KENWOOD POLICE STATION

OCTOBER 21ST, 1997

8.50AM

Mulder was getting tired of waiting. That's all this case seemed to bring. He never had been particularly good at it, because it always seemed like such a waste of time. How much of a person's life was wasted waiting in queues or doctors surgeries, or dentists…or, as in this case, for a sketch artist to finish up with Sipowitz's staff.

'I feel like I've been here my whole life,' said Scully.

'Maybe we have. Maybe everything else was just an illusion. Maybe we're already dead and this is hell. Maybe I'll come back to life in the shower.'

She couldn't help but smile. 'Not your style. You like to make more of an entrance.'

'Zombie-me may not be so enthused about that though. I don't want a cleaver in my head.'

'You are seriously nuts, you know that, right?'

'You wouldn't want me any other way.'

The musty smelling waiting area was oppressive and heavy with stale smoke. It was decorated in dark woods with frosted glass paneling and the remaining walls were covered with crime prevention posters and 'Ten Most Wanted' notices. Lines of desks topped with computers were manned by bored looking plain-clothes officers who answered the occasionally ringing telephones and clacked away on keyboards. The harsh fluorescent lights above, filled with dead flies, buzzed annoyingly overhead. She doubted the place had changed much since the Seventies.

'I can't breathe in here,' Scully remarked, not really expecting a reply. 'I'm going to have to go get some air if they're going to be much longer.'

'Well, I guess I won't be hearing you complain about our cramped little corner of the world anymore then, huh? Or when one of those pencils hits you again.'

She smiled appreciatively at the quip that said more about Mulder's feelings about their office than hers.

The door to interview room two opened to their left - Pryce, of all people. Yet another wonderful start to the day, thought Mulder.

'We've finished that sketch now, if you want to come through,' he said, as though he really didn't much care one way or the other. The interview room connected through to Pryce's office, decorated in the same paneling as the squad room, but with a few more homely touches – a potted plant on the filthy windowsill, a water-color print of the New York skyline on the wall behind his cluttered desk, and an overflowing ashtray and dirty mugs. Classy.

'Here we go,' said Pryce, pulling the sketch from an A3 envelope on his desk and handing it to them.

'Where is Callahan this morning?' asked Mulder as his eyes wandered to the other desk in the room against the far wall. Papers neat and organized, polished woods, uncluttered workspace, a much better cared for orchid, and framed photographs of people whose faces couldn't be made out from this distance lining the tops of the filing cabinets. Must be married, Mulder thought…he couldn't think of any other photographs that a man would keep in his office. He hadn't expected that.

'Off sick,' came the curt reply.

'My God, Mulder. Look,' said Scully, passing the sketch to him.

'What? You know this guy?' asked Pryce.

'Well, well, well,' exclaimed Mulder, ignoring him and handing the sketch back to her.

'You could say that,' she replied.

'Are you going to let me in on this secret then or what?'

'Could you wait just two seconds while I get something from the car?' she asked.

'Sure,' said Pryce. 'It's not like I have somewhere better to be.'

Scully soon returned carrying the files from her pocketbook to find Pryce scribbling something on a requisition form and Mulder with his hands behind his back as he wandered around reading the very informative posters on home security and marking your property. 'You could have at least tried to have a conversation,' she muttered as she passed him.

'This is the case report on a Samuel Hartley, who was arrested on suspicion of murder in 1994. He was released on bail, but following another suspicious death, bail was revoked and shortly afterward he was beaten to death in his cell.' She passed the file to Pryce, who looked at Samuel's mug shot and back to the sketch.

'Can't be him then. He's dead. An autopsy was performed, so it's not like he woke up and dug himself out, is it?'

'The autopsy wasn't complete. No cuts were made, just a cursory exam. If you read the notes, you'll see the body went missing.'

'It can't be the same guy. I mean, it looks like him, but if he isn't dead for some reason, where the hell has he been for three years and why would he want the Reverend dead?'

'Both very good questions, and we're not saying Samuel killed the Reverend. But Samuel Hartley was involved with an evangelical movement at the time he died. His involvement in the murders of several people who had apparently been healed by the ministry was under investigation at the time of his death, but it's likely that he had been set up by a man named Leonard Vance, another worker at the ministry. Vance had been seriously injured in a fire many years ago. Samuel apparently had miraculously healed him, brought him back from the brink of death, but Vance had always held a grudge against Samuel for condemning him to a life of disfigurement.'

