An Angel in the Wings. Part two
By Sally Bahnsen
Dulles International Airport Washington D.C.
11:39 pm
The first step was the worst. Mulder knew his ankle would
stiffen up during the flight and after a long period of
inactivity. Even though he'd had sprains before, he wasn't
quite prepared for the agonising pain that engulfed his foot
when he tried to walk. Each time he put his foot to the
ground, no matter how careful he was, it felt as if he was
living through a nightmare that sent his stomach churning
and a distant roar humming through his ears. As they made
their way through the terminal he could sense Scully
hovering by his side, wanting to help him but unsure what to
do.
Being so adamant about refusing a wheelchair was beginning
to feel like a big mistake. Mulder wondered if maybe he
hadn't been a little hasty in rejecting Scully's suggestion.
The thought of sitting down and taking the weight off his
ankle seemed like a really good idea right about now. But
pride was a hard thing to swallow, so instead, he continued
his slow painful walk towards the baggage claim area,
relying on frequent stops to catch his breath and the solid
cement wall to keep him upright while he paused to rest.
xXx
Scully took a deep breath, held it then let it out slowly.
It was no use. The lump of lead in her stomach remained,
growing heavier each time she had to slow her pace so Mulder
could keep up with her. She'd offered him more painkillers
just before the plane landed, but he'd steadfastly refused.
"Mulder? Can you make it a little further? Let's try and
get to the seat over there, then you can rest more
comfortably for awhile." Scully didn't like the vacant
expression in her partner's eyes or the way he had his
bottom lip pulled firmly under his top teeth. "Come on,
I'll give you a hand." She looped her left arm through his
right, trying to offer him some kind of support. Mulder
nodded his head once, a short sharp movement, and gritted
his teeth as he pushed himself away from the wall.
xXx
He hated being injured. The pain, the inconvenience, but
most of all, he found it almost unbearably embarrassing.
Even though it was late, there were still plenty of people
milling around the terminal. Mulder felt as if all eyes
were on him, following his every move. He just wanted to
get out of there, back to the privacy of his apartment where
he could suffer in peace. Moan and groan to his heart's
content where no-one would hear him or look at him or wonder
what was wrong with him. But more than anything, he needed
to get horizontal, take the weight off his foot.
"Here, sit down." Scully helped ease Mulder into the chair.
He leant forward and wrapped his hand around his ankle,
bending down and allowing his head to drop into the crook of
his left arm which rested across his knees. He couldn't
care less now what people thought of him. It wasn't like he
was ever going to see them again. Gradually he became aware
of a light pressure on his back. A hand moving in slow
circles across his shoulders. He lifted his head and looked
up at his partner. Scully smiled at him, a small nod of
encouragement, reassurance. And he realised then how glad
he was that she was there, helping him. How much he'd come
to rely on her. It amazed him actually, the way she had
burrowed her way into his heart in such a short time, had
become an intrinsic, necessary part of his life. Mulder
pulled himself straighter in the chair and put his hand on
Scully's arm, gave it a gentle squeeze and said, "I'm okay.
Let's get this show on the road, I've just about had enough
of airports for one day."
"Do you think you can make it the rest of the way? When we
get to the baggage area, I can get you a cart to lean on."
Mulder nodded and pushed himself shakily to his feet, using
the toes of his right foot to help balance him. "Let's go."
xXx
By the time they reached the baggage area, Mulder looked as
if he was ready to drop. Scully sat him in one of the few
airport chairs lining the wall and waited for their bags to
roll down the chute onto the carousel.
While she stood waiting, Scully kept a watchful eye on her
partner. She wondered who had taken care of him before she
came along, and then figured that he probably just did what
he tried to do with her. Shrug off his injuries and get on
with the job. Or maybe his mother had come and watched over
him, made sure he ate well, wiped his brow and soothed him
with gentle words. He didn't talk about his mom very often.
Scully knew there'd been a rift in the family. He'd told her
as much on their first case together. Her thoughts turned
to Mulder's father. Was he proud of his son? She knew how
desperately she sought approval from her own father,
especially given his concerns about her joining the FBI.
But it was different for a guy. Why wouldn't Mulder's
father be proud of him? He'd done well for himself in the
bureau. Top of his class at Quantico, been responsible for
writing the profile which eventually led to the arrest of a
notorious serial killer. He'd been the golden boy in the
VCS, of course his parents would be proud of him.
A few minutes later, Scully had their bags loaded onto a
luggage cart and headed back to Mulder. He sat with his
head against the wall, eyes closed, both hands absently
rubbing at his right leg, just above the knee.
"Hey."
Mulder lifted his head from the wall and stared up at
Scully, his brow creased in concentration.
