Title: The Persistence of Memory
Author: Zubeneschamali
Classification: VA
Keywords: Mulder/Scully UST
Spoilers: Kill Switch, Tunguska/Terma
Summary: Takes place immediately after the rescue in "Kill Switch".
Disclaimers: Mulder and Scully and the X-Files are not mine, they're Chris Carter's, though I'm starting to think that they should be William Gibson's instead. Or at least Scully should.
Author's Note: I felt like there had to be something in between the very last two scenes of "Kill Switch"--they couldn't have just stayed in the car all night! So I started right after the explosion and let the characters go from there. I wanted them to actually share their experiences about what happened to them separately in the episode, since that never seems to happen in "real life". But who would have thought that an MOTW written by a guest author would lead directly back to a mythology ep?
The rickety old trailer was still blazing furiously away as they stumbled back to the cars. Mulder collapsed against the hood of his car as Scully futilely searched her pockets for the keys to hers. "Damn," she muttered. "Mulder," she asked, hoping he was cognizant enough to understand her, "do you have the keys to your car?"
His response was to jerk his thumb in the direction of the conflagration behind them. "Great," she said to herself. "Okay, Mulder, come on, we're taking my car," and she slung his arm back over her shoulder.
As she bundled him into the passenger seat, he wasn't quite as unresponsive as he had been after his trip to Ellens Air Force Base, but it was a close call. She felt a momentary flash of irritation at having to come and rescue him again, then realized that at least this time he hadn't known what he was getting himself into. Hell, she didn't even know what he had gotten into--or what had gotten into him. As she reached under the dash for the appropriate wires, he blurted out, "Scully, whatcha doin'?"
"I'm hot-wiring the car because I lost my keys," she grunted as she made the right connection and the car roared to life. "We'll come back later to get yours." She pulled onto the road and went on, "Right now we need to get you to a hospital."
"No!" His frantically waving arms latched onto hers, and she had to fight to keep from going into the ditch. "Scully, God, no, not a hospital. Please."
She would have dismissed it as his usual aversion to medical treatment, but his grip on her arm was surprisingly strong. One glance at him showed fear in his eyes like she had only seen on a few occasions. "All right," she said gently, laying a hand over the trembling fingers that were still clutching her arm. "We'll go back to my apartment, and I'll take a look at you. Is that all right?"
He nodded, and the terror slowly faded from his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said, loosening his grip and sinking back into his seat.
She shook her head. "Mulder, you have nothing to be sorry about. I don't know what that--thing--was doing to you, but it looked horrible. I just want to make sure that you're physically okay." She snuck a glance at him, but his eyes were closed. 'I should let him sleep,' she thought. That had proven effective in the past at bringing him out of a questionable mental state, at least. Whether this was something completely different or not, and what she could do about it, were two things she couldn't determine right now. Maybe she wouldn't be able to at all.
The drive home was periodically interrupted by outbursts from Mulder. One time he mumbled an apology for kicking her into the wall. Another time he said nothing, but jerked upright and held his hands out, running them up and down his arms. Then he fell asleep again, only to call out a few minutes later, "Scully?" in a heartbreaking tone of need. "Scully, where are you? I need your help..."
She reached over and took his hand. "I'm right here, Mulder," she said softly. "I'll be here as long as you need me." Then he was quiet the rest of the way, his hand occasionally twitching in hers as he slept.
The house keys, fortunately, had not accompanied the car keys out of her pocket in the wilds of Fairfax County. Scully was somehow able to open the door with most of Mulder's weight on her, and to shut it behind them. He became more aware as they stumbled along the hall towards her bedroom, where she helped him to sit on the bed. As she knelt down to take his shoes off, she heard a groggy chuckle from above her. Looking up at him quizzically, she heard him say, "Seems like it takes being brought to the brink of insanity to get in your bed, Scully..."
Her lips twitched as she replied, "Mulder, if that's all it took, you would have been there a long time ago." She finished with his shoes and stood up. "Now, take your shirt off, and I'll be right back."
Mulder knew he was out of it when he was unable to think of an appropriate response. His tired fingers fumbled with the buttons, and he was only halfway done by the time she came back into the room, arms full with bandages and washcloths and ointment tubes. "Here, let me help you," she said, laying her bundle down and sitting next to him on the bed.
