XxXxX

Chapter Seven

XxXxX

I clawed my way out of the black unconsciousness, blinking 
against the radiating pain in my head.  My teeth throbbed as 
my stomach roiled, and dirt and stale exhaust fumes from the 
pavement stung my eyes.  The memory of my attack came 
flooding back, followed by a bolt of panic.  Maybe I still 
had company.  Gingerly, I lifted my head from the ground to 
see. 

Big mistake.  The world spun around me like a merry-go-round 
from hell, and I scraped my fingernails against the concrete 
in a vain effort to hold on.

"Scully! What's going on?  Scully, answer me!"

It was Mulder's voice.  He sounded far away, like he was 
talking through a sea-shell, only the roar of the waves was 
inside my head.  "Mulder?" I whispered, swallowing my rising 
nausea.

"Scully!  Answer me, dammit!"

"Mulder."  My cheek still resting on the cold, gritty 
pavement, I opened my eyes again and saw the source of his 
pleas.  It was my cell phone, which had slid under my car 
during the attack and now lay just out of reach.  I stretched 
my fingers toward it.  "Mulder, I'm here," I called, inching 
along the ground.

"Scully?"

My fingertips brushed the phone and caused it to turn a 
pirouette on the oil-stained concrete.  I slithered closer, 
trying to keep my head as still as possible.  Halfway under 
the car, I finally made full contact.

"...hell is going on? Scu--"

"Mulder."  I lay flat again, eyes closed.

"Finally," he snapped, but I heard the relief in his voice.  
"What the hell happened?"

"Someone hit me from behind...knocked me out."

"Jesus," he choked.  "Are you okay?"

"Mmm, okay.  A little dizzy, s'all."

"Don't move.  I'll get help, all right?  Just stay still."  I 
could hear him pounding down the stairs of Cathleen's house.  
"Where are you?  Is the guy still there?"

I opened my eyes again, squinting into the shadows of the 
garage.  "I don't know," I whispered.  "I never saw him."

"Okay, just hang on.  Where are you?"

The waves in my head rolled as I struggled to come up with 
the name.  "Lawrence," I said finally.  "The parking garage 
across from the county coroner's office."

"Just a second."  I heard the phone muffled against his chest 
and the sound of voices in the background.  In a moment, 
Cathleen came on the line.

"Dana?"  She sounded worried but calm.  "Mulder's calling 911 
right now.  Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," I insisted, attempting to sit up again.  Pain 
lanced through my head, blazing against the back of my 
eyeballs.  I bit back a moan.

"Just lie still," Cathleen said.  "Don't try to get up." 

There was blood on my hands from where I'd scraped them in 
the fall, and they shook slightly as I tried to rise.  
"No...it's okay, really.  I'mŠ"   I stopped short as my 
vision blurred, the world fading to black.

"Help's on the way right now," Cathleen said, her voice 
sounding distant and tinny over the ringing in my ears.  
"It'll be okay."

I didn't have the energy to answer, so I lay limp and dazed 
while she babbled about the skill of the Lawrence EMTs who 
had taken care of her last year.  So tired, I thought, 
fighting to follow her words.  I felt like I was sinking into 
the concrete.  After another few moments, Mulder came back on 
the line. "Scully?   Scully, you still there?"

"Yes."

"There should be someone with you in under five minutes," he 
said, "and I'm on my way."

"Mulder, you don't have to..." I trailed off when I heard a 
car door slam.  Dimly, I realized he must have asked Kazdin 
to drive him.

"Fifteen minutes, Scully.  We're going to run the siren."  He 
was trying for humor, but I caught the frayed edge of fear 
underneath.  I imagined him leaning forward in his seat with 
the phone pressed against his ear, his free hand gripping the 
door handle as he prepared to leap from the car the moment it 
stopped.

I'm fine, I tried to reassure him.  No fuss necessary.  But 
the words got lost in the dizzy twirl inside my head.

"Scully, talk to me.  You've got to stay awake."

"M'awake," I managed, beginning to shiver on the cold, hard 
ground.  The rain had started again in full force; I could 
hear it rushing past the garage opening, the hissing sound 
wending its way into my semi-consciousness.  So sleepy.  I 
wondered if I was in shock.  