"Ready to go?"
"Mm. Yeah. Sorry, I guess I dozed off." He scrubbed at
his face roughly, trying to clear the fuzziness in his head,
then braced his hands on either side of the seat and pushed
himself to his feet. He stumbled slightly as he shifted his
weight to his left leg.
"Here Mulder, take the cart, you can lean on it till we get
out front. I'll bring the car around and pick you up."
He nodded quickly and gripped the handle of the cart, glad
to finally have something to help him walk.
xXx
Route 495
12.45am
Mulder had never been so grateful in his life to feel the
soft cushions of a car seat underneath his butt. The
Tylenol he'd had on the plane had barely taken the edge off
his pain and now the throbbing in his ankle was back with a
vengeance. It didn't take Einstein to figure out that
traipsing around the airport hadn't done him any favours. He
felt as if his heart had slipped from his chest and landed
in his foot, pounding an agonizing rhythm right through his
ankle. He couldn't quite remember feeling so lousy with a
sprain before. Maybe Scully was right, maybe he had broken
something this time.
And he felt cold. No matter how high he turned up the heat,
he couldn't get warm. Suddenly Mulder felt ashamed of
himself. Max was out there somewhere, having God only knows
what kind of tests performed on him and here he was
suffering meltdown over a twisted ankle. It was good that
he was in pain, it was right that he should suffer. Because
of him Max had been abducted, because of him Samantha had
been taken, because of him his mother and father had
divorced. And the list went on. How dare he gripe about
his pain? He sunk further down in his seat, wrapped his
arms around his chest and tried unsuccessfully to still the
shivering that wracked his body.
xXx
Scully knew she should be tired. Exhausted in fact. She'd
barely had any sleep the night before, had worked long hours
beside Dr Oppenheim trying to save Colonel Henderson's men.
But her concern for her partner kept her alert, pumping a
steady supply of adrenaline into her blood stream. Mulder
had again refused the pain killers she'd offered him as they
pulled away from the airport. Instead, he had turned up the
heat in the car, slumped against the passenger side door and
wrapped his arms around his body. She was worried about him.
The little doctor voice in her head nagged at her like an
aching tooth. Telling her to take her partner to the
hospital, but she'd promised to hold off until morning. She
was getting dizzy switching her gaze between the road and
her partner. In the end she decided to stick to the
original plan. He would probably benefit more from rest
than a long wait in the emergency room.
42 Hegel Place
Arlington
1:15am
Scully leant over and shook Mulder's arm. "Hey, we're here.
Wake up." Mulder turned in his seat and stretched his arms
over his head, easing the kinks out of his neck. He looked
around, slightly bewildered.
"What time is it?"
"A quarter after one. Come on, let's get you inside."
Scully climbed from the car and went around to help him. At
least he was willing to accept her assistance now. She
slipped his right arm over her shoulder, allowing him to
transfer some of his weight to her. The height difference
made it awkward and ungainly, and quite frankly she wasn't
sure just how much help she was really being but she felt
better to be doing at least *something* constructive.
As they approached the steps leading to the building's
entrance, Mulder pulled his arm from around Scully and used
the banister to lean on while he made his way up the few
concrete stairs. Scully went ahead to open the door,
waiting as Mulder limped gingerly past her.
Inside the elevator Mulder leaned with his back against the
wall, taking up what was becoming a familiar pose; head
tilted back, eyes closed, right foot hovering those few
inches off the ground. He looked exhausted. Scully
wondered how he was even managing to stay upright. She'd
witnessed a slow deterioration in both his physical and
mental condition since Max had disappeared. Some of it
could be attributed to the pain, the sheer fatigue he was
suffering, but she suspected that what had happened to Max
was a bigger factor in his poor mental state than his injury
was. She chewed on her lip, studying her partner closely,
wishing the cure to Mulder's self recrimination was as easy
to prescribe as the treatment for his physical injury.
The elevator dinged it's arrival on the fourth floor and the
doors opened automatically. Mulder didn't move, he remained
propped against the wall. Scully took a step towards him
just as he started to list dangerously to the side.
"Mulder!" She hadn't meant to call out quite so loud.
Certainly hadn't meant to startle him the way she did. He
snapped to attention slamming both feet hard against the
ground to keep from falling.
xXx
"SHIT!" Mulder bent over, clutched his right shin and
raised his foot off the floor. "Shit. Shit!" He groaned,
eyes clenched tightly shut as wave after wave of pure agony
shot through his ankle and up his leg.
