Title

Title - Return To Me
Author - Jaimee Kidder
Email - InvisibleShining@ivillage.com
Rating - G
Classification - SR
Spoilers - Requiem
Keywords - MSR
Summary - Mulder appears at the hospital in a coma; Scully endures emotional trial by fire.
Disclaimer: Oh come on. I'm not delusional, I don't think I own Mulder or Scully (and I sure as heck don't want Doggett), so get off my back already! hehe. just kidding, of course. but you know, if I DID own Mulder, he wouldn't be where he is now, he'd be in the arms of his beloved, so maybe we should get a petition going.
Author's note: All ya have to do to read this story is imagine Scully's not pregnant...not that I would dare challenge Fate as decreed by THE MAN, but for all these years I've had this mental footage in my head of a million possible (shippy) reunions between our favorite dynamic duo, and somehow Scully being pregnant was never anything I ever imagined happening on the show. And so without further ado...

Return To Me

"Hurry back, hurry home...to my arms and my lips and my heart." --Dean Martin

The first sound distinguishable from the high-pitched whirring was a low moan, and she attempted to direct her gaze to the right in an effort to see the face of the tortured one. Her head moved infinitely slowly, as if trapped in dense water. She blinked to combat her blurring vision, but the image before her eyes shifted and slid erratically. She struggled to move closer to -- what had she been looking for, just a second ago? Memory was elusive in this place, she knew, although she could only vaguely remember when she had learned it. Finally, the answer materialized. She had been here many times before.

She walked slowly in her target direction, feeling again as if she were far underwater. She had to hold her arms out to the sides for balance and counterweight, and it seemed somehow natural to make swimming motions with her cupped hands. As she neared the one she had come to see -- where and when had she learned this destiny? -- she heard again the agonized whispering screams of one who has cried out for freedom longer than the memory of this place existed. Somewhere far inside herself she was intensely moved by the depth of the cry.

She was almost there, and more than anything now she wanted to help the captive -- that was what he was, she realized, at the shifting sight of smooth metal restraints. She was almost near enough to see now.

Close enough to touch.

Somehow, the face was difficult to discern, but she knew the captive. A memory from the past -- whose past? drifted through her mind -- evoked a stirring within her, just out of reach. Out of a long-lost or forgotten habit, she impulsively reached out to stroke his face. Her touch seemed to quiet his suffering, and she gazed into a blurred face that was slowly coming into focus.

A whisper came thinly to her ears, treble-harsh and hard to hear. It repeated, over and over, echoing again and again till it filled the air, each echo becoming slightly easier to understand. It was only then she realized she wasn't hearing an audible sound -- it was purely mental.

"Scullyyyyyyyyyyy..."

The name sounded familiar, and even as she checked it against her slippery memory, the captive's face came into total focus.

Dana Scully's eyes opened as she gasped breathlessly. Mulder.

She lowered her head back down onto her pillow and pulled the blanket and sheets closer to her body, for once letting tears fall freely from her eyes. The clock glowed a dismal 3:18 a.m. but time of day had never held less meaning for her than since Bellefleur. Refusing to think about her dream -- it wasn't the first time she'd dreamt about him -- she considered sleep again. From experience, though, she knew sleep would be futile at this point, and she kicked her legs out of bed and stood. Maybe something hot to drink...

Just then the phone rang.

Grateful for any distraction, as long as she wasn't forced to be alone with her thoughts, Scully picked up the phone and was surprised at how awake she sounded.

"Hello?"

"I'm sorry for waking you, Agent Scully," Skinner said apologetically --

"Oh, I woke you. Did I wake you?"
"No."
"Why not? It's three in the morning."

"--but I've got some news I think you should hear."

"What is it?" Scully asked quietly, with a strange sense of knowledge that Mulder would've called telepathy. She closed her eyes as Skinner's words rolled over her.

"It's Mulder. We found him."

3:59 a.m.

"Scully. Get in." Skinner's words were brisk and chopped, and he reached across the passenger seat to open the door for her. She slid hurriedly in, trying to ignore her racing pulse. "Where did you find him?"

"He just appeared in a hospital two hours ago," he reported as he accelerated the car. "No one's been quite able to find out how."

"What's his condition?"

Skinner sighed. "They can't tell. The last time I heard, he was unconscious." He glanced at her quickly. "Scully, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine."

4:12 a.m.

She entered the doors of the hospital at a run. Skinner was close behind. The waiting room was oddly crowded for four in the morning. "What floor?" she asked urgently.

"Sixth," he answered as they entered the elevator. She pressed the button and the doors closed. Never before had an elevator moved so slowly, she thought vaguely. She held herself still, rebelling against the less professional part of herself that wanted to hop up and down or pace. She could feel Skinner's concerned eyes on her, but she ignored him.

The doors finally opened to a scene of chaos.

If there had ever been any doubt about the significance of Mulder's work, it was instantly dispelled as Scully watched various men in suits walking quickly back and forth. The crowd obviously held a fair amount of F.B.I. agents, but there were quite a few men who seemed not to have any recognizable identity at all. It was more intimidating than she cared to admit.

