JUST A FAN of FAN ART & FANFIC, XFiles

26TH JANUARY - 3:33AM

The sudden chaos was sickening, the steady sounds of the machines pulled into a crescendo of terror, screaming at him as her body began to shift and thrash in the bed. Scully’s hands shot to her face as a panicked choking sound filled the air. 

‘HELP!’ he bellowed, reaching for her hands and trying to keep them from her face. 

‘Help!!’ 

Scully’s eyes were painfully wide and she was gagging, convulsing around the tubes and fighting against everything that tried to hold her down in her bed. 

‘Scully, you have to stop, Scully, please,’ he felt the tears streaming down his face as she fought him, impossibly strong and desperate. 

He held her wrists together in one hand as his other slammed against buttons on the wall, hoping someone would hear him. The violent sounds from her body made him want to pull out the tubes himself, but he couldn’t risk hurting her, so he brought his face as close to hers as he could get and tried to hold her still. 

‘Shhh, Scully, please, you’re ok. Just-’ he choked out a sob as he felt the jolts of his own cruelty all throughout his body, overpowering her as she desperately tried to break free from his grasp. 

The room filled then, and someone was yanking him back violently. Her hands were ripped from his and he was forced to stand, watching helplessly as a crew of people began to work over her body. 

The room shrunk until he felt as though he was inside a tiny box. 

*

‘Fox,’ Maggie croaked from above him. 

‘Hey,’ he replied weakly, surprised his voice still worked. His face felt hot, his eyes burned and he couldn’t risk a look up at her. He studied her shoes and then he shut his eyes.  

‘Fox,’ she said again with a whimper. 

‘She’s not ready for visitors, they… they won’t let me in yet,’ he mumbled, running his hands over his face. 

‘Fox, I’m sorry.’ 

‘You have nothing to be sorry for, Maggie.’

He felt her settle beside him on the waiting plastic chair. The space felt grey, empty and pointless.

‘She… did they say how she woke up? Why?’

He shook his head, lost for what to say. 

‘She… God, we just wanted to honour her wishes, Fox. I never thought…’ 

‘I know,’ he said softly. 

‘She’s ok?’ Maggie asked hopefully, emotion threaded in her words. 

‘She’s gonna be.’ 

‘How..?’ She asked again. 

‘She came back. She was strong, and she came back.’ 

‘They.. they said there was no brain activity. None. That…’ 

Mulder stared down at his hands, clenched tightly together, and sighed before risking a glance in her direction. Maggie’s face was stained with it, too. The pain coloured her cheeks in red blotches and her eyes were wide and wrung dry. 

‘It can’t be explained, but we can be glad.’ 

*

Time passed slowly in increments and worries that couldn’t be properly measured. Mulder felt himself sway uncomfortably in his seat, and he looked at Maggie regretfully each time his shoulder brushed hers. 

When the nurse came to announce that Scully was stable and resting, he let Maggie go first, so she could see her daughter. He waited with a jealousy that made him feel uneasy.

He wanted to be the only one allowed in that room, to wait at the foot of her bed with his gun drawn on anyone that would dare approach. But he waited, hips creaking in the pathetic little chair outside. 

It had only been about ten minutes when Maggie reappeared and walked slowly towards him, like her feet were dragging through wet sand. 

‘She’s sleeping, but I’ll be back first thing in the morning,’ She said with a tissue clutched to her face. ‘Thank you, Fox.’ 

Mulder nodded and moved to step past her, but she grasped his forearm and forced him to look down at her face. ‘Thank you,’ she repeated and he let out a shaky breath. 

‘Maggie-’ he whispered, hoarse, but she held up her hand to stop him when she heard the heaviness strangling the words. 

She ran a hand softly over his face, tilting her head as she settled over the bruise beneath his eye, regret in her expression. He touched her hand and lowered it from his face, turning away as her steps began to recede down the hall. He looked at the door, the one that stood between him and Scully’s real, living body. His eyes drifted over the plastic folder that bore her name, and with a deep breath, stepped forward. 

He pushed the door open numbly, expecting to see her sleeping, but her head turned messily towards him. 

He could see how heavily sedated she had been by the drifting, confused focus in her eyes and her hand clasping at the air as he entered. A part of him was proud, she had put up such a strong fight that science and medicine had struggled to keep her. 