Somewhere in his peripheral consciousness he was aware of
Scully sliding her hand under his arm, preventing him from
collapsing all the way to the ground. Mulder could hear her
talking to him, but the buzzing noise in his head, filling
his ears and his thoughts, made it impossible to decipher
the words. He needed a minute. If he could just let Scully
know he needed some time to work through the pain then he
might be okay. But all his attention was focused on making
his lungs work and convincing his stomach to stay where it
was instead of trying to climb up his throat. Gradually the
roaring in his ears lessened, the agony in his ankle reduced
to a more managable level and with a little effort he
thought he might be able to concentrate on what Scully was
actually saying to him.
"...orry, Mulder. "I'm sorry."
Slowly, Mulder pushed himself up, breathing heavily and
giving his head a quick shake.
"Mulder?"
"I'm all right. I'm okay." He could hear the huskiness in
his voice and the words felt thick on his tongue.
"Can you make it to your apartment?"
"Mm. Yeah." He rummaged in his pocket and found his keys.
"Here, you go ahead. Open the door. I'll be along in a
second."
Scully gave him a doubtful look.
"Really. I'll be there."
"Humor me, Mulder, and come out into the hallway first. I
don't want to spend the rest of the night trying to catch a
runaway elevator with my unconscious partner trapped
inside."
She had a point. Carefully he hopped out of the lift not
even allowing the tips of the toes on his right foot to
touch the ground. Scully gave him one last look before
leaving to open his door.
Mulder hurt all over. His ankle throbbed mercilessly, his
head pounded, the muscles in his shoulders were bunched so
tight that he wondered if he would be able to turn his head
the next day. And he had no idea how he would ever be able
to formulate any kind of argument to defend himself or fight
for his job when he had to face the OPR in the morning.
xXx
Scully fumbled with the bunch of keys, her actions clumsy in
her haste to open the door. Finally she inserted the right
one, turned the lock and pushed the door open. The
apartment was dark, smelled musty. She flicked the light
switch on then made her way inside. She cleared a path for
Mulder, turning more lights on as she went. Satisfied that
her partner would be able to make it to the couch without
tripping or crashing into any badly placed furniture, Scully
returned to the hallway to see if he needed any help.
xXx
Mulder had thought the short distance from the elevator to
his apartment would prove little challenge for him. He
figured he'd just use the wall as support and maybe hop the
rest of the way. That was the plan. Except everytime he
went to take off, his apartment building had mistakenly
taken on the role of a carnival carousel, turning itself in
dizzying circles, undulating up and down as Mulder fought to
keep his stomach contents from decorating the wall, floor
and probably himself. By the time Scully returned he'd
barely made any progress at all.
"Mulder!"
Mulder lifted his head from where it was resting against the
cool plaster wall, squinting in an effort to clear his
vision. He could just make out Scully hurrying towards him.
Thank god. No more games. He was now ready to accept any
help she could give him.
Scully gently pulled at his arm.
"Mulder, here. Put your arm around me." Scully wrapped his
right arm around her shoulders. "Let me help you."
He did. Gladly.
"Try and keep the weight off your ankle, Mulder. Hop if you
have to, I've got you." Mulder almost found the strength to
smile at her suggestion. Although he admired Scully's grit
and determination, he really didn't think that she'd be able
to do much more than go down with him should he start to
topple towards the ground. Still, he appreciated the gesture
and did his best to do as she asked.
Finally, they reached the door of his apartment. Untangling
his arm from Scully, Mulder gritted his teeth and hopped the
rest of the way to his couch.
Relief washed over him in a soothing wave as soon as he sat
down. Leather had never felt so good. Now if he could just
get his ankle to stop aching and the nausea to settle down,
he'd be a happy man.
"Lie back and lift your foot up. I've got some cushions to
put under it."
At the sound of his partner's voice, Mulder forced his eyes
open and willed his body to comply with her instructions.
But he needn't have worried. Once again Scully was there,
helping him, easing him onto his back and helping him lift
his leg up. A strange feeling came over him. A feeling he
vaguely remembered experiencing some time in his past. It
had been a long while since another person had cared for him
like this.
xXx
Scully gently slipped Mulder's shoe off and eased his sock
over the bandage. She could clearly see the ugly bulge at
the side of his ankle through the covering.
"We need to get some more ice on this. I'll be right back."
She gave Mulder's knee a light squeeze before disappearing
into the kitchen.
To Scully's surprise she found the kitchen was in pretty
good shape. In contrast to the disaster-zone he called a
living room, in here, the counters were clean and the floor
space uncluttered. Of course the fact that he rarely
cooked a meal for himself probably had a lot to do with it.
