Chapter 19
"Diana?" Mulder stared at her in utter shock and nearly choked. "What in the hell are you doing here?"
Diana Fowley smiled up at him indulgently. "Well I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to wake up." She yawned, discreetly covering her mouth. "Sorry, I must have dozed off."
Where's Scully?" Mulder demanded, struggling to keep his temper under control as he looked around for his partner.
Fowley look up at him with an expression of surprise. "Scully's here, too?"
Mulder reached down and grabbed her arm. Ignoring Fowley's look of wonder, he roughly jerked her to her feet. "Don't play dumb with me, Diana, it doesn't suit you at all. Now where is she?" he barked.
"Fox, please. Settle down" she commanded. "I don't know what you're talking about." She met his gaze head on.
Mulder's eyes bored through her, desperately struggling to comprehend. He forced himself to stay calm. He couldn't show his anger, his rage. It was obviously too risky at this point. Scully. That was his priority. He had to focus.
"Fine. Then let's start with what you do know. Where have you been and what are you doing here now?" He asked, careful to keep his tone low.
Fowley reached up and pried her arm out of Mulder's grip. "For your information, I've been on special assignment - deep undercover - looking for Gibson."
Mulder clenched his jaw and forced himself not to react.
"I'm here because I got a lead," she continued, "but you're all I've found so far."
"Where is 'here', might I ask?" Mulder folded his arms and kept his voice low and controlled.
"A compound on a tiny island, off the Virginia coast. What are you doing here, Fox?" Fowley queried.
Mulder had his answer ready. "I don't know. Scully and I were attacked, drugged and brought here by two men. No one's spoken to us since we got here on Friday night." he answered smoothly conveniently eliminating the fact that they'd been misidentified as Dr. and Mrs. Dickerson.
Fowley's brow furrowed. "Well, right now it's Sunday afternoon, almost 3:00."
Mulder felt his gut twist. The last thing that he remembered was Saturday night, around 11:00. (Where was
Scully? How long had she been gone?) He headed for the door.
"Fox, where are you going?" Fowley called out as she hurried after him.
"Where the hell do you think - to find Scully." Mulder reached for the doorknob but Fowley darted around in front of him and blocked his way.
"Fox - no!" She looked into his eyes, pleading with him.
"What do you mean - 'no'? I've got to find her." He moved to push her aside, but Fowley placed both hands on his shoulders.
"It's too late, Fox." she said quietly but firmly.
"What do you mean it's too late? What in the hell are you talking about? You just got finished telling me that you didn't know that she was here. So which one is it Diana?" He was almost shouting and he had to restrain himself as the urge to reach out and throttle her nearly overwhelmed him.
"She's dead, Fox. They killed her while she was trying to escape."
Mulder simply stared at her in dumbfounded horror and disbelief. The news hit him like a sucker punch, stealing his voice. His heart was out of control, banging loudly in his chest. "No," he whispered brokenly.
Fowley lowered her eyes. "I'm sorry, Fox. I - I - should have told you right away, but I just couldn't - I -" She shook her head.
"I don't believe you," Mulder said in a strangled voice that he barely recognized as his own. "Why - should - I believe you?"
Fowley actually had the nerve to look offended. "Believe what you want to, Fox. But it would be wise for you - to - believe me." She ran her hands up and down his arms. "Fox, it's over. It's all over. Come back with me." She pleaded. "There's nothing to hold you back now. Come with me and together we'll find everything that you've been looking for."
Mulder's head was spinning. (Cancerman. CGB Spender had wanted me to join him. The cigarette smoking man had made me the very same offer. That's it. I'm out of here.) Without hesitation he again reached out for the door, but Fowley was quicker. With one smooth move, she grabbed Mulder's arm and jerked him back, all the while reaching for her Glock that she'd kept hidden under her sweater.
Suddenly, Mulder found himself looking down the barrel in to Fowley's eyes, which had become cold and unforgiving.
It was a look that Mulder had never seen on her face before and he definitely wasn't prepared to see it now. He thought about wrestling her for the gun, but dismissed the notion out of hand. She was a trained FBI agent and as she stood before him, she seemed to be looking for an excuse to shoot. (But would she - really - shoot me?)
Fowley read the thought in his eyes. "Don't think for one second that I won't do it, Fox. Don't ever doubt that. You have a choice to make. You can do this the easy way or you can die. Right here, and right now."
Mulder's mouth dropped. When? When had she become the unspeakable enemy? The very worst of THEM? He searched desperately for the tiniest hint of the person he'd known and trusted. And failed.
Chapter 20
Scully moaned softly as consciousness returned to her bringing with it awareness and with awareness came pain. She moaned again and weakly brought her hand up to her face, rubbing her eyes in an effort to get them open. Distantly she realized that her fever had returned also, with a vengeance, but she pushed that aside for now.
(One thing at a time,) she thought as she forced her eyes open. Squinting against the glare of the bathroom light, she looked over, expecting to see Mulder stretched out beside her.
The fact that he was nowhere in sight and that she was in bed as opposed to the couch that she remembered, gave her the strength that she needed to pull herself to a sitting position. It felt as though she was moving through quicksand and as soon as she was upright, she wished that she had just kept flat.
She managed to call out once for Mulder, her voice thin and hoarse, when an avalanche of
dizziness and nausea cut off her second cry. She clamped a hand to her mouth as she scrambled off the bed and staggered drunkenly towards the bathroom. The floor seemed to slide out from under her feet and she felt herself falling. Grabbing nothing but air, she collapsed, a burning, tearing pain flashed throughout her entire body, even setting her lungs on fire. Weak, dizzy, and drenched with sweat, she lay facedown, unable to move and barely able to breathe. The light quickly dimmed and then there was nothing.
Chapter 21
Dani slipped deeper into the shadows, escaping the Boss' notice for now. She glanced down at her watch: almost 2:00. She knew that she didn't have much time as she watched the Boss enter Mulder's room.
(The end is coming,) she thought with satisfaction.
She waited a couple of minutes more, and then raced to Scully's room. She found the agent lying face down on the floor, unmoving. Gently she turned Scully over and was relieved to find that she was conscious but too weak to get up on her own.
