CHAPTER SEVEN:

Mulder Manor
Beverly Hills, Los Angeles
March 23, 1985
Saturday

Emily poured freshly squeezed lemon juice into Mulder's glass. They exchanged sarcastic looks as Mr. Spender - or as he wanted to be called: Captain Spender - chatted about his fabulous chateau in Paris. It did not matter, really. Emily and Jeffrey settled on getting married in the US and the couple was going to stick to that plan.

Mulder thanked Emily and moved back into his place on the sofa. He sat down heavily, not intending to snag Diana's gray chiffon skirt with one butt cheek. He quickly sat up; mouthing a 'sorry' to the stern- faced brunette, and sat back down - this time at the far end of the couch.

Captain Spender puffed away at his tobacco, exhaling out the black smoke. Mulder did not like the smell of tobacco smoke, let alone its smell inside his own home, but Emily had warned and pleaded with him to be nice to Jeffrey's parents. So that was what he was doing right now: being nice.

When his ex- wife was a few centimeters from him on the same couch and when a man smoking hard tobacco was in front of him, and when he had better things to do

(like pressuring the bank about who sent him that leisure amount of $5000) than sit there and listen to an old man talk about his picturesque rest house - the last thing he wanted to do was BE nice.

Mulder calmed himself with another drink. It was all for Emily. It always was. Toutes les fois pour Emily.

Detaching himself from the story, he tried to study Jeffrey. The young man had his arm around Emily, his whole body as stiff as a walking stick. The boy was in the army, as Emily had told him when they were just dating. He was terribly patriotic about his country and wanted to name his forthcoming children Abraham, Jacqueline ... the man invested well in History 101.

He laughed at Emily back then, telling her that she didn't mesh with the army guy. Emily was too sweet for him, too mellow, too ... Emily. His daughter only shrugged when he made his comment, but later proved him wrong when she presented to him a humongous engagement ring over dinner. He choked on his lobster.

He met THE Jeffrey the next day and found him polite - a little stiff, but at least, the man laughed at Mulder's jokes. Whether Jeffrey's snickers were for Mulder's approval or for finding Mulder plain crazy, it did not matter. Emily was in love with him - as a father, he warned her that Jeffrey's job was dangerous. If he was to be deported to a war-torn country, he could possibly leave Emily and their future children behind. His daughter told him that it didn't matter: they would be with each other in spirit.

Fine. So he gave them their blessings. What else could he do?

"... You could hear the birds hum when you wake up in the morning, so I've made it a point to wake up early - 6 AM early. Isn't that right, honeybunch?" Captain Spender drew Mrs. Spender - or Cassandra - towards him and puffed another round.

He smoked, told stories that were 50 years ago, and called his wife "honeybunch." This wasn't exactly the in- law he had in his mind when he met Jeffrey.

Diana was all smiles the whole day and it intimidated him for no reason at all. He thought it might have been the atmosphere - this WAS their home half the time they were married - but Diana was putting up quite a show. She even kissed him on the cheek.

Mulder wanted to wash his face clean when she did. He was almost a step away from the bathroom when Emily hooked her arm around him and drew him to the living room.

When his future in- laws were done shuffling around, Diana crossed her legs, dangling a glinting Gucci bracelet in his direction. "That sounds splendid, Captain Spender. But Jeffrey and Emily decided on a garden wedding here in the United States. I'm sure they would love a second wedding - "

"No need," the captain coughed out, forming smoke rings as he did. "We have 5 other kids that could be married there."

"I'm betting on Jam," Cassandra inserted, making Jeffrey grin. Mulder forgot - the elder couple was a baby- making machine back in their heydays. Overall, they had 8 children. Three already married; the younger three were still studying; the 2 middle kids in stable professions. Jeffrey was the 4th of all their kids.

That fact might have sounded horrible to others, but to Mulder it sounded nice. Not nice like nice that he was now, but nice. Plain nice. Having children around the house, seeing them grow up, and seeing them become their own selves. He only had Emily for that and he was too young when she was still in her early teens for him to appreciate the significance. He needed a second chance.

"We're planning on the summer house Dad has in Quonochontaug, Rhode Island ... and it's large. It has a great garden for the wedding, and the inside of the house has this wonderful living room that's fit for the reception," Emily said, intertwining her fingers with Jeffrey's. The young man nodded in agreement.