She pulled the freezer door open and expertly navigated her
hand around a frozen clump of...well...what might've once
been something edible in another life time. She pried the
icy mound loose with her fingers and found 3 plastic ice
trays lodged at the back. Pulling hard, she loosened them
from where they'd become stuck against the wall of the
freezer and set them on the sink. A couple of hard taps
against the side of the counter separated the trays.
While she searched the kitchen for a plastic bag and cloth,
Scully wondered about Mulder's personal life outside of the
office. She knew he didn't socialise with their colleagues.
Was there anyone he shared beer and pizza with at the end of
the day? She doubted it, he was too obsessed with his work.
Mulder's idea of a good time was to lock himself in his
office, forage through a bunch of case files and spend long
hours hunched over his computer researching the weird and
unexplained.
Did he ever date? She didn't think so. At least he never
mentioned it. Scully was surprised by the sudden ache in
her chest at the thought of Mulder sharing himself with
another woman. She paused, stared at the icepack now
securely wrapped in a terry cloth hand towel. Was she
jealous? Over Mulder? Scully snorted quietly and shrugged
the feeling off. He was her partner, her friend, it wasn't
unusual to feel a little territorial about someone you
worked closely with. Was it? Scully scooped up the ice
pack and filled a glass with water before returning to the
living room.
xXx
Mulder draped his arm across his forehead and tried to
concentrate on anything but the persistent throb in his
ankle. He attempted to distract himself with thoughts of
Max. Where was he? Could he still be alive? And would the
OPR see things his way tomorrow and sign off on a 302 so he
could finish his investigation?
"Mulder?" Scully's voice was quiet, almost a whisper.
Mulder felt her cool hand wrap around his wrist. "Hey, you
awake?"
"Mmm, yeah." He rubbed at his eyes, now sore and gritty
with fatigue.
xXx
"I've got the ice, but before I put it on your ankle, I need
to take the bandage off." Carefully she raised his leg,
slid the cushion out from underneath and sat down, resting
his foot across her lap as she unwound the bandage. When
it came loose and his injury was exposed, Scully
could clearly see the bruise forming. A deep shade of blue
ringed the outside of his ankle, reached across the top of
his foot then snaked down with spindly purple fingers into
his heel.
"Do you have any ibuprofen? Tomorrow I'd like you to start
taking something to help reduce the inflammation." Scully
laid the icepack across his swollen ankle, careful not to
put too much pressure on it. Even so, Mulder flinched as
the ice made contact with his skin.
"No, uh-uh. Don't keep pain killers in my apartment."
"You don't...Why not?" The question was out before she'd
even had a chance to think about it. Her curiosity about
Mulder's reluctance to seek pain relief had been nagging at
her all evening, but she'd planned to time and phrase her
question a little more tactfully.
"It's a long story. Just let it go."
"Well, I've got some time on my hands at the moment. This
ice has to stay on for fifteen minutes. And if I've gotta
sit here with your foot propped on my lap, the least you can
do is keep me entertained." She smiled at him even though
she doubted he could see her from under his arm.
Mulder lowered the arm from across his eyes and stared at
his partner in silence.
"Come on Mulder, it can't be that bad."
"You don't know the half of it, Scully." The arm fell back
across his forehead, but in that fleeting moment while he'd
been looking at her, Scully had seen a wealth of pain in his
expression. She gently tugged at the other arm resting on
his chest, and covered Mulder's hand with one of hers.
xXx
Mulder felt an odd, dull ache where his heart was beating.
He was pretty good at keeping his emotions in check most of
the time, hell when he thought about it, he'd become an
expert at it over the past 20 years. What was it about
Scully and the way she spoke to him, looked at him, that had
stiff, neglected feelings staggering to the surface again?
Reluctantly, he let his arm slide from his face, but kept
his eyes closed. He drew in a deep breath and let the words
spill out as he exhaled.
"I think I told you that after Samantha disappeared, things
didn't go exactly smoothly in our household. The upshot of
it is that neither of my parents coped well. Dad lost
himself in his work during the day and in a whisky bottle at
night. Mom, slept a lot the first few weeks after we lost
Sam."
He paused, licked his lips before continuing on in a low,
even monotone. "Eventually, she started to spend more time
awake." Mulder snorted a bitter, humourless laugh. "Maybe
awake isn't the right word. She was out of bed, but by no
means awake, at least not in the way most people think of
wakefulness. At first she was careful about how she popped
her pills. She tried to hide it from me, and always had an
excuse if I caught her swallowing 3 or 4 of them down in one
go. But, over time she stopped caring whether I saw her or
not. The 3 or 4 turned into 5 or 6. In the mornings she'd
pour a juice for me and one for herself and swallow the
pills in lieu of breakfast. Then she'd smile at me. "They
help me cope, Fox. You understand, don't you?" Yeah, I
understood all right. I understood that my mother floated
around the house all day, barely aware of her surroundings,
and at night my father shut himself in the study and drank
himself into oblivion."