Putting all traces of apprehension behind her, Scully stepped boldly out of the elevator and surveyed the area. There seemed to be something behind the crowd of agents, and she edged her way through.

A memory that wasn't hers printed itself in her mental vision. A single picture of herself, --

Torn with emotion, he stood at the side of her bed, seeing the strongest woman he'd ever known lying motionless, connected to half a dozen machines and tubes. She was very ill. Possibly even dying. And there was nothing that doctors, nurses, or even crystal-dangling new-ageists could do. Hopelessness...

-- and feelings she'd never experienced until now.

She finally made her way through the mass of people. A door lay against the far wall, and without having been told, she knew this was the answer. She walked quickly over and opened the door. The sight she saw made her halt in her steps.

Mulder -- her Mulder -- was lying in a bed in a dimly lit room. He was unconscious. She tried to run to him, to kneel beside his bed, but she found she could not move a step, and resigned herself to assessing his condition for the moment.

It appeared, she thought analytically, that he was on a moderate degree of life support. From having read her file from her abduction, she guessed her condition had been more serious, physically speaking, but he had been missing for six months. What looked like sleep could just as easily be a coma. She was unprepared for this situation and she knew it. And she realized another thing -- she was terrified.

"Assistant Director Skinner."

Skinner turned to see John Doggett standing behind him. "Agent Doggett," Skinner responded. "Thank you for coming."

"Yeah. I was looking for Agent Scully; is she in there?" he asked, gesturing to the door at the end of the room. Skinner hesitated. "Yes," he began, but as Doggett started to walk in the direction of the door, Skinner cleared his throat. "Agent Doggett," he said quietly.

Doggett turned. "Sir?"

"Don't go in there," Skinner said inadequately. "Just give her some time. They've both been through a lot."

Agent Doggett nodded slowly, understanding what Skinner wasn't saying. "All right," he agreed, and turned instead to the row of chairs against the opposing wall. Patience was something he had a lot of experience in.

Scully found that she could move, and she slowly walked to the side of Mulder's bed. Slowly, she reached a hand out to touch his face; her hand was shaking badly and she couldn't make it stop, but it wasn't important, really. Her lips parted, not so much in an effort to speak as a need for oxygen, since she was having difficulty both looking at Mulder and breathing. Obviously, she thought logically, she was more affected by seeing him again than she could've imagined. Up until then, she hadn't really truly let herself realize how much she'd missed him, and now...

A sudden sound made her jump, and before she could recognize the familiar image of a doctor standing in the doorway, she was on her feet, habitually smoothing back her hair in an effort to appear as much the picture of a Special Agent as possible. The doctor eyed her and then glanced at his clipboard. "Are you Agent Scully?"

"Yes," she said, and was amazed how clear her voice was.

"I'm Dr. Rhames. He told me you might be in here."

"He?" she asked. Of course...

The doctor gestured to the doorway where John Doggett stood awkwardly. "Hey," he intoned gruffly with a slight wave of his hand. She cleared her throat. "Agent Doggett," she said cordially.

"Anyway, Agent Scully," Dr. Rhames spoke up, "I'd like to tell you exactly what we know about your partner's condition."

She nodded. "Please."

The doctor flipped to the next page on his clipboard. "There isn't a lot we do know, to be perfectly honest. Um...he seems to be in a light coma. That much is certain. Whether he'll come out of it is, of course, unclear. But, I mean...we don't even know how he arrived."

Somehow, she wasn't surprised.

"If we find out anything a little more concrete, we'll certainly let you know," the doctor said as he turned to go.

"Do you mind if I look at his chart?" Scully asked quickly.

"Of course, Agent Scully," he said, offering her the clipboard.

As he walked out the door, Doggett moved aside to let him pass and then resumed his stance in the doorway. "What exactly are you looking for?"

"I don't know," she said absently, flipped through the pages. Doggett watched her for a while. "I'm gonna leave you alone," he told her kindly. "By the way, Agent Scully, you should know -- he listed you as his next-of-kin."

The door closed behind him as Scully's breath caught. Next-of-kin. That made sense, she knew -- Mulder had no family anymore -- but there was something fatalistic about the term. Notify his next-of-kin, she caught herself thinking, and mentally shook herself.

Then she pulled the chair over to the side of his bed and sat down. Somehow, there was something peaceful about just watching him sleep despite the life support. The sight of his face alone fascinated her in a simple, child-like way. And since she had no desire for sleep herself, she was perfectly content to sit there and watch him.

6:07 a.m.

She had gotten a little more used to the idea of his presence and had sufficiently convinced herself that it was not a dream. Now she was sitting on the side of his bed, touching his face. She had dreamed of it so often, although those dreams had been nightmares during the last six months.

Tracing his closed lips, closed eyes, clumsy nose--

"...the gangly fellow, with the...distinguished profile."

She smiled at the memory.

"Hey Scully, I know we weren't supposed to get each other presents, but...uh..."

"Got ya a little something," she said softly, startling herself a bit for talking aloud.