"Scully, if I wasn't so out of it, believe me, I'd be enjoying the experience," he said as he closed his eyes and let her take his shirt off. She noted the tear in his sleeve and the corresponding puncture mark on his upper arm as she eased the shirt off his arms. He winced a little as the fabric passed over his lower arms, and as soon as the shirt had been removed, she saw why. There was an inch-wide red band around each forearm, not just from the pressure of the clamps which had immobilized him, but burns from the electrical charge which had run through him. He closed his eyes, unable to see that sight for the second time in one night, half expecting to smell charred flesh as he had before.
Scully carefully washed his arms before applying ointment to them. He sat silently throughout her ministrations and as she checked over the rest of his torso and back, not moving even when she patted his shoulder and rose from the bed. When she came back from putting things away, he was still sitting there, now staring at the red marks on his arms. He turned a pleading face towards her and said, "Scully, my arms are going to be okay, right? They don't...they wouldn't...they won't have to be removed, will they?"
"Mulder, no!" she said as she sank down beside him and raised a hand to his forehead. "You've got nothing worse than the kind of burn you'd get from touching a hot pan on the stove. You are, however, a little bit warm. You must be reacting with a fever to whatever you were injected with. I'd like you to lie down now and get some rest." She gently pushed on his chest until he was lying back against the pillows and then tugged his feet up onto the bed. She stood there for a moment, watching his body relax and wishing that the marks on his arms weren't quite so vivid. 'Oh, Mulder,' she thought as his eyes closed. 'What happened to you in that trailer?'
She started to leave but was stopped by his voice. "Scully?" he asked tentatively. She turned to see his eyes struggling to focus on her as he said, "Would you mind staying with me? The last time I fell asleep in a bed, it...it wasn't very pleasant."
She was a bit confused, but nodded and began to pull the chair over to the bed. "No," he said, shaking his head. A bit sheepishly, he continued, "I was hoping you'd stay here," and he patted the pillow next to him. "I just--I need to know you're here."
Scully paused with the chair still in her grasp. "All right," she agreed, wondering why exactly she was doing so. But she was too tired to argue with herself, and so she put down the chair, turned out the light, and laid down next to her partner. Almost instantly, his arms were around her, and then he gave a soft yelp. "Mulder, you're going to aggravate the burns if you do that," she said, pushing herself out of his arms and into a sitting position against the headboard. "Here, pretend we're in Florida and you've been attacked by an invisible beastman. Just don't expect me to sing to you again."
As he snuggled against her, she heard him mutter, "At least the beastman really existed." Then her eyelids closed, and she was soon asleep.
Sometime during what was left of the night, Scully disentagled herself from Mulder and went to the bathroom. When she got back, Mulder had sprawled on his back and was making little moans of pain. She turned the lamp on low, and bent to wake him up.
As soon as her hand touched his forehead, his eyes flashed open. "Scully, thank God," he said, his eyes frantic. "My arms! Did you see what they've done to my arms?"
She quickly realized that he was still trapped in the memories of what had been done to him earlier that night, still dreaming about the torture in the trailer. So she bent over him and murmured reassuringly, stroking his forehead. His eyes slowly focused on her, though he still wasn't quite awake. Then his voice came harshly, "You're not Scully. What have you done with her?"
Her own mind still a little sleep-fogged, she struggled to reassure him. "Mulder, it's me. It's okay. You're safe. The AI is gone. We found the kill switch and fed it to the computer and it let you go. You're safe now."
He still looked confused. "The kill switch...I don't know where it is. Please, I don't know where it is, please stop hurting me!" He started twisting back and forth, his arms down at his sides.
She leaned closer and put her hands on his shoulders, which was apparently the wrong thing to do. In a flash, Mulder's eyes narrowed, and he drew his knees to his chest, then planted his feet in her midsection. Before she had time to react, she went flying back into the wall, knocking her head and slumping to the ground.
The wall did not flicker. The end of the bed stayed solidy real, and that's how he knew he had screwed up. "Oh no," he whispered, slowly sitting up, feeling beads of sweat roll down his face as he stared at Scully's form crumpled against the wall. "Oh, damn," he murmured as he clambered out of the bed and knelt next to her on the floor. Fortunately, as he sat there wondering what to do, she began to stir. He reached out and pushed the hair from her face as she slowly sat up, leaning against the wall. She felt around the back of her head, wincing as she found the lump where she had made contact. As she began her mental checklist of other places that might be injured, she noticed that Mulder had left. By the time she was down to "knees", he had returned with a towel-wrapped bundle. "Here," he said, holding the towel at arm's length. "I got you some ice."