Pryce took a few minutes to finish reading the reports. 'How could he be pronounced dead and then be seen walking out of a morgue? I mean, what kind of medical examiner can't tell the difference between patients who are alive or dead?'

Mulder shifted in his chair. 'We do have some theories on that, they - '

'Are not strictly relevant here at this point,' interrupted Scully, trying to save Mulder from another tirade. They both could do without it, particularly as it would serve no purpose right now.

'What do you mean?' asked Pryce.

'Samuel evidently wasn't dead. He was very seriously injured though, which may at least partly explain why no-one has seen him for such a long time. He could have been convalescing.'

'Are we to consider him our most likely suspect at the moment, then? I mean, it's not just the resemblance, or the fact that he went missing, but his involvement in this kind of thing before is suspicious and worth investigating.'

'I think it's certainly a place to start,' she replied.

'Perhaps if you put out an APB on Samuel as a John Doe, it would prevent some awkward questions and a whole lot of explaining,' offered Mulder.

'I guess that's a reasonable suggestion under the circumstances.'

Thanks for the approval, jackass, thought Mulder, but said, 'Great. Well, Agent Scully and I haven't had breakfast yet, so we're heading across to the diner across the street. If you do hear anything, that's where we'll be.'

It wasn't so much a diner as a coffee shop, but as long as it served coffee that didn't taste like mud, and Danish pastries, then that was just fine with Mulder. The decor was mainly dark oaks and mahoganies with deep burgundy pelmets and mock curtains. There were dried-bread ornaments on the wall; plaits, corn sheaves and dough-boys. The counters held two coffee percolators and glass display cases filled with breads, cakes, pastries and sandwiches, filling the air with the most delicious aromas that made Mulder feel homesick for his own local coffee shop in Alexandria.

Scully slid into one of the booths with a window overlooking the street while Mulder queued for coffee. She enjoyed watching people coming and going outside, fighting the weather, especially when observed from the warmth and comfort of indoors.

'Thanks,' said Scully as Mulder pushed a steaming cup towards her. He sat opposite and proceeded to tuck into a club sandwich. She smiled as mayonnaise dripped down from the overstuffed sandwich all over his tie.

'Don't look at me like that, I asked if you wanted anything to eat.'

'I didn't. Really. I just like to watch you eat yours.'

'Well don't. It's creeping me out.'

'Your tie is enjoying it, too.'

'What?' He glanced down, frowned at her, then reached for a napkin to clean himself up.

'So what do you make of that sketch?'

'I don't know. It certainly looks like Samuel, although the hair is different. I guess you can expect that after three years though. Still, hard to draw conclusions just based on a sketch.' He threw the napkin down, giving up on his tie. Scully didn't have the heart to tell him you could hardly notice the stain anyway against the garish pattern.

'But what would his motive be? We don't have any evidence that Samuel even knew the Reverend. And let's not forget that the Reverend mentioned his unpleasant experience with Virgil Anderson. This guy does kind of match the description of him that the Reverend gave us.'

'It's still all too vague for my liking. I honestly don't know what to think right now. But I do know that I liked Samuel when I met him, Scully, and he was framed for the murders three years ago. I at least believe in his abilities, if not in all of these evangelists. How else could he have known about my sister?'

Scully raised a skeptical eyebrow. She had never been convinced that Mulder had seen his sister in visions supposedly precipitated by Samuel. As she had said at the time, imagine a miracle and you're halfway there. Even so, she did believe, now more than ever, that Samuel had healing abilities. And if he did, it was possible that others did too. But she didn't want to pursue that topic of conversation with Mulder now.

'I hope that the APB returns something. Maybe this Anderson guy knew Samuel, maybe they're working together. I mean, room service was the only visit that we know about, but we can't assume that maybe there weren't...' She was interrupted by the shrill, high-pitched ring of her cell phone. 'Sorry,' she muttered, fumbling inside her coat pocket.

Mulder finished his sandwich until she finally hung up.

'We need to go.' She grabbed her pocketbook and slid out of the booth. 'That was Pryce. An officer has identified someone fitting the description, believe it or not, just entering a grocery store. He's observing him for now, but he radioed for backup. He didn't know if he was armed and didn't want to approach him alone.'