"We want something simple, not very extravagant. A total of 50 guests will do," Jeffrey added. Cassandra clapped her hands in surprise.

"But baby, I've asked my whole garden club to come to your wedding!"

"Mom - " Jeffrey warned, darting his eye towards Mulder, Diana, and Emily's side. Cassandra folded her hands on her lap and leaned on her husband. Captain

Spender patted her back, extinguishing his tobacco on the crystal ash tray.

"It's... really okay, Jeffrey. We could still afford 20 or more. Dad's rest house is splendidly big," Emily encouraged her fiancé, and turned to Mulder for support. "Right, Dad?"

Mulder was busy with the sunflower seeds, and he was caught with one in his mouth. All eyes were on him. He swallowed the whole damn seed and muttered: "Yeah. Sure. It's great."

They abandoned him, the whole clan sinking into the wedding preliminaries once again. Mulder kept quiet throughout the whole conversation, content with the sunflower seeds. He forgot about his favorite snack when he was staying in Vegas; he was too busy arguing with Scully and fixing everything for her show to think about eating some.

Next week, he would be visiting Scully in Las Vegas. He would have to remember to bring some seeds with him. They eased his tension.

Jenny, their housekeeper, appeared from the den. She excused herself from interrupting the conversation and moved towards Mulder. She grinned at Diana first before she started talking.

"The phone in the den, Mr. Mulder. It is for you."

All eyes were on him again. Mulder, clearly happy for the distraction, scooped a handful of sunflower seeds and thanked Jenny. He excused himself from the group

and headed towards the den while munching absentmindedly on a juicy seed.

Reaching the phone, he tucked it in between his shoulder and ear. "Hell-ow?" he greeted, still busy with the seed in his mouth.

A deep male voice met his ear. "Is this Mr. Fox Mulder?"

"Yes, speaking. May I know who this is?"

"Mr. Mulder, this is Dr. Vast from the Santa Cecilia Hospital here in Las Vegas. You know Ms. Dana Scully?"

Mulder propped himself up, brushing away specks of damp seeds from his t- shirt. "Yes. Why? Is there something wrong?"

"Ms. Scully was admitted to our hospital this afternoon by Mr. Jerry Jayson. According to him, she fainted during a dance routine, and had lost a substantial amount of blood from a nose bleed while she was unconscious. We have been ..."

He cut off the doctor, smacking his palms on the surface of his desk. The sunflower seeds that he held flew all over the rug, scattering all over the place. The news caught him off- guard. "Is- is she okay? What are the findings?"

"Calm down, Mr. Mulder. Ms. Scully's condition is stable. There's no problem about that aspect, but we have been worried about her mental health. She had been reluctant to talk to anyone and we had to sedate her to get blood samples."

"She was violent?"

"Yes, at one point, she was. Mr. Jayson suggested that we call you, since according to him, you have been living with her for the past month."

"I'm... I'm her director. I take care of her," Mulder explained. He cannot keep his voice from shaking. Goddamn it. This could not be happening.

"Maybe you would know how to calm her down. We need to keep her in the hospital for at least three days, until we get the results of her blood test. If it's no bother to you, I

suggest that you see her here in Las Vegas."

Mulder didn't say anything at first. Fly to Vegas? Right now?

"Mr. Mulder?" the doctor piped up. Mulder snapped back to reality.

"Umm, sure... uhh, I'll see about that. If I can't come, I'll call you immediately."

"Thank you, Mr. Mulder. Sorry for the inconvenience." That was the Doctor's last statement before he heard the click. The other line went dead and the busy tone pierced Mulder's ears. He didn't make any move to put it back into its cradle, though. He just stood there, appalled at what was happening. He wanted nothing more than to drop everything and fly to Vegas. However, his daughter was right there in the living room, planning her wedding.

"Dad...?" Emily's voice surprised him, making him jump. He swirled around, breathing hard.

"Emily... Christ, you scared me." He placed a hand over his rapidly beating heart. Emily smiled sadly.

"Something's going on. What's up?"