His hair had probably been washed and combed by one of the nurses because it was its usual floppy self. She wove her fingers delvingly through it. "Mulder," she whispered. "I always loved your hair." Her throat was suddenly tight. And lips and nose and eyes...Mulder, please...open your eyes...

9:43 a.m.

"Agent Scully?"

She looked up from her kneeling position on the floor by Mulder's bed. "You're still here, sir?"

Skinner nodded wearily. "Still trying to find out how Mulder got here. No once even saw him brought in. He was just checked in suddenly, and one of the doctors thought it was odd that he didn't remember admitting him." He sighed. "I don't know, Scully."

"You look exhausted," she said sympathetically. "Why don't you go home and try to get some sleep? There're enough agents here from the Bureau to cover for you."

"Actually, Scully, I was just coming in the suggest the same thing to you. Do you realize you've been here since four and it's now nine? And from what I've heard, you haven't slept at all; I have. Agent Doggett went home hours ago. You should too. I'll stay with Mulder."

"I don't mind," she said inadequately. He gave her a long, hard look, and then nodded slowly. "Okay, Scully."

11:21 a.m.

"I love you, Mulder."

Scully gasped. How had she managed to say that one out loud? she thought incredulously.

But it's true, isn't it? You do love him. And no one's here to hear you say it. Go ahead.

"Mulder," she whispered, hardly believing herself for doing this, "Mulder, you probably don't know I love you. I don't even remember when I knew." She couldn't go on. Feel pretty stupid for talking to him in a coma when you had eight years of perfectly good time to do it? Of course you do. It is stupid and you know it.

2:02 p.m.

Her nearly twenty-four hours of wakefulness was finally overtaking the adrenaline. She didn't recognize any of the agents that would occasionally peek into the room, so she figured the original swarm had gone home one by one earlier.

"Mulder," she said quietly, "I'm here. I'm here."

And she laid her head down on his blanketed chest and let her eyelids close. Somehow her hand found her way into his, and she gave it a gentle squeeze as sleep won out.

"Mulder?"

She was in a starry void with the knowledge that he was here somewhere. She turned to look behind her and saw only stars -- then a silhouette emerged from the black of space and stood before her. Slowly, a light on his face grew brighter and brighter. She could distinguish Mulder's face now, and she returned the bright grin he was shining at her. He opened his arms to her, and she stepped timidly into his embrace.

As they touched, the light grew visibly brighter, and she could not see the stars around them. The light was very bright now, and as much as she hated to do it, she shielded her eyes. For an instant she was afraid, and then she could feel the pressure of his arms around her. That feeling meant everything somehow and it warmed her. He was there. Everything would be all right...

4:18 p.m.

She opened her eyes to the dull half-darkness of the hospital room, and almost closed her eyes again to wish herself back to that warm, bright place. She missed the weight of his arms around her back.

With a long gasp she realized that there was a slight pressure on her hand.

A grin reminiscent of the one in her dream spread across her features as she turned to see Mulder's sleepy hazel eyes light up like a child's at the sight of her face.

She returned to the hospital after reluctantly returning home on Skinner's orders to sleep and change clothes. Now she was in the elevator, waiting impatiently for it to reach the floor.

The doors finally opened and she walked across the big room lost without allowing herself to think about anything. She reached Mulder's door and opened it softly. "Hey there," she said with a big smile.

Skinner, who was sitting in the chair by Mulder's bed, stood as she came in. "Did you get some sleep, Scully?"

"Yes I did, sir; thank you."

He walked to the door. "I'll leave you two alone." Scully thought she saw a small smile on his face as he left.

All the things she had thought of saying to him promptly vanished from her head as she knelt beside Mulder's bed. He smiled at her. "Scully..."

It was silly, she knew rationally, that tears should come to her eyes at the way he said her name. But you thought you might never see him again...

"Mulder," she responded. Her hand was stroking his cheek; she had no idea how it had found itself there. "How are you feeling?" That was ridiculous, but it was at least a safe subject.

"Lousy," he said. His voice sounded weak. "Like someone put me in a dryer with a couple pounds of potatoes and then turned it on to extra-dry." She chuckled gently. Typical Mulder. How she loved it. "Mulder, do you remember what happened?"

His eyes squeezed shut involuntarily and she instantly regretted bringing it up. "Some. Skinner was just filling me in on the details. I hear you got a new partner."

"Agent Doggett. He's not a new partner, he was just temporarily assigned to the X-files. I would never let them replace you, Mulder." Closer. He smiled.

"You know, Scully," he said, looked deep into her eyes, "I remember a little. And what I remember is you. Even there, I was thinking of you. And sometimes I would see you." Despite her best efforts, a tear spilled down her cheek. "You've always been there for me, Scully, and I don't think I've ever told you that. It means so much."

"Mulder," she said, wiping the tear away, "I missed you so much. I honestly doubted if I would ever see you again. I finally realized..." She couldn't say another word. Closer -- don't back out now.

"Scully, I love you."

She began to cry.

Mulder's arm found its way around her shoulders and pulled her close to him. "Don't cry," he whispered. "It's over now. It'll be all right."