She accepted it and gingerly held it to the back of her head as she pushed herself to her feet. Mulder had retreated to the bed, sitting up against the headboard with his head in his hands. This time she pulled the chair over, and lowered herself into it with a grunt. He looked up at her noise of pain, and concern and guilt flashed over his face. "God, Scully, I'm so sorry."
"If you don't like my nursing style, next time just say so," she said dryly, pressing the ice pack to the back of her head.
A corner of his mouth lifted. "At least your nails aren't two inches long," he said, leaving her with the feeling that she had missed some inside joke.
She sighed and asked, "Mulder, what happened?"
He shrugged and turned his gaze towards the end of the bed. "Flashbacks, I guess."
"No, I mean what happened in the trailer? What did that thing do to you?"
His gaze flickered to hers for a minute, then back to the distance. "I don't want to talk about it."
She thought for a minute about whether or not it was wise to push him, then decided hell with it, he had just attacked her, and her head really hurt. So she said in a low tone, watching his face carefully, "It made you believe it had amputated your arms, didn't it?"
He turned his head towards her. "How did you know that?" he whispered.
She adjusted the ice pack before replying, "When I entered the trailer, I saw you with some sort of virtual reality apparatus on your head. You've made suggestions several times, both verbal and physical, that lead me to believe that you were under the impression that you were missing your arms. It's a logical conclusion that the AI, in an attempt to get you to reveal the location of the kill switch, made you think that it was employing the method of torture by amputation."
He regarded her for a moment, then leaned his head back against the pillow, nodding as he did so. "The damn thing read my mind, Scully. It knew that that's what would scare me, and it made me believe it." His tone became more intense. "Scully, I saw the stumps at my shoulders. My arms were gone. I tried to move them and they weren't there. I was completely helpless, and I couldn't even tell it what it wanted to know. If you hadn't come when you did, it said my legs were going to be next."
"Oh, Mulder," she sighed as she reached out and took his hand. "You know, if you hadn't done such a good job of neglecting to tell me where you were, it wouldn't have taken me so long," she said gently.
He shook his head. "No, in the--dream, I guess. You came into the room and started kicking ass." At her raised eyebrow, he gave a small grin and went on, "You beat up all the nurses with some pretty cool karate moves. I figured you had come to rescue me."
"But then what happened?"
"What just happened." He gave a nervous shrug and went on, "You came over and wanted to know where the kill switch was. I was frantic about not having any arms, and all you could do was ask me about the CD, and I knew it wasn't you. So I, well, kicked you into the wall."
She sat back in the chair. "Well, that explains the bump on my head, I guess." At his sheepish nod, she went on, "But why would you say it read your mind?"
He bit his lip and looked down. "Let's just say that it got a lot of the details right, okay?"
"Let me guess, the nurses were of the type more commonly found in other types of dreams?"
He gave a guilty start. "Scully, now I'm starting to think that you're reading my mind."
She shrugged and let go of his hand as she got up. "You're a red- blooded American male, Mulder. It was a lucky guess on the computer's part. Besides, if it could read your mind, why would it have to ask about the kill switch at all?"
"But what about the...amputation?" he asked. Scully had gone into the bathroom to get another towel, and as she came back she responded, "What about it? That's a common enough torture device in spy thrillers. Why would it be particularly terrifying to you?"
His gaze dropped. 'Oh joy,' she thought. After looking at him for a moment, she walked over and sat on the bed. She was careful to keep some distance between them as she leaned back against the headboard next to him, still holding the ice pack to the back of her head. He refused to look at her, toying with the corner of the sheet.
Scully gave a sigh, then chose her words carefully. "Mulder, I of all people understand that there are things which you can not bear to say to anyone else, for a variety of reasons. I accept the fact that there are things you have not told me, as I have not exactly bared my soul to you. That doesn't mean I like it."
"Which don't you like?" he asked. "That I keep things from you, or that you keep things from me?"