"It's..." He bent down and began to pick up the scattered sunflower seeds, using it as an excuse to not look his daughter in the eye. "Scully. She's been admitted to a hospital after fainting and a nasty nose bleed." He purposely used the word 'nasty.' 'Major' sounded too drastic. And panicky, like what he was experiencing at that second.

Emily kneeled down in front of him, and began to help him pick out the seeds. "They need you there?"

Mulder kept on picking up seeds, still avoiding his daughter's eyes.

"You should go there, if that's the case. We will all be fine here. It's not like the wedding's tomorrow anyway," his daughter reasoned out, resting her elbows on her thighs. He sighed and slowly looked into her eyes.

"She needs you, Dad. Even more than Jeffrey and I do right now." His daughter's encouragement made his mood lighten. It was true; Scully did need him. He could not deny that. It was written in black and white that he was her "caretaker." She, unarguably, belonged to him.

"She is mine. She is ... my responsibility," Mulder agreed, rising up to his feet. Emily gathered a few seeds that he missed before also standing up.

"You should leave now." Emily took his wrist and opened his clenched fingers, taking the sunflower seeds from his palm. "I'll take care of everything. Go on."

When Emily smiled, he was convinced that it was all right - he could go. Relieved, Mulder kissed Emily on the forehead, and exited the den. He jumped on the stairs, ignoring the surprised stares from the guests, towards his bedroom to pack.

On short notice, he was able to gather one of the three musketeers with him. This time it was Byers, his personal favorite. That was because the man was quiet. He talked only when Mulder talked, and always told the truth. That was Byers' mantra: get rid of bullshit and tell the truth. Fuck everything else, he had to tell the truth. And another thing he liked and hated about the man at the same time was that he seemed to know Mulder better than the director knew himself. Really.

They arrived in the hospital approximately five hours after his conversation with the doctor on the phone. Mulder pushed through rushing nurses and doctors in the ER, until he reached the information center.

"Hi. My name's Fox Mulder and am looking for a patient named Dana Scully."

The blond nurse shuffled through some records and told him to go to a room 201. Mulder complied immediately, with Byers - his personal puppy- at his heels.

The elevator ride took an eternity for Mulder. He was sweating profusely, his body still not used to all the running and the overwhelming heat spring was starting to kick in. Byers remained by his side, carrying yellow lilies from the airport's flower shop. They made a side trip, since the flowers immediately reminded him of Scully. Maybe it would help calm her down.

In the hallway, they met a mild- mannered doctor, whom Mulder immediately took as the Dr. Vast. They shook hands firmly. Mulder then introduced his companion to the Doctor after their meeting.

"Thank you for coming. We knew we could count on you," Dr. Vast greeted, and they wasted no time as they walked towards Scully's room.

"What exactly happened, Doctor?" Byers finally spoke out, hugging the vase of lilies close to his chest. His squeaky shoes rubbed on the shiny marble tiles of the hallways. Mulder caught a grimace from the Doctor before the man answered.

"Mr. Jayson mentioned an ongoing practice in his gymnasium when Ms. Scully complained of dizziness. Stopping the rehearsal," the Doctor turned a sharp right, leading them to another hallway that was dimly lighted with fluorescents that could hardly fill the small gaps of the windows. The atmosphere made Mulder feel more nervous. He kept his hands inside his pockets to hide the sweat.

"Mr. Jayson said that Ms. Scully complained of vertigo, and by that time, she was already extremely pale. She fainted not long afterwards." Dr. Vast waved a pleasant hello to a curvaceous nurse that was exiting a private room. The nurse snubbed him, then smiled at Mulder. The director disregarded it. He was too busy listening to Dr. Vast to notice the nurse's come-on.

"The crew tried hard to revive Ms. Scully; however, while that was happening, she had a nosebleed: a quite severe epistaxis. The bleeding became alarming that they immediately rushed her here. She was in danger of going into a hypovolemic shock. We were able to stabilize her condition, fortunately, and she regained consciousness within the next hour."

Dr. Vast had led them to a small corridor, where they found Jerry sitting down on the lounging chairs. At the sight of them, the colorful man rose up, smiling forlornly at Mulder and Byers.

"That was when everything got messy, Mr. Mulder." The doctor waved his hand towards the room opposite Jerry. Mulder took a moment, before he looked into the slightly opened blinds.

