Disclaimer: Some characters herein do not belong to me. Mulder, Scully and Skinner are property of Chris Carter and FOX Studios. They are abused here lovingly. Keywords: None. ~~~~~ SPLIT THE LARK ~~~~~~~ by syntax6 (syn_tax6@yahoo.com) XxXxXxXxXxX Chapter One XxXxXxXxXxX This time, she left her gun at home. Mulder had called after three days away testifying at a retrial in Oregon -- an old monster threatening to escape the box again -- and said he was back and she should come over. Phone curled to her ear, she'd heard the sound of his bag hitting the floor, barely home. She imagined him like the last reel of a John Wayne movie, where the dusty but victorious hero bursts through the saloon doors, lit like the blazes from behind, and sweeps his beloved into his arms. Or, in Mulder's case, his cell phone. "Come over," he'd said, his voice rich with invitation. "You're not tired?" "Not yet," he'd said, and she'd shivered. He didn't mention files or folders or bogeymen, so Scully left them at home too. She left the gun in its holster on her dresser, next to her badge. She bypassed the line of black suits in her closet in favor of a long wrap-around skirt that she hadn't worn since college. It still fit, she realized with a pleased smile as she ran her hands over the soft cotton that hugged her hips, like it had been waiting for her all these years. She pinned her hair off her neck and slipped on some sandals and left with nothing more than her wallet, her keys, and a tingle of anticipation. The night heat wilted her shower- fresh skin, leaving Scully to perform emergency resuscitation with a blast of AC in the car. She checked her progress in the rearview mirror at a red light. Eyes bright and cheeks pink, she blew out a long breath and gave up. Mulder would take one look at her and know she was hot. A car honked behind her. It was silly to be nervous, she thought. She'd come over before. She had brought her trench coat and her files, and he had ordered the pizza. But somehow "Let me help you off with that coat, Scully" had melted into "Let me help you off with that bra, Scully," while the files and pizza grew cold together on the table. Then, just the week before, he'd asked her to come over and help him with his crashed computer, so she'd brought her manuals to tackle the problem. Together they'd managed some manual relief, but as far as she knew, Mulder's computer still remained broken. His low voice from the phone echoed in her head and warmed her ears anew. Come over, he'd said, without pretext this time. No books. No files. Just come. She got as far as Duke Street before she lost her nerve and stopped for Chinese. Mulder would be hungry, she told herself. And if she showed up with an armful of takeout boxes, she might not look so... expectant. Decision made, Scully drove to Ming's Delight, their favorite hole-in-the- wall Chinese joint from Mulder's end of town. Ming's shared a block of brick buildings with other small shops, so street parking was often a problem. Scully eyed the line of cars out front and turned down the narrow alley to the tiny parking lot in back. No neat white lines and smooth tar for Ming's -- their lot featured crumbling pavement, a large dumpster and a chain-link fence. The only light came from the open back door at Ming's, which poured out steamy air and a long string of loud Chinese. At the back, an urban jungle had sprung up from neglect, as saplings took root and brambly bushes spilled out onto the gravel. Scully stuck the nose of her car in the leafy thicket and went in search of food. Jun, the young man at the counter, recognized her and his eyes crinkled up in welcome. Scully ordered their usual black pepper beef and Kung Pao chicken. "And some of the ginger pork noodles," she added. "Oh, and an order of spring rolls." Jun's eyebrows lifted. "You are hungry tonight!" Scully felt her cheeks flush. "I guess so." He boxed the food and tossed in double their allotted fortune cookies. "For luck," he told her with a wink. Scully thanked him and returned to her car. Awkwardly, she tried to balance the food between her hip and the car door as she fumbled with her keys. Then her phone rang. She set the keys on the roof to answer it. "Scully." "You're not here." His impatience made her smile. The good thing about Chinese food was that it reheated well. "I'm five blocks away." "Ming's?" "The very same." "Fantastic. I could use something to supplement my plane peanuts." "I figured as much." The heat from the food burned through her skirt. "I'll be right there." "Scully?" "Yes?" "You aren't going to make me dress up for dinner, are you?" "Why, Mulder? What are you wearing?" As soon as the words left her mouth, she realized she'd been set up. "Right now? Nothing." Scully shook her head a bit, letting him enjoy his moment. "Well, then," she answered, voice pitched low as she hefted the food, "I guess my fortune cookie came true." She hung up at his delightedly shocked silence. Groping