'Where? What store?'

By now they were out of the door and running to their rental car which was still parked down the street.

'It's about half a mile east of here. A mini-mart at a shopping mall on the road towards Clarksville. Pinatas it was called, I think. Pryce said we couldn't miss it.'

Mulder tossed the keys to Scully as they reached the car. 'You'd better drive seeing as you're the one with the directions.'

Scully slowed the car as they approached the mini-mart and swung into the lot, pulling as close to the store as she could get. It was quiet, just a few other cars in the lot and only a handful of people milling around at a bus stop just beyond the perimeter wall. Mulder was out of the car first, having spotted the officer who had made the call just around the corner from the entrance.

'Hey there. Agent Mulder, FBI. He's still in there, I take it?'

'Yes sir. Been in there since I called it in. He wasn't making any attempt to hide himself, so I recognized him straightaway.'

'Could you stay here in case he tries to leave? I'm going in. Let's just hope he doesn't remember me,' said Mulder, checking his gun was holstered and hoping that he didn't have to use it.

'What is he wearing?' Scully asked.

'Dark jeans, blue sweater, Smokies jacket.'

The grocery store wasn't as large as Mulder had expected, so Hartley, if it was him, shouldn't be hard to find. He headed towards the checkouts while Scully walked toward the back of the store. Only two checkouts were open, so Mulder hovered next to the news-stand flicking through some magazines while keeping one eye on the queue.

Scully walked past aisles of boxes, packets and cartons. She must have looked convincing because one of the assistants even approached her to ask if she needed any help. And then she spotted him, in the refrigerated section looking in one of the chillers for a quart of milk. Scully approached him slowly, trying to get a look at his face. He closed the door and for a second looked straight at her. She froze as he seemed to walk towards her, then passed with only a smile. Relief flooded through her. He hadn't recognized her, but she certainly had recognized him. Aside from the slightly longer hair and scar on his left cheek, it was Samuel Hartley. She followed him at a distance past the liquor aisles down to the checkouts. Aside from checking his watch once, he still seemed unhurried and relaxed. From the corner of her eye she noticed Mulder standing at the checkout, effectively blocking the exit. Samuel couldn't leave without going past him.

Samuel finished paying for the milk, thanked the assistant and turned towards the door. He did recognize Mulder. For a moment he didn't seem to know what to do as Mulder started to approach him. Then a look of panic crossed his face. A split second decision - he threw the milk at him, which Mulder had to duck to avoid, and turned to run back into the store. Mulder leapt over an emergency exit chain between the checkouts and ran after him, yelling for him to stop. Scully didn't follow him, but shot towards the entrance to the stock room to try to head him off, but he didn't go that way and by the time she had circled the liquor aisle, she saw him run straight at the fire exit between the chillers. As he hit the steel bar, the fire sirens started and an assistant shouted something at him that Scully didn't catch.

'Hey, where are you going? Are you with him?' The assistant had switched his attention to her.

'I'm a federal agent, sir, and that was a suspect in a murder investigation. Get out of my way!'

'Jeez, I'm sorry,' he said, coloring, hardly noticing Mulder shooting through the doors after Samuel when he stood aside to let her pass. Mulder was already a good thirty feet ahead of her.

Mulder unclipped his gun from its holster as he pushed through the doors into the muggy, dull afternoon. He checked both ways, afraid he'd lost him, before he saw him disappearing over the red brick wall marking the boundary of the store. There weren't many places Samuel could run to past there, thought Mulder, now at the wall and using a Dumpster as a hold to pull himself up. Samuel was running south toward scrubby woodland on the way to the river, glancing over his shoulder as Mulder closed the gap between them.

'Samuel, stop! I just want to talk to you!'

He stopped for a second, hesitated, then turned and began to run again, heading into the woodland.

'Goddammit!' Mulder followed him down the embankment and into the woods. Though he knew he was only a stone's throw from civilization, it felt as though he'd been plunged into the middle of nowhere. The ground was uneven and impossible to run on, but if he was finding it hard, then Samuel must have been too. Mulder spotted movement ahead of him and fired a warning shot that hit a tree about twenty feet in front of him.

'That's enough, Samuel. Come on, I don't want to have to shoot you.'