"Mulder," Scully murmured, her vision blurred. She blinked several times and tried to focus on the face above her.
"Not Mulder. My name's Danielle. I'm here to help. Come on; let's get you to the bed."
Scully struggled to comprehend. "Where's Mulder?"
Dani didn't answer. "Come on, Agent Scully," she urged as she pulled Scully up. Scully groaned, the sudden movement renewing the throbbing in her head. Dani guided Scully back to the bed. Scully struggled to take the necessary steps even as her lips trembled with the effort and her head continued to pound mercilessly. Dani got her settled in a reclining position then hurried to the bathroom and filled a glass with water. She returned to find Scully staring at her, more lucid, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
"Who are you? Where's Mulder?"
Dani could see the effort it was costing her to keep her voice steady in an attempt to appear in control.
"I'm here to help you," she repeated as she placed three Motrin tablets in Scully's hand. "Quickly, Agent Scully so that they can start to work."
Scully eyed them suspiciously before swallowing them, but it took a monstrous effort to keep them down. A cold wind seemed to have swept through her and she was shaking all over and her teeth kept chattering together, making even her jaws ache as she clenched them tight.
Dani watched her anxiously. "Agent Scully, I know that this is hard, but you've got to trust me. We've got to hurry. There isn't much time left. The Boss has rigged this entire place to blow and I've got to get to Agent
Mulder."
Scully struggled to pull herself up. "Where is Mulder?"
"He's still in the room that you started in, but I've got to get to him...he doesn't know what he's going up against."
"I'm going with you," Scully announced with grim determination, her voice strained.
Dani shook her head. "No - no you're not. I've got to get you to the escape tunnel. I'm the only one that's going to handle the Boss." She gave Scully the glass of water and encouraged her to drink some more.
"You've got to get down to the beach," she continued. "That's where the help is going to arrive. I couldn't risk bringing them up here." She took a breath. "I know you have loads of questions and doubts but there simply isn't any time."
"I'm not leaving Mulder." Scully insisted stubbornly.
Dani sighed. "Don't worry about Mulder. I intend for him to be right behind you. Look, I've taken care of you this far and I won't let anything happen now if I can help it. You're just going to have to trust me."
Scully fought to concentrate on what Dani was telling her as she continued to sip the cool water. The pain in her chest was making it difficult to breathe. "What -"
"Don't talk," Dani admonished her, "just rest a little bit longer."
Dani sat with her until 2:50. "Has the Motrin started working?"
Scully nodded once.
"Okay, let's go." Dani helped Scully to her feet, holding her securely around the waist as Scully wobbled on
unreliable legs. She looked completely out of it.
"You can do this, Agent Scully," Dani said with more confidence than she actually felt. "I know you can."
Scully bit her lip as she focused on each step, willing Dani's words to be true as she was led out into the corridor.
Chapter 22
Dani held a finger to her lips and Scully nodded in understanding. The two women walked quietly through the nearly empty corridor with Scully hanging on to Dani for dear life.
Scully kept her eyes on her feet, concentrating on each step, blindly letting Dani lead her, trusting her with
hers and Mulder's lives. Despite the Motrin, the dreadful ache in her chest had shot up into her jaw and down both arms. The pain was making it hard to breathe and even harder to think, but Scully resolutely pushed past it with a strength born on her love for Mulder. She was not going to die. Not here. Not when there was still so much unfinished business.
At the end of the corridor, they came to a room with a door that was different from the others.
"This leads to a tunnel that will take you out," Dani whispered. "It actually opens up on the cliff about fifty feet above the beach, but it's a fairly easy climb; lots of rocks and handholds."
Scully shook her head, panting with the effort. "I can't do it. Not without Mulder. I'm not leaving here without Mulder."
Dani gnawed on her lower lip and gave up. "Okay. Fine. Just wait right here. Don't move. I'll get Mulder and be right back."
Scully watched her leave, sliding down the wall to a sitting position and desperately fought back the darkness.
Chapter 23
Mulder opened his mouth to speak when the steel door silently swung open. Although the movement caught Fowley by surprise, she retained the presence of mind to keep her gun trained on him. Fowley glanced over and saw to her surprise that it was Dani. Then she did a double take. Dani had a gun pointed right at her head.
Mulder, despite his fear and anger was intrigued. "Who are you?"
"Don't bother, Fox," Fowley said coldly. "She's of no concern to you. Besides, she's deaf and dumb."
The young woman, who looked to be about twenty, took one step forward into the room. Her green eyes flashed. "Don't be too sure about that, Boss."
Now it was Fowley's turn to be shocked. Mulder almost laughed in spite of the circumstances at the look of comical surprise that Fowley was unable to mask. And still her gun never wavered.
"What's the matter, Boss - cat got your tongue?" Dani taunted.
Fowley's face morphed and the rage contorted her features into a gruesome sight. "You little lying bitch," she seethed. "All these years you let me think you were so traumatized by your father's death. How could you?"
"How's that for the pot calling the kettle black. You - you're the only 'bitch' in this room. Did you actually think that I wouldn't find out that you were part of it all? You killed my father as surely as if you'd pulled the trigger yourself and then tried to ease your conscience by taking care of the 'poor, grieving daughter'."
Dani's fury eclipsed Fowley's and Mulder could see that it was taking every ounce of restraint not to pull the trigger.
"Revenge - will - be mine." Dani announced triumphantly.
"Who was your father?" Mulder asked in an attempt to diffuse the situation with the calm of desperation. He thought that it was incredible that he could still think and function knowing that it could already be too late.
This stand off, however, was not getting him any closer to locating his partner.
Dani kept her gun trained on Fowley. "You knew him as Deep Throat."
"What?" Mulder couldn't have been more shocked than if she'd said that her father was one of the aliens.
"Look - enough of this." Fowley snapped.
Mulder, however, wanted so much more: he had never learned Deep Throat's real name or anything about him. What was Diana's part in all of this? There was so much information that this young woman could give him but Fowley never gave her the chance. In the blink of an eye, Fowley brought her Glock around and squeezed the trigger.