for the keys with her two free fingers, she missed and the keys slid from the roof. "Dammit." She cradled the bag to her side and crouched down in the dark. A breeze ruffled the leaves. She managed to hook the key ring with her pinky and stood up again, face to face with a man in a stocking mask. He knocked the keys and the phone from her hand with a sharp blow. Scully sucked in a breath as he advanced. "My wallet is on the roof," she said. "Shut up." His mouth curled beneath the pantyhose. She saw now that he clutched a knife. "Lose the food." Scully set the bag on the ground. "Take whatever you want," she told him. He grabbed her bare upper arm and yanked her further into the darkness. The knife grazed her neck. Behind her, she felt him fumbling, and he thrust a small roll of black tape into her hand. "Tear it off," he breathed near her ear, "and cover your mouth. Do it now." Cold fear dripped down her spine. "Please, no--" The knifepoint bit into her neck. "Now." Scully complied with shaking fingers. When she was done, he turned her roughly around. She stared at his mashed features -- the blunt nose, the slitted eyes, and his wet, open mouth. Her knees threatened to give way. "Down on the ground," he ordered. He followed her down, knife coming to rest at her jugular. Her skirt gaped open and he pried her legs apart. "That's it," he said. "You're a hot little bitch." Scully closed her eyes and turned her head away. He smelled like beer and sweat. Silent tears streamed down her face into the dirt as he yanked off her underwear and unzipped his pants. She tensed but he pushed himself inside her anyway. "You like this, huh?" Scully struggled for breath, panting through her nose. She heard the cheerful shouts from Ming's kitchen, smelled the feast she'd bought for Mulder. Her attacker grunted. Abruptly, she felt the heat of his body leave her. Sweat glued her T-shirt to her chest. She burned between her legs. He rustled around not far away and she made herself look. He was cleaning up, tucking in his shirt. "You tell anyone, you're dead." He pointed the knife at her. She watched as he thrashed his way back into the bushes. Her heart thudded in her throat but she lay perfectly still, listening. His noises faded away. With a small, choked sound, Scully rose to her hands and knees. Her muscles were stiff and uncooperative. She crawled out from behind her car and located her phone. Her hair had come undone, falling in her eyes, sticking to her teary face. She pushed it aside and ripped off the tape. After several shuddering breaths, she leaned back against the rear tire of her car and opened her phone. Her hand shook so hard she could barely hit the buttons. "Nine-one-one. What is your emergency?" "I--I've been assaulted in a parking lot. I need help." She gave the requisite information and curled up to listen for the sirens. With every twitch of a leaf, she was sure he was coming through the bushes again. Dirt clung to her hair. Her underwear was gone. Scully shivered in the muggy night air. She wanted to go home and stand in the hot shower until she felt clean again, but she did not move. She was an investigator, and this was her crime scene. XxX Scully sat alone, her back to the car, with her cell phone cradled to her breast. She swiped at her cheeks with one hand as the first black-and-white appeared on the scene. The ambulance followed, squeezing through the narrow alley, red lights spinning circles in the trees. She heard radios squawk when the heavy car doors opened and the officers approached. The clump of their boots on the pavement made her nervous. She should stand up, organize the facts, but she couldn't seem to move. "Ma'am?" The larger man peered down at her. "We're from the Alexandria Police Department. Are you the one who called?" "Yes." She looked behind him at the darkened bushes. "Yes, I called." They asked her name and she told them. The smaller man crouched down next to her, eyes dark behind his round glasses. "Can you tell us what happened?" She could remember every second but not in any order. The bits zoomed in and out of focus in her mind: his breath on her cheek, the blade at her neck, the food getting cold as he ground her into the dirt. Her hand went to her throat. "He came from there," she said, indicating the bushes. "A man, about six feet tall, twenty-five to thirty-five years old. He wore jeans and he had a -- a stocking over his face. No gloves." "Race?" She pictured him and her throat seized up. She shook her head. "Too dark." Scully gave the details as though she were recording autopsy data; how he had knocked her keys and phone away, had cut her throat, had forced her down and raped her. Two of the officers, armed with guns and flashlights, set out into the trees after him. A third, the gentle giant who'd first found her huddled against the car, stayed with her while the EMTs began treating her wounds. "Officer Lou Paulson, Ma'am," he said, his knees cracking as