He stepped close to her and swallowed heavily. 

It was Scully. His beautiful partner, strong and resilient, but so weakened in this bed that he bit his cheek and tightened his jaw. 

‘Mulder, where am I?’ her voice was fractured and raw. 

He searched her eyes, the colour so dark in the dim lights. She looked frightened, and he ached to pull her from the bed and take her home, to make it all ok somehow. 

‘They said.. New York,’ she muttered drowsily, and he watched her wince as she swallowed. 

‘No. You’re home, Scully, DC.’ He reached for her hand and she barely summoned the strength to squeeze him back. 

‘Why?’ 

‘Scully, you were in a coma,’ he said softly. 

‘W-what happened?’ She rasped, and he could hear that each word hurt her greatly. 

‘You don’t remember?’ 

She closed her eyes and tried in vain to moisten her lips. She shook her head slowly and his stomach sank. 

He had hoped that it had been real, that the moments they had shared in the battle to bring her back had been her, but maybe he had been imagining it the whole time. It didn’t matter now though, she was back. 

‘It’s ok, Scully. Rest now, we can talk about it tomorrow. You’re gonna be ok now.’ 

Her forehead crinkled, but her eyes remained closed, exhaustion taking over her body. He traced soft circles along the back of her hand and watched her for a few moments, until the gentle beeps from the machines at her side reassured him she was asleep. 

He drifted from the room and slammed his back against the wall, fishing his cell phone from his pocket and groaning as he looked at the pitiful battery he had left. 

He had two calls to make, and then he could throw the damn thing away. 

Skinner hadn’t picked up his cell, and as he listened to the continual drone of the office line, he realised it was too late for anyone to be at work. He hadn’t thought about the time, only about Scully, and the good news he needed to share. 

He hung up and dialled the number for the Gunmen, almost cracking a smile as Frohike picked up, panting like he’d run and tackled the phone. 

‘She’s awake,’ he said, relief washing over him with the words. 

‘She’s… shit, Mulder, really?’ There was a pause and a crackle and he could tell he was on speakerphone now as the voices echoed around the room. 

‘Really,’ Mulder chuckled breathlessly, dropping his head back against the wall. 

‘She’s awake? Man, you.. what worked?’ 

‘Nothing, nothing I did. She came back, it was all her.’ 

‘You must have done something, one of the rituals? Or the… prayers?’ 

‘Nope. All Scully.’ 

‘She’s back… Fuck, man you must be… are you alright?’ 

‘I’ve quite literally, never been better.’ 

‘Well, is she ready for visitors?’ the man asked eagerly, and he heard the familiar shuffling as the phone was clutched to a face again. 

‘Not yet, Romeo,’ Mulder chuckled. ‘She needs a few more days, immediate family only.’ 

‘Oh, yeah? And how did you manage that one?’ 

Mulder’s face pulled into a tired smile, his eyes still closed heavily as his head rolled against the cool, painted brick. 

‘Oh, didn’t I mention it? I’m her husband,’ he said with a grin, snapping his cellphone shut before any reply could come, and stuffing it back into his pocket. 

*

He felt something ease in his chest as he settled back into her visitor’s chair, now freely able to study her face in the low light. The room smelled of disinfectant and rubber. 

The machines sounded different now, no longer mocking or counting down, but steady. 

‘Mm- Mmu..’ she muttered, as her head lolled to the side on the pillow. 

He shuffled closer and took her hand, pleased to find it warmer than it had felt in so long. His gaze travelled up to her face, where her porcelain skin was marked with streaks from her ordeal, raised red lines where tape had held her life force still. 

She frowned and rolled her head again, muttering quietly. He leaned forward in his chair and brought his lips to her delicate hand. 

‘Mulll- Mul, p- leeze.’ 

‘What, Scully?’ he whispered, scooting closer. 

‘Please,’ she said more firmly. 

‘Anything, Scully, what do you need?’ 

‘Here, please.’ 

He leaned over her and stroked hair free from her face as her head fought again from side to side and her mouth opened and closed like she was chewing. Her eyes blinked open unevenly and suddenly locked onto him, fierce as ever. 

‘Mulder,’ she gasped, startled. ‘W-where am I?’ 

‘Oh, Scully, honey, you’re in the hospital.’ 