"Scully, we'reŠfewŠtheŠroad blockŠaround, okay?Šon."  Mulder 
crackled in and out on a wave of static.

"What?"

"...Sc...re me?"

My fingers ached with cold, numb around the phone.  "I can't 
hear you, Mulder," I whispered, drifting further away.

"...ly!"

A crack of thunder exploded, shattering the air around me, 
but I didn't open my eyes.  This is the way the world ends, I 
thought.

And the phone slid from my grasp.

XxXxX  

I awoke to the sound of sirens echoing in the garage, and 
within seconds there were two EMTs and a pair of uniform cops 
buzzing around me.  The ones with the blankets had as many 
questions as the ones with the guns, each side pushing me for 
answers about the attack.

"Did you see the guy before he hit you?"

"Do you have any pain in your neck?"

"Anyone suspicious hanging around when you walked in?"

"Can you follow my finger, please?"

"When did you first see the note on your car?"

Still shivering, I did my best to answer them all as I was 
strapped onto a gurney bound for Lawrence General Hospital.  
The screech of tires on the entry ramp caused us all to jump, 
but then I recognized a familiar door slam.  "Scully!"  
Mulder pushed his way through all my inquisitors until his 
face was directly over mine, his worried eyes taking in my 
bumps and scrapes.   "You okay?" he asked, breathless.

I nodded and regretted it.  "It's not that bad.  I'll be 
fine." 

Just then one of the cops appeared with a length of lead 
pipe.  "Found this in the back stairwell," he said, holding 
it out for our inspection.  Mulder's lips tightened and he 
stepped a little closer to me, as if the threat was somehow 
still real.  "It's got blood on the end here," the cop 
continued.  "Looks like some hair, too."

The sight of the pipe waving in the air made my head throb 
and my stomach roil.  Kazdin took one look at me and tugged 
the cop aside.  "Let's just get it bagged, okay?"

"Time to go," declared one of the EMTs, opening the back 
doors of the ambulance.  Mulder frowned.

"I'm coming with you."

"No," I protested weakly.  "Someone needs to stay here, find 
out what happened..."

"I'm on it," Kazdin said, stepping into my line of sight.  
"I'll run this down to the end, I promise."

So Mulder followed the gurney into the ambulance, hunching 
next to me on a bench as the ambulance lurched to a start.  
Seconds later, we were swaying gently en route to the 
hospital.  I opened my eyes a bit and saw Mulder chewing on 
his thumbnail. "I don't get it," he said when he caught me 
looking.  "Why you?  First the phone call, now this...it 
doesn't make sense."

Shaky as I was, I still felt a flash of anger.  Of course it 
made sense.  No matter how hard I pushed, at the end of the 
day I was still smaller and weaker -- a more horrific victim 
with my slim hands and curves than Mulder was in his broad-
shouldered strength.  But the worst part was always 
afterward, when Mulder himself looked at me with fresh 
knowledge of my vulnerability.  I vowed not to let him do it 
this time.  "Well, you weren't exactly an easy target 
tonight," I said.  "You were off with Kazdin and then back at 
Cathleen's."

He did not answer me, so I closed my eyes again, shivering 
under my damp clothes and scratchy blanket.  "Cold?" Mulder 
asked, and moments later I felt his hand groping for mine.  
He gently extricated my whole arm, setting it onto the warm 
denim of his lap.  I let myself doze for a few seconds as he 
rubbed some heat back into my stiff, frozen fingers.  He 
brought me back with a sharp tug.

"Got to stay awake," he murmured, slipping back into a 
rhythmic caress.

"Trying."

"Keep talking, it'll help."  He paused.  "You didn't get any 
look at the guy?  Not even on your way into the garage?"

Guy, he said, assuming my attacker was male.  I'd done the 
same thing.  But a sudden thought troubled me.  "Mulder, what 
you said...about me getting the phone call."

He scooted closer.  "Yeah?"

"It was the bedroom phone, not my cell.  I doubt that number 
is listed."

"Probably not.  So?"

"I gave it out that day," I said, "to Lee-Lee Centara."  