Dani took the lightning bolt point blank in her chest. She spun around so that she was lying face down across the threshold. She never made a sound as her own gun flew from her lifeless hand out into the hallway. She was dead before she hit the floor.
Mulder cried out and moved to go to her but Fowley stopped him. "Don't do it, Fox. It's over." She kept the Glock pointed at his own broken heart.
He froze. So this is how far she was willing to go. He hadn't been 100% sure before. He was now. He looked over at the body of the young woman and as he watched her blood seep out around her, he realized sadly that he didn't know her name either.
"How could you, Diana?" He asked mournfully. It struck him that maybe she hadn't been lying about Scully. (Then she might as well shoot me, too.) He again moved towards the door when two shots rang out almost simultaneously.
Mulder went down instantly as the bullet pierced his left side and the searing pain ripped a cry from his lips.
Rolling painfully onto his back, he reached down to probe his injury, keeping his eyes closed. He'd made the mistake in the past of seeing himself shot and had nearly passed out at the sight. (Through and through,) he realized sickly. The bullet had ripped through him right above his waist.
"Mulder." A thin whisper caught his attention.
(No! It couldn't be! Could it?)
His hazel eyes flew open. "Scully!" he cried out, an incredulous look on his face. (She's alive!) He thought joyfully, staring up at her as she knelt before him. His own pain took a backseat to his overwhelming relief.
Scully managed a small smile before turning serious. "Mulder, we have to get out of here. This place is rigged to explode," she said as she checked his injury.
Mulder looked over and saw Diana lying in a pool of her own blood several feet away. Mulder frowned. (How can that be?) He thought fuzzily, and then remembered that he'd heard two shots.
"I'm sorry that I wasn't faster," Scully said softly, keeping all emotions from her voice as she noticed the look on his face and misinterpreting its meaning.
"Don't be," Mulder told her firmly. "I'm just thankful that you were there. I'm the one who's sorry that you had
to do that." He looked up at her, struck by the deathly pallor of her face, her eyes dull with pain. (Enough. They'd figure this all out later. Time to get moving. Now.)
Chapter 24
Scully checked Mulder's pulse: steady and strong, a bit faster than usual. She reassessed his wound and saw that there was bruising all along his left flank following the path of the bullet as it had traveled beneath the skin. With a silent prayer that it had missed his kidney and spleen, she continued to hold pressure to the exit wound, which had seeped a thin trickle of blood.
"I'm okay, Scully," Mulder attempted to reassure her; "it just hurts like a bear." He grimaced as he pulled himself to a sitting position.
Scully, of course, could tell that it hurt a lot more than that. He was pale and a fine sheen of sweat covered his face.
"Do you know the way out of here?" he asked as he staggered to his feet. "Diana said that we're on an island."
Scully sat back on her heels. "Down the hall, to the left. There's a gray door. There's a tunnel that opens out on the cliff and the beach was about fifty feet below."
Mulder huffed in frustration. Scully was in no condition to go rock climbing and he certainly wasn't in the best shape right now either.
Scully read his thoughts easily. "We can do it, Mulder - together. Besides, we don't have much choice. I don't know how long we have left before this place self-destructs." She paused to catch her breath. "Help is coming, but it's going to the beach - away from the explosion."
Mulder nodded. "Right. Let me make sure that the coast is clear." He picked up the gun Scully had used to fell Diana and stepped cautiously out into the hall.
Scully found herself alone with the two dead women and shuddered. She would never have believed that Fowley was capable of this. It didn't matter what she thought of her before - this was unreal. And Danielle. She had basically given her life to help them.
She caught sight of Fowley's gun and wondered if she should take it for evidence. (Yes,) she determined quickly, stripping Fowley's holster, putting it on and gingerly sliding the Glock in place, careful not to smudge any prints.
She met Mulder at the door. His eyes narrowed when he saw what she'd done but realized at once that it was necessary. Scully neither apologized nor tried to comfort him. She had to do this. She had to close the book on Agent Diana Fowley and this was going to do it.
"Coast is clear." Mulder said simply, then took her hand and led her down the hallway. When he reached the door, he yanked it open, using his good right arm. His left side was one burning pain that intensified with movement and even breathing.
He looked inside. Beyond the gray door was an empty room lay out like the others except that the back wall was solid rock. Scully caught sight of the opening in the far right corner and silently pointed it out to Mulder. Gun drawn, he advanced cautiously as Scully stayed back to keep the door propped open, as there didn't seem to be any light fixtures. Mulder crouched before the opening. It was about four feet wide and tall; they'd have to crawl.
He moved inside and strained his eyes and was able to make out the opening some ten yards ahead, a pinpoint of light. He motioned Scully over. She stepped over and dropped to her knees, making it just as the door closed, plunging the room into darkness.
Scully froze until she felt Mulder's hand reach out and touch her shoulder.
"Just a second, Scully," he said quietly, "give your eyes a chance to adjust. The opening of the tunnel is ahead."
Scully blinked several times until she, too, could see the exit. "I'm ready," she panted softly.
Mulder didn't respond. He didn't think that she was anywhere near ready, but there was nothing else that he could do or say. Instead, he shifted around and began crawling, relieved to hear Scully right behind him. But then his imagination played a cruel trick and for one terrifying minute he was back in the vent in the Antarctic, the embryonic creature having just burst from its pod. He could actually hear the inhuman shriek and see the razor-sharp claws and deadly fangs as it chased them through the vent. His heart beating wildly, he grunted painfully and pushed the memory away. (It's just Scully - nothing else - just Scully.)
"Mulder?" Scully's voice strained and worried floated up to his ears.
He shook his head. "Nothing, Scully," he lied. "We're almost there."
Indeed, the light was much brighter and he could hear the waves crashing below.
In the enclosed tunnel, his own ragged breathing was amplified in his ears as well as Scully's desperate wheezing. The pain in his side was unrelenting and he attempted to crawl using only his right arm and leg in an effort to take some of the strain off the injured muscles.
They exited the tunnel and Mulder helped Scully to a standing position. He looked out over the beach to the ocean beyond. Scully stood by his side, letting the salty air sweep over her before looking down.
