Title: Angel in the Wings
Author: By Sally Bahnsen
Summary: Set early in season one. This is a fill-in-the-
gap for Fallen Angel story, covering the time between
Mulder being escorted from the warehouse by Colonel
Henderson and the night/morning before the hearing. This
is very much an MT/SC story.
Spoiler: Hmm, a rather big one for Fallen Angel.
Category: Angst, UST, MT, SC.
This was written approximately 10 years ago, but this is the first time I have posted it here at
Disclaimer: I don't own them, CC and 1013 do. If they
were mine, I would have taken better care of them and
definitely wouldn't have let the tall good looking one get
away!
I REPEAT, THIS IS SET EARLY IN SEASON ONE.
Angel in the Wings
Part one
Dockside, Lake Michigan, WI
6:30pm
Mulder sat alone, propped against one of the corrugated
iron walls close to the ruined door of the warehouse.
Scully circled her partner like a hungry wolf sizing up
its prey. Except Scully wasn't about to spring forth and
attack the man sitting on the ground. Well, not in the
literal sense anyway. She was more concerned with summing
up his physical well-being, not how much fight he had left
in him or how much resistance he would put up. That she
would have to deal with later.
"Mulder, can you stand?" He showed no sign he'd even
heard her question let alone having any intention of
answering it.
She didn't need his answer though, nor her medical degree
to determine what she already knew.
The fact that Mulder had been supported between two of
Colonel Henderson's men as he was 'escorted' from the scene
of Max Fenig's disappearance, coupled with the obvious limp
marring his usual self-assured swagger, was enough evidence
for Scully to suspect that something wasn't right with her
partner. When he was finally dumped unceremoniously onto
the ground outside the warehouse with little more
consideration than you'd give a bag of trash, and then made
no effort to rise, no attempt at retaliation and no smart
ass remark to Colonel Henderson as he was read the riot act
about interfering in a military operation- Scully knew
that everything was not sunshine and roses in Mulderland.
But what finally nailed it for her was when Mulder barely
raised an eyebrow as Henderson took great delight in
casting doubt on not only Mulder's parentage but his future
with the FBI as well.
"Mulder?" The military trucks rumbled past, their heavy
wheels vibrating through the concrete and wood surrounding
the docks. A few remaining soldiers obeyed hastily given
orders as they completed the final mop-up after the
explosion. Scully wondered whether Mulder was even aware
she beside him. Slowly though, he lifted his head and
looked at her.
"They took him, Scully." The words slid quietly from his
lips, low and husky, swelling with emotion.
"You mean, Max? Who took him, Mulder? I didn't see him
come out of the building with Henderson's men. Are you
sure he..."
"Not the military!" A fire blazed in his eyes, burned its
way into his words. The emotion that shook his voice was
raw, yet bolstered with conviction. "Max was abducted.
They came for him, and there was nothing I could do to stop
it." His growing guilt doused the fire, reducing it to
nothing more than a dying ember.
"Are you saying *aliens* took Max?" Scully knew Mulder
didn't need to hear the doubt in her voice, see the
disbelief written across her face, but this was as far as
her patience extended. She pinched the bridge of her nose
and let her chin drop to her chest. Her assignment hadn't
been to arrive in Wisconsin and chase aliens. She hadn't
been sent here to treat burn victims with injuries so
horrible it was akin to something out of a nuclear war
zone. Her orders had been clear and concise: get Mulder
back to DC immediately or risk having the X files shut
down. Permanently. "Mulder..." She paused, reluctant to
voice her thoughts. "I can't... No. I won't believe..."
"Scully! I saw it. I was there. You can deny it to
yourself, and you can try a thousand different ways to
attribute the circumstances of Max's disappearance to
whatever science you like. You can parcel it up in a nice
neat box and slot it away in which ever comfortable little
hidey-hole makes you feel safe, but you'll be wrong. Max
Fenig was abducted by aliens. I know it, the military knows
it."
"If that's true, Mulder, then there's not a damn thing we
can do about it." Scully paused, pursing her lips briefly
before continuing. "But we *can* do something about
keeping our jobs. I'll call the bureau and reschedule our
meeting with Section Chief McGrath, then I'll rebook us on
a flight out of here tonight."
"That's it? You're just going to leave?" Mulder stared
at Scully, his eyes narrowed and jaw slack.
"No. *We're* going to leave. Both of us." She heaved a
sigh, unwilling to meet his eyes. She knew what she'd see;
the same intense gaze that convinced her to stay in
Townsend in the first place. The same gaze that begged for
help-when was that? two days ago?-when all her senses
were screaming at her to return to DC the minute he was
released from the military compound.
Mulder remained silent, making no attempt to rise. He
tipped his head back against the wall and stared intently
at his partner. His left knee was drawn up to his chest,
the right leg stretched out in front of him.
"Can you get up, Mulder? Did you hurt yourself?" She
suspected the answer was no to the first question and yes
to the second, but was he going to admit to either one the
first time she asked? No. That's not how it worked. They
had a game to play, certain levels that had to be worked
through before the obvious could no longer be denied. It
was a stupid game, but the rules were set and neither of
them had the courage to stray from them.
Mulder released his gaze from Scully's face, the intensity
dissolving into disgust. He lowered his head so his chin
rested on his chest. When he spoke, the words were soft
and muffled within the folds of his leather jacket. "I'm
fine."
Crap. But she was too tired and too frustrated to push
him on it.
"Let's go then." Scully turned on her heel to head back
to the car. She heard Mulder mumble something under his
breath, heard the rustle of clothing and the scrape of his
boots on the ground, indicating he was getting to his feet.
Good. No more arguing.