Mulder didn't answer, his face grim.  We did not speak again 
for the remainder of the ride, and no amount of Mulder's 
rubbing was enough to chase away my chill.

XxXxX

The memories rode in immediately, on a scent wave of latex 
and starch.  My skin felt suddenly hot and tight, even as my 
blood ran cold.  There were too few days between me and my 
last trip into the war zone of my health; I wasn't ready for 
another tour just yet.   With bright lights in my eyes and 
pricks in my arm, I was poked, prodded and scanned by a half 
dozen doctors. They took pictures of my brain while I churned 
my secret terror -- what if it was back?

My results came back clean.  I know because we looked at them 
together -- the ER doctors studying the small hemorrhage at 
the back of my head as I searched the middle for any traces 
of a tumor.  Their brows wrinkled in concern, but I lay back 
in relief at my continued suspended sentence.  Around eleven, 
the doctors were debating in the hall whether to keep me, but 
I had had enough.

"Hand me my clothes," I said to Mulder, who was lurking by 
the window with an aura of ennui, staring at the incandescent 
raindrops as they slid down the glass.  

"What?"

"My clothes," I repeated, easing out from under the thin 
sheets.  "I'm fine, and it's time to go."

He blinked at me for a few seconds and then reluctantly 
gathered my rumpled suit from the chair.  "Scully, the 
doctors said -- "

"Mulder."  I waited until he met my eyes.  "No hospital."  

He searched my gaze and saw I meant it.  "All right," he 
murmured, relenting.

Mulder stood with his back to me as I wriggled into my suit, 
the discarded cotton hospital gown lying in a warm heap at my 
feet. I swayed as my balance slipped, but finally managed to 
get both legs into my pants.  My main doctor, Peter Newton, 
entered just as I was brushing the worst of the parking lot 
grit off of my jacket.

Dr. Newton had a round, pink head that was trimmed with white 
fringe.  Like Santa without the beard, I thought, and guessed 
he was probably popular with children.  "Well," he said when 
he saw me.  "We were just trying to decide if we should keep 
you tonight for observation, but I see you've already made up 
your mind about that one."

"I'm fine, really," I said.  "I'm not even dizzy any more."

"Hmm," he answered, looking at my chart.  "It really would be 
better to have someone keep an eye on you tonight, just to be 
sure.  Head injuries can sometimes be unpredictable."

"I'll keep an eye on her," Mulder volunteered, and I turned 
to look at him.  His expression was unreadable.  Dr. Newton 
squinted at him appraisingly.  

"You'll have to wake her every hour or so.  And if there's 
any double vision, disorientation or slurred speech she'll 
need to be back in the ER immediately."

"I can do that," Mulder agreed with no hesitation. 

Dr. Newton thought for another second, then nodded.  "Okay, 
then," he said as he handed me the list of warning symptoms.  
"At least let me write you a prescription for the pain, just 
in case it gets worse later on."

"Not necessary," I said, retrieving my coat.  Dr. Newton 
frowned, and Mulder placed a hand on my back.

"I'll give her a bullet to bite," he said, deadpan.  I didn't 
quibble so long as we kept moving in the direction of the 
door.  By the time we reached the glowing red exit sign, my 
breathing had eased considerably.

Outside we found Kazdin, smoking under the front awning as 
rain dripped all around him.  From the lines on his face and 
the number of butts at his feet, I guessed I wasn't the only 
one with painful hospital memories.  He crushed out his 
cigarette when he saw us coming.  "What's the word?" he 
asked.

"I'm fine," I assured him.

"As hard-headed as they get," Mulder drawled, and I glared at 
him -- but not too long.  His terror had clearly not worn off 
yet if he was still reduced to such obvious punch-lines.

"The Lawrence PD has agreed to turn the case over to us," 
Kazdin said.  "They're sending us the reports and stuff in 
the morning.  In the meantime, I can drive you home."

Mulder and I waited, surrounded by the cold and the sound of 
dripping rain, while Kazdin retrieved his squad car.  When he 
pulled up, I climbed in the back and was surprised when 
Mulder followed me in.  "You don't have to martyr your knees 
like this," I told him wearily.  "I'm not going to fall into 
a coma on the way home."

