Disclaimer: Chris Carter and the gang have redeemed themselves with the new season, I am happy to say that these two are in the possession of Ten Thirteen. But don't we all like getting off on "borrowing" them for a while? :-)

Rating: This chapter is PG-13. Will be NC-17 later.

Spoilers: This will be a post-Milagro and post-The Unnatural story.

Author's Notes: Please keep in mind, there WILL be more after this. It was actually all going to be one story, but it started getting pretty long and I decided why not break it down into chapters. I just can't do short stories, LOL...There will be 1 or 2 chapters after that and they are the main part of my story, the original idea. This chapter is all set up for that.

Feedback? "I'm hungry." *like Mrs. Peacock*

"Agent Scully is already in love."

I feel myself go cold, almost like the reaction I feel when I am startled badly. Then I feel a flush go through me starting at the top of my head and spreading through my body, leaving me in a cold sweat, especially my hands and feet. I stare at Padgett walking away, not daring to look at Mulder. Frozen. Stricken.

Finally Mulder walks past me, mumbling, "we gotta follow him." He doesn't touch me, doesn't look at me, doesn't usher me ahead of him as usual. He just walks past me, turning himself so he doesn't touch me at all.

I watch him go for a moment. Anyone else wouldn't notice a thing but I see it. He is tense, his arms not moving with his legs, his shoulders just the slightest bit less slouched than usual. He turns a corner in the hallway and I run to catch up. I walk two paces behind him the rest of the way to the car after I do catch up.

We make it to the car and wait out front of the jail, waiting for Padgett to get released and hail a cab. When he does, we follow him. Mulder doesn't say a word the whole time, driving with two hands on the wheel rather than his usual ease on the road. Padgett is going to his, to Mulder's apartment building. After Padgett gets out of the cab, we watch him go inside.

Mulder clears his throat and speaks for the first time since we released Padgett. "Scully, I need you to go pick up some surveillance equipment while I sit on him. I'll call in a warrant and it should be ready when you get there." His hands are still on the wheel, speaking in his flattest monotone.

"Yeah, okay, I'll be back." I step out onto the curb, closing the door, thanking God for the chance to get away from him. I step off of the curb in front of Mulder's car, looking both ways, preparing to cross the street. Mulder jumps out of the car though and meets me in front of the hood before I can step out into the street.

"Was he right, Scully?"

I lose all of the air in my lungs, feeling that damn chill again. "Mulder, I told you, you know me better than that. We didn't…do anything." I know good and well that's not what he's asking me. But I'm giving him the chance and begging him to change the subject all at once. Now there's a long line of cars coming, but I'm looking for the chance to cross the street, to get away from him. He's just staring at me and I refuse to meet his gaze.

I see him open his mouth out of the corner of my eye, getting ready to say something. I dart out across the street, towards my car on the other side, finally getting my chance to cross. I drive off and don't look back.

xxxxx

Hours later, I'm crying into the crook of my partner's neck with wild abandon. When I can finally form words I ask, "Where were you?"

I feel him deflate even more in my arms and he moves one hand to the floor, only so he can move his knees down and hold me that much closer. "I'm sorry…"

I wrap my arms around him tighter, gasping in a breath. It catches in my throat a few times, the way that happens only while sobbing. I move my chin to rest on his shoulder, and look up, the ceiling blurry through the moisture in my eyes. I speak in a throaty whisper. "I was so afraid! I could feel him in there! His hand, inside me! God, it hurts!"

I feel him turn his head and he speaks into my neck, "It's over, I'm here now." I feel him kiss me through thick blood on the side of my neck. Our default, customary, in-case-of-emergency-break-glass kind of affection.

"It hurts!" I involuntarily let out a few more weakened sobs. "I can still feel him. His hand was so cold!" I immediately begin shivering. "I'm cold…I'm going in to shock, Mulder."

"Are you still losing blood?" He pulls away from me and sits back on his calves, trying to tell if I am still losing blood through my shirt.