"Both," she honestly replied. "I am a very private person, Mulder, and though I trust you with my life, I can not let you have it all. I have to keep the most important, the hardest truths to myself, both because I need them for my identity and because I'm not always sure you could bear to hear them. At the same time, it feels like lying sometimes. And when I get mad at you for not telling me something, I have to stop and remind myself that you are very similar to me in this respect, and I can't be angry at you for something I consider essential in myself."
They were both quiet for a while. Mulder reached over and took Scully's hand, but didn't say anything. Her brain amused itself for a while by trying to determine if she had just revealed too much by explaining why she revealed so little, then turned towards worrying about the lump in its casing. As she was just beginning to wonder if she should replace the ice, he spoke a single word. "Tunguska."
Her eyes flew open. "Russia?" she asked, turning her head to look at him.
He hesitated before meeting her glance. In the dim light she could barely see his face, especially since the lamp was behind him. What she could see looked haunted, and she couldn't help but remind herself of the other reason she refrained from prying too deeply into Mulder's darkness-- sometimes she didn't really want to know. But he nodded, and began to speak.
The warm, cozy bedroom blurred into a cold, harsh cell as he talked, describing what had happened to him in his time in the prison camp. She shuddered with him as he told about the black cancer, about the worm-like creatures that he had been forced to watch invade his body, about the fear and despair that swirled around the place like a fog. She silently cheered as he told of his daring escape attempt, and squeezed his hand as he told of the guilt he felt at leaving all the others behind. She didn't notice when she wrapped her arms around him as he told of how he had shivered for half a day buried under leaves on the Siberian forest floor. And she suddenly understood, when he explained what the Russian woman had told him about the "treatment" for survivors of the camp. And she held him as he wrapped his arms around her--both of them--and sobbed away the fear and horror of the nightmare that had been rekindled in his mind by his experience in the trailer in Fairfax County.
Dawn came slowly, hidden behind grey clouds that prevented light from shining directly through the blinds. But it came, nevertheless, and it found the partners curled in each others' arms, Mulder's burns apparently forgotten. He was the first to stir, blinking his eyes open to find his head buried in Scully's neck and his cheek pillowed on her breast. 'It's a good thing I'm not more awake,' he thought to himself, 'or this would be more tempting than it already is.' As it was, it was a struggle to extricate himself from their mutual embrace without waking her, or touching her. But he managed to do so, and got as far as the bathroom door before remembering why he was there. The memory stopped him in his tracks--both the previous evening's horrors and last night's remembrances. He stood still for a moment, trying to process it all. Then a voice came from behind him. "How are you feeling, Mulder?"
"I'm trying to figure that one out myself," he said as he turned to face her. Scully was still in her shirt and slacks, looking as rumpled as her clothing. She spoke through a yawn, "How do your arms feel?"
"I feel that they're attached...that's a positive sign," he replied with a faint grin.
She gave him a reproachful look in response. "How are the burns?"
He shrugged and held his arms out for her to inspect. She did so, and pronounced his injuries as minor as she had the previous night. He let his arms fall to his sides, and they looked at each other for a few seconds. Then they both spoke at once.
"Mulder, about last night--"
"Scully, about what happened--"
They each heard the other and started smiling. "God, it sounds like we just had a one-night stand or something," Mulder said, his eyes teasing.
"Now I know you're feeling better," she replied. Then, to his surprise, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. He looked down at her, his face questioning. She gave a small smile and said, "Thank you. I know it wasn't easy to tell me what you did. I'm glad that you felt you could."
He shrugged. "It's more like I felt I had to." He hurried to explain, "For my sake. It did feel good to finally tell you about it, even though I don't think it's something you wanted to hear. It also makes me feel better about what happened to me yesterday. And I know..." he trailed off as his hand stroked up and down her back. "I know we shouldn't expect that we're suddenly going to tell all the secrets that we keep from each other. But it would be nice if we could a little more often."
She regarded him a minute before replying. "I think so, too," she said as she stood on tiptoe and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Now, come on," she said as she gave him a final squeeze and headed out of the bedroom. "We have to drive back out and get your car."
"And see if Esther's around," he said, one hand coming up to touch his cheek.
"Mulder, no one could have survived that explosion," came her voice.
"I didn't say she was physically alive," he called back.
Scully sighed and shook her head. At least some things weren't going to change any time soon...