With a heavy sigh, Samuel emerged from behind the tree, his hands up.

'I'd rather you didn't, too. I've died once before. I didn't much care for it.'

'Get over here, smart-ass. I want to talk to you, that's all. Now do I need the cuffs, or are you going to calm down?'

'No. I'll be good.'

'Great. Well let's get back to the car, okay?'

'What's this about? I was cleared of those murders. I'm not the same man I was back then. I've just been trying to get on with my life, you know?'

'We'll talk about it when we're somewhere a bit more comfortable. You know, this is the second suit I've ruined this week. What the hell did you run for anyway if you're innocent?'

'Innocent and dead. You're forgetting that last part.'

'Yeah, well, you run too fast for a corpse.'

Only when they got back to the store did he realize that Scully hadn't followed him. A twist of mild concern tightened in his stomach. He knew that she couldn't have been far behind him.

'Was Agent Scully following you too?'

'Dammit, I thought I knew her face from somewhere,' he sighed. 'Shit…yeah, yeah she was behind me at the fire doors.'

They headed back to the perimeter wall, heading through the security gate this time rather than clambering over it, and only then saw the small crowd assembled at the open fire doors. Mulder assumed they were there just out of curiosity, or maybe because the fire alarms had gone off when Samuel hit the doors. It never occurred to him that maybe they were there for another reason. He pushed through them, shoving Samuel first. Peripherally he heard sirens in the distance, but he was used to that sound living in Washington, until they came closer and closer, intruding onto his conscious mind.

She was laying on the ground just in front of the open doors. Blood originating from her nose streaked across her cheek, down her throat and blossomed on the collar of her blouse. Beside her, a man in a store uniform was checking her pulse. Mulder's stomach lurched, his head swam and he didn't know how he got there, but he found himself kneeling beside her. The whole scene was surreal, in slow motion, his only thought, the only thing he saw was the blood against her bleached skin.

'Dana,' he whispered close to her, panic and fear edging his voice. He took her hand and squeezed it. She felt so cold. 'What happened here?'

'We don't know,' said the store attendant. 'She was talking to one of our staff who stopped her from leaving because he thought she was with the other guy. He thought they were shoplifters, but when she told him who she was, he let her go. She only got this far before she kind of doubled up, clutching at her head, then she just collapsed. You're her partner?'

'Yeah,' he whispered, hearing his own voice, but it sounded alien, disembodied from his mind.

'She's breathing, but her pulse is really erratic. I only do first aid, I didn't know what else to do. We've called an ambulance.'

'That's alright, I'm sure you did your best. Thank you.'

'I'm sorry I couldn't do more.'

But Mulder wasn't listening. He was holding her hand against his cheek, smoothing her hair back from her forehead. 'You'll be alright, Dana. I'm right here with you.'

It felt like a lifetime before he heard the ambulance arriving and watched as they pushed their way through the crowd. He didn't want to let her hand go, but the paramedics pulled him back.

'Her name is Dana Scully. She's my partner,' Mulder told them automatically, as though his voice was no longer his own. 'We're FBI.'

'Did you make the call?' asked the youngest paramedic as his partner began to hook her up to monitors.

'No, no it was a guy from the store. I don't know his name. Is she okay?'

'I'm sure she'll be fine, we're just taking a look at her now. Do you have any idea what happened?'

'I don't know,' he said, running his hands through his hair and leaving them clasped behind his head. 'She just collapsed. She has nasopharyngeal cancer.'

'That may have something to do with it. I'm going to consult with my colleague for just a second. We'll take her in, check her over. Try not to worry, okay?' He smiled, putting a sympathetic hand on Mulder's shoulder before returning to Scully's still unconscious form.

Mulder didn't know what to do with himself. He wandered back and forth, watching them all the time as they took her pulse again, checked her pupil response and talked quietly. They seemed to be taking so long. She looked so small, so fragile surrounded by machines.

The crowd had diminished now, but there were still a handful of people watching. Mulder felt incensed; felt like running up to them and asking them what the hell they were looking at. How would they like it if it was someone they cared about laying there?

He stuffed his hands into his pockets, not knowing what else to do with them, and felt the soft leather pouch of his cell phone. He'd better let Assistant Director Skinner know what had happened, just in case they needed to get hold of Scully's family. He also needed the comfort of a familiar voice to ground him in a situation that seemed so unreal, so he pulled out the aerial and pushed the fast dial directly through to Skinner's office.

