Mulder sat in the cold, sterile waiting room, his leg bouncing nervously, eyes fixed on the elevator doors, waiting for any sign of news. His mind was running through the worst possibilities, replaying the sight of Scully being wheeled away on the gurney, her face pale and drawn.

Suddenly, a nurse approached, her face calm but purposeful. "Agent Mulder?" she asked gently, drawing his attention.

Mulder shot to his feet, anxiety flooding his expression. "Is she okay?" His voice was tight, barely masking the urgency.

The nurse offered a small, reassuring smile. "The doctor will explain everything to you, but your partner has asked for you. If you could come with me... I think she'll be calmer with you around."

Mulder didn't hesitate. "Of course," he said, already moving to follow her, his heart pounding as they walked down the hallway. Each step felt like an eternity, his mind spinning with questions he wasn't sure he wanted the answers to, but knowing that being there for Scully was all that mattered now.

Mulder hurried down the hallway behind the nurse, barely containing his impatience as they reached the room. Before he could enter, a doctor stepped into his path, holding a clipboard and blocking his way.

"Is she okay?" Mulder asked, his voice tight with concern, eyes pleading for reassurance.

The doctor gave him a measured look, then sighed. "Depends on what you consider okay." He glanced at the chart, then back at Mulder. "The good news is, she has no internal injuries. CT confirmed it—just some bad bruising. Her arm is broken in two places, but it's a straightforward break. She'll need a cast for a few weeks, but it'll heal."

Mulder let out a breath, relieved but still tense. "And the cut on her back?"

"I'm about to stitch that up. It's deep but not dangerous," the doctor said, his tone more serious now. "But here's what concerns me, Agent Mulder: she's severely dehydrated, and it seems like she hasn't eaten in quite some time."

Mulder's stomach sank. "Dehydrated?"

"Yes," the doctor replied firmly. "I understand the job's demanding, but aren't you FBI folks supposed to look out for each other? She's clearly been running herself into the ground."

Mulder's face hardened with guilt. He knew how Scully pushed herself, and how easy it was to overlook it when they were in the middle of a case. He swallowed hard, the weight of responsibility heavy on his shoulders.

"Can I see her?" he asked quietly, his voice tinged with worry.

The doctor nodded, his stern expression softening a bit. "She's asking for you."

The doctor paused for a moment, glancing at Mulder with a thoughtful expression. "Actually, I'm a bit short on nurses today, and Agent Scully is still under the mild sedation we gave her for the CT. It would really help if you could assist me, keep her in position while I suture the cut on her back."

Mulder didn't hesitate. "Certainly. If she'll let me do it," he replied, his voice soft but determined. "Can I see her now, please?"

The doctor nodded, gesturing for Mulder to follow. "She's a little groggy, but she's been asking for you. Just make sure she stays steady while I work."

"Hey," Mulder said softly as he approached Scully's bed, his voice carrying a touch of warmth and relief. "Looks like it's Scully: 1, Closet: 0." He smiled, though his eyes were filled with concern. "I'm so glad you don't have any internal injuries."

Scully blinked up at him, her expression a mix of relief and guilt—happy to see him but also feeling like she was becoming too much of a burden. Her exhaustion weighed heavily on her, and it showed in the way her eyes lingered on his face.

"The doctor said you need to keep steady while he sutures your back," Mulder continued gently. "You can wait until a nurse becomes available, or I can help keep you steady."

Scully, knowing the position the doctor needed her in, made a valiant effort to move on her own, trying to shift herself into place. But her body, weak from the pain and sedation, swayed precariously.

"Please," Mulder whispered, his hand already reaching out to support her. "Let me."

He steadied her, guiding her into the right position as the doctor began preparing the suture. As Mulder held her carefully, Scully leaned into him, her arms instinctively finding their way around his neck. Slowly, she buried her face into his shoulder, her breath soft against his skin as she started to doze off, the exhaustion and sedation pulling her into a much-needed rest.

