A/N: Into the dark, I tread lightly, hoping that the only flames that are sent are to light my way, not to alert the dingoes to my presence.

And what I mean by that is... if you hate it, I would rather not hear it. Not this time. Because this is simply something I have to get out of my system. Criticize anything else I write, but if you hate this one... just don't read it.

That said....

It was a week of interrupted sleep, water to the face, crying, being angry, and having new bruises in the morning that finally gave Mulder the courage to ask Scully if she wanted to talk to someone. He was afraid she would be angry at him for asking, but instead she looked up at him with a kind of wonder in her eyes.

"You think I should?"

"I think that if you're comfortable with it, you should try."

She was quiet for a few moments, biting her lip as she thought.

"There's a lot I don't remember. What if talking about it triggers something and I remember things that I don't want to remember?"

He sighed and took her hand.

"Then we'll cross that bridge if we come to it."

"Will you be disappointed in me if I don't go?"

"I would never be disappointed in you, Scully. Okay?"

"Alright."

"Take a while and think about it."

"Mulder, I want to sleep. I want to lay down and rest and not worry about what I'm going to dream. Maybe I need to do this."

"Are you sure?"

"I need to try."

And that's how Mulder found himself in the waiting room of Karen Kosseff's office on a Wednesday afternoon. He was flipping through a magazine, but was still on the second page 45 minutes into Scully's appointment. She walked through that door with her head high and he was hoping that was how she would come out.

He still wasn't sure if he wanted to know everything that had happened to her. She hadn't revealed much about what she knew, and she obviously couldn't tell him anything else. They both knew that she had repressed something, but they weren't sure what. He wasn't ready to find out, and he was pretty sure she wasn't either.

He sighed and tossed the magazine back onto the table. Maybe this idea wasn't so great. Sure, she was having a hard time, but it had been getting better. She was almost to the point where he could leave her during the day and she didn't have a panic attack. She had longer periods of sleep between her night terrors too.

Who was he kidding? She needed someone to help her, and he was not that person. He couldn't do it.

He checked his watch. Scully's appointment was supposed to be an hour long, but she had already been in there for 90 minutes. So he stood up from the chair and paced across the room. The knot in his stomach that had started the morning he discovered that she was gone had not been untangled when they found her. It had just become worse and worse until he seriously wondered if it would show up on an X-ray. He couldn't imagine what the stress was doing to her.

The office door creaked open and Scully stepped out slowly. Her face was red and tear tracked and she looked like she had retreated into herself. He wanted nothing more than to rush to her and hold her until she felt strong again, but when she looked up at him, he knew that wasn't a good idea.

Whatever had happened in that room, it struck his partner to her very core.

"Scully?"

She took a deep breath and met his eyes.

"I started to remember," she whispered.

"Remember what?"

She shuddered and stepped closer to him.

"I can't."

He lifted one hand, needed to touch her, to reassure her. The moment his fingertips brushed her cheek, she fell into his arms.

"Scully?"

"I don't know," she muttered into his shirt. "I don't know."

"What don't you know?"

She shook her head.

"I don't want to talk. Can we go?"

"Of course. Where do you want to go?"

She was quiet for a moment.

"Your place."

"Scully, I haven't been there since.... I mean, it's a total mess."

"Please, Mulder."

"Okay."

She kept a tight grip on his hand as they headed out to the car. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, trying to figure out what had gone on in that room. Her expression revealed nothing more than the strong desire to get out of dodge.

They entered his muggy apartment about 20 minutes later, and Scully headed straight for the couch. She curled herself up in the corner while Mulder opened the windows, trying to let in a little air. He sat down on the coffee table in front of her, reaching out and touching her hand.

"You want anything, Scully? I think I have... probably some water."

She nodded and he stood up, heading for the kitchen.

"Mulder?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you have some ice to throw in that water?"

"Yeah."

She gave him a little half smile before turning her attention back to her hands.

He didn't have any clean glasses, so he figured he'd better wash everything in the sink. The warm water sloshed between his fingers as he though about the woman sitting in the next room. He was about ninety-five percent sure that he knew what had happened, and what she had started to remember. He hoped he was wrong, but all signs pointed to it. It. Something so awful, so inhuman, so completely degrading that he couldn't even think the word. Four letters and his mind refused them. In a case, he was detached enough that he could spit the word out. It still tasted terrible, and he wanted with everything in him to erase such depravity from the world. But if this had happened to his partner, that was something he just couldn't deal with. How could someone do that to her? And how was she going to get through it? Did she remember it all? How was this going to affect the rest of her life? Especially now that Gavin had been on the run for so long and there were no clues coming in, despite a 10 minute story on America's Most Wanted. How would Scully live her life, knowing that the man who did this to her was still out there?

He finished with the dishes and filled them with ice water, then took them into the other room.

Scully was right where he had left her, her head tipped to the side and her eyes closed in sleep. He set the water on the table, then pulled the old blanket off the arm of the couch and tucked it around her. She mumbled something in her sleep and he paused his movements, afraid he had woken her. After a moment of silence, he moved her carefully so she was laying on the couch more comfortably. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, then pulled the shades down so the sun wouldn't bother her.

He returned to the couch and slowly laid down with her. He kept his arms around her loosely, and after a moment or two, she slid her own arm around his waist.

"I'm still awake," she mumbled, her face buried in his chest.

"Go to sleep."

"Mulder," she started, moving to look up at him. "I don't want to talk about... today. What happened."

"You don't have to."

"But you have that look. You want to know."

"I'm pretty sure I already know, Scully. There is no way I am asking you to talk about it until you want to."

"I don't think it's hit me yet. I feel like it's a dream."

He just held her, knowing that soon she would start to feel it. And it wasn't going to be good.