‘Hospital?’ she asked roughly in frustration. Her fingers came up to the tubes that fed into her nose and tugged on them. 

‘Yes, but you need to rest. You’re doing fine,’ he said softly, prying her fingers free and holding them in his hands. 

‘Why, why am I here?’ She began to pant as her eyes filled with tears and she tried to sit up, the wires tangling at her shoulders as the machines began to blare in warning. 

‘Can you lie back for me?’ He pressed her gently down into the mattress and settled his weight beside her hip. ‘You’re ok, you’ve been given some sedatives so you might feel disorientated. You’re ok, but Scully, you were shot,’ he said carefully, trying not to alarm her. 

‘You lost a lot of blood, and you had to be put into an induced coma. You’re back now, though. You showed everyone who’s boss.’ He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead, feeling her relax back into her bed. ‘You’re ok.’ 

‘Mulder,’ she said quietly, her eyes squeezing shut as her hands weakly reached for him, clawing at his skin. ‘Will you hold me?’ 

‘Uh, Scully, I’m not sure-’

‘Please,’ she said with a whimper and a tremble and he couldn’t do anything else. 

He gently shifted forward, her body leaning towards him as he settled his weight on the narrow bed. He gathered her to his chest and nearly burst into tears at the sensation. She was warm and real, and she had come back to him. He screwed his eyes shut and felt a raw wave of relief wash over him. 

‘I don’t unner-stand what happened..’ 

He wasn’t sure if it was the exhaustion, or the sedatives, or if she just couldn’t absorb what he was saying, but he curled around her and held her gently to his chest. ‘I know, Scully. But sleep now, it will all be better in the morning.’ 

‘Mulder, will you stay? Don’t wanna be ‘lone ‘gain. It was dark.’ 

‘You’re not getting rid of me.’ Ever, he thought, pressing a kiss to her head. 

His eyes were wide and frantic and he turned in circles until he felt dizzy, searching, scanning and wishing for any glimpse of her. 

Suddenly his heart beat was in his ears and he blinked back the fierce wave of tears that swirled and grew behind his eyes. 

‘Scully,’ he said loudly, sharply, a demand rather than a question. ‘Scullyyy!’ 

There was a ringing sound in his ears and it was only growing louder as terror took over his entire body, a bolt through him that nearly brought him to his knees. 

He turned in place again and forced his gaze settle on Scully in her bed, still and pale and an amalgamation of all of his biggest fears.

He was alone. Scully was hurt. He couldn’t help her. 

He felt like he was in hell, the one he’d always deserved but she had kept him out of. Shame crept down his spine. Weeks, years of it playing on a loop in his head until he wanted to fall at her side and beg. 

He had married her, taken her away from her family, dropped her into every dangerous situation a person could ever find themselves, and what the fuck did she have to show for it? 

‘Scully,’ he said, voice trembling. He could feel that his face was damp, and he rubbed at it angrily. 

He tripped on the useless pile of books he’d dropped at his feet and felt himself lunge towards her bed, his hands gripping at the scratchy sheets she was wrapped in. 

‘Scully,’ he begged again, waiting for her to return to him. He couldn’t go on without her and they had both known that. 

Where had she gone? Why had she disappeared? Why, at that moment, the moment where he felt close to fixing this? 

His chest heaved and he slid until his palms touched the cold floor, reaching for the books. 

’S-soul retrieval, Scully, I’ll do it. I told you.’ He was muttering, whispering like a fool on the floor by his wife’s hospital bed. 

His hands shook and tore at some of the delicate pages while he searched for the passage he needed, the cold tile biting into his knees. 

‘Scully,’ he said again around a sniff as his eyes dragged over the page, as though the word itself could bring her back if he said it right. ‘The soul detached so it could survive the trauma, Scully, that’s what you did and it was right, Scully, but I’m here to bring you back. It-It’s safe to come back now, Scully. Your soul..’ 

His hands were shaking, too fiercely now to hold anything and the book clattered to the ground. His vision blurred and everything went numb. He wanted nothing more in this life or the next, than to have her back.

So he would wait, standing guard over her like a man who would chain himself to a tree, so convinced of its right to exist, of its precious place in this world. 

That’s what he would do now, for the rest of time, he would be here at her bed, holding her hand so that they could never take her away from him. And if her hand never filled with her own warmth again…

If the machines stopped, if their silence shattered his world, then…

He wondered shamefully what people would think, what would the reports say, what combination of words would make their way to Skinner, or to his mother. 