'Skinner.'

'Hey, sir, it's Agent Mulder.'

'Are you alright? You don't sound - '

'Agent Scully has been taken ill, sir. We're taking her to hospital now,' he interrupted, afraid he'd lose the courage he needed to speak.

'What happened?'

'She just collapsed while we were in pursuit of a suspect. They don't know much more. She's unconscious.'

'You're sure she wasn't attacked?'

'Yes, positive. It's…it's her cancer, sir.'

'Oh Jesus… You're still in Tennessee?'

'Yes, sir. I'm not sure what hospital they're taking her to though.'

'Sure, I understand. Are you sure you're alright?'

'Sir, I'm fine, really. I'm just…concerned for Scully right now, that's all.'

'Do you want me to call anyone for her?'

'No, I don't think that's necessary yet, sir.'

'I wasn't happy about Scully going on this assignment anyway under the circumstances. She's seriously ill, and this was clearly too much for her. I'll arrange for her to be flown home as soon as possible.'

Mulder had heard this argument before, and didn't want to enter into it again over a cell phone. Besides, the young paramedic was approaching.

'I have to go now, sir. I'll call you again from the hospital.' Before Skinner could say anymore, Mulder hung up.

'We're going to take her in, get her checked over.'

'Is she okay?'

'She's stable for now, though she's still unconscious. Looks like it might be hypovolemic shock, so we need to get her to the hospital. Do you want to come with us?'

Mulder suddenly realized that he'd forgotten about Samuel. Where the hell was he?! He couldn't even remember when he saw him last. All he had thought of was Scully. He frantically looked around at the disappearing crowd, trying to pick him out, but he hadn't gone far. He was sitting on top of a pile of empty boxes just past the loading bay door.

'No, I'll follow you in my car,' he told the paramedic. 'Thanks though.'

'No problem.'

Samuel jumped down as Mulder approached him.

'You look surprised, Agent Mulder. What, you expected me to run? Take advantage of you in a weak moment?'

'I don't know,' he shrugged tiredly. 'I guess it's what I'd do if our positions were reversed.'

Samuel went willingly with Mulder back to the car. The ambulance had started to move slowly away, sirens not flashing which he took to be a good sign that Scully wasn't in desperate trouble. He derived at least some comfort from that.

'Well then, it's just as well you're not me.' Then he added with a smile, 'If I was, I would have at least shaved this morning.'

Mulder might have appreciated the change to a lighter note had it been in any other circumstances. As it was, he pushed Samuel a little too roughly into the back of the car and engaged the child lock.

They followed the ambulance to the Kenwood Mercy Hospital on the outskirts of town, neither of them saying a word. Mulder parked up then drove pulled out his handcuffs.

'You won't need those.'

'Would it be too much of a shock if I told you I don't trust you?'

'I had the chance before and I'm still here.'

'Maybe, but I'm not a gambling kind of man,' he said, cuffing Samuel to the door handle. 'I hope I won't be long. Put the radio on if you get bored.'

'Thanks,' Samuel spat.

The paramedics were just taking the gurney from the back of the ambulance as Mulder arrived at the entrance to the trauma unit. Mulder followed them as they wheeled Scully into the emergency room. The sight of the oxygen mask obscuring her face and IV lines trailing from her arms made his heart ache.

'I'm afraid you can't go in there, sir. Why don't you take a seat in reception and someone will be out in a minute to speak to you when they've had a chance to look at her,' said a triage nurse in a kind but firm manner that didn't invite a reply.

