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.

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