Would they know the truth, that he had lost his wife and could no longer stumble forward? A widower, a man unmoored after the light of his life left him. His stomach ached as it rippled with the decision he’d unconsciously made years ago. 

He would want the world to know that he hadn’t just lost his work partner, or his colleague, that this wasn’t about guilt or madness. 

He had the rings they’d never worn, the ones he’d bought that night before they even did this whole thing. The store he’d stumbled into with a buzzing in his chest and a credit card in his lucky, trembling hand. 

‘Gold, or silver?’ the helpful salesman had asked. 

‘Gold,’ Mulder had said suddenly, flashes of her crucifix in his mind, a naive hope that she’d actually have cause or inclination to wear it. 

He’d never had the guts to give it to her, not when he’d seen the serious set of her shoulders on that day, the way her body language had warned him off from even touching her. He’d shoved the little velvet box back into his suit pocket and smiled tightly as they rushed out the standard vows, a sinking feeling in his chest as she refused to look him in the eye. 

He had those rings still, buried beneath boxer shorts in a an old wooden drawer and he resolved to slip the gold onto his finger and display it proudly for the rest of their days together on this earth. 

He quickly scrubbed away the tear that had broken free and stained his bruised cheek, pulling his chair closer to her bed until the blankets bunched up between his knees. 

He felt breathless, adrenaline in his veins and desperate bargaining tugging at his soul. 

It would not end this way.

Something fierce and defiant bloomed in him and he tightened his jaw as his fingers clung to her, pressing into her skin. He ached to hear her at his shoulder again, guiding him, reassuring him. He felt less real in a room where she wasn’t conscious, like most of him had disappeared along with her. She’d taken the good parts, the useful ones. 

His wife. Scully. His love and his compass and his star. 

‘It’s… it’s love. It’s all love, Scully, right? That’s what worked every time, in every damn story since the beginning of time, it’s been love. Love of a wife or-or a sister or a father or even of a god. Or- or a husband. Love’s the strongest, right? Stronger than anger or fear, right?’ He sniffed fiercely, trying in vain to keep his voice even. ‘It’s good, ‘cause, if its love then you’ll have to come back to me, ‘cause I’ve got that Scully. I’ve got so much of it that sometimes I can’t even look at it, Scully, it’s… it’s enough, I know it. It will be enough and you’ll have to.’ 

His chest shuddered and he screwed his eyes shut, gripping even tighter around her hand. 

‘I’m begging you, I’m here and I am begging you, Scully, to claw your way back if you can hear me, to come back to me, please.’ The last words were painful pulls from desperate lungs as he clutched at her like a dying man. 

The machines beeped steadily all around, impassive and unimpressed with his ritual, but he couldn’t be stopped. The room could burst into flames, nothing would pull him away from her side now because he knew, he felt it raw and growing in him. He was chained to her. 

If love was the answer, then she would come back to him, she simply had to, because no one had ever loved someone the way he loved Scully. 

Beep.  Beep. 

The last thing he’d thought to allow himself was sleep, but his body betrayed him and he was jostled upright as a nurse entered the room. He shot a look over his shoulder defensively, suddenly alert and furious.

‘I’m sorry, Mr Mulder, I have to check on some of Dana’s vitals.’ She wheeled in a trolley, displaying needles and cuffs and vials. 

He should be used to such a sight by now after years of fighting together against what seemed like the whole world, but it still rolled his stomach. 

’S’ok,’ he muttered, running a hand through his hair and sighing heavily back against the chair. 

His neck ached, and he realised that he had been hunched over her body for some time. 

‘Would you like to step outside? Get some air, I’ll be a little while here.’ 

‘No,’ he said. 

She sighed and nodded, turning from him and lifting up a chart.

He stared at Scully, watching the slow press of air fill her lungs through a network of tubes and listening to the eerie rattle of a machine pretending to be her. 

The bag of fluid hanging underneath her bed swayed as the nurse jostled against the arm rail and Mulder grimaced, turning away. How many things could be stripped from her? How many basic choices and dignities would she lose because of him? 