he bent. "You say he knocked your phone out of your hands?" Scully still had it clutched close. "Yes." "We should have it checked for prints." He turned without getting up. "Carlos?" he yelled at the other man back near the car. "Can you bring me a bag?" Scully's heart bumped against her ribs. "I don't think he touched it," she said tightly. "He hit my wrist, not the phone." "Can't be too sure." He held out a gloved hand, his expression softening at her hesitation. "We'll have it back to you real soon, I promise." Wordlessly, Scully stretched out the phone for him. If he noticed her tremor, he didn't comment. The phone rang inside the paper bag, and Paulson peered in like schoolboy at lunchtime. Scully already knew what name glowed inside. "Fox Mulder," Paulson read off. Scully nodded, hugging herself. "He's expecting me for dinner." Paulson's thick brows knit together, and he reached for his back pocket. "Here," he said, handing her his cell. "You can call him if you like." The foreign phone felt like lead in her hands. She licked dried lips and stared at the buttons. "Thanks," she replied, but made no move to dial. Mulder. Tears threatened to overwhelm her again. She didn't want to have to call. She wanted him to appear magically without having to say the words. One of the EMTs appeared with a stretcher. "We should get her to the hospital now," he told Paulson. Paulson stood as the two other officers returned from their mission in the trees. "No sign of the guy," said one. Brubrek, she thought his name was. "We found your keys but not your wallet," he told Scully. She rose on shaky legs. Her driver's license, her business cards -- he had everything. "He'll know where I live," she said, "where I work." "Give us your address," the Brubrek said. "We'll make sure he's not headed over there. Where do you work?" Scully faltered. She knew what was coming. "The FBI." "You're a Fed?" He looked up from his notes for her nod. She could feel the other men resisting the urge to look too. He raked her once from head to toe and returned his eyes to his pad. "Don't think you'll have to worry about this guy bothering you on the job then." "Dana?" said the closet EMT. "We should go get you checked out now." Scully nodded, numb. She moved stiffly to climb onto the stretcher, but Brubrek had one last question. "Did he take anything else?" he asked. "Any jewelry?" Scully swallowed. "My underwear." The EMT covered her with a blanket and avoided her eyes. Officer Paulson occupied himself with the trees, and Brubrek cleared his throat. "Okay, that's it for now. We'll talk to you again at the hospital, okay?" Scully realized she still had Paulson's phone. "You keep it," he told her. "Call your friend. I'll get it back at the hospital." As they wheeled her to the back of the ambulance, Scully saw that the Ming family had filed out from the kitchen to watch the commotion. They stood in silent, sad formation -- Jun the tallest, with his tiny father and two teenage sisters at his side -- all still wearing their neat white aprons. Scully looked away. She knew she would never come back there again. XxX Mulder used two fingers to scissor an opening in his blinds and peered down at the street for the fourth time. Still, no Scully. He chewed his lip and hit her number on his speed dial, but again, her voice mail answered. It should not take her over half an hour to travel five blocks. He fished his keys from the desk and started for the front door, when the phone rang in his hand. "Scully," he said with relief. "Where are you?" There was silence on the other end, and he noticed for the first time that the caller ID read "Paulson" not "Scully." "Hello?" he tried again. "Mulder?" She sounded small and far away. "Scully," he said, exhaling once more as he sank onto his sofa. "What's going on? Where are you?" He heard muffled voices in the background. "I'm okay," she said, and his blood went cold. He lurched forward on the couch. "Scully?" "There was a man in the parking lot," she said, "at Ming's. He--he... He held me up and took my wallet. He got away, but the police came and now I'm on my way to the hospital. Can you meet me there?" "Of course," he said, already moving. His heart stuck like peanut butter to the back of his throat. "Are you okay, Scully?" He stopped at the door, silent for her answer. "I'm fine, Mulder." Her flat affect did not make him feel better. "'kay," he said. "I'm on my way out the door now." "Okay." He listened to her breathe for a moment. "Mulder?" "Yeah? "Please hurry." Mulder got the name of the hospital and tripped over his feet getting to the car. He slammed through the city at high speed, and it hit back with a fiery summer temper, red sirens and crowds of restless people slowing him down at every corner. He cursed and banged the steering wheel. "Come *on*," he hollered at the lumbering cars in front of him. His tires squealed as Mulder passed a Buick on the right -- a make-believe lane between the