Author: Zubeneschamali
Classification: VA
Keywords: Mulder/Scully UST
Spoilers: Kill Switch, Tunguska/Terma
Summary: Takes place immediately after the rescue in "Kill Switch".
Disclaimers: Mulder and Scully and the X-Files are not mine, they're Chris Carter's, though I'm starting to think that they should be William Gibson's instead. Or at least Scully should.
Author's Note: I felt like there had to be something in between the very last two scenes of "Kill Switch"--they couldn't have just stayed in the car all night! So I started right after the explosion and let the characters go from there. I wanted them to actually share their experiences about what happened to them separately in the episode, since that never seems to happen in "real life". But who would have thought that an MOTW written by a guest author would lead directly back to a mythology ep?
The rickety old trailer was still blazing furiously away as they stumbled back to the cars. Mulder collapsed against the hood of his car as Scully futilely searched her pockets for the keys to hers. "Damn," she muttered. "Mulder," she asked, hoping he was cognizant enough to understand her, "do you have the keys to your car?"
His response was to jerk his thumb in the direction of the conflagration behind them. "Great," she said to herself. "Okay, Mulder, come on, we're taking my car," and she slung his arm back over her shoulder.
As she bundled him into the passenger seat, he wasn't quite as unresponsive as he had been after his trip to Ellens Air Force Base, but it was a close call. She felt a momentary flash of irritation at having to come and rescue him again, then realized that at least this time he hadn't known what he was getting himself into. Hell, she didn't even know what he had gotten into--or what had gotten into him. As she reached under the dash for the appropriate wires, he blurted out, "Scully, whatcha doin'?"
"I'm hot-wiring the car because I lost my keys," she grunted as she made the right connection and the car roared to life. "We'll come back later to get yours." She pulled onto the road and went on, "Right now we need to get you to a hospital."
"No!" His frantically waving arms latched onto hers, and she had to fight to keep from going into the ditch. "Scully, God, no, not a hospital. Please."
She would have dismissed it as his usual aversion to medical treatment, but his grip on her arm was surprisingly strong. One glance at him showed fear in his eyes like she had only seen on a few occasions. "All right," she said gently, laying a hand over the trembling fingers that were still clutching her arm. "We'll go back to my apartment, and I'll take a look at you. Is that all right?"
He nodded, and the terror slowly faded from his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said, loosening his grip and sinking back into his seat.
She shook her head. "Mulder, you have nothing to be sorry about. I don't know what that--thing--was doing to you, but it looked horrible. I just want to make sure that you're physically okay." She snuck a glance at him, but his eyes were closed. 'I should let him sleep,' she thought. That had proven effective in the past at bringing him out of a questionable mental state, at least. Whether this was something completely different or not, and what she could do about it, were two things she couldn't determine right now. Maybe she wouldn't be able to at all.
The drive home was periodically interrupted by outbursts from Mulder. One time he mumbled an apology for kicking her into the wall. Another time he said nothing, but jerked upright and held his hands out, running them up and down his arms. Then he fell asleep again, only to call out a few minutes later, "Scully?" in a heartbreaking tone of need. "Scully, where are you? I need your help..."
She reached over and took his hand. "I'm right here, Mulder," she said softly. "I'll be here as long as you need me." Then he was quiet the rest of the way, his hand occasionally twitching in hers as he slept.
The house keys, fortunately, had not accompanied the car keys out of her pocket in the wilds of Fairfax County. Scully was somehow able to open the door with most of Mulder's weight on her, and to shut it behind them. He became more aware as they stumbled along the hall towards her bedroom, where she helped him to sit on the bed. As she knelt down to take his shoes off, she heard a groggy chuckle from above her. Looking up at him quizzically, she heard him say, "Seems like it takes being brought to the brink of insanity to get in your bed, Scully..."
Her lips twitched as she replied, "Mulder, if that's all it took, you would have been there a long time ago." She finished with his shoes and stood up. "Now, take your shirt off, and I'll be right back."
Mulder knew he was out of it when he was unable to think of an appropriate response. His tired fingers fumbled with the buttons, and he was only halfway done by the time she came back into the room, arms full with bandages and washcloths and ointment tubes. "Here, let me help you," she said, laying her bundle down and sitting next to him on the bed.