What she didn't hear was the sound of his footsteps
following behind her. A shiver ran along her spine and a
prickling sensation stung the back of her neck. Scully
turned quickly and...dammit! Where the *hell* did he go?
xXx
Mulder watched his partner turn and walk away then pushed
himself wearily to his feet. He swayed slightly as the
blood drained from his head and pooled somewhere near his
toes forcing him to shuffle when he walked as if his legs
were tethered with chains.
He was so sick of the bullshit constantly dished out by
the government, tired of being snookered at every turn.
Max was gone, he knew that but he had to check one last
time. Make sure. As much as he respected Scully's
scientific view on things, welcomed her ideas, appreciated
the way she made him stop and consider that maybe
scientific reasoning was the more likely answer to some of
the paranormal questions he asked, this time he knew he was
right. Max was abducted by aliens, he would bet his
career, and his life on that fact.
Mulder limped painfully back to where the man had hovered
in the air as if suspended from wires. He closed his eyes,
reliving the last few seconds before Max disappeared. For
a second the sight of Max quivering up above him had
reminded Mulder of a giant marionette, one whose strings
were controlled by a cruel, invisible puppeteer. Then
before he'd had a chance to fully process what he was
seeing Max vanished in a flash of brilliant white light.
Regardless of what the Military said, of what Scully chose
to believe, he had no doubt about Max's fate.
Mulder rolled his shoulders, trying to ease muscles wound
tight with stress. His head ached and his ankle throbbed.
And there, in his injuries, lay at least some of the proof
he needed. No earthly being, no human predator, was
capable of exerting the force required to fling a grown man
30 feet through the air. Initially Mulder had thought he'd
been hit with a bolt of electricity. He remembered the
sensation of flying, having no control over his body. And
he had no trouble recollecting the jarring impact as his
body crashed into old shipping crates, wooden pallets and
rusted metal drums. Mulder had felt his ankle go as soon
as he hit the ground, felt the unmistakable agony as
ligaments tore, stretched beyond their normal range of
movement. At the time he'd done his best to ignore the
pain and push it to the side, a more pressing need to find
Max Fenig uppermost in his mind.
Now that the excitement was over, the adrenaline drained
from his blood stream, his ankle screamed for some much
needed attention. In fact his whole body was pleading with
him to take a break. Later, he told himself. Later he'd
have plenty of time to succumb to his exhaustion, but now
he had to try and find Max while there might still be a
chance.
"Max!" Mulder's voice echoed off the walls, bounced back
at him, empty and hollow.
"MAX!" Nothing. He stared down at the black baseball cap
still clutched in his hand. He traced a finger over the
initials embroidered across the front. NICAP. Another
intrepid soul in search of the truth. Yeah, Mulder
thought, the truth. The ever elusive, god damned truth.
Would this ultimately be his fate, too? Whisked away in a
beam of light? Would this be him next time he got too
close? When the government tired of their cat and mouse
game and simply removed him from the playing field so they
could play by rules they'd created for themselves. Rules
that no one seemed to have to answer to or be accountable
for. Damn them! He wouldn't lie down. Not this time, not
ever! And he'd tell Section Chief McGrath exactly what
happened here. He'd expose this for the cover-up he was
certain it was.
xXx
"Mulder!"
Empty silence roared back at Scully, taunting her. Scaring
her.
The blood stood still in her veins. Fear pounded in her
chest where her heart should have been. The little
scientific voice of reason, the one especially reserved for
field trips with Mulder whispered quietly and calmly in her
ear, reassuring her that Mulder was safe and hadn't met the
same fate as Max Fenig. But the other voice, the one that
seemed to have developed an overinflated sense of
importance since she started work on the X files told her
to get her ass into gear and find her partner *now*!
"Mulder!" She heard the panic rise in her voice. The
echo of her feet hitting the dock reverberated in direct
competition with the thud of her heart.
When she rounded the ruined door of the warehouse her nose
wrinkled in disgust as the acrid smell of charred wood and
smouldering rubber filled her nostrils. A soft swirl of
residual smoke hung in the air and stung her eyes as she
searched for Mulder in the gloomy darkness.
Scully pulled her weapon from its holster, comforted by
the weight of it nestled in the palm of her hand.
"Mulder?" Her voice sounded flat, swallowed up in the
vastness of the room surrounding her. Why the hell didn't
he answer?
And then she saw him; his body held stiff and tense as he
stood silhouetted against a stray shaft of light that had
wrestled its way through a crack in one of the walls. His
back was to her, both arms hanging limp by his sides. So
still.
Scully blew a soft puff of air from her lips and thought
about returning her gun to its holster until the memory of
a third person roaming in the warehouse earlier with Mulder
and Max made her think better of it.
She approached Mulder from behind, concerned at his lack
of movement, confused by the way he stared at the roof.
What was he looking at?
"Mulder." She called his name quietly, carefully, not
wanting to scare him. He remained silent and unresponsive.
"Mulder, what are you doing?" She was beside him now,
gently touching his arm. Despite her warnings he jumped,
startled as if roused from a deep sleep.
"This is the place, Scully. Right up there." She
followed his raised arm which pointed to a space above
their heads. "He just hung there, caught in a beam of
light." Mulder turned his head to look at her. The sadness
etched in his face struck her hard, sucking the breath from
her lungs as if she'd been punched in the stomach.
"I said I'd protect him. I promised he'd be safe." A
sharp snort followed his words. "Why should this time be
any different?" He slowly shook his head, "Where do I get
off thinking I could stop it from happening? This thing,
this force, it picked me up, Scully, and threw me across
the warehouse as if I was nothing more than a rag doll."