Mulder's grip on her tightened, holding her with care, his gaze flickering between her and the doctor as the procedure began. His heart ached, not from the strain of holding her up, but from the sheer weight of seeing her like this. He whispered softly into her ear, even though she was half-asleep, "I've got you, Scully. I'm right here."

As the doctor worked, Mulder couldn't help but let his eyes trace along the length of Scully's back. His gaze paused as he noticed faint lines, pale but noticeable. "What are those?" he asked, pointing to a cluster of small, thin scars just beneath her shoulder blade.

The doctor glanced down briefly, then shrugged as he continued stitching. "Old scars," he said simply. "Looks like she's got quite a few. I'd say they're probably cuts."

Mulder's throat tightened as he looked closer at the marks, his mind racing with memories of past cases and the countless dangers Scully had faced. His jaw clenched as he realized how many times she must've gone through something without him knowing, silently bearing the physical and emotional toll.

He felt a surge of protectiveness, his hold on her gently shifting as if to shield her from more harm. Scully, still dozing under the sedation, seemed completely unaware of the weight of the moment.

The doctor worked in silence for a few more minutes before speaking again, noticing the tension in Mulder's posture. "It's part of the job, I guess, right?" he said casually, but Mulder didn't respond, his focus still locked on the scars, his thoughts darker than before.

"I'll never get used to it," Mulder muttered under his breath, barely loud enough for the doctor to hear, as he adjusted his grip on Scully, holding her just a little tighter.

The doctor finished the last of the stitches and stepped back, peeling off his gloves. "My job is done," he said, eyeing Mulder. "I could wake her up rather rudely and send her on her way."

Mulder raised an eyebrow, sensing there was more. "But?"

The doctor sighed, glancing at Scully, who remained asleep in Mulder's arms. "She's in such poor shape. I'd rather keep her for a couple of hours for observation. Get some IV fluids and nutrition in her. Honestly, I would feel better about it. And that Skinner guy who called earlier? He was terrifying. If I just do the bare minimum for her, I'm pretty sure he'll rip me a new one."

Mulder gave a faint smile, appreciating the humor but also the concern behind it. "Whatever it takes. Can I stay with her?"

The doctor nodded. "Certainly. We'll move her back to a room in the ER and get her set up with fluids. After that, she's all yours."

Mulder looked down at Scully, brushing a lock of hair from her face. "Thank you," he said quietly, his relief palpable. As the doctor stepped away, Mulder kept his gaze fixed on Scully, determined to stay by her side for however long it took.

Mulder sat by Scully's bed, watching her rest in an awkward position, somewhere between lying on her stomach and her side to avoid straining her injuries. Her left hand, resting on the pillow beside her face, was attached to an IV port, while the other lay in a neon-green cast. He sighed softly, his thoughts racing, and decided to step away to make a call.

He pulled out his phone and dialed Pat Micucci's number, knowing she'd want to hear an update on Scully and might have more information about the explosion.

"AD Micucci? It's Agent Mulder," he said quietly.

"Mulder! Is Agent Scully alright? Do you need anything? Whose butt do I have to kick?" Micucci's voice crackled with concern on the other end.

Mulder smiled, appreciating her fierce loyalty. "She's doing fairly okay, given the circumstances. Still groggy from the examinations and treatment, but I can take her home in a few hours."

"That's good news. Don't let her shake you off again," Micucci replied firmly.

Touched by her concern, Mulder's voice softened. "I won't. Do you have any updates about the explosion?"

Micucci's tone shifted, frustration evident. "The guy Reyes and Doggett picked up this morning is our perp in the ritualistic murders. He confessed, but he's not the one responsible for the body that exploded. That's a copycat. A different case entirely."

Mulder frowned, realizing the unsettling connection to his and Scully's own situation. "Another copycat? That's strange."

"Mulder," Micucci's voice grew more stern, "I don't want you wasting any time thinking about this case. My team's on it. Your only job right now is to take care of Agent Scully."