"I know," he answered, and I was too tired to argue further.  
I slumped down in the black leather seat, fishing around in 
my pockets for a packet of Tylenol.  I was prepared to 
swallow them dry, but Mulder withdrew a half-full water 
bottle from his coat and handed it to me silently.  I drained 
the remainder of the tepid water, then eased my head back 
against the seat, wincing as my lump made contact.

"Sorry about the grate," Kazdin called through the iron mesh 
separating us.  "I'll have some heat back there for you in a 
sec."

I huddled deeper into my coat, fatigue settling over me like 
a lead blanket.  My eyelids drooped, but I stubbornly forced 
them open again.  In my lap lay Dr. Newton's parting orders, 
and I knew the fine print without having to read it:  there 
was a small but not infinitesimal possibility that I could 
drift off and never awake again.  Rationally, I knew I 
shouldn't worry.  But in the cold night, trapped like a 
prisoner in the back of a squad car and reeling from the pain 
in my head, the niggling fear inflated from party balloon 
size to loom over me like a Macy's Thanksgiving Parade float. 

My head jerked in my struggle for wakefulness, and Mulder 
slid closer to me on the seat.  He smelled like rain.  
"Shhh," he whispered, his fingers warm on my face.  "Sleep, 
Scully.  I'll wake you when we get there."

On the strength of his promise, I tucked my cold nose into 
the warm wool of his shoulder and slept.

XxXxX

Back at Cathleen's, Mulder and I declined her offer to heat 
some leftover soup.  All I wanted was a hot shower and to 
pour myself into bed.  Taking his surrogate doctor role 
seriously, Mulder objected.

"Showers are slippery, and you're exhausted.  Why not wait 
until morning?"

"Mulder, please."  I rubbed my eyes and tried to think of 
words to explain to him the dirt I felt in every pore.  "I'll 
be fine.  It's just for a few minutes."

"Um, you could use mine if you want."  Cathleen had been 
standing in the front hall with us, listening to the 
argument.  She shifted on her crutches.  "It's got railings 
and a stool inside."

"Oh, no, thank you," I said.  "It's very kind of you to 
offer, but we've been more than enough trouble all ready."

"No trouble," she answered simply.  "Follow me."

I hesitated another moment, but the desire to wash the grime 
from my skin proved too powerful to resist.  Easier to follow 
Cathleen than waste time and energy fighting with Mulder.  He 
went upstairs while I trailed Cathleen to the linen closet.

"Here you go," she said with a smile, handing me a fluffy 
peach towel.  I managed a tired smile in return.

"Thank you.  You've been more generous than Mulder and I 
deserve, given the mess we've dragged into your home."

She shook her head in a dismissive gesture.  "I'm just glad 
you're all right.  And besides, it's actually nice to have 
people in here again.  I've been rattling around by myself 
ever since --"  She stopped abruptly, then turned back to the 
closet to smooth out some towels.  "Ever since last year," 
she finished a moment later.

"Detective Kazdin said you'd been in some kind of accident," 
I said quietly.  She nodded.

"Car accident."  Her lips tightened, her fingers curling in 
on the pile of towels.  "Drunk driver."

My eyes swept over the braces on her legs.  "I'm sorry," I 
murmured, and she shut the closet door with an angry snap.

"So am I."

She left me to my shower, and I sat under the hot spray for 
long minutes.  Many thoughts swirled out of me, mingling with 
the water before flowing down the drain.  I thought of 
Cathleen and her accident, of Lee-Lee and the way she had run 
from the house the night her uncle died.  I thought of Mulder 
in the backyard, unraveling a little more of his pain as 
Samantha dimmed further from memory.  I thought about how 
easy it was to shatter a life, and how many of us were 
walking wounded -- the shrapnel of yesterday still curled 
under our skin.

XxXxX

In my room, Mulder hovered while I got ready for bed.  "Here, 
let me do that," he said, reaching for my robe when I tried 
to hang it.

"I've got it."

I bumped into him twice in between brushing my teeth and 
swallowing more Tylenol.  He set an extra glass of water on 
the nightstand.  "Sure you don't want to eat something?"