Conviction and anger flashed in his eyes as he rounded on
her, not giving her a chance to answer him.
She couldn't hide the doubt in her eyes, was too slow to
disguise her disbelief. She knew something had happened
here and right now she was at a loss to explain exactly
what. But aliens? No. There had to be a more plausable
answer.
"Don't question me on this, Scully. Max was abducted. The
military, the government, they're going to cover this up
under god knows what pretence, hiding the truth behind
sanctioned lies. And Max becomes nothing more than another
missing person's statistic. Just like that."
"Mulder. It doesn't have to be that way. We have the X
files. They are the means by which we can stop this, but
if we don't get back to DC... You know they're just
looking for an excuse to shut us down." She tugged on his
sleeve. "Let's go. Let's face McGrath and his inquiry. We
can save our jobs then go through official channels, get a
302 signed and come back to investigate what really
happened to Max with the bureau resources behind us."
A momentary flicker of hope shone in his eyes, a slight
lift of his lips as if Scully's suggestion held promise.
And then he nodded. Scully waited for him to move first,
not entirely convinced he wouldn't bail out on her again.
His initial steps were awkward, hesitant and he almost
stumbled as he slid past her. In Scully's opinion his face
looked too pale, even in the dim light of the warehouse.
Maybe now was the time to quit the game, lay the cards on
the table.
"You're hurt, Mulder."
He continued to push past, giving her concern only cursory
acknowledgement. "I'm fine."
xXx
As much as Mulder appreciated Scully's concern, at this
point in time he didn't feel as if he had the right to
expect it. Not yet anyway. Not so soon after losing
another human being to the hands of unidentified enemies.
He knew what lay in store for Max. He had dozens of case
files dealing with alien abduction. None of the victims'
testimonies were recounted in a positive light. Painful
tests, indescribable terror. Mulder imagined Max's fear,
his pain. The more he thought about it, the harder it
became for him to concentrate on anything else. His head
ached with the effort. He needed to clear his mind, try
and shake the nagging pain behind his eyes if he was to
have any hope of formulating a valid argument to take to
the hearing tomorrow. He knew he wasn't capable of driving
all the way to Green Bay, not in this condition. And to
top it off, the further he walked, the more it felt as if
his ankle was being squeezed in a vice. The thought of
having to operate the accelerator or the brake and maintain
any control over the car made him sick to his stomach.
Mulder dug in his pocket, feeling for the keys as he moved
towards the warehouse exit.
xXx
Despite Mulder's evasiveness, it was obvious to Scully as
she stood watching him, that he was favouring his right
foot. The earlier limp was more pronounced now as he tried
to keep the weight off his injured leg.
He turned briefly and spoke to her over his shoulder,
"What are you waiting for, Scully, don't we have a plane to
catch?"
She followed him back to the car, quietly observing him
from behind. Apparently Mulder wasn't ready to give the
game up yet. Scully wondered if she was overreacting.
Maybe his injury *was* only minor. And she almost had
herself convinced until Mulder unlocked the car doors,
handed her the keys without explanation and moved to the
passenger side. He may not be admitting it verbally, but
for Mulder to choose not to drive was proof enough for
Scully that her original suspicions were right. He was
hurting badly and just too pig headed to admit it.
"Mulder..."
"Time's a wasting, Scully."
Damn him! What the hell was his problem? She watched her
partner squeeze himself awkwardly into the passenger space.
xXx
Mulder sank down into the bucket seat, sighing as the
soft, plush padding wrapped itself around him, cushioning
his battered body. He reached down and adjusted the seat to
accommadote his long legs. But it was a mistake to slide
the chair back so carelessly. A sharp stab of pain shot
through his ankle when the uncontrolled movement jolted his
foot. Sweat broke out on his forehead, pooled under his
arms. He pursed his lips tightly together to prevent
himself from crying out. He didn't need Scully fussing
over him again. All he wanted was to go home to the
sanctuary of his apartment, collapse on his couch and for a
few short hours, forget the horrors of a world ruled by a
government hell bent on conspiracies and cover-ups. A
world he had no say in, no control over, yet one in which
he found himself to be a principal player.
xXx
Scully saw Mulder's lips compress into a thin line as the
sudden backward movement jerked his seat. Fine. Sit there
and suffer, Mulder. She was tired of his macho games, let
him come to her if he needed help, she'd be damned if she
was going to keep chasing him.
Sighing loudly, Scully pulled out her cell phone and put a
call through to the airline, then another to the FBI before
joining Mulder in the car. He had his head tipped back
against the headrest, a fine spattering of perspiration
glistened on his forehead, and while his eyes were closed,
his expression was anything but relaxed.
Scully caught herself just in time, again on the verge of
opening her mouth to ask if he was okay. Had she forgotten
her own promise so soon? What was it about the man sitting
beside her that made her want to protect him almost to the
point of smothering? It went deeper than the doctor in
her, she knew that. How did Mulder manage to bring out
both the best and the worst in her? How was it that he
could almost always convince her to go against her better
judgement? Ninety per cent of the time persuading her to
do things his way? It required no great act of genius to
figure it out. She knew exactly why he had this hold over
her. It was that damn bottom lip, those soulful eyes, the
way he looked at her: full of hope, expectation and trust.
As if by refusing him she would be committing the greatest
act of betrayal since Judas ratted on Jesus. Damn him!
"Scully? What did they say?"
Scully had almost forgotten Mulder was sitting beside her
and she jumped when the sound of his voice pulled her away
from her thoughts.
"The meeting with McGrath's been rescheduled for tomorrow
morning at ten." Scully leant down and worked the driver's
seat forward so she could reach the pedals.
"Did you get us on a flight?"