(Oh my God!) Fifty feet. It looked like a bottomless pit. (I can't do it. I can't.) She thought frantically, biting her lip to keep the negative words from escaping and clutched convulsively at Mulder's arm. Her legs felt like rubber and her palms slick with sweat.
Mulder recognized and understood Scully's terror. He was just as worried as she was, but there was no turning back now. They had to go down.
"Just do what I do, Scully," he told her as he took a step down. "I'll be one step ahead of you - always within reach."
Scully swallowed hard, her eyes wide, and nodded. After the first two steps, she realized that Danielle had been right. There were plenty of footholds and rocks to hold on to. Mulder, too, was encouraged even though the going was slow and nerve-wracking. He would step down first, make sure that the rock was solid then reach up and carefully guide Scully down.
After twenty feet, Scully held up her hand. "Wait-" she gasped, hunched over, trusting Mulder to keep her from tumbling down to the sandy beach below. "I - I - just - need -"
Minute by minute, her breaths were becoming shorter; her grips not as secure, the handholds became more slippery. She could feel the sharp rocks through the lightweight slippers that she still wore and her chiffon dress was ripped in several places where it had snagged on the same sharp rocks. Her body was stiffening up and the wind had increased causing her hair to fly across her face, blinding her. She felt as though someone had stabbed her in the chest with a white-hot knife. The nausea and physical exertion bathed her body in sweat.
Struggling for each breath, she held on by sheer reflex and somehow managed to stay upright. With strength she didn't know she possessed, she was able to keep the darkness at bay just a little bit longer.
Mulder, too, was feeling the strain. His left side was on fire. Waves of cramping pain had begun to shoot through his entire body sapping of the strength he so desperately needed. He kept expecting the explosion every second as he let Scully try and catch her breath. He wasn't sure how she was holding on and it scared him even more. Time was running out at an alarming rate. They had to get on solid ground.
Then another sound caught his attention. He looked back over his right shoulder and saw three helicopters in the distance, heading their way.
Mulder sagged with relief. "Scully, here comes the Calvary." He said a silent prayer of thanks as Scully bowed her head in acknowledgment, unable to speak.
Then, without warning, he slipped. His foot went first, sliding off the edge of the niche that he had thought was safe. Instantly, his grips gave way as he slid another fifteen feet, slamming his left elbow against a small protruding rock and skinning his knees and chin.
"Mulder!" Scully cried out in helpless horror.
Kicking and clawing frantically at a shallow crevice, Mulder came to a stop. Gasping, he fought to bring himself to a more secure spot. His elbow and knees while not broken were throbbing mercilessly. He could hear the helicopters getting closer. Looking up at Scully, his stomach clenched. Could she get down to him without help? He didn't think so.
He opened his mouth to call to her, when he saw her double over on the narrow rock. Scully gasped as the agonizing pain encircled her chest like a vise. There was to be no reprieve this time. It consumed her completely. It took her breath, her voice. She lost all control of her hands, her feet, and consciousness vanished in the blink of an eye. She didn't feel herself falling.
"Scully!" Mulder shouted - his arm shooting out to catch her and drag her in.
He wasn't even close.
Scully's body tumbled past him like a rag doll thrown down by a petulant child. Before he could take another step down, the compound exploded with an ear-shattering boom. The cliff shook, tearing his hands free and he lost his balance, crashing to the beach below, barely missing his fallen partner. He blacked out.
Chapter 25
Sitting in the co-pilot's seat in the lead helicopter, A. D. Walter Skinner forced himself to stay calm and focused. They were almost there. The tiny island was in sight.
Two of the three helicopters were filled with members of the FBI's Hostage Rescue Team. The HRT was an elite group with punishing physical requirements that turned out highly skilled agents, in a similar vein as the Navy Seals. Skinner tried to take comfort in that fact as the tension inside him rose with every passing second.
The third helicopter was loaded with flight doctors and nurses and enough emergency equipment to turn the chopper into an emergency room with wings.
Skinner ground his teeth, knowing that the caller had warned him that Agent Scully was ill. He hoped to God that there were survivors of this calamity. He -really- hoped to talk to whoever had kidnapped Mulder and Scully in the first place.
"There, sir! Up ahead on the cliff!"
The agent's voice in his headset startled him and Skinner gratefully accepted the binoculars placed in his hands. He quickly raised them to his eyes and adjusted the focus. It took only a minute to spot his two missing agents clinging desperately to the side of the cliff.
(Oh shit!) He thought, as he watched Mulder guide Scully down the rocks. Keeping the high-powered lens pressed firmly against his face, he had a front-row seat to the drama unfolding before him. The closer that they got, the more details that he was able to discern: Scully's slow, sluggish movements, the blood on Mulder's clothes.
When Mulder slid down the rock face, he had to resist the urge to reach out to the younger man and clamped his mouth shut against the shout that almost escaped his lips. The pilot, too, saw the trouble Mulder was in and tried to get more speed out of the jet helicopter. He was calculating the best angle to come in at when Scully fell.
The binoculars still in place, Skinner could see every horrifying detail. He saw that Scully had lost consciousness before she fell; her eyes were already closed. He knew that he'd never forget the look on Mulder's face as he watched his partner drop to the beach below.
Everyone was so engrossed in the plight of Mulder and Scully that when the bomb detonated, they were taken completely by surprise. It seemed as though the entire top of the island was consumed in a blaze of white light followed by a thick curtain of smoke. Skinner and the HRT watched the scene unfold before them as if in slow motion, stunned by the sudden thunder of the explosion. The resultant shock wave hit the helicopters with enough force that the pilots had to use every skill ever learned to keep control and land safely on the beach.
Chapter 26
By unspoken agreement, it had been decided that Dr. Jason Barton would take care of the female agent, Scully while Dr. Peter Hayes would tend to her partner, Mulder. Jason was the senior officer and had cross-trained in Cardiology, becoming Board Certified in both Emergency Medicine as well as Cardiology.
On the flight over, they had thoroughly studied Agent Scully's medical file, having been briefed by A. D.
Skinner on the caller's description of her current condition. Jason had to agree that it certainly sounded like pericarditis and when he saw her tumble down the face of the cliff, he suspected the worst. Cardiac tamponade. The infected fluid had collected between the cardiac muscle and the pericardial membrane surrounding it, reaching the point where the mounting pressure had compromised the pumping and filling power of the heart.