"Understood," Mulder replied, but there was a beat of hesitation. "She's going to ask… how's Agent Miller?"

Micucci paused, her frustration slipping into sadness. "Not good. He's on life support, but his advanced directive is clear. His family is gathering." She stopped abruptly, her voice quieter. "Don't tell Scully that, not while she's in such a fragile state. She did everything she could, and we're all grateful. Honestly, if she wasn't needed for the X-Files, I'd steal her away myself."

Mulder didn't respond right away, lost in thought, absorbing everything she said. Micucci noticed the silence on his end.

"You have your orders, Agent Mulder," she said, her voice firm but kind. "Take care of her. I'll talk to you soon."

"Yes, ma'am," Mulder replied, feeling the weight of responsibility settle on him as he ended the call. He walked back to Scully's bedside, more determined than ever to stay by her side, come what may.

Mulder stepped back to Scully's bedside, his heart heavy but his expression soft. As he approached, Scully slowly opened her eyes, still groggy from the sedation.

"Hey," he greeted, his voice low and comforting. "How are you feeling?"

Scully blinked, her lips barely curving into a smile. "Like a train wreck."

Mulder couldn't help but chuckle, despite the gravity of the situation. "Well, a closet fell on you, so I can see the connection."

He nodded toward the IV bags hanging beside her. "The doctor said you can go home when these are empty."

At the mention of going home, Scully's face grew more guarded, and she seemed to withdraw, her eyes turning distant. Mulder noticed immediately, his concern deepening.

"Scully," he said softly, leaning closer, "I will take you home, and I promise, I will hover like I've never hovered before."

His attempt at humor didn't erase the shadow in her expression, but it softened it. She looked at him, and though she didn't say anything, there was a flicker of relief in her eyes. Despite everything, she knew Mulder wasn't going anywhere.

Scully drifted in and out of sleep while her IV bags slowly emptied, the sedative still heavy in her system. Mulder, ever watchful, noticed her shivering. He leaned closer, his voice soft. "Are you cold?"

Before she could muster a response, he gently laid his hand on her arm and then stood, quietly making his way to the nurses' station to fetch a blanket for her. As Mulder turned to head back, he heard footsteps from the other side of the corridor.

It was Skinner, moving with purpose as he approached Scully's room. When he stepped inside and found her alone, sleeping, he stepped back into the hallway, his face tight with anger. He spotted a nurse passing by and immediately lashed out. "This is Special Agent Dana Scully in there. She's been injured in the line of duty. Why is she unattended? Where the hell is her partner?"

Mulder, hearing Skinner's voice from around the corner, quickened his pace, blanket in hand. "I'm right here," he called, hurrying over. He brushed past Skinner without stopping. "I got Scully a blanket. She's cold."

Skinner backed off, watching silently as Mulder entered the room and gently tucked the blanket around Scully's still form. Her eyes fluttered open, the faint light in them dim but aware. Mulder smiled softly. "Better?"

She grabbed his hand, her grip weak but desperate, and her eyes filled with sudden, unexpected tears. "Please don't give up on me," she whispered, her voice fragile with panic and exhaustion.

Mulder's heart twisted at the vulnerability in her words, her quiet fear cutting through him. He bent down, his forehead almost touching hers as he held her hand tighter. "I won't, Scully. I won't. I'm right here."

He lowered the bed's banister, shifting closer, unsure where to place his hands in a way that could offer her comfort. He wished he could do more, but all he could do was stay close. "Your IV bags are almost empty," he said quietly. "I'm going to take you home soon. We talked about this earlier, remember? I'm going to stay with you until you're better."

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek, his breath warm against her skin. She closed her eyes, her grip still on his hand, and in that moment, Mulder promised himself again that he wasn't going anywhere, not for a second.

As Scully lulled back into sleep, Skinner stepped next to Mulder, glancing at her with concern. "I already heard from AD Micucci that she's doing okay," he said quietly, though his eyes betrayed doubt. "This didn't look like 'okay.'"