"Yeah. Nine o'clock tonight."
"We better hit the road then. We've got at least a two
hour drive ahead of us." Mulder rolled his head to the
side so he could see her better. As he turned, the pale
evening light caught his face, highlighting the unnatural
pallor to his skin. He didn't look well, and contrary to
her earlier thoughts-that she might be overreacting-now
Scully wondered if maybe it wasn't only his leg that was
bothering him but something more serious. Had he hit his
head when he was thrown through the air? Was she seeing
the early signs of concussion?
"Mulder..." It was out before she could stop herself.
"Scully, if it will put your mind at ease, I twisted my
ankle back in the warehouse and it throbs a little. My
head is aching in sympathy and that's why I asked you to
drive. Other than that, I'm fine, really."
It was all the explanation she was likely to get from him
and she knew she ought to be grateful for that much.
"Maybe I should examine you before we leave. Just to..."
"Scully. Two hours. Let's go." He settled back in the
seat, turned his head towards the window and closed his eyes.
Yeah, two hours, Scully thought, and no company.
Roadside Gas Station, Lena
Route 41
7.21pm
The car bumped and shook when the road surface switched
from smooth asphalt to the rutted, uneven concrete driveway
of a gas station. Mulder stirred as Scully pulled the car
to a halt outside the roadhouse. He stretched his legs
awkwardly in the confined space under the glove compartment
and attempted to sit up straight in his seat. Scully turned
to look at him when she heard him gasp, then saw him grab
at his lower leg.
"You okay?"
Mulder smiled sheepishly and moved his hand from where it
had been wrapped around his shin. "I'm thirsty. I could
use a soda."
"Diet Coke?" Scully asked, watching him suspiciously.
"Regular. I need a sugar fix." He smiled again.
"I'll be right back." Scully climbed out of the car and
headed into the diner, leaving Mulder to deal with his pain
in whatever way he saw fit when she wasn't there to worry.
xXx
Mulder let himself flop back in his seat. He closed his
eyes and took in some long slow breaths, glad of the brief
respite from Scully's eagle eye. He loved the fact that
she cared about him, but after so many years of flying solo-
-not only in his professional life but in his personal one
as well-sharing his pain or suffering, whether it be
physical or emotional with another person didn't come easy
to him. Sometimes he wondered if it ever would. Before
Scully, the only time anyone bothered to question his
health was when he had run himself so far into the ground
that his body had simply refused to function in any normal
capacity. He'd eventually collapse through sheer
exhaustion, slipping into a sleep so deep that not even
Bill Patterson's constant threats and harassment could coax
him back to consciousness. Mulder was the main man, the
star profiler and in most cases the victim's last dying
hope. The team needed him to be available 24 hours a day,
seven days a week. As far as Patterson was concerned there
wasn't time for the luxury of giving into the body's most
basic needs. But, thankfully, those days were over.
Relegated to a past that at times Mulder barely believed he
had lived through. Now, he had a real partner, someone to
watch his back, look out for him. Scully had proven
herself time and again. He knew she was there for him,
but he still had trouble getting used to the idea,
accepting her 'no-strings-attached' style of loyalty. When
sick or hurt he still preferred to slink off on his own and
lick his wounds in private.
Right now though, Mulder needed to stretch his legs. Maybe
the change in position would help to relieve the ache in
his foot. Sprains were such a pain in the ass. Especially
after the injury cooled down. From now on he knew it would
only get worse. Images of standing one-legged in the
shower like a lopsided crane played through his mind;
attempting to carry food or drink while balancing on
crutches, the pain that accompanied a badly timed moment of
forgetfulness or carelessness when he would inadvertently
step off on his injured foot. How the hell was he going to
work effectively while anchored to a pair of crutches like
a prisoner shackled to a ball and chain. And then of course
there was Scully. He'd be lucky if she would let him out
of his apartment at all once the hearing was over. Shit!
He didn't have time to be injured, he was in the middle of
a case!
Mulder yanked on the handle nestled near the armrest and
shouldered the car door open with enough force so that it
shook on its hinges threatening to slam back and hit him.
Carefully, he eased himself out of the car, making sure he
kept his right foot from making contact with the ground.
Being upright suddenly lost some of its appeal when his
vision started to blur and the pounding in his ankle
increased. Desperately he clutched at the car door with
one hand and the roof with the other. Without Scully there
to monitor his every move, he allowed himself a moment of
indulgence and released a long drawn-out groan. Oh God,
this sucked big time. Struggling to maintain some control
over his equilibrium he squeezed his eyes shut to block out
the dizziness and rested his head on the elbow of his right
arm.
It was going to be a long trip home.
xXx
Inside the roadhouse, Scully made a quick trip to the
bathroom before grabbing Mulder's coke and a coffee for
herself. On her way to the counter she passed the pharmacy
section. Her trip to Wisconsin had been so hastily
organised that she'd barely had time to throw some clothes
into an overnight bag. The need to include a first aid kit
in her packing had totally slipped her mind. She didn't
even have the obligatory Tylenol which she'd become
accustomed to carrying in her pocket not long after
starting work with Mulder. She'd discovered the necessity
of having painkillers on hand after their first case
together. Strangely enough it hadn't been for Mulder on
that occasion, but for her. Scully recalled how she'd
stuggled to write up her initial report for Blevins,
determined to show that she and her partner had been
investigating something their superiors would find credible
and not have it read like an excerpt from a Stephen King
novel. That was when she was first struck down with what
she'd affectionately come to refer to as a 'Mulder-
headache'. Of course Scully was immune to those now, she'd
quickly learned that trying to make sense of some of the
cases they investigated was a useless exercise. These days
she tended to only need the headache pills for those
special times when Mulder's never ending search for truth,
justice and the paranormal way became overly enthusiastic
and obsessive.
