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.

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