He quickly prepared his team members - he was more than likely going to have to perform an emergency percardiocentesis out here in the field. The team members tensed. Inserting an EKG-guided needle through the upper abdomen, the diaphragm and finally piercing the pericardium was a risky, potentially fatal maneuver under ideal circumstances.
"We have no choice, people. We don't do it now and she will die. Period." He refused to consider that she hadn't survived the fall. That was -not- an option. He reviewed what everyone's role would be and what equipment he wanted ready.
Peter Hayes had seen the blood on Mulder's clothes and his crash landing after the bomb detonated and had also prepped his own team. They were as ready as they were ever going to be.
After the hair-raising jolt they'd experienced when the shockwave hit, the choppers landed safely on the beach and everyone spilled out, knowing what their job was and hurrying to do it.
The medical team swarmed Mulder and Scully, while the HRT searched for survivors as well as any evidence that might have survived the blast.
Skinner remained with his two agents, careful to stay out of the way as the doctors and nurses went to work with a controlled urgency. There was nothing that he could do and yet he wasn't about to leave them now.
Jason reached Scully first and performed his first assessment in less than a minute after carefully turning her over. Airway: patent. Breathing: shallow, she was becoming cyanotic and her jugular veins were distended. Circulation: no distal pulses. Obvious deformity right leg.
"Move in, people, let's go! Somebody splint that right leg!"
For Skinner it was a blur. Faster than he'd have thought possible, Scully was intubated, hooked up to an EKG monitor, had two IV lines inserted and her right leg immobilized.
Jason had prepped the spot on her abdomen where he would insert the 18gauge, 3 1/2-inch cardiac needle, when he heard someone call out that there was no blood pressure and that the EKG showed sinus tachycardia. He was set.
Jason took a deep breath, refusing to look at his patient's face, and then plunged the needle into the white skin under his fingers. Slowly but deliberately he moved the needle forward, his eyes darting back and forth between his patient and the EKG looking for any sign that his aim was off. Suddenly, he was in.
He could see the blood at the hub of the needle and gently aspirated the fluid, filling the syringe with twenty cc's before hearing those incredible words:
"I've got a pulse!" One of the nurses called out joyfully.
Jason calmly acknowledged her and carefully removed the fluid-filled syringe. He handed it off with instructions to save the fluid for further tests and culture. (Walk in the park,) he muttered to himself, in an effort to slow his own racing pulse. The woman lying before him could have died in an instant and there wouldn't have been a damn thing that he could have done about it. (But she didn't.) He had to remind himself. And as far as he was concerned, that was all that mattered.
Skinner had caught snatches of the life-saving procedure being performed on Scully and breathed his own sigh of relief when he glimpsed the flicker of relief as well as fear on the doctor's face. That look told him more than anything else just how close Scully had come to dying right there before his eyes.
He glanced over and saw that an equally efficient team was tending to Mulder. While Scully was being loaded into one gurney, Mulder was already immobilized and strapped down to another. He, too, had an IV inserted and while he was breathing on his own, he had yet to regain consciousness.
Protocol dictated that he remain with HRT and as he watched them reload the helicopter with his two agents, he was extremely tempted to say the hell with protocol.
(Wouldn't Mulder love that?) He thought briefly, before turning back towards the cliff. He'd do his duty. He always did. (Well, almost always,) he allowed. Slip-ups almost always occurred when Mulder was involved. Scully, too. He walked resolutely away from the chopper knowing that he'd be useless at the hospital and he didn't want to call Mrs. Scully until he had something more to report.
(Coward.) He berated himself then pushed the thought away.
The medical-evac chopper took off behind him and Skinner never looked back.
Chapter 27
Dr. Peter Hayes kept a close eye on his patient as the helicopter took off. If asked, he would list the agent in "fair" condition. Personally, he considered the agent lucky, relatively speaking of course. He checked the dressings that he'd applied over the gunshot wounds, which had continued to ooze blood, and judging by the amount on his clothes, he had lost at least a liter.
"Run the normal saline wide open and when it's in give him another liter at 150cc/hr."
The nurse nodded and rolled the clamp up on the IV tubing, letting the fluid infuse at an unrestricted rate, and then reached over for another bag to have ready.
Peter rechecked his patient's pupils: equal and reactive to light. Good sign.
Through a barrage of pain, the muffled voices and the roar of the helicopter worked their way into Mulder's consciousness. Despite the pain, he tried to move and found that he could not. A guttural sound escaped his lips, and his slight movement caught the nurse's attention. She nudged Dr. Hayes.
Peter noticed the ineffectual movements and placed a hand on the man's shoulder. "It's all right, Agent Mulder. You're safe now," he said loudly over the noise of the helicopter. "Squeeze my hand if you understand."
Mulder complied.
"Good. You're on a medical-evac helicopter. We've got you and your partner."
"I - I - understand." Mulder heard himself mumble.
Psychedelic colors twirled in front of his face as he opened his eyes and struggled to focus on the concerned faces staring down at him.
"We've got you immobilized on the stretcher. Don't try to move," Peter instructed him firmly.
Mulder had no intention of moving. Not when every part of his body was hurting and his mouth was so dry that it took every ounce of strength to get out one more word.
"Scully."
Peter wasn't quite sure what the man had just said, but he took an educated guess based on the depth of fear in his eyes.
"Your partner?"
Mulder blinked his eyes - unable to even nod because of the rigid C-collar around his neck like a noose. There was even a padded strap across his forehead.
"She's right here next to us. Dr. Barton is taking good care of her and she's in excellent hands." Peter reassured him.
Mulder stared hard at the face above him looking for any signs of deception. There didn't seem to be any that he could see. Some measure of relief creeped into his heart. That would have to do for now. Reluctantly he closed his eyes and tried unsuccessfully to remain awake. There was so much that he needed to know but the darkness would not be denied.
Peter looked over at Jason, and saw the worry in the man's eyes as he worked on the woman. He knew that there was a chance that the tamponade could recur before they reached the hospital and he didn't know if Jason felt like he could beat the odds twice. Jason saw Peter out of the corner of his eye and looked over. Keeping a neutral expression on his face, Peter gave a subtle "thumbs up".