Although Tylenol was something Scully rarely needed for
herself these days, it was almost a mandatory requirement
to have them on hand for her accident-prone partner. In
fact it had barely taken her anytime at all before she'd
made the transition from carrying a simple packet of
painkillers to making sure there was a well-equipped first
aid kit available when they were out in the field. Even
though Scully knew damn well that to get any kind of
medication down Mulder's throat all but required five point
restraints and a naso gastric tube, there were those rare
occassions where he'd learned that pain relief was better
than pain endurance and he would casually ask if she had
anything on her. Scully figured today would be one of those
times. Eventually he would quit pretending he was fine and
accept her offer of help. And as always, she would be
there when he needed her.
Scully perused the shelves containing various over-the-
counter drugs. She finally decided on the Extra-strength
version of Tylenol. If Mulder resorted to asking for
painkillers then she knew he would have to be in a bad way.
By the time Scully returned to the car she could see that
Mulder had exited. He didn't see her at first and was
leaning against the door frame, left elbow perched on the
roof of the rental and right one draped over the door. She
took a few seconds to look him over. He was still a little
too pale for her liking, the pasty tone of his skin
accentuating the two-day old bruise on his cheek. Her eyes
travelled down to his injured right foot, which she noted
was held gingerly above the ground, most of his weight
resting on the left one. The way the cuff of his jeans met
the top of his boot made it impossible to gauge whether
there was swelling.
Scully handed Mulder his soda. He removed the straw then
the plastic lid and took a long swig. Guess he really was
thirsty and not just hedging after all, she thought to
herself.
"Mulder, sit down and let me take a look at your ankle."
Scully nodded at his foot and he immediately adjusted
himself so the toes were resting on the ground, giving a
little hop as he put some weight on it.
"No need, Scully. I know what's wrong and you looking at
it won't change anything." He glanced at his watch. "What
time did you say our plane was leaving?"
Nice side step partner. Change the subject and maybe
you'll be left alone. Scully wasn't in the mood for
playing pushy doctor to his uncooperative patient so she
let it slide for now. When he was ready to admit there was
a problem, she'd be there. In the meantime she was more
than willing to concentrate on getting them back to DC so
they could sort this mess out with Blevins and McGrath once
and for all. "Nine o'clock, Mulder. Let's get going."
xXx
Mulder lifted his knee then stretched it out again. It
didn't matter where he rested his foot, there was no place
that offered any kind of relief from the pain. Everytime
he changed position in the seat it only served to jar his
ankle and make it worse. He checked his watch. How much
longer would it be before they arrived at the airport and
he would be released from the confined hell of the too-
small rental car?
xXx
About 10 miles out from the airport, Mulder's constant
restless movements-shifting and rearranging himself in the
seat-were just about sending Scully to the nut house.
Every now and then he would snake a hand down between his
leg and the car door, surreptitiously cupping his ankle to
gently rub it.
"I have some Tylenol if you need it," she offered without
taking her eyes from the road.
"What?" He lifted his head sharply.
"If your foot's bothering you that much, I have some
Tylenol."
"I'm fine..."
"Don't even go there, Mulder!" She snapped back. "You're
not fine. I *have* painkillers so why the hell won't you
take them?" She regretted her tone the moment the words
were out of her mouth.
"I don't need painkillers." His answer was terse,
squeezed out through teeth locked tight together.
"Mulder, I don't understand you. Your ankle is obviously
giving you trouble, why not just take something to relieve
it."
Mulder heaved a deep sigh, brought both hands to his face
and scrubbed at his eyes. "I know you're only trying to
help, but I..." He turned to look at her, appearing to
struggle with what he needed to say. "I have my reasons,
Scully, let's just leave it at that."
Scully glanced across at her partner. What reasons could
he possibly have? She couldn't quite read the expression
on his face. She thought she saw guilt, but there was
something more. Was this connected with what happened to
his sister? What else had he suffered in his pursuit for
the truth? She wanted to ask him, wanted him to open up to
her, but now wasn't the time. If she pushed too hard he'd
clam up tight. It had to be on his terms, when he was ready.
Instead, Scully decided to offer him reassurance,
friendship. She smiled, and lightly touched his hand, just
to let him know she was there for him.
His shoulders lost their rigid set and his face relaxed
into a smile. The moment of tension eased and Scully
turned her attention back to the road as Mulder settled low
in his seat and closed his eyes again.
Austin Straubel International Airport
Green Bay WI.
8.31pm
Scully chewed on her lip as she watched her partner
struggle with the door. Mulder's movements were slow and
calculated as he pushed the car door open. She sensed his
apprehension but remained silent, quietly observing him as
he carefully manoeuvred his injured foot through the
opening. She was torn between wanting to jump to his aid
and being mindful of his need for privacy. It both annoyed
and saddened her that Mulder felt he couldn't confide in
her, reach out for help. Scully came to a decision as she
stepped out of the car. If he wasn't going to ask for
help, fine. That didn't mean she couldn't be of assistance
in a more subtle way.
She went to the trunk and pulled out their overnight bags
along with Mulder's brief case and Laptop. Scully had
earlier decided to drop Mulder and their bags outside the
terminal and then return the Taurus to the rental agency,
which was a further 100 yards down the road. At least that
way he wouldn't have to walk as far.
xXx
Mulder was just glad to be here and relieved to finally be
free of the confines of the car. He paused, hesitant to
stand, remembering the increased pain standing upright had
caused him at the roadhouse. He sat with his hands braced
against the edge of the door frame. He hated being
injured. He hated having to depend on others for help. He
hated operating at less than 100%. Heaving a frustrated
sigh he took a deep breath and hauled himself to his feet,
unable to stifle a groan as his right foot accidentally
made contact with the ground.
xXx
Scully heard Mulder grunt as he pulled himself the rest of
the way out of the car. She glanced up and saw him leaning
heavily against the door frame, his right foot held off the
ground again and his eyes shut tight. Damn him. She
slammed the lid of the trunk and went to his side.
