. The
window split in an instant's flash of fire and metal, and she
heard the glass on the fish tank crack apart. She felt water
gushing around her face and shards of glass, sharp against her
arm, and only then realized she was lying on the floor.
After a few moments of nothing, no thoughts, no pain, she
opened her eyes and understood what had happened. Someone had
shot at them through the window.
Mulder.
She rolled over and struggled to push herself to a half-
sitting position. He was on the floor behind her, his grey t-
shirt now stained crimson. Her mind racing, she quickly
lowered her ear to his chest, and let her breath out in a rush
as she heard his heart beating. His eyes were open, and she
leaned over him to look into his face.
"Mulder? Talk to me, Mulder," she said, her breath coming
strangely short. He blinked, and his eyes focused, and
finally met her face as she pushed his shirt up to reveal a
massive gunshot wound to his chest. She was unable to hold
back a stunned gasp, and he looked at her, alarmed. "Wh--"
"You've been shot. Probably by whoever was in that apartment
across the street." He sat up slowly, shutting his eyes
tightly against the pain, and leaned his back against the
couch as she pulled her jacket off and pressed it to his
stomach. "Try to hold that there," she said, looking around
for something else, anything that she could use to slow the
flow of blood. The blanket on the couch.
She tried to stand, but found for some reason she couldn't
without supporting herself by leaning on the coffee table. As
she pulled the blanket off the couch arm and stumbled back to
Mulder, he looked at her and his eyes widened a fraction.
"Scully..." He gestured, suddenly breathless.
She looked down to see something dark and glistening spreading
across the front of her shirt. Shaking, she touched a hand to
her upper abdomen; her fingers came away sticky with fresh
blood. A sudden wave of pain overwhelmed her, and she
collapsed in a crunch of broken glass next to Mulder on the
floor.
Her vision blurred once, then came into focus again to see
Mulder leaning over her, unbuttoning her shirt. "Is it bad?"
she asked huskily, not really caring about anything but the
pain.
He met her eyes, then reluctantly nodded. "The bullet went in
here --" he gestured to the spot he was now pressing the
blanket to, between her heart and the bottom of her ribcage.
"I think it somehow caused one of your ribs to puncture a
lung," he said slowly. "You've been having real trouble
breathing." He was shaking and looked pale. His teeth were
clenched; she could tell he was in excruciating pain.
She pushed herself up against the couch and pulled the blanket
to cover him. It was Mulder who was the real concern, she
thought. If they didn't get help in time, he would die from
loss of blood. It was then she remembered the phone, and
reached up to Mulder's coffee table to pick up the portable.
"911, what is your emergency?"
"This is...Special Agent Dana Scully...my partner and I have
been shot..." she gasped, then covered her mouth as she
suddenly began coughing violently. She opened her mouth to
speak again, but Mulder slipped the phone out of her fingers
and began to speak to the operator. She looked down at her
hand, splashed with scarlet, and realized the blood on it had
come when she coughed.
She heard the click of the phone as Mulder hung up. "They're
on their way," he whispered, dropping the phone to the floor;
as it fell, she noticed with a strange sense of calm that it
was covered with blood. Mulder spread the other half of the
blanket over Scully. His arm brushed against her cheek; it
felt oddly cold and damp and was trembling. She looked at
him. His face was grey and he was breathing heavily. She
didn't need the blanket, she thought to herself, and pressed
it down onto his chest. Her mind was numb, and the only other
thing she could think to do for him was to keep him warm. She
lay down on top of him, her head on his shoulder, reaching up
shakily to stroke his arm. "Hold on," she murmured, her voice
barely audible. She tried to hold back a cough, but it burst
out anyway, and she nearly choked on a surge of blood. Mulder
looked down at her, his eyes filling with concern.
She looked up, wiping away a trickle of blood running out of
the corner of her mouth, and then began coughing again, the
tremors ripping agonizingly through her chest. Her head fell
back onto his shoulder, and she closed her eyes. Sleep seemed
so inviting, like a warm robe in a freezing room, and she
drifted towards it slowly. Through the fog she could hear
Mulder's faint voice, calling her back. "Scully! Wake up,
Scully...you have to wake up," he said, his voice raw and
weak. His hands were on her shoulders, and reluctantly she
opened her eyes to feel blood thickening in her mouth. She
shivered, pulling herself closer to him. So this was how it
would end.