"Scully, if I wasn't so out of it, believe me, I'd be enjoying the experience," he said as he closed his eyes and let her take his shirt off. She noted the tear in his sleeve and the corresponding puncture mark on his upper arm as she eased the shirt off his arms. He winced a little as the fabric passed over his lower arms, and as soon as the shirt had been removed, she saw why. There was an inch-wide red band around each forearm, not just from the pressure of the clamps which had immobilized him, but burns from the electrical charge which had run through him. He closed his eyes, unable to see that sight for the second time in one night, half expecting to smell charred flesh as he had before.
Scully carefully washed his arms before applying ointment to them. He sat silently throughout her ministrations and as she checked over the rest of his torso and back, not moving even when she patted his shoulder and rose from the bed. When she came back from putting things away, he was still sitting there, now staring at the red marks on his arms. He turned a pleading face towards her and said, "Scully, my arms are going to be okay, right? They don't...they wouldn't...they won't have to be removed, will they?"
"Mulder, no!" she said as she sank down beside him and raised a hand to his forehead. "You've got nothing worse than the kind of burn you'd get from touching a hot pan on the stove. You are, however, a little bit warm. You must be reacting with a fever to whatever you were injected with. I'd like you to lie down now and get some rest." She gently pushed on his chest until he was lying back against the pillows and then tugged his feet up onto the bed. She stood there for a moment, watching his body relax and wishing that the marks on his arms weren't quite so vivid. 'Oh, Mulder,' she thought as his eyes closed. 'What happened to you in that trailer?'
She started to leave but was stopped by his voice. "Scully?" he asked tentatively. She turned to see his eyes struggling to focus on her as he said, "Would you mind staying with me? The last time I fell asleep in a bed, it...it wasn't very pleasant."
She was a bit confused, but nodded and began to pull the chair over to the bed. "No," he said, shaking his head. A bit sheepishly, he continued, "I was hoping you'd stay here," and he patted the pillow next to him. "I just--I need to know you're here."
Scully paused with the chair still in her grasp. "All right," she agreed, wondering why exactly she was doing so. But she was too tired to argue with herself, and so she put down the chair, turned out the light, and laid down next to her partner. Almost instantly, his arms were around her, and then he gave a soft yelp. "Mulder, you're going to aggravate the burns if you do that," she said, pushing herself out of his arms and into a sitting position against the headboard. "Here, pretend we're in Florida and you've been attacked by an invisible beastman. Just don't expect me to sing to you again."
As he snuggled against her, she heard him mutter, "At least the beastman really existed." Then her eyelids closed, and she was soon asleep.
Sometime during what was left of the night, Scully disentagled herself from Mulder and went to the bathroom. When she got back, Mulder had sprawled on his back and was making little moans of pain. She turned the lamp on low, and bent to wake him up.
As soon as her hand touched his forehead, his eyes flashed open. "Scully, thank God," he said, his eyes frantic. "My arms! Did you see what they've done to my arms?"
She quickly realized that he was still trapped in the memories of what had been done to him earlier that night, still dreaming about the torture in the trailer. So she bent over him and murmured reassuringly, stroking his forehead. His eyes slowly focused on her, though he still wasn't quite awake. Then his voice came harshly, "You're not Scully. What have you done with her?"
Her own mind still a little sleep-fogged, she struggled to reassure him. "Mulder, it's me. It's okay. You're safe. The AI is gone. We found the kill switch and fed it to the computer and it let you go. You're safe now."
He still looked confused. "The kill switch...I don't know where it is. Please, I don't know where it is, please stop hurting me!" He started twisting back and forth, his arms down at his sides.
She leaned closer and put her hands on his shoulders, which was apparently the wrong thing to do. In a flash, Mulder's eyes narrowed, and he drew his knees to his chest, then planted his feet in her midsection. Before she had time to react, she went flying back into the wall, knocking her head and slumping to the ground.
The wall did not flicker. The end of the bed stayed solidy real, and that's how he knew he had screwed up. "Oh no," he whispered, slowly sitting up, feeling beads of sweat roll down his face as he stared at Scully's form crumpled against the wall. "Oh, damn," he murmured as he clambered out of the bed and knelt next to her on the floor. Fortunately, as he sat there wondering what to do, she began to stir. He reached out and pushed the hair from her face as she slowly sat up, leaning against the wall. She felt around the back of her head, wincing as she found the lump where she had made contact. As she began her mental checklist of other places that might be injured, she noticed that Mulder had left. By the time she was down to "knees", he had returned with a towel-wrapped bundle. "Here," he said, holding the towel at arm's length. "I got you some ice."