side mirror and the sidewalk. She's okay, he told himself. You know she is. She's all right. He parked and yanked the key out of the ignition, jogging towards the emergency room. The glass doors slid open to chaos -- bandaged people lined three deep, children crying, and two admitting nurses trying to keep a lid on it all. Mulder sifted through the wounded, moving them bodily if he had to, but found no sign of Scully. He cut to the front of the line. "Dana Scully?" he asked. For once, they were too distracted to give him any flack. "Room three. Through those doors and on the left." A round-bodied sentry caught him on the other side. "May I help you?" she asked, planting herself between him and Room 3. "I'm looking for Room 3. Dana Scully." At Scully's name, the set of her jaw relaxed. "Ah," she replied softly. "Let me show you the way then. It's right down here." Mulder's heart hammered as he followed her down the hall. The instant access made him more nervous than the refusals he usually got. "Is she okay?" "This way," she said over her shoulder. "Just let me knock once, all right? The doctor is with her now." Mulder hovered behind her as she stuck her head in the door. He tried but he couldn't see Scully. The woman emerged again and the door widened to disgorge a second woman, this one with longer hair and thinner hips. "Anne Lehne," she said to Mulder as she shook his hand. "I'm taking care of Dana." "She's okay?" "She's doing just fine, considering what she's been through." A thousand terrible images filled his head. "Can I see her?" "Of course. She's been waiting to talk to you, so you can go right in. I'll just be back in a few minutes." Mulder nodded, barely listening. His heart sped up as he pushed the door open with the flat of his hand. "Scully?" She came into view and Mulder's pulse relaxed. Fine. She looked just fine. No mugger had beaten her to a pulp. There were no tubes coming out of her or machines to help her breathe. She sat on the exam table in a pink cotton gown, looking perfectly whole. He could see a small bandage on the side of her neck and that was about it. "Hey," he said. "How are you doing?" "You're here," she said, and her chin trembled. She reached for him. "I'm here." He stroked her hair as she pressed herself into his squishy middle parts. She held him with a fierce grip. He rubbed her shoulders gently but she did not let go. "Scully?" "There was a man in the parking lot," she said into his shirt, not looking at him. The hairs on the back of his neck rose. He knew. All of a sudden he knew. "Don't," he blurted, but she kept talking. "He had a knife, Mulder. I was on the phone with you and he came out from the trees before I knew what was happening. He forced me down on the ground..." She touched the bandage at her neck. "He said he would kill me. I--I had no choice." "God, Scully." His hands roamed over her back. "I'm so sorry." "I had no choice," she repeated, angry. "Of course not. Of course you didn't." "He was going to kill me." Mulder reeled. He had never imagined this. "You're safe now," he said, his voice hollow in the empty room. "You're okay." She snuffled and he felt her hot breath through his tee shirt. "I don't know how this happened. I had the food, I was leaving, and then suddenly he was there. He held the knife to my throat and forced me down. Everything was so fast. I can't think--I can't think how it happened." He rocked her, helpless. He couldn't think either. "I'm so sorry, Scully." He kissed the warm crown of her head over and over and tried to fold her into him. "Are you hurt anywhere? Did he hurt you?" "No." She quivered, sounding uncertain. There was a knock at the door and Scully jerked in his arms. She pulled away a bit, sniffing hard in quick succession as Dr. Lehne reentered the room. Mulder left one hand resting awkwardly on Scully's knee, gnawed his lip and watched her out of the corner of his eye as she answered the doctor's questions. She sat stone still. Her blue eyes were wet, lashes glued with tears, and her new smattering of summer freckles stood out against her stark white skin. The gown was too big, yawning open at the neck and sleeves and revealing the fine slope and bones of her. So much violence, and yet there was barely a mark to show it. Scully had absorbed it all inside. "We need to complete the exam now," Dr. Lehne was saying. "Kristi here is going to help me check you out and collect any evidence that might be useful for later prosecution. Agent Mulder can stay here if you like, or we can have him come back in when we're done." Mulder took his hand from her knee, preparing to go. Scully conducted all her medical treatments behind closed doors, like a feral cat licking her wounds in private. "I'll just be outside." She grabbed his arm. "Mulder?" "What?" He stopped and looked at her. "You want me to stay?" "Is that all right?" "Of course." So he sat in a squeaky, rolling chair by Scully's head while Dr. Lehne did the exam. Scully