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, suddenly
realising that Scully's hold on his hand was no longer
gentle but had tightened into a strong, hard grip, as if by
tightening her hold she could somehow tether him to the here
and now and not lose him to the past. "But that's not what
you asked, is it Scully?"
"Mulder...I'm
"No. It's okay. I've come this far, I might as well
finish. Sometime later, I'm not exactly sure when, I got
sick. I don't even remember what was wrong with me. I do
know that I had a raging fever and the worst headache I've
ever had in my life. And while I was usually able to take
care of myself, this time I was too far gone. I'm not sure
why mom didn't get a doctor or take me to the hospital.
Perhaps in her drug addled haze she didn't realise how sick
I was, perhaps she'd had enough of doctors herself. There
were a lot of medical people of one type or another in our
home after Samantha was taken.
"Anyway, whatever her reasons, she decided the best way to
make me feel better was to use the method that made her feel
better. She dosed me up with pills. From what I've been
told, she started out giving me Tylenol, but when I didn't
respond she decided to experiment with the help her own
private pharmaceutical supply. I believe Demerol featured
pretty heavily in the equation. Apparently after a day or
two it got to a point where she couldn't rouse me. On some
level of her consciousness it must have registered that
something was very wrong. She called Dad at work, not an
action she would normally take lightly. He came home, found
me unconscious in my bed and called an ambulance. My mother
told the doctors what she'd done."
Mulder paused, sighing deeply before continuing. "She
wasn't trying to hurt me, Scully. She thought she was
helping. There was no point pumping my stomach, most of the
medication had been absorbed into my body. It was just a
matter of waiting for the drugs to leave my system. As you
can imagine there was an investigation: psychiatrists for my
mother, psychologists for me. Anyway, to cut a long story
short, it was not long after my little hospital adventure
that my parents divorced.
"My father is a hard man to please and my mother had failed
him. He didn't see the part he'd played in her downfall at
all: locking himself away at night, having nothing to do
with us. In my father's mind he had a loser for a son, and
a nutcase for a wife. I've seen the effects of medication,
Scully. And to put it mildly, I prefer to stay off them as
much as I can."
Mulder squirmed on the couch. "Um, Scully. Is time up yet?
It's kinda starting to hurt." He nodded towards the icepack
on his ankle.
"Oh. Sorry." She checked her watch. "Couple more minutes
should do it. Mulder, there's a big difference between
taking pain medication in prescribed doses and what your mom
did to help her cope with emotional problems. You're not
your mother, Mulder. There's no reason to think that what
happened to her will happen to you."
"Yeah. But what if I'm like my father? Both my parents
abused substances to help them deal with their problems.
What if I'm genetically predisposed to drug or alcohol
dependency? My mom sought professional help after I got
sick, she recovered. I feel sorry for what she went
through, and on some level I understand, but I can't forgive
my father. He wasn't there for us, Scully. I know he
blames me for losing Sam. But he had no right to take it
out on my mother."
"Mulder! He had no right to take it out on you either.
You're not to blame for what happened to your sister."
Scully pulled herself up a little straighter, only
remembering she had Mulder's ankle cradled in her lap when
she heard him gasp. Lost in her own anger and shock at what
her partner had suffered as a child, she'd moved quickly,
forgetting to steady his foot.
"I was in charge when Samantha was taken. It *was* my
fault."
"You were a child. Bad things happen every day in this
world, Mulder, you know that. And while it's easier to cope
if the blame can be attributed directly to someone or
something, sometimes there simply isn't a cut and dried
explanation. Your father had no right to make you feel as
if it was your fault either directly or indirectly. He was
wrong."
"But I'm not a child now, Scully, and look what happened to
Max. I couldn't stop him from being abducted, and this time
I *knew* they were coming after him. It's getting a little
hard to explain it all away with coincidence, don't you
think?"
"It has nothing to do with coincidence. You've dedicated
your life to finding your sister, to discovering the truth
behind her disappearance. And in doing so, you are going to
be in situations where you come face to face with other
victims of unexplained phenomena. It stands to reason that
during your investigations you will sometimes be in the same
proximity as the victims when the phenomena occurs. Just
because you are there doesn't mean you're to blame."
"Scully, can you take the ice off now? It is *really*
starting to hurt." He pushed himself up into a sitting
position and leant forward so he could reach the ice pack.