She accepted it and gingerly held it to the back of her head as she pushed herself to her feet. Mulder had retreated to the bed, sitting up against the headboard with his head in his hands. This time she pulled the chair over, and lowered herself into it with a grunt. He looked up at her noise of pain, and concern and guilt flashed over his face. "God, Scully, I'm so sorry."
"If you don't like my nursing style, next time just say so," she said dryly, pressing the ice pack to the back of her head.
A corner of his mouth lifted. "At least your nails aren't two inches long," he said, leaving her with the feeling that she had missed some inside joke.
She sighed and asked, "Mulder, what happened?"
He shrugged and turned his gaze towards the end of the bed. "Flashbacks, I guess."
"No, I mean what happened in the trailer? What did that thing do to you?"
His gaze flickered to hers for a minute, then back to the distance. "I don't want to talk about it."
She thought for a minute about whether or not it was wise to push him, then decided hell with it, he had just attacked her, and her head really hurt. So she said in a low tone, watching his face carefully, "It made you believe it had amputated your arms, didn't it?"
He turned his head towards her. "How did you know that?" he whispered.
She adjusted the ice pack before replying, "When I entered the trailer, I saw you with some sort of virtual reality apparatus on your head. You've made suggestions several times, both verbal and physical, that lead me to believe that you were under the impression that you were missing your arms. It's a logical conclusion that the AI, in an attempt to get you to reveal the location of the kill switch, made you think that it was employing the method of torture by amputation."
He regarded her for a moment, then leaned his head back against the pillow, nodding as he did so. "The damn thing read my mind, Scully. It knew that that's what would scare me, and it made me believe it." His tone became more intense. "Scully, I saw the stumps at my shoulders. My arms were gone. I tried to move them and they weren't there. I was completely helpless, and I couldn't even tell it what it wanted to know. If you hadn't come when you did, it said my legs were going to be next."
"Oh, Mulder," she sighed as she reached out and took his hand. "You know, if you hadn't done such a good job of neglecting to tell me where you were, it wouldn't have taken me so long," she said gently.
He shook his head. "No, in the--dream, I guess. You came into the room and started kicking ass." At her raised eyebrow, he gave a small grin and went on, "You beat up all the nurses with some pretty cool karate moves. I figured you had come to rescue me."
"But then what happened?"
"What just happened." He gave a nervous shrug and went on, "You came over and wanted to know where the kill switch was. I was frantic about not having any arms, and all you could do was ask me about the CD, and I knew it wasn't you. So I, well, kicked you into the wall."
She sat back in the chair. "Well, that explains the bump on my head, I guess." At his sheepish nod, she went on, "But why would you say it read your mind?"
He bit his lip and looked down. "Let's just say that it got a lot of the details right, okay?"
"Let me guess, the nurses were of the type more commonly found in other types of dreams?"
He gave a guilty start. "Scully, now I'm starting to think that you're reading my mind."
She shrugged and let go of his hand as she got up. "You're a red- blooded American male, Mulder. It was a lucky guess on the computer's part. Besides, if it could read your mind, why would it have to ask about the kill switch at all?"
"But what about the...amputation?" he asked. Scully had gone into the bathroom to get another towel, and as she came back she responded, "What about it? That's a common enough torture device in spy thrillers. Why would it be particularly terrifying to you?"
His gaze dropped. 'Oh joy,' she thought. After looking at him for a moment, she walked over and sat on the bed. She was careful to keep some distance between them as she leaned back against the headboard next to him, still holding the ice pack to the back of her head. He refused to look at her, toying with the corner of the sheet.
Scully gave a sigh, then chose her words carefully. "Mulder, I of all people understand that there are things which you can not bear to say to anyone else, for a variety of reasons. I accept the fact that there are things you have not told me, as I have not exactly bared my soul to you. That doesn't mean I like it."
"Which don't you like?" he asked. "That I keep things from you, or that you keep things from me?"