mashed his fingers in her hand but did not move, barely breathing, and so he made himself hold still too, until his muscles ached from the effort. The peach walls blurred around him as he tried not to watch what they were doing to her. He noticed a tray with shiny silver tools on it that reminded him of the dentist, and he held Scully's hand a little tighter. Scully stared straight up at the ceiling. She answered all their questions in a calm, unwavering voice, but every so often, he saw a tear slide from the corner of her eye into her hair. He knew the doctor wasn't hurting her, but he wanted to knock the woman out of the way and run out the door with Scully and never look back. "Okay?" he asked Scully unsteadily. She didn't look at him. "Yes." Dr. Lehne glanced up. "You're doing great, Dana. We're almost done." "Almost done," Mulder repeated to Scully, and she nodded at the ceiling. He lapsed into silence, a little desperate and totally tongue-tied, the only man in a room full of women. I'm five blocks away, she'd said. They had been around the world together but five blocks turned out to be the only distance that mattered. He couldn't think what he'd been doing when the man came out of the bushes. Did that even happen anymore? The man with the knife in the bushes -- that man was a punch line, a spook story, like the guy with the hook for an arm and the albino alligators in the sewer. Wheel of Fortune. That's what he'd been doing. I'd like to solve the puzzle, Pat. HANS CHRISTEN ANDERSEN Ming's restaurant, he'd been there dozens of times, had asked Scully to stop there for food on her way over more than he could remember. God, if he'd known... His empty stomach flipped and growled. Mulder clenched his gut to try to shut it up. Scully turned her head and looked at him. She'd heard. She knew. They were supposed to be eating dinner. "Sorry," he tried to say, but she turned her head back before he got the words out. Dr. Lehne sat back in her chair. "We're all done," she said, and Scully let out a long, controlled breath. "You can sit up now, Dana. You did fine. Kristi will get you some clothes, okay? And then we can talk for a bit. I'll answer any questions that you have, and I want to write you a couple of prescriptions before you leave." Mulder got to stay while Scully changed, but she kicked him out for the final talk. Escaping into the hallway, he leaned his back against the cool white wall and covered his face with his hands to stop them from shaking. His heart felt like a baker had pounded it, swollen and bruised inside his chest. "Agent Mulder?" He jerked his hands down and looked in the direction of the voice. Detective Ruben Savioshy was walking towards him down the hall with another suited man following behind. Mulder straightened and prepared for the onslaught he knew was coming. "Agent Mulder, tell me I got this information wrong." "Detective." He couldn't say it was nice to see him again, so he left it at that. The last time they'd met, Philip Padget had been dead in Mulder's basement and Scully'd been drenched in her own blood. Mulder took a deep breath. "I wish I could tell you it was wrong." Detective Savioshy nodded heavily. "Okay, then. Tell me what happened." "I don't really know any of the details. I--I wasn't there. She was at Ming's restaurant, in the parking lot, and a man attacked her. That's all I know." Savioshy gestured at the door with his pen. "She's in there?" Mulder looked at the smooth gray door, at the light shining from under it. "Yeah. She's talking to the doctor." Savioshy turned and said something in a low voice to his companion, who nodded. "This is Chris Clark with the DA's office," Savioshy said. Mulder's handshake was harder than he intended. "You have someone in custody?" "No," Clark said, easing his hand away. He looked at Savioshy, who looked at the floor. It was clear they'd been through this routine before. "No, I'm sorry. We're trying, believe me. We're doing everything we can. That's really why I'm here, to make sure we don't miss anything that could be useful down the road at prosecution." A layperson might have been confused, or grateful, that a clean-cut, broad-shouldered man from the DA's office was looking after the case personally, but Mulder had spent too many years in law enforcement not to know what Clark's presence really signaled. "There are others," he said. "He's done this before." "Yes." Savioshy cleared his throat. "We don't know for sure yet until we talk to Agent Scully, but the case as the earmarks--" "How many?" "Nine, that we know of." He paused. "Now maybe ten." "Ten?" "The attacks cover a broad area through three counties. It took us a while to realize we were all looking for one man." The door opened and Dr. Lehne appeared. She and Detective Savioshy spoke in low voices about sample collection, and Mulder felt his legs stabilize beneath him. This part he knew. The law -- the investigation -- he could handle that. Then Scully