"I'm fine, Mulder."  I moved to turn down the bedcovers, and 
something in the motion caused a wave of dizziness to sweep 
over me.  I flattened my hand on the mattress.

"You okay?"  

"Yes, I just need to lie down," I answered, crawling slowly 
into bed.  Mulder lingered by my feet.

"Are you sure?  Maybe we should call Dr. Newton.  It says on 
the sheet that dizziness--"

"Mulder, stop it!" I snapped.  "I told you I'm fine.  Why 
can't you just back off and--"

"Because I don't know whether I can believe you!" he 
interrupted angrily.  I just stared at him.  "You were 
*dying*, Scully, and you never said a damn thing!  You fucked 
me and sent me on my way without ever opening your mouth 
about the metastasis."

My face felt like it would crack from fatigue, but I managed 
a protest.  "I told you I had cancer...I told you it was 
serious."

"Bullshit!  You let me walk out the door thinking everything 
was the same, and I come back to find you hooked up to a 
ventilator, Scully -- fucking life support!  And they 
said...they said you might not wake up again."  He broke off, 
turning his head away from me.  "And then to find out that 
you knew all along..."

I could have lied and said I'd wanted to spare him further 
worry -- there nothing he could have done about it, anyway -- 
but the truth was more hollow, more selfish.  I hadn't wanted 
to speak of death for fear the words might bring it into the 
room.  I'd imagined it lurking in the shadows, waiting for me 
to whisper my defeat.  Instead, I'd reached for Mulder and 
buried my fears in him.

The silence stretched between us, and I searched the fog in 
my head for something that would fill the gap.  "I'm fine 
now," I said as steadily as I could.  "Really."

He narrowed his eyes at me, then nodded.  "Whatever."  
Shutting off the light, he slid between the sheets next to 
me.  I could tell by the frequent rustling that he was still 
upset.

"Mulder," I whispered.  "I'm sorry. I had no idea you were 
angry about that."

The rustling stopped.  "Neither did I," he admitted finally.

"You're right, I should have told you."

"Yes."  He paused.  "But maybe I wouldn't have listened."  
The words were small and light, floating away from us in the 
dark.  He took my hand and pressed a kiss to the center of my 
palm before folding my fingers over it.  "Sleep now," he 
murmured.

I opened my hand again and touched the rough stubble of his 
cheek.  "Goodnight, Mulder." 

Through the night he wove in and out of my dreams, pulling me 
from sleep with whispered words and soothing me down again 
with gentle hands.  But it was disorienting, almost painful, 
to be woken so often, and by the sixth time I was near tears 
of frustration.  The covers were twisted at my feet, scraping 
against my skin, and my pillow was hot under my cheek.  The 
room seemed to tilt on its axis every time I moved my head.  

Only Mulder was holding still.

"C'mere," he said, curling his body into mine.  I burrowed 
closer as his hands swept my back with long strokes.  Limbs 
quivering, I squeezed my eyes shut. "Shhh," he whispered.  
"It's okay.  Just breathe with me."

So I concentrated on the rise and fall of his chest against 
my cheek, matching my rhythm to his.  In. Out. In. Out. 
Slower.  Slower.

I slipped into sleep a final time, Mulder's hands reshaping 
me, smoothing back the pieces of myself I had lost along the 
way.

XxXxX

End chapter seven.  Continued in Chapter Eight.

Heaps o' thanks to Jintian, who shouldered beta all by her 
lonesome this time -- while in the midst of finals, yet!  

I'm feeling chatty this evening, so bear with me as I do a 
little housecleaning in my head.

Chapter eight is mapped out already and should be along 
shortly.  However, after chapter eight, there will be a few 
week's hiatus as I move 3000 miles to southern California.  
I'm fielding good entertainment suggestions for Chicago, 
Denver and, of course, Los Angeles. ;-)

Random personal messages:

Lisa, you should give stalking lessons.  Really.  You're very 
effective. ;-)

Thanks to Missy and Brigitte, readers extraordinaire.

As for the whodunnit, Nancy and Joanne, one of you is *half* 
right. So there. :-P