Red... he counted 8 red lights between his house and the hospital. Every light was against him it felt. Skinner had been so great at getting his car back to his place after he had left it at the charity dinner, so he didn't have to wait for a cab to get out to his place. The drive still felt like an enternity. What if she woke up and had no idea where she was? What if she woke up scared? That's exactly the reason he didn't want to leave. So many thoughts running through his head.
Red... He stood at the door, flowers in his hand. They weren't the prettiest, but it was the only ones he found between the 8th stoplight and the hospital. He couldn't even remember what her favorite flowers were. Or if she even liked flowers. When was the last time he had given them to her? When they were living in that unremarkable house together, in the beginning he used to always give her flowers. Usually ones he found out on his walks. Occasionally from that market down the road. He remembered, she always had them in that old wine bottle on their coffee table. The coffee table now long gone with the wine bottle. He burnt the table and smashed the bottle after she left. He couldn't handle the memory every time he looked at it, the last bunch of flowers dead inside. He looked at the pathetic bouquet in his hands. Red, half wilted, pathetic and sad. She deserved better then these. She deserved better than he had given her, or ever could give her. She deserved better than the unremarkable house, better than than the broken porch swing, the cracked bathroom tile, the bed that creaked every time he rolled over. She deserved more than a son they never knew, and she sure as hell deserved more than him.
He could just walk away now. She would never know he had been sitting here, watching her, holding her hand, possibly even praying to whoever was listening that she would wake up. He could just walk away, pack up his office, lock himself back in the house and live with his regrets.
Red... she was trying to make sense of what the drs were telling her. The last thing she remembered was the sound of tires skidding in the road. Her car had flipped 5 times, she thinks, she had lost count. But that was a week ago. She had been unconscious for a week. She was lucky to be alive they said. Bruised ribs, broken wrist, there was some internal bleeding, and several stitches in her head. Nothing that with time she wouldn't recover from. But she was going to need some sort of assistance if she was to go home in a few days. The dr asked if she had any family she could stay with. No, there was no one. A friend? The only person she really had was Mulder, but she didn't think he would be willing to take that on, after all, with their history and how she left it the last time they lived together. No, she wouldn't impose on him.
Red... He turned the doorknob and walked in. There she sat, in her bed, while the dr was giving her the rundown of her injuries.
"Do you have any family you can stay with for awhile,"
"No, unfortunately there is no one around here"
"A friend?"
"She can stay with me" the words came out of his mouth before he even realized what he was saying. He had a bad habit of that.