"Both," she honestly replied. "I am a very private person, Mulder, and though I trust you with my life, I can not let you have it all. I have to keep the most important, the hardest truths to myself, both because I need them for my identity and because I'm not always sure you could bear to hear them. At the same time, it feels like lying sometimes. And when I get mad at you for not telling me something, I have to stop and remind myself that you are very similar to me in this respect, and I can't be angry at you for something I consider essential in myself."
They were both quiet for a while. Mulder reached over and took Scully's hand, but didn't say anything. Her brain amused itself for a while by trying to determine if she had just revealed too much by explaining why she revealed so little, then turned towards worrying about the lump in its casing. As she was just beginning to wonder if she should replace the ice, he spoke a single word. "Tunguska."
Her eyes flew open. "Russia?" she asked, turning her head to look at him.
He hesitated before meeting her glance. In the dim light she could barely see his face, especially since the lamp was behind him. What she could see looked haunted, and she couldn't help but remind herself of the other reason she refrained from prying too deeply into Mulder's darkness-- sometimes she didn't really want to know. But he nodded, and began to speak.
The warm, cozy bedroom blurred into a cold, harsh cell as he talked, describing what had happened to him in his time in the prison camp. She shuddered with him as he told about the black cancer, about the worm-like creatures that he had been forced to watch invade his body, about the fear and despair that swirled around the place like a fog. She silently cheered as he told of his daring escape attempt, and squeezed his hand as he told of the guilt he felt at leaving all the others behind. She didn't notice when she wrapped her arms around him as he told of how he had shivered for half a day buried under leaves on the Siberian forest floor. And she suddenly understood, when he explained what the Russian woman had told him about the "treatment" for survivors of the camp. And she held him as he wrapped his arms around her--both of them--and sobbed away the fear and horror of the nightmare that had been rekindled in his mind by his experience in the trailer in Fairfax County.
Dawn came slowly, hidden behind grey clouds that prevented light from shining directly through the blinds. But it came, nevertheless, and it found the partners curled in each others' arms, Mulder's burns apparently forgotten. He was the first to stir, blinking his eyes open to find his head buried in Scully's neck and his cheek pillowed on her breast. 'It's a good thing I'm not more awake,' he thought to himself, 'or this would be more tempting than it already is.' As it was, it was a struggle to extricate himself from their mutual embrace without waking her, or touching her. But he managed to do so, and got as far as the bathroom door before remembering why he was there. The memory stopped him in his tracks--both the previous evening's horrors and last night's remembrances. He stood still for a moment, trying to process it all. Then a voice came from behind him. "How are you feeling, Mulder?"
"I'm trying to figure that one out myself," he said as he turned to face her. Scully was still in her shirt and slacks, looking as rumpled as her clothing. She spoke through a yawn, "How do your arms feel?"
"I feel that they're attached...that's a positive sign," he replied with a faint grin.
She gave him a reproachful look in response. "How are the burns?"
He shrugged and held his arms out for her to inspect. She did so, and pronounced his injuries as minor as she had the previous night. He let his arms fall to his sides, and they looked at each other for a few seconds. Then they both spoke at once.
"Mulder, about last night--"
"Scully, about what happened--"
They each heard the other and started smiling. "God, it sounds like we just had a one-night stand or something," Mulder said, his eyes teasing.
"Now I know you're feeling better," she replied. Then, to his surprise, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. He looked down at her, his face questioning. She gave a small smile and said, "Thank you. I know it wasn't easy to tell me what you did. I'm glad that you felt you could."
He shrugged. "It's more like I felt I had to." He hurried to explain, "For my sake. It did feel good to finally tell you about it, even though I don't think it's something you wanted to hear. It also makes me feel better about what happened to me yesterday. And I know..." he trailed off as his hand stroked up and down her back. "I know we shouldn't expect that we're suddenly going to tell all the secrets that we keep from each other. But it would be nice if we could a little more often."
She regarded him a minute before replying. "I think so, too," she said as she stood on tiptoe and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Now, come on," she said as she gave him a final squeeze and headed out of the bedroom. "We have to drive back out and get your car."
"And see if Esther's around," he said, one hand coming up to touch his cheek.
"Mulder, no one could have survived that explosion," came her voice.
"I didn't say she was physically alive," he called back.
Scully sighed and shook her head. At least some things weren't going to change any time soon...