Through the slits, he could make out Scully, who was dejectedly huddled on the bed, with her back arched against the head board. She had her face buried in between her knees, her hair tousled all over her head, and her whole body was shivering in extreme fright. Mulder quickly turned away. Seeing Scully like that scared him, for she was so different from her usual self. Mulder turned to his companions, who were all obviously waiting for his reaction.

"She's been crying. I can tell. She's scared crazy ... what did you do to her?" He composed himself enough to say those words without anger snarling out of them. There was fire in his eyes, though and the three people caught it. When Dr. Vast spoke, he did so gently, obviously regarding Mulder's reaction with care.

"We sedated her, Mr. Mulder. We collected some blood so we could run tests to make sure we isolate the cause of her epistaxis - but we promise you, we didn't -"

Byers once told him that he had a habit of cutting people off before they could finish their train of thought. When his faithful friend gave him the "Byers' warning/blinking-eyes look" as a signal, Mulder snatched the flowers out of his friend's hand and entered the room, leaving the three outside in complete, utter surprise.

The scrape of the vase against the empty bed table echoed across the sullen room, and the mere sound of it almost made Mulder jump. He calmed his pounding heart by pretending to rearrange the flowers (not that it mattered; there was not much contrast with yellow and yellow), while stealing forlorn glances at Scully.

Mulder was not sure whether it was only to him that his settling of the vase seemed so noisy ... Scully was not giving any indication that she gave a fuck about his presence. Her head was still buried in between her knees. She moved sometimes, Mulder noticed as he stood there stupidly, waiting for a sign from her so that he could approach. Scully rearranged the position of her feet and rubbed them on the mattress. The sheets around her thin body creased even more as she did that.

He swallowed, anticipating her reaction if he surged forward and asked how she felt. This time, he was not going to take "I'm fine" as an answer. She gave him that same reply every time he asked her if she was okay.

Mulder closed his eyes briefly, and then inched his way towards the bed. He sat down lightly on a spare space, a few inches from Scully, making sure that he didn't put all of his weight on the mattress. He wouldn't know how she would react, would he?

"Sc -" he started, his breath hitching in his throat. He was stopped by the sound coming from the woman before him.

"If you are here to talk to me - don't bother. I won't talk." She lifted her face from her legs, surprising Mulder with her deathly paleness. She was as white as the sheets around her - probably even whiter. Her tears pooled around her eyes and dried on her cheeks, leaving behind barely visible brown tracks of where they once were. Mulder had to stop himself from reaching over and wiping them dry - he had more help with Scully's fiery blue eyes in that aspect.

"I don't need you to talk," he admitted, clenching his fists as her mouth twitched in surprise. "I... just want you to listen."

"I won't do that either," she stubbornly conveyed, angling her face so that they were looking at each other eye-to-eye. Mulder's fist tightened.

"What do you want to do?" He would argue with her. It was what they both did best: argue and tire each other out. That was what he was going to do. He would tire her out and before she even knew it, he would be able to talk her into calming down.

There was a catch to that: Mulder's physical faculties were not much help. He had been jet- setting all around LA to catch some things before leaving, booked a flight for Las Vegas in no time, and headed to the hospital once they arrived. He had not slept well last night because of pre- wedding planning jitters, and this fact probably showed right now.

Did he mention that Dr. Vast hadn't told Scully that she needed to stay for three more days? Shit.

Scully's lower lip trembled. "I want to leave. I don't want to stay here." She pronounced them with forced confidence. Mulder breathed in.

"Scully, please understand..."

"How many days do I have to stay in this hell- hole?"

Mulder was taken aback by her sudden question. His first intention was to stall her with his words, but he remembered that she wouldn't listen to him, anyway. She would only lend him her ears when he would answer her questions.

"Three days. Only three days." He made it sound so simple, as if those three days did not matter. "They want to make sure that they can rule out any other possible causes for your sudden bleeding."

He blinked and Scully's expression changed to extreme panic.

"I...I'm... not staying here... that long," she said, and he could not determine whether the sound of teeth chattering were coming from her or from him. Mulder licked his lips and assured himself that it was not from him.

He pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "Scully, you are sick. If we recall what happened to you - according to Mr. Jayson, you fainted and had extreme blood loss. They need to monitor you for your own safety. You'll get a blood transfusion soon-"

"BULLSHIT! I WANT TO LEAVE!" she shouted, cutting him off with a hiss. Mulder's hands dropped to his side and his eyes widened at her sudden outrage.

Scully's face was now flushed with the mixture of panic and anger, though he could tell that she had already put in half of all the energy she had into shouting.

"You cannot leave. I will personally not allow it until you are well enough to do so. You can't control this, Scully. This is your fucking health."

"Let me go, Mulder. You don't... understand!" She clutched her legs against her body once again, wrapping her arms around them protectively. Tears were dripping from her eyes, and Mulder was struck with the fear at the sight of Scully crying too much. Her already weak body might get aggravated.

"I don't want to argue with you anymore, Scully. I'm not going to fight you today," he cleared, knowing that he himself did not have the energy to continue with his initial plan. He stretched his hand towards her feet, hesitating as he touched her there. Her toes were freezing. Scully flinched when his palm came in contact with her feet, though they were under the blankets. His warmth was colliding with her coldness.

"You don't understand." Her voice was softer. She was watching his fingers curled around her toes, trying to fuse his some of his heat into her.

"What don't I understand?" He squeezed her feet encouragingly. She jumped back a bit when he did that, but did not react any further.

"N... I'm..." She was cautious about it, Mulder realized. So he inched closer and took her hand in his, caressing the back of it gently. The softness was familiar to him, but the cold that invaded the tips of her fingers were alien.

Scully let another tear appear. "I'm afraid."

"Afraid of what?"

She tried to pull her hand back from him, but he held on. She let him hold it while she talked: "This place!"

Mulder guessed that if she would have had the strength, that would probably be right into his face.

"Afraid of hospitals?" He gripped her hand and Scully finally gave up.

"Yes," she whispered, dejectedly lowering her arm, taking his with it.

He tired her out. Scully only made confessions when she was dead tired.

Mulder tucked her hand into his stomach and drew closer until he had his whole body against hers. She convulsed in anxiety as he did that, but relaxed when her head met his chest. His breathing also slackened and that helped her calm down against him. Mulder placed his chin on her head, rounding his other hand over her waist and gripping her close to him.

It didn't surprise him that they were hugging... what surprised him was how comfortable it felt. He did not want to let her go.

"I'm sorry, Scully... but you have to stay here. You are mine, remember? And it's my responsibility to take care of you. That's ultimately what I'm going to do."

She sobbed. He could feel the wetness of her tears against his own skin. That desperation tore Mulder up. He didn't want her to cry any more. If she cried another round, she could dry up and disintegrate into nothingness.

"Tell me how to make it better for you," he said hoarsely, stroking her frazzled red hair, combing through the knotted strands delicately.

"I... don't... know..." Each word was punctuated with an intake of breath. Mulder blinked and pressed his cheek on the top of her head. He hoped she would stop shutting herself and start talking. At least he had a fighting chance against that. Spunk Rule # 6 is now formed: tire her out so she would start opening up bit by bit. It was a hard task, since she also easily tired Mulder out, but it was worth a try.

"You're my responsibility, Scully. Tell me how I could make this better for you, so I won't worry."

She rubbed her eyes on his shirt, and through a muffled voice, she was able to say: "Please stay with me. Don't leave me, please. I had a nightmare today... the sedation... and there was no one here. No one heard me or helped me."

Mulder nodded, letting some strands stick to his face as he did so. "I won't leave you," he promised. He squeezed her hand in his, making him remember that he was still holding her fingers in a death grip. It didn't matter. He probably wouldn't let go of her for a long, long time.

He felt empowerment within him ... an over protectiveness for the lady. Maybe her statement to him last week went straight to his head, but he could not deny the strong feeling. He wanted to take care of her for as long as she would allow him to.

She was his. He owned her until the movie ran. He would make sure that the task at hand was taken care of - no matter how challenging it was. He will never back out. He never did.

Scully continued to cry, and he tried his best to hush her. She was still talking as the last sobs escaped from her throat. Her voice was spent and she could do nothing but whisper. "Don't leave me, please, Mulder. Don't leave me, please. I don't want to dream anymore."

"I won't leave, Scully. I won't," he replied. That got her to stop, and they settled down.

