Mulder and Scully belong to CC, 1013 Productions, and Fox. I apologize for borrowing them, and no infringement is intended.
Dana Scully came into her apartment with the feeling that something was wrong. She turned on the light and pulled her gun from its holster, straining her ears for the sounds that would prove to her there was something wrong. Her body tensed automatically and she heard nothing but the steady hum of the refrigerator.
Feeling like Mulder, she stepped carefully into the kitchen, eyes searching for any sign that a man was in the house, because that was what her instinct was telling her. A man was in the house.
She heard it then, as she approached the bedroom, the distinct sound of someone breathing. She cocked her head to listen better and realized that the man was sleeping. It was a steady in and out, a soft and gentle rhythm.
Carefully, she opened the door to her bedroom, wincing when it creaked. She saw black, thick shoes, then jeans, on the floor by her phone.
Confusion caught hold of her and she opened the door, more curious than fearful. It was Mulder, passed out on the floor, looking like he had been through hell and back several times. And she knew how much he hated fire. "Mulder?" He moaned and stayed asleep, and she crept beside him, holstering her gun. She touched his cheek and his eyelids fluttered. For a moment she thought he would wake, but hten his eyes shut again; she sighed. "Mulder? Come on, wake up." Scully let her fingers trail across his forehead; he had a slight fever, not too bad. Then she touched his lips, his breath came hot and fast. Maybe he was having a dream . . . but how did he get to her apartment and on the floor? "Mulder?" He yelled and jerked, managing to twist his body halfway around adn slam his head on the nightstand next to her bed. He groaned and turned sheepishly to see her. When his vison cleared, he studied her face, then glanced around the room in confusion. Annoyance feld from her to be replaced by concern, which he could see in her eyes. "What happened?" he asked. "You tell me, Mulder. I thought you were suppsoed to be gone already. I was just about to leave after I got off work, remember?" Scully frowned and helped him stand. He stood crazily, listing back and forth, and his eyes couldn't seem to focus. "Leave for where?" he said, still confused. About her, about him, about where he was. "For Ashtebula, Ohio, the next X-File." He turned to face her, almost knocking himself off balance. "What?" "Mulder? Do you remember anything?" He thought for a moment. "Should I know anything?" She felt panic clawing through her, but she squashed it. "Do you know where you are?" He shrugged. "Maybe my apartment? I don't see why else I'd be here." "No, Mulder. You're in my apartment." His face grew slack for a moment and he bit his lip. He let her sit him down, and then looked around, finally letting his eyes fall to her. "Could you tell me who you are?" he whispered. He wished he hadn't. For a split second, her face crumbled and he saw pain and sadness etched there. But then came the stern exterior, the polished expression. "I'm your partner, Dana Scully." His eyes shot up. "You mean like lover?" He saw a faint flicker of something, but it died. "No, in the FBI." His mouth hung open. Then he looked around again. Something was nagging about it all. Something missing. "Where's Samantha?" he said, feeling a sense of dread. Scully felt her heart sonstrict. How was she supposed to tell him that? "Mulder . . . Samantha was taken, a long time ago." She watched in horror as his face crumpled and his eyes turned into black pools of self hate and sorrow. She wanted so much to reach out to him, to hold him, but he didn't even know her. So make him know you. He needs comfort, give it to him like you normally would. She went to him and wrapped her arms around him, holding his head as the silent tears fell. For the first time, she realized just how much of a raw festering wound his sister's abduction was for him. Would he ever stop blaming himself?