Jason nodded. A ghost of a smile touched his lips. (Thanks, man.) He thought. (I needed that.)
Peter looked as though he had heard him and returned his attention to his patient.
Jason stared down at the woman before him, really seeing her this time. The color of her hair reminded him of his wife and his heart clenched at the thought. Marie. She had nearly died six years ago at the age of 34 of a heart attack. He had been on duty when they brought her in to the emergency room in full cardiac arrest. She looked just like this young agent, bright copper hair in stark contrast to the white sheets on the stretcher. All over again, he relived those terrifying hours not knowing if she would live or die. He shook his head. Marie had pulled through then and so would Agent Scully now.
Chapter 28
The helicopter landed at the hospital where medical personnel were waiting to take over. Jason and Peter each stayed with their respective patients to continue the care that they'd started in the field.
Mulder was prepped for exploratory abdominal surgery and x-rayed from head to toe. No broken bones were found but some serious bruises, sprains and strains promised that he'd be miserable for at least a week. The anesthesiologist was asked to put Mulder under as soon as possible since the nurses weren't sure that they could keep him in the bed without using four-point leather restraints, so intent was he on going to find Scully.
"I want to see her," he demanded hotly more times than they could count. As pleased as Peter was that Mulder was conscious and devoid of any serious head injury, he was certainly no where near ready to go traipsing off after his partner. He stayed with Mulder in the OR holding room until he was mercifully paged to go out on another flight.
Allison, one of the OR circulating nurses stepped over to Mulder's side to try and quiet him down. She had just been told that Dr. Bruce, the anesthesiologist would be ready in fifteen minutes but that she could go ahead and administer 5mg of Versed IV to get the ball rolling.
"Agent Mulder, my name is Allison. I'm going to give you some medication to calm you down now. They're almost ready to take you in."
"Wait!" Mulder said, unable to hide the desperation and fear. "Please. Tell me how my partner is doing. Please. I have to know. She's been so sick and then she - she fell..." he stumbled over the words, remembering.
Allison took his hand, her large hazel eyes full of pity and understanding. "It's okay, Agent Mulder. Hold on. Let me try and find out for you."
She stepped into a small office and picked up the phone. Mulder watched her through the window and could see her nodding, her lips moving but was unable to hear any part of the conversation.
At last she returned. Before saying a word, she injected the medication into his IV. "She's in surgery, Agent Mulder. They say that everything is looking good. I promise. And now it's time for you to get patched up so that you can see her when you're done."
Mulder felt a small stinging sensation where the IV entered his wrist. He tried to thank Allison, to let her know how relieved he was, how much that phone call meant, but the Versed was much too fast.
Allison smiled as she watched the drug take almost instant effect, removing the worry from his face. She didn't need to hear his thanks; she saw it in his face.
Chapter 29
Mulder slowly opened his eyes, preparing himself for the harsh glare of the fluorescent lighting to assault his eyes, which had been closed for too long. He was not disappointed. His hands gingerly probed the bandage over his left side as he blinked several times to clear his vision. Realizing that someone was standing at the window, he struggled painfully to pull himself to a sitting position.
(Too tall to be Scully,) was the only thing he could determine due to backlighting.
"Agent Mulder."
Skinner. Mulder tried to mask his disappointment. "Sir."
Skinner stepped closer, realizing the difficulty that Mulder was having and pulled a chair up to the bedside.
"You know, you and Agent Scully should consider another way to spend your weekends off, don't you think?" he asked casually as he steepled his fingers and leaned forward.
Mulder froze. He could almost picture his jaw dropping down to his chest. "What?" He managed to get out. (He did - not - just say that,) Mulder thought, crazily.
If Skinner noticed anything amiss, he didn't show it. "I mean, most people have picnics, go boating, and do yard work, but not you two. Always the non-conformists, aren't you?"
Mulder mentally shook himself. Maybe he was still out. Maybe he was hallucinating due to some weird reaction to the anesthesia. Maybe he was in the Twilight Zone. "Uh - Sir - uh - you do realize that this - uh - wasn't our fault? Right?"
"Relax, Mulder," Skinner said easily.
Mulder blinked in surprise, taken aback by Skinner's words and tone. "How's Scully?" He asked abruptly, wanting to change the subject.
Skinner's face twitched almost imperceptibly. "She's in the ICU. She just got out of surgery an hour ago."
Mulder started. Then he remembered the nurse's words in the holding room before his own surgery. Ignoring the stab of pain that went through him for moving, he tried to pull himself further up in bed.
Skinner held his hand up in a placating manner. "Will you settle down? The way the doctor described it, they made a hole in the lining of her heart to prevent fluid from building up around it again. That build up reached the point where her heart couldn't pump anymore. He thinks that's what made her fall from the side of that cliff."
Mulder closed his eyes as the painful memory of Scully's body plunging past his outstretched hand flashed before him. (Oh God - heart surgery - ) He'd visited a fellow agent several years ago that had had heart surgery. The tubes - the machines - the scar from throat to abdomen...He cringed at the thought of an eight-inch scar marring her body. It was an obscenity.
"They think that she could be released in the next seven to ten days."
Skinner's voice brought him out of his misery. "What?" He asked in disbelief.
"Apparently they've made a lot of progress with lasers and such. Minimally invasive..." Skinner reassured him having realized where Mulder's thoughts had taken him by the stricken look on his face.
Mulder sank back, almost overwhelmed with relief.
"She's going to be fine, Mulder." Skinner reassured him, with more than just a touch of compassion.
Mulder reached for the covers, when Skinner hand shot out and clamped down on Mulder's arm like a vise.
"Don't even think about it," Skinner said in a steely voice that brooked no argument. Mulder stared up at him with a look that bordered on incredulity.
"You'll get up when and only when your doctor says that you can," he continued almost conversationally. "Until that time, you - will - follow every order he sets forth. And if that means that I have to post an armed guard in here, I will do so. Is that understood, Agent?"