Mulder wanted to go with her, but knew he couldn't. He didn't really want to wait either. He fought back a new wave of nausea and dizziness and nodded. There wasn't anything else to be done, so he got himself a coffee from the vending machine in the waiting room that he didn't really want and slumped down into a molded plastic chair that must have been modelled on a lump of rock. He closed his eyes, wishing he'd brought some Tylenol for the headache that was crushing his skull, and tried to imagine himself anywhere else but here, feeling more alone than he had ever felt in his entire life. He felt desolate and empty, like a featureless desert, like a part of him was missing. He could hear voices, distant and alien and tensed each time one seemed to draw near, then relaxed again as they retreated down the hall. He had thought he wanted to be alone, but the longer he sat there, the more he began to realize that this was how it would feel without her. Empty rooms. Empty spaces. Silence. A single coffee cup, left to grow cold. How was he ever going to face going into that office alone, knowing that she wouldn't be there? Who else would understand him, humor him, protect him, watch his back, share everything with him the way she did? Hers had always been the voice of reason, grounding him, keeping his work scientific, providing the credibility that he needed and making it harder for those who would destroy him. No-one could ever replace her, he wouldn't even want anyone to try. If he lost her, he would resign. The work meant nothing to him if she wasn't there. He would never be able to face everything alone that he had once shared with her.

Grief overtook him, as though he had already lost her, and suddenly he couldn't breathe anymore. He fought his rising panic, closed his eyes against the tears that he felt burning there, and buried his head in his hands.

'Agent Mulder?'

He opened his eyes. The shadows had lengthened in the room.

'I'm sorry to wake you.'

'Oh…right…yeah, I didn't realize I'd been sleeping.'

'That quite alright,' smiled a pleasant, middle-aged woman. 'I'm Doctor Allen, consultant oncologist. I should tell you that normally, we would speak to Dana's relatives first, but I understand they are unavailable at the moment, so anything I say to you is in the strictest confidence.'

'I understand. Is she alright?'

'She's out of the woods for the moment, yes. She'd lost a lot of blood, and the sudden loss of pressure likely caused her blackout. I understand that she has nasopharyngeal cancer.'

'Yes. It's…advanced,' he murmured, hating the words even as they left his lips. 'She told me that her doctor has advised her that her tumor has begun to metastasize.'

'I'm afraid that is the case, yes. Could you tell me what exactly happened this morning?'

He sighed, trying to disconnect the emotion from the facts as he replayed the morning for the millionth time.

'I see. Has she ever blacked out like this before?'

'Not that I know of. She has nose bleeds, headaches, but never anything like this.'

'To be honest with you, I'm surprised. She must be a very strong lady.'

'She is. But why are you surprised?'

'Dana has a small secondary growth heading towards the pons, an area of the midbrain which is causing pressure on her center of balance and co-ordination, as well as a significant restriction in the blood supply to the region. We've also detected small metastases in her lungs and liver.' She paused when she noticed Mulder's eyes shimmering. She softened her tone and put her hand over his. 'I am so very, very sorry, Agent Mulder, but I don't believe that Dana has much time left. We need to get her home and inform her family.'

The doctor looked at him with such pity in her eyes that he could almost feel his heart break. Even though from the outset he knew her cancer was terminal, he hadn't expected this. He never thought that this moment would actually come. But to hear it now, like this…

'How long does she have?' he asked quietly, staring down at the floor.

'Without further tests that I don't believe we need to put her though, I can't know for sure. But in my best opinion, I would estimate between two to four months.'

'That little? Jesus…'

'I understand this has come as a shock to you. I really wish that I had better news. I'm so sorry. I know this must sound trite, but I really do understand how hard this is.'

Mulder was powerless to stop a tear tracing its way down his cheek. He wiped it angrily away and sat in silence, staring at the floor. Scully didn't deserve this. She was a good person; kind, considerate, passionate, generous, funny - things like this shouldn't happen to people like her. Especially when it was someone else's fault.

'She's a very determined woman. I don't think she'd like staying here.' He smiled sadly, and wiped the back of his hand across his eyes. 'She hates hospitals. She's a doctor, you know. They always make the worst patients, don't they?'

'So they say,' she said, returning his smile. 'I'm grateful that I've never been one yet.'

'Will she regain consciousness?' He spoke the words quickly, afraid that he would lose the courage needed to speak them.

'All her responses are good. She's responded well to the transfusion, and we have managed to reduce the swelling with steroids, so yes, I'm sure she will soon. She really is not fit for work any longer though. She needs to be taking things easy, or the blackouts may get worse.'

They both sat in silence for a few minutes more, Doctor Allen because she didn't know what else to say in comfort, Mulder because he was trying to accept. Understand.

'Doctor, I need to leave. I have some things to deal with before I can take her home.' He reached into his coat pocket for his wallet. 'This is my cell phone number. I'll be at the police station in town. Please, the second she wakes, or if you need me for anything else, would you call me?'