"Mulder, sit back. Let me take care of it." Scully removed
the ice and supported his leg as she slipped off the couch,
repositioning his foot on the cushions. She moved over to
sit on the coffee table where she could roll up the bandage
in preparation to rebind Mulder's ankle. She noticed her
partner's restless movements, his hand constantly kneading
his leg just above the knee.
"You're in pain, Mulder. As a doctor, I can assure you that
taking painkillers as per the recommended dosage will not
cause you to become dependent on them." Scully dug into her
pocket and pulled out the Tylenol. She popped three of the
capsules from the blister pack and handed them to Mulder
along with the glass of water she'd brought from the kitchen
earlier. "Take them. It will serve no good purpose to
anyone if you spend the rest of the night in pain. And
besides, you need to get some sleep if you have any chance
of convincing the OPR that you have a legitimate reason to
continue investigating what happened to Max."
Tentatively Mulder reached out his hand and took the pills
from Scully. He stared at them for a few seconds, debating
with himself whether or not to take them. Old habits were
hard to shake, and he'd already taken 3 on the plane. Then,
almost as if his foot sensed his hesitation it upped the
ante and throbbed harder. Scully was right, there was no
way he'd be able to sleep tonight unless he did something to
ease the pain. He threw the pills back and swallowed them
with the water. "Thanks, Scully."
She stared back at him and gave him a smile, "You're
welcome."
Mulder leaned back against the arm rest, studying his
partner intently. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Why are you still here?"
Scully checked her watch. God, look at the time! 2:am.
Mulder was right, they'd never be able to get up in the
morning. She started to pick up the ice pack, readying
herself to take it back to the kitchen. "I'm sorry, Mulder,
I knew it was late, but I didn't realise *how* late. I'll
get going and..." She stopped speaking when Mulder snagged
her wrist, stilling her hand from packing up the things on
the coffee table. He pulled her towards the couch so she
was sitting by his hips.
"I don't mean here. Tonight. I mean why haven't you gone
running to Blevins begging for reassignment? They've tried
to partner me with other agents before, Scully, and none of
them have lasted more than two weeks."
Scully looked long and hard at the man before her. She felt
a little annoyed that he had to ask, but at the same time
pleased that she'd outlasted all other attempts by the FBI
to set Mulder up with a partner. Why had she stayed? She'd
asked herself the same question earlier in their
partnership. She certainly hadn't achieved what she'd
originally set out to do: emancipate Mulder from his
paranormal shackles. In fact, if anything it was Mulder who
had set her free from the rigid confines of her own
scientific boundaries, opened the door to a whole different
dimension of investigational possibilities. Allowed her to
bend the rules of science, search beyond what she'd always
held sacred, and question the unyielding beliefs that had
been drummed into her throughout her studies. This freedom
had also allowed her to use her knowledge to help solve
their cases, to prove to Mulder that there is a place for
conventional science in his world of paranormal
implausibilities. But more than that she liked her partner.
Mulder wasn't just a work colleague, he was her friend. She
enjoyed their intellectual sparring matches, she enjoyed
being challenged and meeting that challenge head on.
"Scully?"
"You're asking me why I'm still with the X files?"
Mulder nodded, not taking his eyes from his partner.
"Because I want to be. Because we do good work together.
Where else in the Bureau would I have the opportunity to
investigate space craft built from alien technology,
computers with their own intelligence, a killer worm with a
really bad temper, werewolves, beast women...well, maybe I
could encounter the odd beastwoman or two during the red
light sales in Walmart...Mulder, I love my work with you,
there's no place I'd rather be." As an afterthought she
added, "Why? Were you planning on getting rid of me?"
"NO! Hell no! Could you imagine my medical bills if you
weren't my partner?"
"Well, the thought had occurred to me once or twice."
"What thought?"
"That maybe the plan wasn't for me to debunk your work at
all, but rather to save the Bureau on hospital expenses."
"Scully!"
"You've gotta admit, Mulder, I've certainly managed to keep
my finger on the medical pulse since being teamed up with
you."
"Scully, will you do me a favour?"
"Hmmm. Maybe." She smiled at him.
"Open the top drawer of my desk."
"This isn't where the jack-in-the-box jumps out and says
BOO! is it?"
"Just open it."
"O-kaaay." Scully stood up and moved to Mulder's desk,
pulling the top drawer out. "What am I looking for?"
"A key. It should be under those pieces of paper on top
there."
"All right, yes, I've got it."
"That's the spare to my apartment. I want you to have it.
Just in case."
"Just in case of what, Mulder?"
"An emergency. Or in case I get called out of town
unexpectedly and I need someone to feed my fish, collect my
mail, take in the newspapers, that kind of thing."