Mulder's eyes locked onto Skinner's and flared with indignation. Skinner lanced him with a grim stare of his own. Mulder met the stare and then said slowly, "Yes...sir."
Skinner released his hand and sat back, trying not to look smug.
Mulder blew out an exasperated breath, resisting the urge to pout.
"Sulk all you want, but seeing how yours and Agent Scully's medical files are giving War and Peace a run for
its money, I don't want to hear about you giving any of the doctors or nurses any trouble whatsoever."
Mulder didn't say anything at first, clenching his jaw in frustration. (This is ridiculous,) he huffed silently.
Skinner watched him closely. "Now that we've got that settled. I'd like to hear the details of what went on out there, if you're feeling up to it."
Mulder glared at his superior briefly, before finally admitting defeat. "Sure. Fine." He paused to collect his thoughts and successfully clamped down on the "whatever" that almost escaped his traitorous lips.
"If it helps, I talked with Mrs. Scully and she told me about Scully's house-sitting assignment," Skinner supplied helpfully.
Mulder nodded. "That was Thursday. On Friday, I received a tip about Dr. Theodore Dickerson and a discovery that he'd made on the God Module."
"So did I."
"From who? When?" Mulder asked in confusion.
"Saturday morning, an unidentified friend of yours gave me the same information in the hopes of finding you." Skinner informed him.
Mulder shifted uncomfortably, his brow furrowed. (How desperate had Byers been to do that? And did the guys know? Later,) he told himself with a slow shake of his head before returning to the matter at hand. "I drove over to fill Scully in. I thought that we could go and investigate his lab."
"It's been torched," Skinner told him soberly. "We don't know by whom or if they got what they were looking for, but we're still checking it out."
Mulder sighed. "She was thorough," he muttered under his breath.
"Mulder?" Skinner prodded.
"Nothing. I'm getting to that part," Mulder said. "Okay, Friday night, two men burst into the house and thought that Scully and I were the doctor and his wife."
Skinner wasn't going to touch that line. No way. Besides, he remembered about the lasagna in the oven.
"We fought them," Mulder continued, "but obviously we lost. We were knocked out then injected with some drug to keep us out while they transported us to the island that you found us on. By the time we woke up, it was Saturday afternoon and Scully was really sick with fever and severe chest pain. She said that it was a result of that incident two weeks ago with Padgett."
Skinner pressed his lips together, but remained silent. He had thought that Scully was okay - that she'd been released to full duty. He decided to save that conversation for another time.
"Trays of food were sent in but we never saw or spoke to anyone until Sunday afternoon. That's when we met their leader." Mulder said.
"Agent Fowley," Skinner said flatly.
Mulder made no attempt to hide his surprise. He didn't say anything at first. Something very unpleasant seemed to be hanging in the room. "How did you know? Was her body found?"
"Nothing and no one survived that bomb." Skinner informed him grimly. "We had the gun that Agent Scully was carrying analyzed." He stared at Mulder hard. "Was Agent Fowley the one who shot you?"
"Yeah," Mulder whispered. He still couldn't believe it, would never really believe that she'd shot him in cold blood.
"Why?" Skinner was compelled to ask.
"She'd separated Scully and I. Tried to make me believe that Scully was dead and wanted me to join her." He shuddered slightly. "A young woman, I don't know her name, came into the room blaming Diana for her father's death, pointing a gun at her. Diana killed her. When I tried to leave, she tried to kill me, too, but Scully arrived and used the other gun. I remember two shots firing at almost the same time and I'm pretty sure that Scully hit Diana first, which, I think, is the only reason I'm still alive. She had me dead to rights at point blank range."
Skinner had to agree.
Mulder sank back against the pillows, suddenly spent. Reliving the horrors of the past several days, taking its toll. And he hadn't even gone into all the details, omitting especially the fact that the young woman's father had been Deep Throat.
Skinner sat there for a moment in an uneasy silence then he cleared his throat. "Agent Mulder."
Mulder slowly opened his eyes.
"I do understand that you want to check on your partner, but you need to take care of yourself first. The doctor hinted that Agent Scully would need some assistance in her recovery. I'm sure that you'll want to be there for her." He said in a neutral voice, his face absolutely unreadable.
To that, Mulder said nothing, and then slowly nodded. "Yes, sir, I would."
Skinner abruptly rose to his feet. "Then, I'll check on you later," he said stiffly and without waiting for a response, walked to the door.
Chapter 30
Insane asylum
Loony Bin
Nut house
Funny Farm
Psyche Ward
Mulder stared out the window from the bed and he thought that if he squinted his eyes - just so - there - he could actually see the bars and wire mesh covering it. They had locked up at last and thrown away the key. His forced separation from Scully had finally pushed him over the edge, sending his battered psyche plummeting down into the depths of psychological hell. The FBI had been saddened by the loss of one of their brightest profilers. Spooky Mulder was now officially crazier than a shithouse rat.
Certifiable.
"Dammit!" Mulder cried out furiously, slamming his hands down on the bed in a helpless rage. (Could he be any more pathetic than this?) He wondered angrily. Writing his own professional obituary had to be bottom of the barrel.
He hit the mattress again. He wanted to tear it apart - he wanted to hurt it - destroy it. Lying in a hospital bed - wallowing in self-pity and loathing himself for being so utterly pathetic. He squeezed his hands into fists and ground his teeth in frustration. He didn't know what to do. He thought of Scully, lying in the ICU and of Maggie Scully, who surely was keeping vigil.
It wasn't fair. It wasn't supposed to be this way. Almost always before, only one or the other had been hospitalized. He had kept vigil at her bedside upon her miraculous return from her abduction, when she had stared down death again from cancer, and after she had been shot in New York.
She had sat with him after he'd been shot in the leg in North Carolina, when he'd been exposed to the retrovirus and had even saved him from the monster when he was strapped down on the bed. He shuddered at the memory of that creature. Scully believed him, though.
"My one in five billion," he whispered brokenly.
And when they both had been hurt, nearly drained dry by those bugs in the forest or aged nearly to death on that ship, they had been kept side by side.
"That's the way it's supposed to be," he muttered fiercely. He tried to swallow the anger - push it away - but he just couldn't. In this room, alone, he had nothing to stop the descent into despair.