"I don't know…" I begin shaking, unable to tell if I have open wounds. Unsure when my attacker was interrupted, after I passed out and what condition that would leave me in.

Mulder grabs his phone, calling 911, looking in my eyes as he spouts out his badge number. I watch his lips move, see my blood on them. His eyes lock with mine while he unbuttons my shirt, bottom to top. It's ruined, I don't know why he bothers unbuttoning it. He rests his hand on the side of my neck, eyes still locked with mine as he requests the police and paramedics. After he sets his phone down somewhere above my head, he says, "I need to check, Scully."

I nod. He slowly pushes the left side of my shirt aside. He breaks our eye contact, looking down at my chest. I see the look of relief in his face. "I'm ok?" I blink and feel another tear fall towards my temple.

"You're ok." I close my eyes in relief. I feel his hand come to rest on my ribcage. Right under my left breast, his thumb coming to rest tentatively on that tiny bit of fabric between the cups of my bra. When I open my eyes again, he meets my gaze. Then he closes his eyes and turns his face into his shoulder, brushing his lips against his the sleeve of his shirt. His eyebrows furrow together before he looks at me again, raw emotion. He is devastated, yet relieved. "Your heart is pounding, Scully." He closes his eyes and swallows deeply. "Your heart is beating…" He trails off, his eyes closing once more, only relief now.

"I'm cold, Mulder."

He stands quickly, leaning over me, snatching a blanket from the couch. He sits back down next to me, sits me up, drapes the blanket over my shoulders. He reaches down and deftly buttons my shirt up. He even straightens it up a little. I realize now he saved the buttons, knowing I'll appreciate every last modicum of neatness and control amid this chaos when the cavalry arrives. Then he scoops me up and sets me sideways across his lap, wrapping his long arms around me to keep me warm. He tucks my head into his chest, rests his mouth on my hair, cups his hand around my neck, his thumb stroking my cheekbone by my ear. I bundle within the blanket in the cocoon he's made for me, trembling. The police arrive soon after, him reluctantly letting me go when I move to scoot off of him when we hear the stairway door swing open and their footsteps moving quickly down the hall towards us.

Hours later, we are sitting in his car in front of my building. He parked on the curb a few minutes ago and we sit in silence. Finally he turns to look at me at the same time I turn to look at him. I was about to tell him to go, that I would be fine. But the look in his eyes stops me. 'Don't shut me out, not now.' I breathe deeply and nod, my tongue touching the inside of my cheek in my reluctance. "Come on in." I get out and close the door, walking up the walkway to the front door of my building without waiting on him. I close my jacket as tightly as I can, praying that I don't run into a neighbor covered in dry blood.

Another hour later, I am waiting for him to finish showering. I have showered, and am waiting on my couch in my pajamas and robe. He comes out, in a pair of flannel-print cotton pajama pants and a light gray t-shirt, from the overnight bag he keeps in his trunk. We have both washed ourselves of my blood and I begin to relax. I curl up and let him have his side of the couch.

The next thing I know, it is morning. I have a blanket draped over me. I stare at the obnoxious infomercial on TV, slowly feeling the pain in my ribs and chest wake as I do. I feel his presence, he is still with me. I sit up as gently as I can, huffing at the shooting pains. He wakes as quickly as a watchdog, turning to look at me. He slept there all night, with his ankles and arms crossed, leaning back on that one end of the couch. He looks at me and takes my wrist into one hand, still half asleep by the looks of it. I look at him, puzzled. He holds two fingers over the pulse point there, closing his eyes again when he feels my heart is beating still. I humor him for a few moments before I brush his hand off of my wrist with my other hand, wondering if he's fallen asleep again. But his eyes open, more alert this time.

"I'm glad you're ok. I'm so glad he didn't take you from me. This was too close, this time Scully. I CAN'T lose you."

I soften at his words, always most vulnerable to such things when I first wake. I quickly push away the smile forming on my lips, though.

Author's Notes: Milagro is without a doubt, hands down, my favorite episode. It plays a big part in the next chapter(s) also. Large amount of next part written, I'll get it up ASAP.