came out, wearing foreign sweats and an oversized white T-shirt that made her seem even paler. Her hair was down flat and tucked behind her ears, and she'd scrubbed her face clean of makeup. Her toes curled in her sandals as she hung back against the doorjamb. It wasn't a version of herself she let many people see, usually not even him, and Mulder felt a sharp stab of protectiveness. "Scully?" he asked, and she jerked her attention from Savioshy to him. "You okay?" Savioshy joined them before she could answer him, approaching Scully the same careful way that he had when she'd been soaked in blood. "Agent Scully, hello. Sorry to hear about what you've been through tonight. Are you up to answering a few questions?" "Of course," she answered, drawing herself up. She handed Mulder several slips of white paper. "Mulder, could you take these to the pharmacy and wait there for me? I'll be along in a few minutes." He looked down at the prescriptions and then at her. "Um, sure, Scully. Whatever you want." "Thank you." He waited a beat but she didn't say anything further, both she and Savioshy clearly waiting for him to leave before they got on with their business, so he started a slow amble down the hall. He peeked back once and saw Clark nodding at something Scully was saying. Savioshy had his notepad out. Mulder hit the button for the elevator and looked away. Here -- discussion of how to get the sick bastard -- here was where he could be of some use. Fuck all Savioshy seemed to be doing about the problem anyway. Mulder had worked rape cases before, some with Scully. She knew what he could do. You profile one sick sonofabitch, you'd profiled them all. The elevator dinged and Mulder took a last glance down the hall before he stepped inside. In line at the pharmacy, he flipped through the prescriptions, which told Scully's horror in an entirely different language: amoxicillin, alprazolam, D-norgestrel, and Tylenol 3. The sharp slips of paper sliced up his heart and he found himself trying not to cry in a room full of people. He handed the rape victims' cocktail to the man behind the counter, who took one look at the list and nodded. He could read between the lines. "It'll be about twenty minutes," he said gently. "If you'll just have a seat over there." Mulder sat in the hard, narrow chair and rested a magazine in his lap without looking at it. Scully appeared about fifteen minutes later. He stood at the sight of her, only to sit back down as she took the chair next to him. She sat like an old woman, slow and careful, and he pretended not to know why. "Everything go okay with Savioshy?" he asked. "Yes. I guess I'm glad it was him, all things considered." "He's very professional," Mulder offered lamely, and Scully nodded. She didn't comment further so he didn't press. "Dana Scully?" the man at the pharmacy window called. Scully stiffened. "I don't have any money. He took my wallet." "It's okay. I've got it," Mulder said, reaching for his wallet, but Scully looked near tears again. "Scully?" He cupped the back of her head and slid his thumb behind her ear in a tender caress. "It's no big deal, okay?" She squared her shoulders, nodding again. "I'll pay you back," she said and moved from under his touch. He got up and fished for his car keys while she picked up the prescriptions. For the second time that night, Scully left with a large bag of take-out food, this kind in capsule form. She cradled her parcels to her side and regarded him with tired eyes. "Home?" he asked. "Please." She hunched down in the shadows of his car. He drove with extra care, as one might with a new baby on board. The car glided to a halt outside her apartment, but Scully made no move to get out. He took the key from the ignition and waited. "Mulder?" "Yeah?" She looked at him, small face bathed in the half-light from outside. "I'm sorry about dinner." "Oh, Scully." He reached over and pulled her to him until their heads rested together. "Me too. Me too." He kissed her cheek, her eye. She was so tense he thought she might snap in two. "It's okay now. It's going to be okay." "Yes," she said, sounding like she was trying to believe it. He rewarded her with more kisses. She squeezed his leg and pulled away. "Do you want me to come in?" he asked as she opened her door. She halted and peered back over her shoulder. "Do you want to?" Before he could say anything, she continued in a rush, "I have things for sandwiches, if you want. Maybe a bag of chips. It's not much." He smiled. "Sandwiches it is." Inside, she stopped and stared at her living room like she's walked into the wrong apartment. Mulder stood behind her, looking down at the top of her head. "Scully?" She turned, nearly bumping into him. "Can you find you way around the kitchen?" she asked "I--I'd like to take a shower." This last confession she made quietly to his shoes, as if he might think her too cliche. He pressed a kiss to the part in her hair. "Go," he said. "I'll make food." "Make