She quickly unscrewed a tiny plastic cap from the wound inside Scully’s elbow and began to draw things from her body. There were so many wounds now and it seemed she got new ones each day. There was one wrapped in a sticky clear square at the top of her chest, where the borders of the dressing had rubbed grey, and one tangled in wires on top of her hand where the skin was so thin he wanted to cry. Her veins were darker now, brought to the surface by something awful, and he wanted to gather her into his arms and push the nurse away, to beg her to leave her alone. 

‘Mr Mulder, if you are going to take that, you have to step outside. I am trying to work.’ 

It was then that he realised his cell phone was ringing, buzzing insistently in his pocket and he shook his head. He pulled it out quickly and shut it off, staring back at Scully and letting himself drift back into her orbit. 

The nurse exhaled with frustration and got back to drawing Scully’s blood. Taking, taking and taking from her, labelling each little vial and tucking it down into the styrofoam holder, an uneasy creaking sound filling the room each time she did. The blood was so dark, such a rich red and it made him want to demand that she put it back, to not steal anything else from her, but he bit his tongue and continued to watch. 

He watched every movement, studying each pass of skin or touch of tool to her precious, defenceless body. 

‘I’m all done here, another nurse will be in in a few hours to check on her as the shifts change. Visiting hours are over at nine,’ she reminded tightly with a glance at the clock. 

Mulder nodded and waited for the door to click shut behind her before he shuffled forward again and laid his head by Scully’s hip, exhaling heavily. 

‘Oh, Mulder, look at you,’ Scully said in horror as he emerged from the bathroom, his eye swollen and sore looking, his skin pallid and his hair a wet mess. 

‘Y’know, some women find scars sexy,’ he grumbled, pulling on the first t-shirt his fingers brushed from the pile beside his dresser. 

‘Those women aren’t usually doctors. It’s hard to find something sexy that could have caused internal bleeding, concussions, fractures. Plus, it just makes you look sad.’ 

‘That works, I feel sad, Scully.’ 

‘Join the club.’ 

‘Do we get badges? We already have the secret handshake.’ He joined her on the bed again and she turned to face him as his hand stroked her hip. 

‘What are we going to do, Mulder?’ Her tone was suddenly serious, and he swallowed nervously. 

‘Well, Scully, we could head to the Gunmen’s, or we could head to the hospital, or we could jump on a plane and head to the Bahamas. Hey, wouldn’t that be fun? Flying wherever you want without your passport, or needing to buy a ticket?’

The look she gave him told him that, no, that didn’t sound fun. 

‘I meant, what are we going to do?’ 

‘Oh, the big, do.’ He drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

‘I… I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, but I think I need to start trying something.’ 

‘Something?’ 

‘Some of these rituals, these… solutions we’ve found to getting you back into your body, Scully. They’re trying to bring you around, and I need to stop waiting for this all to magically resolve itself.’

‘Mulder, you cannot be serious.’ 

‘I am, deadly.’ 

‘Mulder, chanting over my body is not going to fix this.’ 

‘So, what is?’ he asked firmly, ‘Sorry, Scully, but we can’t just do nothing.’ 

‘I- We’re not doing nothing, Mulder, the doctors..’

‘The doctors have given up,’ he said, surprised at the harshness of his own words. 

‘If there is a single thing I can do to fix this, Scully, I’m going to do it. I don’t care how ridiculous it all seems. Something is going to work. There has to be a reason that you’re here, that you’re still with me. Because in a normal, run-of-the-mill coma, Scully, this doesn’t happen.’ 

She shook her head and shot him a disapproving look. 

‘Mulder…’ 

‘I love you, Scully. I love you, and I’m not going to give up.’ 

The words washed over her but left her feeling sick. It somehow loosened her grip on the hope they were holding together, like he was gearing up to say goodbye. 

She looked away and pulled free from his grasp, and he rolled onto his back to stare at the ceiling. 

They rode to the hospital in silence, save for the brief call he had with Frohike, putting his cell on speakerphone as the despondent man listed off a few articles they’d found overnight, apologising as they offered little hope. 

‘Is she there?’ Frohike had asked over the crackling line. 

‘She’s right here,’ Mulder answered with his hands tight on the wheel. 

‘Hey, Scully.’ 

She didn’t reply as she stared out of the window, and Mulder quickly ended the call, plunging them back into their silence together. 