Scully was still against him, but he loosened his grip on her. His two hands were flat on her back this time, and hers were limp at her sides. That was the moment when

Byers chose to enter the room and study the situation at hand.

"She's fine. We're going to be fine," Mulder told Byers even before the man could ask him. The Musketeer nodded, still intent on both of them.

"Byers, could I ask you for a favor?" He had his back to his friend, so it was hard for him to see the man's expression. Scully was watching the Musketeer from his shoulder, peeking at him with her sensitized red eyes.

"Anything," Byers replied.

"Uhh, could you call Emily for me? Tell her I won't be able to go home any time this week. I'm staying here until Scully's all fine."

When Scully heard those words, she pushed herself away from Mulder and stared at him as if he was the most impossible man in the world. "No, Mulder. Go home ... I don't want to be a bother." Her desperate tone was replaced by a façade of courageous attitude and he could see that she was fighting the fright and panic that was rising again within her. He admired her courage and generosity; however, he was not going anywhere. She was his responsibility. He had to stay with her.

"You're no bother, Scully. It is okay. Emily understands."

"No... you see..."

"I want to stay, Scully," he firmly stated and she quieted down.

Now that they were apart from each other, he turned his body towards Byers. The man was still standing in the middle of the room, and when he had Scully in full view, he waved a little. Scully waved back, forcing a smile on her lips.

"Tell Emily that everything's going to be fine, and she doesn't need to worry. They should go on without me; I'll catch up next week. Will you do that, Byers?"

Byers nodded, and left without a word.

With that settled, Mulder returned his attention to his Spunk. He rose from the bed and tucked her under the covers. While she was trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in, Mulder straightened out the covers around her, knowing that if she woke up clear- headed the next day she'd be irritated by the creases.

Scully laid down on her right side, facing his body. Mulder tucked a strand of auburn hair behind her ear, and leaned into her ear.

"I'm not going to leave you, Scully. You should have a nice night."

When he drew back, she was already passive. A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips, tugging also at an invisible chord in Mulder's heart.

He had to take advantage of the time Scully spent sleeping. He knew that she would not let him out of her sight when she came around, so he fixed everything that needed to be fixed.

Generously, Mr. Jayson and Byers offered to push the stiff hospital bench outside Scully's room for him, since he was staying the night and there was no way he could rest contentedly on the stool that was supplied in the room. It was only fit for the basket of fruits that he asked Byers to get for Scully. The grateful doctors and nurses also offered extra blankets and pillows for him; a slight consolation prize for getting Scully to calm down after hours of screaming her head off.

When all was done (Emily was phoned and assured, Mr. Jayson thanked and given the opportunity to attend to his businesses), Byers pulled Mulder by the arm before he could enter Scully's room.

"What?" Mulder twisted his head towards his friend, pulling back his arm.

Byers scratched his beard, messing the fine strands. Compared to Mulder, though, the Musketeer looked better by a hundred percent. "Are you sure you want to stay here alone? I could sit up with you, Mulder."

"I'll be fine. You go and rent a hotel nearby. I'll call you if something goes wrong." Mulder smiled feebly, and then headed once again towards the room - only to be stopped by Byers once again. When he heard his name uttered, he sighed and faced his friend with annoyance.

"If there's something you want to tell me, please do it now," he pushed, standing in front of the man chest-to-chest. He found out - from the time Byers entered that hospital room and took a visible note of his hug with Scully - that an idea was pecking at the back of the man's head.

Mulder prepared himself for whatever Byers would be saying. As he had once noted to himself, Byers could read him pretty well – the only other person who could do that was Scully- but Byers had been doing that ever since he met the three stooges. He valued whatever his friend advised him, even if sometimes it got downright irritating that this person could know you very well without even trying.

Byers loosened the green tie on his suit. Mulder stared at a spot on his friend's head, not wanting to look into his eyes and give himself away.

"You obviously care for her, Mulder-"

"I take care of her, Byers," he corrected, putting his hands on his hips. The man lifted his eyeglasses, and started cleaning it with his gray suit jacket. Byers had a penchant for being clean- cut. He always wore a tie and suit, as if he was a government employee, contrary to his real occupation. It was what he was most comfortable in, coming from a highly socialized family himself.