"Can you make it inside?"
Mulder lifted his head and snapped his eyes open at the
sound of her voice. Scully was amazed at the sudden change
in his posture as he pulled himself to attention. She
couldn't help noticing that the earlier greyish tinge to
his skin had become positively chalky now.
"Come inside and sit with our bags while I take the car
back to the rental agency." She kept her voice steady,
even, not wanting to sound like she was intruding. Mulder
looked terrible and regardless of his insistence that he
was fine, she refused to accept his denials any longer.
To her surprise he smiled at her, a lopsided grin that
spoke of weariness and relief. Scully got the impression
that he was glad she had taken charge and was directing him
where to go.
"Wait here, I'll get a luggage cart." She didn't want to
be weighed down by their bags, wanted her hands free in
case Mulder should stumble and need her help.
Mulder nodded and slumped back against the car, right foot
still hovering off the ground.
"Excuse me ma'am, you can't leave your vehicle here. This
is a drop off point only." Scully turned at the sound of a
man's voice and came face to face with one of the airport
security officers.
No, not now. She didn't need this. They had less than 30
minutes to catch their flight and God knows how Mulder was
ever going to make it to the gate in that time. She pulled
out her badge in one swift motion and flashed it at the
uniformed man.
"I'm Special Agent Scully with the FBI and I can assure
you that I will only be leaving the car here for a minute
or two while I find a cart for our bags."
"I'm sorry, but you can't..." Was this man hard of
hearing or just plain stupid?
"Look, I don't have time to argue with you. My partner is
injured and I have no intention of making him walk from the
parking lot to the terminal. Again, I assure you that the
car will be gone in a few minutes."
"I wouldn't mess with her if I were you." Both sets of
eyes turned to stare at Mulder, still leaning against the
car, an amused glint in his eye. He gave a little shrug.
The security officer summed up the situation, taking in
Mulder's disheveled appearance and the way he was
favouring his right leg. "You know the airport have
wheelchairs you can borrow, I'm sure it wouldn't be any
trouble to arrange one for..."
"No! No. I'll be fine." And to prove he was as good as
his word, Mulder pushed himself away from the car and
tentatively put his right foot all the way to the ground.
Scully didn't think it was possible but he paled even more,
the blood literally drained from his face before their very
eyes. He stayed upright though. The man was a fighter,
Scully had to give him that. He took another couple of
limping steps towards Scully and the security officer, his
face set in a mask of concentration. "See, nothing to
worry about."
Yeah, right partner. And it's perfectly natural for your
face to match the colour of the pavement and a river of
perspiration to be streaming down your cheeks on a cool
November evening.
"Wait there." Scully was accustomed to throwing her
weight around when it came to Mulder's welfare. Hell,
she'd successfully pulled off a rescue mission of mammoth
proportions on their second case together, hauling Mulder's
ass out of another military compound and taking on one of
their security officers single-handed. After that, dealing
with officious individuals puffed up with their own self-
importance was no challenge at all.
Scully didn't waste another moment of her time with
airport security, deciding instead to let Mulder deal with
the man. She had a luggage cart to track down.
xXx
The security officer gave Mulder the critical eye.
Checking the agent out from head to toe. He then asked in
a rather dubious tone, "Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yeah, my partner's a doctor. Trust me, nothing escapes
her notice and she is itching to get her hands on me."
Mulder smiled at the man, making sure reassurance oozed
from every pore.
The man stared back. Unconvinced.
"Seriously, I'll be fine. She really will take good care
of me." Mulder wanted this man to leave. He wasn't in the
mood for making nice with the locals. He had just about
reached the limit of good manners when the man seemed to
come to a decision. He nodded to Mulder and moved on his
way.
xXx
A little while later Scully was back with the cart. She
loaded their belongings and gave the cart to Mulder so he'd
have something to lean on as they made their way inside the
building. She helped get him seated and for once, was
pleased to note he accepted the situation without
complaint. Scully returned the car to the rental agency,
booked their overnight bags through the baggage section,
and collected their boarding passes. She and Mulder made
their way to Gate 6B for their flight back to DC. Scully
checked her watch. Providing the plane was on time, they
had about 8 minutes till their boarding call.
Mulder was finding it pretty slow going and for the first
time in their partnership, Scully had to slow her pace so
he could keep up with her. Knowing how the man hated to
have attention drawn to himself, Scully wasn't surprised
he'd refused to ride in a wheelchair. She had to smile.
Investigating the weird and unexplained was not the right
career move for someone who detested the limelight as much
as Mulder did.
By the time they were both seated in the boarding lounge,
Mulder was sweating profusely. He leaned forward, rested
his elbows on his knees and dropped his head into his
hands. Scully stole a glance at him, slipped her hand into
her pocket and fingered the packet of Tylenol hidden there.
Just ask me Mulder, is that so hard? All you have to do is
say the word and pain relief is yours. She willed him to
ask the question but he continued to sit in silence, head
buried in his hands and breathing shallowly.