They parted ways in the hallway again, and Mulder carried his bag of books guiltily into the room, hoping to find it empty but stopping just inside of the door as he saw Maggie Scully’s tired frame in front of Scully’s bed. 

The room was bursting with bouquets of flowers, and the sight sent another wave of guilt through him. None from him. He hadn’t cared to notice them yesterday as he stared down Bill’s fist, but now shame flickered in his chest as smiled limply at Maggie. 

She turned and quickly assessed him, looking down at the plastic bag that swung near his calf, and he tucked it behind his leg. 

‘Good morning, Maggie. I brought some books, I.. was going to read to her for a bit,’ he said quickly, hoping she wouldn’t ask any further questions. 

‘Fox,’ she said evenly, a calmness to her words that the tension in her face belied. ‘We didn’t expect to see you today.’ 

He tried not to think deeply about that statement and just nodded as he stepped closer. She looked away, fighting the urge to stare at his injured cheek.

He wondered if it made her glad, if some small part of her felt joy when she looked upon his face, the evidence of Bill’s defence of his sister splattered across it. He cleared his throat. 

‘How is she doing today?’ 

‘She’s on life support, Fox. She’s not ‘doing’ anything.’ 

Fuck. His gaze dropped again to his feet and the tiles and the chair legs as they always did when he was in this room. He didn’t know what to say, but as weary words fought to break through his hesitant lips, she cut him off. 

‘I have our family priest visiting today, and If you don’t mind, I’d like the room. I know you don’t believe, as Dana did.’ 

Does, he wanted to scream, Dana does believe. 

He wasn’t welcome when he was here, and he was despised when he left. His stomach twisted and he chewed at his lip, unsure of what to say. He left the room and closed the door so softly behind him that something fractured in his chest. Scully’s body was in that quiet little room, and he had no place in it. 

Why, why was she with him and not her family? Why, why could he see her even now, across the hall with her immaculate suit and her serious expression, yet the nurses flitted past her as though she wasn’t there at all. 

‘Hey,’ he said quietly from the corner of his lips as he pressed against her side.

‘No new bruises, I assume Bill wasn’t in there?’ 

He smirked and shook his head. ‘Just your mom. She asked for some privacy, though. Your priest is coming.’ 

Scully’s expression drew back into one of horror, her lips disappearing as her eyes glistened. 

‘What? What’s wrong?’ 

‘She’s, uh..’ Scully cleared her throat tightly and squeezed her jaw together. ‘She’s saying goodbye.’ 

He stared at her in disbelief. ‘Already?’ 

Scully nodded and stared over his shoulder at the closed door, a pull in her soul that tugged her forward. ‘He’ll be giving me my last rites.’ 

‘Scully..’ 

She was already moving and so he let her go. 

The two agents huddled around the motel's bathroom sink, Scully leaning over with her head in her hands, while Mulder did his best to tend to the wound. It wasn't a pretty sight, broken skin and blood--and while Scully was valiantly keeping quiet and saving face, Mulder knew it must have hurt.

When she hissed at the first pour of hydrogen peroxide, something in Mulder's heart twisted in response. The sight of the wound didn't bother him, nor did the act of cleaning it; that pained sound was what set him off-kilter, even as small as it was. The thing was: Scully was strong. She was brave, she'd been to hell and back--they both had, together. A scraped shoulder was nothing, on the scale of all that. But it never really got any easier to see her in pain, to watch her expression turn pale and pinched, just before she turned away to hide it. To know that his options to fix it were limited, always insufficient, because there was never any way to make the pain simply vanish.

Mulder hated helplessness in all its forms, hated that sickening feeling of inaction and uncertainty; but seeing Scully hurt was perhaps the worst of all.

"I know, I'm sorry," he murmured, voice low and tense, even as he tried to keep his tone comforting. He rested a steadying hand on her back--warm skin to warm skin, as Scully's ruined dress shirt had been abandoned in the corner of the room--and gave the disinfectant a moment to work.

"It's fine, Mulder," Scully replied, her own tone just slightly strained, but still genuinely confident as always; the discomfort was well-hidden away, and she sounded more annoyed by the ordeal than anything. She raised her head to meet his eyes in the mirror, hands falling to twist together as though in prayer. "It's just a scrape--I'd deal with it myself if I could reach it." That comment had Mulder leveling her with a long-suffering look, to which she returned a tight smile and unshakeable gaze. At least they were back on everyday ground, in that respect.