He smashed his fists onto the mattress - first one then the other, over and over. The rage that started somewhere in the pit of his stomach traveled up to his shoulders than down his arms and flowed into his fists as they pounded the soft mattress. In the dark recesses of his mind, he imagined that he was pounding a brick wall - a much more painful if satisfying target.
The rage poured from him and he let himself revel in it. The pain pierced the wound in his side like a white-hot knife making him wonder briefly if he'd done any internal damage. In a heartbeat he decided that he didn't care.
"I think that the poor mattress has had enough, Fox."
Mulder jerked his gaze over - one arm frozen on the upswing.
Maggie Scully was standing just inside the door, arms crossed, head tilted to one side with a small frown on her face.
He never heard her come in, so lost was he in his own private hell. The small sad smile that replaced the frown and the fatigue in her eyes drained the last of the fury, as well as his strength from him. He slumped weakly back against the pillows.
"Mrs. Scully..." He didn't quite know what to say.
"Are you finished or should I come back later?" She asked quite seriously.
Mulder felt his cheeks flame. Feeling like a complete idiot, he shook his head. "Don't go. Stay. Please," he couldn't meet her eyes, but he couldn't let her go. He didn't want to be alone in this room anymore. "I'm sorry about that - I - I'm - I just..." his voice trailed away as he fought back the tears.
Maggie stepped over to the bed and stared down at him with concern. "Fox, what is it?"
Mulder chewed on his bottom lip. How could he explain it to her?
Maggie reached out and brushed an errant lock of hair from his forehead. Her cool hand felt wonderful against his heated skin and his eyes closed as he savored her caring touch.
"Fox, Dana's going to be all right. She will," she said soothingly, but Mulder heard a slight catch in her voice.
His eyes flew open and he searched her face desperately for the truth. "What? What aren't you telling me?"
Maggie huffed softly, irritated by her transparency. She had - never - been able to get anything past this man. Not when it concerned her daughter.
"Please - I have to know," Mulder pleased with her.
Maggie had a flash of understanding. She was looking at a man suffering withdrawal. Withdrawal from her daughter. An addiction like no other. He was wholly under Dana's spell and lying in this bed was slowly but surely pushing him to the point where he would so something rash; probably hurting himself in the process.
Quickly she sat down on the bed and took his startled face in her hands. "Fox - listen to me." She ordered.
He tried to twist away but she held on gently and firmly.
"No Fox. Stop it. I want you to listen to me. Right now." She was in full "mother" mode and Fox instinctively responded to the tone in her voice and lay still, looking up at her wide-eyed.
"That's better," she said soothingly. She picked up a washcloth on the table and poured a little water from the pitcher. "Dana is going to be all right," she told him calmly, running the cloth across his face and neck. "She spiked a fever but the doctor is with her, and he's ordering some tests but he assured me that she's going to be all right."
Mulder stared up at her, mesmerized. Maggie continued her gentle ministrations, watching him visibly calm. "She's going to need you," she went on, talking to him as if he were a child. "You're going to need to take care of yourself so that you can be there for her. That's what you want, isn't it?"
(That's what Skinner had said,) Mulder simply nodded. The cool damp rag felt wonderful. He was beginning to think that they had conspired behind his back and found that the best way for him to behave was to use Scully's needs before his own.
He had to admit that it was damned effective.
Maggie went on, "Now, I'm going to ask your nurse for a wheelchair and I'm going to take you over to the ICU for just a minute to show you that she's okay. And then it will be back to bed for you, do you understand?"
Unable to find his voice just yet, Mulder again nodded. Maggie felt tears sting her own eyes at the look on Fox's face. Hope replaced despair. Joy supplanted misery. Pure relief dispelled the pain. She was thoroughly in awe of the power of her daughter over this man. She leaned in and brushed a quick kiss on his forehead before hurrying out to locate a wheelchair.
Maggie didn't have to work too hard to get permission to take Fox to the ICU for a brief visit. Fox's nurse, Melody, had been all too aware of her patient's despondent mood. He hadn't eaten, he slept fitfully if at all and had obviously been having pain but had refused any medication. When Maggie had approached with the request, she had breathed a sigh of relief, having been - this - close to taking him herself. And to hell with doctors orders. Yes, Fox Mulder needed bed rest, but it was painfully obvious that that wasn't all that he needed to recover. She made a quick stop at the medication cart before accompanying Maggie back into his room.
She insisted that Mulder take at least a half-dose of Morphine to make the trip bearable. "Agent Mulder, I promise. It won't knock you out. I have no desire to watch you sleep in that chair since you're too heavy for the two of us to lift." She said with a grin. "It will just take the edge off. Please."
Mulder resisted at first, and then acquiesced since he didn't want to risk Melody pulling the plug on his visit to Scully. He had to finally admit that the pain wasn't going to just go away on its own. Melody quickly injected the narcotic before her recalcitrant patient changed his mind, then she and Maggie proceeded to help him into the wheelchair.
Mulder felt ridiculously helpless as the two women, both under 5'5" carefully maneuvered his 6'1" frame up and out of the bed. Grateful that he had accepted the medication, he sank into the chair, unable to mask his discomfort. Pale and sweating profusely, he allowed Maggie to bathe his face, while Melody placed a blanket on his lap.
Melody stood in front of the wheelchair and leaned forward, placing both hands on the armrests. She stared hard at Mulder, who met her gaze without flinching. He was getting his second wind and he was ready to do battle.
"I think that you should get back in bed, Agent Mulder," she said softly.
Mulder clenched his jaw and his eyes turned steely. Now that he was up he was not going back until his goal was met. "No. Not until I see my partner."
Maggie watched the battle of wills with a knowing smile. Poor Melody had no idea what she was going up against and the depth of his devotion for her daughter. Words would never be adequate to describe it and what they had was beyond special, beyond love that most people could only dream of and none could ever duplicate.
Melody sighed and straightened. "Okay. You win. Let's go. But don't you even think about getting out of that chair. You go see her, you come right back, and you get in bed. Got it?"
Mulder flashed her a smile and nodded. There was never a doubt in his mind that he'd win this one. Never a doubt.