Flight AA432
Somewhere over the East Coast
10.35pm
Scully ran her eyes over Mulder's fingers. Long, sensual,
elegant. Yet strong and masculine. They'd often held her
mesmerized. Distracted her to the point where she would
completely lose the plot when he was talking to her. She
loved the way he twirled them through the air to emphasize
a point, stroked his bottom lip as he sat deep in thought,
became animated as his frustration grew when she didn't
quite see things the way he did.
One soft, smooth hand hung limp over the arm rest. Mulder
slept, blissfully unaware of his partner's fixated-like
inspection of his fingers. What would he think if he knew
she had studied every hair on the back of his hands, every
perfectly rounded, meticulously trimmed finger nail? Knew
that she was intrigued by the little half moons nestled
against the cuticle where the nails slid under the skin?
There was a time when she felt guilty about her 'in-flight
observations', but as the habit became more practiced, and
she became more adept at avoiding being caught in the act,
the guilt lessened until eventually it faded into obscurity.
She stared in unadulterated appreciation as his fingers
twitched and flexed in sleep. Twitched, flexed, opened,
closed, jerked. Clenched into a fist. Wrenched open, then
pulled into a tight fist again. Scully dragged her eyes
from Mulder's hands and studied his face. She'd been glad
when he'd fallen asleep. She knew he was uncomfortable
stuffed into the restricted space of economy class seating.
He'd drifted off about 30 minutes ago, finally putting an
end to his constant fidgety movements. But now, she could
see his expression had changed from a state of relaxed
slumber to one of fitful restlessness. His brow creased
into a frown, lines stood out around his eyes like contours
on a map.
Scully sat forward in her seat when she heard a quiet
groan. She watched as Mulder clutched at his thigh. He
attempted to stretch his right leg under the seat in front,
gasped sharply and groaned again.
xXx
Mulder was in that place between sleep and wakefulness. A
place where discomfort was usually the only thing that kept
the sleep of the dead at bay. Grateful didn't even begin
to describe how he'd felt when he'd eventually made it onto
the plane, found his seat and was finally able to take the
weight off his foot. He'd been overjoyed on discovering
the near-empty plane and deliriously relieved that he
wouldn't have to share the seating.
When he'd first sat down, the pain had receded
significantly. Now, though, Mulder was finding it
impossible to settle into a comfortable position. The
relentless throb in his foot was pushing him beyond the
edge of his tolerance where he teetered just short of
begging for something to kill the pain. Again he tried to
stretch his leg, but in doing so he jarred his foot,
pulling on already over-taxed ligaments. The pain that
shot through his ankle was pure agony. He folded over and
grabbed his leg.
"Mulder, are you okay?" Scully asked as she reached
across the aisle and gently touched his arm.
Mulder pushed his head against the seat in front as his
other hand joined the first, both wrapped protectively
around his injured foot. "Oh God, Scully."
"Mulder..."
He sat up and regarded his partner through pain-filled
eyes. "Scully, do you have anything?"
"Hang on." Scully pulled the Tylenol from her pocket and
hit the call button for the flight attendant. With her
left hand she clicked the seat belt free to give her better
access to her partner.
"What...are you...doing?" Another throbbing wave of pain
swept through his foot. "Arh, shit." He bent over and
clutched his ankle again.
Before she could answer, the flight attendant arrived.
"Ma'am, can I help you?"
Scully looked up into the concerned face of a female
flight attendant. "Could you get me a glass of water,
please?"
"Is he all right?" The flight attendant fixed her eyes
squarely on Mulder.
"I think so. At least he should be after I give him
something for the pain."
"Is he sick?"
"Sprained ankle. I hope."
The flight attendant didn't look entirely convinced, but
had the sense not to waste time arguing. "Okay, I'll be
back in a second." And she left.
"Can you scoot over by the window?" Scully leant across
Mulder's body and raised the armrests.
Mulder twisted slowly in his seat, doing his best to keep
his foot steady as he moved towards the window and leaned
his back against the plane's fuselage.
"Scully..."
"Lift your foot up here, Mulder." Scully grabbed the
airline pillow from her seat, reached over again and
snagged the one Mulder had been using. Gently, she helped
him raise his foot so it was propped on the pillows she'd
piled up against the arm rest. She started to loosen the
laces on his boot when she felt a hand on hers.
"Scully...relax, this isn't a medical emergency." Mulder
smiled, it seemed a genuine enough smile but she could
clearly see the effort it took him to not end it in a
grimace.
"Shutup, Mulder, and let me be the best judge of that."
Carefully she eased the boot from his foot and pushed the
cuff of his jeans up. "Oh, Mulder." The outside of his
ankle looked like someone had shoved a tennis ball down the
side of his sock. "We need to stop this from swelling
further."
Mulder raised himself up to get a look at the offending
injury. "Shit," he gasped, and slumped back against the
window.
"Here you go, ma'am." The flight attendant returned and
handed Scully the water. "Ooh, that looks nasty," she
commented, screwing her face up in sympathy. "Did you
fall, sir?"
Mulder gave a short sharp laugh, "Yeah, kind of."
"I'll get some ice and a first aid kit." And she was gone
before either of them could answer her. Scully found it a
welcome relief not to have to explain to the woman what she
needed to treat her partner.
Scully popped 3 Tylenol from the pack and handed them to
Mulder with the glass of water.
"Three, Scully?" He asked, rolling the pills around in the
palm of his hand.
"Trust me, you're going to need them if the look of this
is anything to go by." She paused and caught his eyes with
her own, "Mulder, why didn't you say something earlier.
This should have had ice on it right away."
He shrugged, swallowed the pills and said, "You know how
it is."
No. No she didn't. But that wasn't true. She did know
how it was with Mulder, she just didn't understand it.
"I'm going to remove your sock."