Scully stared at the key nestled in her hand. Mulder had
never told her outright that he'd accepted her as his
partner. Or his friend. But he didn't have to. He had
shown her in so many different ways over the past months.
But this. This was something more concrete. Proof. That
her intuition had been right, that the time and energy she
had invested in this partnership was time and energy well
spent.
"Scully?"
She turned and smiled at him. "I'd love to, Mulder."
"It's a door key, Scully, not an engagement ring."
She laughed. She couldn't help it. "I know that."
"Well, just as long as we've got that straight." He smiled
back at her, then his expression turned serious again,
almost nervous. "Um...While I'm on a roll, there's one more
thing."
"Something else?"
"I've been meaning to ask you for awhile. Actually, ask is
probably not the right word. I've been meaning to inform
you. I've put you down as my next-of-kin."
"Mu... Why? What about your mom?"
"My mom doesn't cope with medical emergencies very well. She
hasn't since...since I got sick that time. I'd just prefer
not to have her involved if something...well, if I'm not in
a position where I can sign consent forms for myself. Look,
if you'd rather not, I understand. It's a big ask to spring
on you like this, I can take you off the form tomorrow..."
"Mulder. Don't. I'm fine with it. Flattered actually,
that you would think of me."
Mulder gave a soft chuckle. "Who else would I ask, Scully?
You're the only person I know who doesn't look at me as if I
should be permanently incarcerated in a padded cell wearing
the latest in straight-jacket fashion."
"Thanks, Mulder."
"You're thanking me?"
"Yes. I am. For trusting me enough to ask." Scully held
his gaze for a few seconds, then realised something: for the
first time since leaving Townsend she could see a different
light in his eyes. The long belaboured look of self
recrimination and self doubt had been replaced with an
expression more along the lines of relief, and if she looked
really hard she could almost imagine she saw a certain kind
of happiness there as well. Scully slipped the key into her
pocket, gently running her finger along the serrated edge
before letting it go and turning her attention back to
Mulder's medical needs. The neatly rolled bandage lay on
the coffee table. Scully picked it up and juggled it once
or twice in the palm of her hand. "Let me wrap your ankle,
then I better get out of here. We *both* need some sleep."
xXx
Mulder drew in a long breath and let it out slowly. It was
the first time he'd given any part of himself to anyone in a
very long time. So long in fact, that he almost didn't
recognise the quiet euphoric buzz that accompanied the act.
It felt as if his whole body had just sighed a huge breath
of relief, the muscles across his shoulders had loosened,
the tight bunched feeling replaced with...well...with
nothing at all. That was the point wasn't it. You didn't
notice those muscles until they started to hurt or tense up.
He hadn't been sure how Scully would react when he asked her
to be his next of kin. He'd always thought Scully was
different, but to open himself up to her, request something
of her that required more than just partnerly duty had
scared him a little. But she'd reacted exactly as he'd
hoped, and yes, he did feel relieved, not only because she'd
agreed to his request, but also for what it symbolised. He
felt as if their friendship had been stamped with an
official seal. Been formalised. And he had to admit to
himself, it felt good. Pretty damn good.
Mulder allowed himself to relax into the soft leather
cushioning of his couch while giving himself up to Scully's
ministrations. The throb had eased a little. It was still
there, but now reduced to a dull ache rather than the
resounding bass-like pulsing of a few minutes ago. He
figured that once the painkillers fully kicked in he might
even be able to sleep. Already there was a heavy kind of
lethargy settling over his body. And something else as
well, a pressing need that he would have to attend to before
Scully left, or at least get her to help him.
Scully put the finishing touches to the bandage on Mulder's
ankle. She stood up straight and put her hands on her hips,
leaning to the left then the right attempting to ease stiff
muscles in her back. She stretched her hands above her head
then covered her mouth as she yawned. Yes, she could
definitely do with some sleep. She bent over and picked up
the ice pack and empty glass then headed into the kitchen.
She discarded the ice in the sink, put the soggy plastic bag
into the trash, filled up the ice trays and returned them to
the freezer. She then topped Mulder's glass up with water
before returning to the living room.
"Mulder! What are you doing?" What the hell was wrong
with him? He was sitting on the edge of the couch, both
feet resting on the floor, and by the look on his face, it
hadn't been a smooth transition. The ghostly pallor had
returned to his skin, and little trickles of sweat edged
down the side of his face.
"I gotta use the bathroom, Scully."
"Really, and how did you think you were going to get there?"
"I had a plan."
"I can imagine. Here, let me help you."
"I don't think so. I'm a big boy, I can use the bathroom on
my own. But you can do me a favour."
"Just for something different, huh? I'm going to start
keeping score, Mulder."