'Of course,' she said. 'Will you be okay to drive? You're alright?' She cast her eyes over his rumpled suit and unkempt appearance.

'I'm fine. I'll be back tonight anyway. Thank you for your time.'

He almost ran out of the hospital, glad to get out of the stench of disinfectant and illness and death. He pulled out his cell phone and stabbed in Skinner's number while he made his way back across the car lot.

'Hi, sir, it's Agent Mulder. I've just spoken to the doctor and it's not good news. Dana needs to come home. She's…she's dying, sir.' His voice broke on the words, and he had to stop to close his eyes and catch his breath, fighting the grief that was already drowning him.

'Oh, Mulder, I'm sorry. I really am.'

He bit his lip so hard it began to bleed, but it distracted the crushing pain in his chest long enough for him to get ahold of himself.

'Thank you, sir. I just…I just want to get her home now. Could you make the arrangements?'

'Is she awake now?'

'Not yet, but she should be before too long.'

'Good. Of course, leave everything to me. Obviously she won't be expected back in work now…the Bureau will make sure that she gets all the medical care she needs.'

'Sir, I'm sure she'll be fine. She wants to work. She needs to work. She just needs to take it a bit slower, that's all.'

'Not this time, Mulder. She's done. She needs whatever time she has to be left in privacy with her family.'

He hated hearing those words even though he'd known they were as inevitable as the setting sun. He knew that what Skinner was saying was the best thing for her. Let her have some dignity, he told himself. You can do this one last thing for her. Let her go.

Let her go…

'Yeah…yeah, I know.'

'Are you alright, Mulder?'

He laughed, but there was no humor there. 'Am I alright? No, sir. I'm not. I don't think I ever will be again.'

By the time Mulder returned to the car, almost five hours had passed and Samuel had fallen asleep, still cuffed to the door handle. Mulder rapped hard on the window, startling him before walking around to the driver's door and getting in.

'I'm glad one of us is relaxed enough to sleep.'

Samuel yawned and rubbed his eyes with his free hand. 'Well, it gets kind of boring when you're just sat here. Plus I'm freezing. You know the heater doesn't work?'

'It does when you turn the engine on.'

'Hey, why all the hostility? I've done everything you asked of me.'

Mulder turned to him, stared at him for a few seconds as he contemplated the moronic nature of the question, then backhanded him hard across the face. 'Because maybe if you hadn't run for no good goddamned reason, my partner would still be here instead of laying on a bed in there.'

Samuel didn't reply. He kept his head down as Mulder turned on the radio and neither of them said another word until they had arrived at the police station. He took Samuel through reception and left him with the booking officer while he went to look for Pryce. He didn't have to look far, he must have heard Mulder had finally arrived and was coming down the corridor towards him.

'Detective, I've taken Hartley down to - '

'Where the hell have you been?' said Pryce with barely controlled anger. 'The officer at the supermarket radioed in that you were in pursuit more than five hours ago!'

Mulder knew that questions would be asked about his less than standard behavior, but it was the last thing on his mind right now.

'My partner was hurt. She needed to be taken to the hospital. Nothing to do with the pursuit of the suspect, she just…she has a few problems and I…I was concerned for her welfare.'

'Oh…oh, well, I'm…I'm sorry to hear that. Is she alright?'

'She'll be fine, but we need to get her back to Washington.'

'Yes, of course. What about Hartley?'

'I've taken him down to one of the interview rooms.'

'You…you took him to the hospital with you? Why didn't you call us to have a squad car pick him up?'

'To be honest, I haven't been thinking straight. I should have, I know, but - '

'So where has he been?'

'I left him cuffed to the car.'

Pryce laughed. 'You're kidding me.'

Mulder didn't respond. He just watched the smile die slowly on Pryce's face.

'You're not kidding. Are you insane? You left a suspect in a murder case unattended, cuffed to a car, for more than five hours? Do you have any idea what the DA will make of that?'

'I don't think it will get that far. I don't believe that Hartley is our guy.'

'Great. Well, I'll just pass your hunch on to the DA. I'm sure he'll be grateful.'

'Look, I know what I did was wrong, but I'm not going to justify myself to you or anyone else. Now Hartley is in the interview room. Are you coming to speak to him with me or not?'