Mulder nodded, his gaze fixed on Scully's pale face. "I've never seen her like this. Have you?" His question was rhetorical, but when he saw Skinner nodding, he realized they both knew the weight of how far from her usual self Scully was.

Skinner seemed to wrestle with something for a moment, the internal struggle evident in his tense expression. He contemplated telling Mulder about the letters and the ominous message the Lone Gunmen had received, but ultimately decided against it. However, there was one thing he couldn't hold back. "It seems that the explosion had nothing to do with Micucci's case," he said, his voice low.

Mulder's mind immediately jumped ahead, sensing the implications. "You think someone's targeting Scully?"

Skinner sighed, shaking his head slightly. "I don't know, but how would they have known she'd be the one doing the autopsy?"

Before Mulder could respond, a sharp knock at the door cut through the moment. Both men turned to see Diana Fowley standing in the doorway. "Fox, there you are. Why aren't you answering your phone?"

Mulder shushed her quickly, gesturing toward Scully, but the noise had already woken her. Scully stirred, blinking groggily as she withdrew her hand from Mulder's grasp. He noticed the shift, her subtle retreat, and wondered why she pulled away so suddenly.

Fowley, oblivious to the tension in the room, stepped closer. "She's doing better, isn't she? We have the meeting with Blevins, remember?"

Mulder's expression hardened as he turned to her. "I don't care about that."

Skinner raised his eyebrows, surprised by Mulder's bluntness. Fowley opened her mouth to protest, but Mulder cut her off before she could speak.

"My partner is injured, and she needs me," Mulder said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "If Blevins doesn't understand that or shuts down the X-Files over this, then that's his issue, not mine."

Scully, her voice still weak but firm, spoke up from the bed. "You need to go, Mulder. You can't risk your life's work over this."

Mulder glanced down at her, his resolve unwavering. "My work is nothing without you, Scully. We've lost all credibility since you've been helping out Ritualistic Crimes. I couldn't live with myself if I left you here just to sit through a meeting with Blevins."

Skinner, recognizing the sincerity in Mulder's words, nodded slowly. "You're really not going, are you?"

"I'm not," Mulder confirmed, his tone final.

Skinner paused for a beat, then made up his mind. "Okay. I'll take care of it." He turned toward Fowley, his voice firm. "You heard him."

Fowley's face tightened, but she didn't argue. Skinner gestured for her to follow him, and they left the room together, leaving Mulder and Scully alone once more.

When Scully's IV bag finally ran dry, the doctor entered the room to remove the IV port and give her some final instructions. He worked efficiently, but with a softness in his tone, aware of Scully's drained state.

"Agent Scully, make sure you keep the stitches clean and dry, and don't put too much strain on that arm. The cast will need to stay on for a few weeks, so make sure you have a follow-up appointment to get it checked. And take it easy for the next few days—rest, fluids, food."

Mulder hovered nearby, concern etched into his features. "Are you okay going home in those scrubs?" he asked gently, knowing how uncomfortable hospital attire could be. "Or should I get you something from your overnight bag?"

Scully seemed to contemplate for a second, her good hand brushing lightly against the hospital scrubs. "There should be a cardigan or sweater vest in there. Something easy to put on with the cast. If you could get that?"

"Certainly," Mulder replied, already moving toward the door. A few minutes later, he returned, carrying the requested item in one hand and pushing a wheelchair with the other. "Hospital policy," he grinned, trying to lighten the mood.

The doctor, catching sight of the chair, raised an eyebrow with a slight smirk. "Actually, it's not policy... but it is a good idea. You should take it easy for a while, Agent Scully."

Scully managed a small, tired smile in return as Mulder helped her into the cardigan and carefully positioned her into the wheelchair, mindful of her cast and stitches.

"I'm ready when you are," Mulder said softly, looking down at her with gentle encouragement, as they prepared to leave the hospital behind.