He looked down tenderly at her, and his hand came up to stroke
her hair. His eyes were beginning to glaze, and the blanket
was completely soaked through already. Pushing it aside with
a shudder of fear, she put one hand over the wound and reached
for a pillow with the other. She could hear his heartbeat, in
rhythm with the blood pulsing out of him, blood that ran
warmly through her fingers as she kept her hand tightly
pressed to his chest. "Thank you," he murmured thickly, his
voice sounding strange and slurred, and his hand slipped
loosely off her head. She looked up in alarm. His head had
fallen limply to one side and his eyelids were halfway closed.
"Mulder!" she said, as loud as she could, and then had to gasp
for breath, trying desperately to fill her lungs despite the
unbearable pain. She held the pillow tightly to his chest
with one hand, and used the other to stroke his face. He was
freezing cold. His eyes were open again, at least, but to her
dismay she realized they were glassy and unfocused. He was
losing consciousness. "Mulder, wake up," she said again,
sharply, and his eyes opened again. As she saw the tears in
his eyes, on his cheeks, she became aware that tears were
pouring down her face. He's dying, she thought with a shock.
Before she knew what she was saying, the words were already
out of her mouth.
"Mulder...I love you, Mulder," she sobbed, watching the life
slowly drain out of him. He was covered in blood, some of it
hers, but most of it his. Their eyes locked, and for an
instant, his eyes cleared. He nodded, the motion
infinitesimally small but full of meaning, and his lips
struggled towards a smile. As she looked into his eyes,
seeing them begin to dull, she was dimly aware of the sound of
rushing feet down the hall.
"Mulder...!" she cried, as she watched his chest slowly stop
rising and falling and felt his body go slack. She coughed
again, painfully, ignoring the blood that filled her mouth.
"Mulder...please...." She pressed herself against him, trying
to somehow impart to him strength, her only remaining
strength, whatever she had. She was so cold, and her
breathing sounded harsh and shallow. It didn't matter what
happened to her, she thought, if only he could live. She lay
on his chest, ignoring the pain in her own, tears and blood
mixed on her face, pressing her faintly beating heart to his
still one. He had to live...
She shuddered involuntarily, as if something had been taken
out of her, and felt herself fall completely limp onto the
blood-covered floor.
Then something...shifted. She saw with dimming vision the
paramedics running into the room and felt two strong arms
around her supporting her. A wave of pain hit her and her
eyes blurred. She could feel her blood pouring from her
chest. It was cold...and...she...couldn't...breathe; then a
grey film came to rest over her eyes, and all was night.
=========================
8:36 a.m.
=========================
The familiar sound of a heart monitor was the first thing
Scully heard as she slowly drifted to consciousness. Then she
heard his voice, calling her back.
"Scully? Doctor..."
She opened her eyes, seeing blurrily at first. She was lying
in a hospital bed, a doctor was looking at her closely while
checking her vitals...and Mulder was sitting in a wheelchair
beside her bed.
"Mulder..." she wheezed, so tired she didn't even try to sit
up. The doctor eyed her, and then glanced at Mulder. "I'll
leave you two alone," he said quietly, then left the room.
Mulder grinned at her. "Welcome back," he murmured, leaning
over to brush a loose strand of hair out of her face. She
closed her eyes, trying to remember why she was in a hospital.
"What happened?" she whispered.
"You don't remember?" Mulder asked. She shook her head
wearily. "You were at my apartment and someone shot through
my window. You almost died, Scully," he said quietly. "The
bullet went into your chest and caused your right lung to
collapse, and the combination of loss of blood and lack of
oxygen nearly killed you." She remembered now, but...it
didn't seem right. She hadn't been shot in the chest, he had,
and...
"But you...Mulder, you were the one who was nearly killed."
He frowned. "No, Scully, I lost a little blood, but that's
all." He pulled up his sleeve, exposing a neat white bandage
just below his shoulder. Seeing her disbelief, he continued.
"The paramedics said it was a miracle you were alive at all,
you had lost so much blood. You were completely unconscious
when they arrived." He swallowed. "I was really afraid for
you, Scully."
She was quiet for a minute, knowing she would never fully
understand what had happened. It was impossible, a
miracle...and yet here they were. She had had the strength of
his love.
She smiled inwardly. "Thank you." He leaned over to kiss her
forehead. "What for?" he asked softly.
"For...being there with me," she said, aware of how inadequate
her words were. He looked at her deeply, both filled with the
realization of how close they had come to losing each other.
"Scully...you know..." He trailed off, unable to finish his
thought. She smiled and took his hand, and he met her eyes.
"Anytime."
=========================