"Ha, ha. Over there, in the closet, I've got some
crutches..."
"Now why doesn't that surprise me?"
"You gonna rag on me or are you gonna help me?"
Scully put the glass of water on the coffee table and laid
the packet of Tylenol beside it. If Mulder woke up in pain
at least he wouldn't have to go far for relief. She walked
over to the closet, put her hand on the knob and pulled.
"No! Wait!" Mulder's warning cry was too late. Boxes,
files, a basketball and a broken lamp came tumbling out of
the closet and landed at Scully's feet. She managed to jump
out of the way just as a lone crutch toppled across the
other bits and pieces scattered on the floor. Hmm, I wonder
where its mate is, Scully thought to herself. And almost as
if answering her question, the other crutch fell from the
opposite side of the closet and landed across the first one,
like a giant medical crucifix.
"Is this your version of a Tupperware cupboard, Mulder?" She
asked, thinking of the various plastic gadgets and
containers that repeatedly spilled from her own over-crowded
kitchen shelves.
Mulder grimaced as he stared at the mess surrounding his
partner. "I tried to warn you."
"Well, at least we found what we were looking for." Scully
picked up the crutches, side-stepping the boxes and files.
She gently soccered the basketball out of the way with her
toe, then made her way over to Mulder. She handed him the
crutches. "I'll wait out here till you get back."
Mulder glared at her, but he really wasn't angry. After all
she'd just risked life and limb getting him the crutches so
he could go to the bathroom on his own.
A few minutes later, Mulder returned, without incident.
Scully gave him a surreptitious inspection, relieved to see
he looked as if he'd managed the task without causing
himself further injury. She helped him settle onto the
couch, propped his foot on the cushions and covered him with
the afghan blanket that had been folded over the back of his
couch. As a finishing touch, she leaned the crutches
against the wall just behind his head.
"Where's your cellphone, Mulder?"
"In my jacket pocket."
"Is it still charged?"
"I'm not sure." He pulled the phone from his pocket and
handed it to Scully. She checked the battery, and satisfied
it wasn't going to die during what was left of the night,
set it beside the water and Tylenol.
"Okay, Mulder. If the pain gets worse during the night,
you've got pain meds and water here. If it becomes
unbearable and you can't sleep, call me. All right?"
"Scully..."
"Call me."
"Okay, already."
"How's the pain now?"
"Better, actually."
She studied his face for a few seconds, looking for any
telltale signs of 'Mulderbullshit.' But, she had to admit,
he did look better, better than he had all night. "Good."
She did a quick circuit of the apartment making sure
everything was in order. "I'll be back first thing in the
morning to ice your ankle again before we leave for the
office. Do not attempt to put weight on it or walk without
the crutches. Do I make myself clear?"
"Crystal."
She softened her tone. "Mulder, it's going to be all right.
Once I explain to McGrath the circumstances of what
happened, he'll have no choice but to sign off on the 302.
Max's disappearance is unexplained. That makes it an X
File. It's *our* case."
"Yeah, maybe. But, you don't know these people, Scully.
Their whole existence is based on denial."
"Let's worry about that in the morning, right now we both
need some sleep. Can I get you anything before I go?"
"No, I'm fine."
"Okay, 'night, Mulder."
"G'night, Scully. And, thanks."
She smiled at him then slipped through the open door,
shutting it quietly behind her.
Mulder watched his partner leave. Suddenly his apartment
felt very empty. He let his gaze roam around the living
room, noting the water and pills on the coffee table, the
crutches within easy reach leaning against the wall. And he
figured that despite the crap constantly dished out to him
time and again throughout his life, somewhere along the way
he must have done something right to end up with Scully as
his partner and his friend. The dread of facing the OPR
hearing tomorrow somehow didn't seem quite so overwhelming.
Scully's optimism was contagious. Maybe this time tomorrow
they would be back in Wisconsin in an official capacity and
without Henderson blocking them at every turn, maybe they'd
even find Max.
Mulder smiled to himself. Scully truly amazed him
sometimes. Even though he knew that the mere notion of
alien abduction went against all her beliefs as a scientist,
she was still willing to back him up, to go through the
proper channels so they could return to Wisconsin together.
With his injury, he knew he was going to need her with him
more than ever. And she would be there. Despite their
differences Scully wouldn't let him down.
Mulder snuggled down on the couch, pulling the rug up to his
chin. He felt himself sink lower into the soft leather
cushions, allowed the heavy lethargy to wash over him as
sleep nipped at the edges of his consciousness. "'night,
Scully," he whispered into the silence, "see you in the
morning."
The end.
You made it! Congratulations!