"Well, for not going to medical school, I think I'm doing alright," he said dryly, trying to move past that twist of anxiety that had shown up when Scully fell, and then never left. Mulder couldn't help his tone turning soft once again though, absentmindedly brushing his thumb over Scully's shoulder blade as he spoke. "Can you lean forward a little more? Just need to rinse it out, now." He really didn't need to narrate his actions-Scully knew the steps, she could tend to wounds like this in her sleep, and Mulder knew that--but he just couldn't fight back to urge to reassure her anyway. Maybe it wasn't so bad though, because the words seemed to make Scully untense a fraction, even as she leaned her shoulder closer to the sink.

Mulder carefully poured lukewarm water over the wound, glad to see that it had mostly stopped bleeding and was free of debris, while Scully tried to avoid knocking into the taps from the awkward position. He wasn't sure what compelled him to slip his free hand alongside Scully's temple, cradling her head to ease the strain while he worked--but neither of them mentioned it. Within a minute, Mulder was carefully patting the water away with a clean towel, and Scully straightened back up, gingerly rolling out her shoulder.

"There's some bandages in that bag, could you-" she began, sentence breaking off when she turned around to find Mulder already holding up the bandages with a shrug and faint smile. "Oh."

"Figured this would probably be easier with a partner, unless you'd rather do it," he offered, leaving her a way out, just in case. But that tense spot in his chest unwound slightly when Scully nodded after a second, taking a seat on the bathroom stool.

"Thank you, for all this." Scully glanced over her shoulder slightly, catching sight of Mulder from the corner of her eye, as he leaned over to daub some ointment onto her shoulder and began wrapping it. He kept his gaze mostly focused on the task, but spared a glance up at her, offering another one of those small smiles. Their eyes seemed to lock for a moment too long, like usual, a silent conversation rushing between them like lines of code on a screen.

"It's no problem, Scully," Mulder said easily, looking back down as he focused on keeping the touch gentle, motions hovering somewhere between clinical and cherishing as he wrapped the bandages, hands brushing over her skin. There was a moment of quiet then, only broken by Mulder's quiet "ta-da" as he taped the corner of the bandage in place. Scully stood and made her way to the bathroom mirror, turning to look at his handiwork and giving a pleased hum of approval.

"Not bad--maybe we'll make a doctor of you yet," she teased, which elicited a fond sort of eye roll from Mulder, who had set about returning the first aid kit to rights. Scully took a moment to examine her partner from afar, cataloguing the determined sort of precision his actions held, the undercurrent of tension that was just as puzzling as it was endearing.

"Har-har," Mulder intoned, having to lean slightly on the first aid kit to close it properly, and then straightening with a couple protesting pops from his back. "You don't fall down any more hills, and we'll call it even, how's that?" He raised his eyebrows and put his hands on his hips, trying to match the teasing. But some of his worry must have shown through, because Scully's expression softened as their eyes met, and she took a small step forward into his space.

"I'll do my best," she promised, voice gentle and unbearably fond, and Mulder's heart leapt when she rested a hand on his arm. Then Scully was standing up on her tiptoes, and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek--it was only a brush of her lips, but she lingered there, and Mulder thought he might have done anything for her in that moment, even as he stood frozen. Warm skin and warm skin. When Scully pulled away, it finally broke the spell, and Mulder took a quick breath that he tried to hide, resisting the urge to chase after the touch. "Besides," Scully continued softly, turning to shrug on a t-shirt, being careful of the bandages. "At least I know you'll be there to catch me."

"I will," Mulder returned the sentiment immediately, not capable of denying, even if he had wanted to. He reached out to rest a hand on her uninjured shoulder, close and in each other's space once more, as though they couldn't bear anything else. "Anytime."

She offered him another one of those gentle smiles, and they both knew it was true. Anywhere, anytime, they would be there for each other. That was what partners were for.

Something felt wrong, Scully turned over and clutched a hand to her hallow chest, feeling a fluttering of unease. She pulled herself free from Mulder’s arm, and he rolled onto his other side with a grunt of displeasure.

She scrambled to her feet and ran her hands firmly down her clothes, as though brushing the sleep from them would right her body. Something fluttered again, then swam in her veins until she felt an icy sensation travel up her arms.