"Stop cutting people off, Mulder," Byers sternly chastised him, pausing at his task to glare at him. Mulder didn't react, and Byers took that as a sign for him to carry on. "Let me finish. I want to help you, I want to make sure you won't get hurt in the end."

"I wouldn't get hurt what?" It all sounds incredulous to Mulder, a big giant puzzle piece. He could not connect one end of Byers' statement to the other ... he was not even sure he wanted to retrieve the last puzzle piece. He was not THAT steadfast about what the lecture was about this time. He maybe should also reconsider Byers as his favorite Musketeer.

"Get hurt by her. C'mon, Mulder. I see the way you treat her and I see the way you care for her. You have to understand that she'll be leaving after the movie..."

"Wait, wait, wait!" Mulder held his two hands up, shutting Byers up. He wiped away a drop of sweat that threatened to invade his eyesight, and then held his hand back up against Byers. "What are we talking about here? Is this at all important, Byers? Fine, so I care for her. What's wrong with that? Is it wrong to care for someone nowadays?"

"No, I don't mean it that way, Mulder." His friend shoved his hands away. They landed on Mulder's sides, defeated. "Emily will be leaving you soon. This must be one of the hardest times of your life - and I believe that you can pull through it - however, you cannot-"

He shouldn't cut people off. Scrap that fucking idea. "I can't use Scully as Emily's replacement - is that it? Is that what you want to tell me, Byers?"

The suited man caught his eyes and held them evenly in his stance. "She will eventually have to move on after your movie. Spunk has her own life. Sooner or later she would want to go and explore her avenues in Hollywood. She cannot be your new deity..."

"First of all," Mulder held a finger up in the air, resisting the urge to hold up his middle finger to end the damn conversation. "I am not using Scully as Emily's replacement or as my new deity - because no one can replace Emily. Second, I understand that she would be moving on after this and I'm going to encourage her to do just that. Third, I am only here as her friend. She needs me, and I'm here for her. Is that all wrong? What's so damn wrong about all of that?"

"The last part - you need her."

Mulder laughed. That was funny. Very funny AND outright rude of Byers to correct his own statement.

"You are my friend, Byers. One of my closest ones. Don't make this mistake. I don't need her. I'm fine as her friend, and I'm sure that she's also fine as mine. If ever I do need her, it's only for the movie. Scully and I both talked about that a long time ago."

"You need her," the Musketeer insisted, making Mulder groan. That was vehemently ignored. "I can see it in the way you held her ... look, nothing's wrong with admitting that ... I'm only worried about you. And her."

"Fine. Say that I need her. Say that I am that needy bastard SOB that you are pushing on me." Before Byers could cut him off, he continued firing his bullets. He had to know where this conversation was going. "What's to worry about?"

"You don't know anything about her, Mulder. She's going to hurt you in that aspect. She keeps secrets ... why she has nightmares, why she has this fright of hospitals ... you should know that. You should be wary of that. Why she's all Spunk and the next minute she's submitting herself to you, telling you that you own her. Mulder, she will hurt you because she does not tell you anything. Not a single cent of her past."

"Whoa. How did you know about her nightmares?"

"She complained about them once during her times in the Lone Glitter," Byers explained, shifting his solid stand. "Spunk told us that she was having a dreadful headache that day. She didn't have enough sleep because she had a nightmare. With the eye bags she was sporting for the whole week ... we kind of did the math."

Mulder tilted his head to one side. "Okay. Fine. So what am I supposed to be worried about again?" He could not understand or see Byers' point. Sure, the girl was secretive. She would not tell Mulder anything personal unless he pushed too hard. That was not bad, was it?

"Her past. You should be worried about her past. It's not pretty. I could tell. It's haunting her."

"Byers, that is none of my business. If she wants to tell me something, she could. I'm there for her." Mulder turned his back on his friend, and figuratively (in his own mind) also turned his back on what Byers was trying to insinuate. There was nothing to worry about!

He entered the room, freezing when he saw Scully inhale in her sleep. Her nose twitched as she grabbed a handful of blankets towards her, and hugged tight. She looked like an ethereal angel. Really. In her sleep, that was. Mulder grinned.

There was nothing to worry about. There would not be anything to worry about. He was sure of it.

END OF CHAPTER SEVEN