"You might want to pull down one of those oxygen masks
before you do. My socks are about ready to stand up on
their own." Although his tone was light, the furrow in his
brow reminded her of the pain he was in.
"I'm sure we'll survive." She smiled at him. "Tell me if
I'm hurting you too much." Scully gently moved the top of
his sock down around his ankle. She heard her partner gasp
as she manoeuvred it over the worst of the swollen area.
"Sorry."
"Mm. It's okay." His words came quick, strained.
xXx
Mulder knew Scully was trying to be gentle. Just as he
knew it was taking every ounce of self discipline he had
not to leap off the seat and make a desperate escape
through the emergency exit. It didn't matter that she was
doing her best to keep his foot still while she slowly
worked the sock off. Every little movement sent the
damaged ligaments into a frenzy of protest. Mulder could
feel his fingers digging into the cloth seat, his jaw
tightening and his teeth pressing together. Even though he
tried, he wasn't able to stop himself flinching when his
ankle twisted slightly as Scully pulled the sock from
around the injury.
xXx
"Excuse me ma'am." The flight attendant had returned.
Scully was tired of thinking of her as 'the flight
attendant'. If this woman was going to be assisting with
Mulder's care, Scully wanted to be able to call her by
name. She stole a quick glance at the name badge pinned to
her airline uniform. Maria.
"I have some ice and a first aid kit. Would you like me
to take a look at your friend, I'm first aid trained."
Maria offered.
Scully smiled her thanks at the woman standing beside her,
"It's okay, I'm a doctor. I don't think there's a lot more
that can be done apart from icing the injury and keeping
him as comfortable as possible until we land."
Maria handed the first aid kit to Scully. "You'll find
everything you need in here. If not, we have a larger one
at the front of the plane."
xXx
Mulder watched on in silence, quietly observing the
exchange between the two women. He always found it
fascinating when Scully shrugged off her FBI personna and
became Dr Scully. It was like flicking a switch. She slid
into the role with ease. As usual her manner was cool,
calm and composed, taking a step back from their personal
friendship and viewing the situation with an air of
detachment. Always the professional, Mulder thought with
affection. He wondered whether Scully ever regretted her
decision to join the FBI instead of pursuing a career in
medicine. He sometimes felt her medical qualifications
would be better utilised in a busy emergency room, rather
than in the cold, sterile environment of an autopsy bay.
He'd like to ask her, but what if she said yes? What if
she did regret choosing law enforcement, or worse still,
resented being partnered with him?
"Do you think it's broken?" Maria asked.
"It's almost impossible to tell without an X-Ray. There's
a lot of swelling which is usually associated with ligament
or tendon damage and the fact that he has been able to bear
weight on it is a good sign. Still...he has been in severe
pain, which seems to have gotten worse rather than easing
off...I guess we won't know for sure till we stop by the
emergency room."
If there was one thing Mulder detested more than being
made a fuss of when he was injured-more than being the
focus of his partner's and whoever she could coerce into
assisting in her sometimes overzealous medical
ministrations-it was being talked about as if he wasn't
there. As if he was some kind of apparition that bore no
ability to see, hear or think.
Mulder cleared his throat.
"Scully. My ankle is *not* broken. It's a sprain. It's
not the first time I've had one and probably won't be the
last. I don't need to stop by the emergency room, and I
don't need an X-ray. I'll be fine by morning."
There was a certain look Scully got on her face when
Mulder was in mid debate over a particularly wild theory.
He wasn't sure if it was a conscious effort on Scully's
part or merely a reflex reaction when her mind was forced
to process data it regarded as complete and utter bullshit.
Mulder saw the same look on her face now. Just before she
turned to Maria and offered her a broad smile.
"Thank you for your help, I think we'll be fine now."
Maria nodded and said, "Just give me a call if you need
anything. We're not busy so please don't hesitate."
Scully nodded and watched Maria return to her duties at
the front of the plane before turning her attention back to
her partner.
Mulder braced himself for the onslaught. Usually, right
about now, Scully would begin expounding the virtues of
science versus the absolute lunacy of whatever it was
Mulder was trying to convince her of. Somehow he doubted
that the words about to come out of her mouth now would
bear any resemblance to science.
To his surprise, she didn't even speak. Scully laid the
icepack wrapped in cloth gently against his swollen ankle,
the sudden cold and pressure on his injury made him gasp.
Still she kept her attention focused solely on his foot.
The silence was more than he could stand.
"Scully? Did you hear me? I said..."
"I heard you."
"And you agree?"
Scully looked up to meet Mulder's gaze. Did she want to
get into another argument with him? Was it worth it? Her
gut instinct told her Mulder should have his ankle X-rayed
tonight, but it was so late and she knew he was probably
right. It was more than likely a sprain, albeit a bad one.
She felt fairly certain that given proper care and
attention, he could avoid a trip to the ER. She also knew
that if there was no improvement, no reduction in swelling
or pain by morning, then she could and would take Mulder
straight to the nearest hospital. Reluctantly she
conceded. "I agree. We'll get you home, continue with
treatment and if you are no better by morning, then we hit
the ER. Okay?"
She took his grin as a yes.
Fifteen minutes later, Scully had the ice taken away and
Mulder's foot securely wrapped in an Ace bandage. "How
does it feel, not too tight?"
Mulder tentatively wriggled his toes and said, "It feels
fine. Thanks."
"When we start to land, try and get your shoe back on,
it'll be easier to walk. If it's too tight loosen the
laces." She paused for a second, thinking. "I don't
suppose I could talk you into using a wheelchair?"
The look he gave her told Scully in no uncertain terms
exactly where she could stick the wheelchair. She sighed
before answering, "I didn't think so."
End of part one