‘Mulder,’ she called out with fear loud in her voice. 

‘Mmmh,’ he huffed, rolling his head back to stare blearily up at her.

Light poured all around her, cracking in through the blinds around her frame but her movements were unsteady, jerky, and the sight pulled him fully awake with a start.

‘Scully?’

‘Something feels… wrong.’ She gasped shakily as her fingers began to tingle and sting. She held them up and studied them as they began to tremble.

‘What?’ He shot up out of bed and rushed to her, grasping her hands and feeling the skin there, uncomfortably cold.

‘I don’t feel.. well.’

He opened his mouth to ask another question, but the shrill sound of his phone ringing halted them both and their eyes widened in panic.

He nearly tripped over his jeans as he rushed into the living room, grabbing the phone frantically and pressing it to his ear.

‘Mulder,’ he barked into the handset. 

‘..Mr Mulder, it’s Sally here from Dana Scully’s care team. The doctor has asked that you come in today for an update on your wife’s condition.’ Her words were clean and polite, but carried an undertone of judgement that twisted in Mulder’s gut.

They didn’t know, they didn’t know that she was right here by his side and they were working together to bring her back.

‘Uhm, of course, thank you. I can be in by.. nine,’ he said and his eyes locked onto Scully’s with an apologetic expression.

‘The doctor will do his best to be with you at nine, but you may have to wait while he finishes up with other patients.’

‘That will be fine, I can wait,’ Mulder said, almost sheepishly. ‘I’ll wait.’

‘Ok. We’ll see you soon, Mr Mulder.’

‘Uh- sorry, is everything ok?’

There was a tense pause where words were bitten down. He could tell that she wanted to say something stern, something true, but she held back. The line crackled between them.

‘The doctor would just like to see you in person.’

She hung up promptly, and he tried not to dwell on the judgement of a stranger, one who could never understand their situation.

‘What is it?’ Scully asked breathlessly.

‘The doctor wants to see me, for an update..’

He studied her expression carefully, watching the twitch of her eyes as she bit her lower lip and nodded.

‘What does that mean?’

‘Well, I don’t know, Mulder,’ she said sternly. ‘We need to go down there and find out.’

Thoughts clouded her mind, ugly, final things she refused to share with him. They could at least drive to the hospital in some state of blissful ignorance. They could have that.

The journey was over too quickly though, and Mulder was leading her out of the parking lot and through the double doors. Scully felt afraid, the dread of having no presence in a busy building, now all-consuming.

She could tell that he was avoiding touching her too much, as they were free to do in private but not here, where eyes would see him grasping at the air.

‘You coming in?’ he asked in a low murmur with a brush of their pinky fingers as they got to her floor.

She shook her head slowly and he nodded in understanding.

She wasn’t ready to see herself, to see her cold and lifeless body again, so they parted ways at the reception desk and she let herself drift down the familiar, comfortable halls of a busy hospital.

She hovered at the nurses station for a few moments, listening to the clacking of computer keys and the squeak of sneakers against a well-worn floor.

Charts were flipped closed and busily shoved into boxes right in front of her eyes and she ached to flip them back open again. To read, to scan the pages and diagnose, to see patterns and clues fall neatly into place. She ached to contribute something to the commotion, but a flare of frustration drowned it all out and she drifted again, passing through a door without a thought about where it might lead.

‘Did you see that piece-of-shit husband showed up finally?’ a nurse muttered with a mug of coffee held up in front of her mouth.

Scully froze and turned to face the pair, leaning against the counter in scrubs, in a cramped little break room. She recognised the scene so well.

‘Oh, that tall guy? He’s finally back?’

‘Yeah, let’s see if he stays for a full hour this time,’ the first nurse said with a roll of her eyes between sips.

‘Her poor mother has been here every single day, but him? Not a peep. And yet he won’t let them honour her DNR order.’

Scully felt a hot pit of anger in her stomach, watching them discuss Mulder as though he wasn’t willing to go to the ends of the earth for her. They didn’t know him, and this moment felt suddenly cruel. She wished her voice would work in rooms like this.

‘If she wakes up, I hope she divorces him.’

‘Oh, hon, she’s not waking up,’ she replied sadly before turning to rinse her mug out.

Scully shut her eyes and blinked back the tears that ached to spill. She turned and fled blindly through the walls, unnoticed.