what you want. I'm not hungry." He let her go without argument, and base though he felt, he went and inhaled two roast beef sandwiches. The last thing he needed was his belly grumbling in bed with Scully tonight. Bed, he thought, and stopped chewing with a lump of bread stuck in his throat. Did she want him there? Maybe he should offer to stay on the couch. He had never slept in Scully's bed with her in it, and he wasn't sure she'd welcome him tonight. It was still her space. He finished his food and cleaned up the plates, but Scully had still not come out of the bathroom. Pacing the soft carpet in front of the door, he listened but heard only the sound of rushing water. Steam curled out from the cracks. Mulder stroked the smooth wood instead of the woman inside. The pipes groaned as the water stopped. Mulder backed a few steps away so she wouldn't think he was hovering. She emerged a few minutes later, wrapped in a fluffy white robe, her skin pinked up from all the hot water. He noticed her eyes were red too. "Hi," he said softly. She shuddered. "Did you get something to eat?" "I'm fine. Don't worry about me. How are you? Any better?" She opened her mouth but couldn't seem to get any words out. He held out his arm to her. "Come here." She went willingly and he tucked her wet head under his chin, crooning her name near her ear. Her fingernails pricked his back as her shoulders hitched under his hands. "Anything you need, Scully, okay? Anything." She nodded, mute, and clutched him tighter. "Thank you for coming to get me." "Always." He kissed the line of her hair, shower water sweet on his lips. "Are you hungry? Do you want anything?" "No." She pulled back a bit. "I think I'm just going to go to bed." "Okay." He let his arms fall away, but Scully didn't move. She stood with her head tipped forward, eyes focused on the floor, until a heavy lock of hair slipped down over her face. He felt like he should say something further, but he hadn't the slightest idea what. Even his breathing sounded huge, magnified off her silence. "Scully?" Her head snapped up. "Do you want me to go?" "You're going?" "Not if you don't want." "What I want," she repeated to herself strangely. "Yes." He tucked the hair back behind her ear, and she closed her eyes, leaning into his hand. "How about I stay?" he whispered. "All right?" She nodded and led the way to her bedroom. Scully's sleeping quarters were so different from his, full of mirrors and giant wooden furniture. He spotted the loaned hospital clothes folded neatly on a delicate chair. She left him to go blow dry her hair, and he sat on the high, firm mattress. The light bedspread was white with tiny indigo flowers embroidered on it. Mulder stroked one with his thumb as he listened to the roar from the bathroom. He had no things here, no toothbrush or sleeping clothes. Scully returned, all business as she prepared for bed, and Mulder turned away. He bit his lip and looked down at his jeans. After a moment's indecision, he decided to strip to his boxers and leave the T-shirt on. It seemed more respectful. When he turned again he saw the expanse of Scully's naked back flash before she huddled beneath the covers. Naked. Okay. Mild shock dulled his brain, and he stood rooted to the carpet with the top sheet bunched in his hand. "Are you coming?" she asked, and he reached over his head and yanked off his shirt in one smooth motion. He kept the boxers on. The bedside lamp on her side blazed away, and Scully made no move to turn it off. Mulder refrained from comment. She lay on her stomach but facing him, so he rolled until he matched her position. One wide blue eye stared at him from the pillow. "Think you can sleep?" he asked. "I'm so tired." "Yeah." He reached over and stroked her from the top of her head down to the small of her back. Her eye slipped closed so he repeated the slow caress. She didn't move and he thought she had fallen asleep. His hand rested near her hip. She grabbed it suddenly and tucked it under her, between her breasts, and he startled at the feel of her heart beating like a trapped bird. He looked closer and saw that her eyes were screwed shut. "Scully, what...?" She cut him off with a choked sob, curling into herself under the covers. Horror flooded through him and he shifted closer. He drew her against him, her elbows to his ribs, and pressed his face down into her neck. Hot tears leaked onto his chest as she shook in his arms. His throat ached. He rubbed her, rocked her, but there was nothing he could do to get at the pain inside her. "It's okay, it's okay," he repeated as she cried. He wanted to say she was beautiful. He wanted to say he loved her. But they didn't say these things, and he feared if he said them now she would hate him forever. He gave her his hands, his lips, his tears. He laid her on his chest and let her listen to his broken heart as it said her name over and over until they slept. XxXxXxXxX End chapter one. syn_tax6@yahoo.com