Archive of Our Own

Title: Consent
Author: Grey
E-mail: [email protected]
Rating: NC-17--for explicit language, violence and rape.
Category: SA
Spoilers: Irresistible.
Keyword: M/Sk, Slash, Rape

Archive: Okay to archive at MKRA/MSSS and anywhere else as long as my name stays attached and none of the text is altered.

Warning: This story deals with rape. Though the rape scene is graphic, the main focus of the story is the recovery from trauma. This piece also contains explicit language and situations, and strongly suggests the possibility of child abuse and molestation. This is a very dark ride, my friends. Avoid reading this if any of that is too offensive.

Disclaimer: These characters started with CC and I bow to him. Now, I'm borrowing.

Notes: 1. Words found in italics indicate internal POV.

2- I stole the idea at the very end about the spaces between stars from a Robert Frost poem called "Desert Places", so that's why it probably sounds familiar.

3-This monster child started out gen and then the slash buzz hit and I had to change it. It's really more pre-slash and there's no explicit sex between M/Sk. In fact, there's a lot more conversation between Mulder and Scully than our boys. If you're reading for a quick thrill, forget about it. Hell, the guys are so damn shy, they hardly even touch, but there's lots of UST. Will there be a sequel? Maybe. Frankly, the way my mind's been fucking with me lately, I wouldn't be surprised.

---

Consent
by Grey
[email protected]

---

FBI Headquarters Friday evening

"Go home, Mulder." Scully frowned as her partner remained hunched over the most recent batch of horrific crime scene photos. Agreeing to be temporarily loaned out to Behavioral had been a mistake, not because they couldn't eventually solve the case, but because it was having a devastating effect on Mulder. If his actions recently were a pattern, no wonder he cringed anytime someone brought up the early Spooky Days. She worried about his unhealthy pallor and the fact that not only had he not been eating, he was obviously not sleeping either.

"Mulder, I said you need to go home for awhile, and don't sit over there pretending you don't hear me."

"I hear you, Scully. I'm just not ready to go home right now."

"And pray tell, when might you be ready? You haven't been home for at least two nights because those are the backup clothes you keep in your locker."

Mulder looked up and removed his glasses. "Now, how do you know that?"

"I'm a trained investigator, Mulder. I notice little things like that."

Mulder gave a weak grin, and rubbed his blood-shot eyes. "Yeah, well, I'd like to go home, but there's something here I'm not seeing. I need to stick with it awhile longer. It's bound to come to me."

"The only thing that's going to come of you staying here much longer is my undying aggravation because I have to drag your sorry butt to the infirmary." Before Mulder could argue, she raised a quick hand. "I don't want to fight, Mulder. You know I'm right. Obsessing to the point of collapse is not going to find this psychopath any faster. It might even slow you down. You get tired, you make mistakes. You know this."

Grudgingly Mulder accepted defeat. "Okay, Doc. Tell you what. Let me get some of these files together and I'll go home and be a good boy for the night."

"No files."

"I'm not going without the files. Look, Scully, I know you mean well. It's that doctor part that's always there to watch out for me, but I can take care of myself." Seeing his partner tilt her head in doubt, he continued before she could interrupt, "I wouldn't be able to sleep at all if I left them here. You know how I am. I'd be running back over here before I got in my door."

"There are treatments for Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Mulder."

"Yeah, but how many treatments are there for profilers who need those tools to solve the cases no one else can?"

Leaning back, Scully admitted, "You have a point. But seriously, Mulder. It hurts to watch you whip yourself like this."

"You volunteering for duty, Scully?"

"In your dreams, Mulder." Returning to her serious tone, she continued,

"You're right. I know exactly how you are. You literally make yourself sick to solve these god awful cases. It scares me, that's all."

"It scares me, too, Scully."

"But not for the same reason. Sometimes I think I care more about how you treat yourself, than you do yourself. Why is that?"

"Because you're a doctor, Scully. It's your nature to worry. Me, I just do whatever I have to do to get the case solved. It hasn't killed me yet."

Scully snorted, "Yeah, well that doesn't seem to be for the lack of trying. Okay, take your precious files, but promise me you'll eat and get some rest. It's not normal to go 72 hours without sleeping and not eat enough calories to keep a gnat alive."

"A gnat, Scully?"

"You heard me. Don't deflect. Promise me you'll eat and go to bed."

"Promise."

Mulder started to turn to get the folders, but Scully reached over and pulled him around. "Show me your hands, Mulder."

Surprised, Mulder looked down at his short partner. "What are you talking about now, Scully?"

"I just want to make sure your fingers aren't crossed behind your back, Mulder. Now promise me for real, silly man."

He gave a sheepish grin, "Promise, Mom."

8PM that same Friday

Mulder went home, stacked the files on his desk, and quickly changed into running sweats. He was too wired to eat. He needed to run. He found that the back roads carried less traffic on Friday nights. There was enough light to see, but not enough to distract. He needed to run, to get away from the bloody images of the ten little dark-haired girls that kept flashing in his mind. Each tiny body blinked to pin point clarity, no bigger than 50 pounds, each one stripped and sliced, the bottom part of each body skinned and the undeveloped genitals mutilated, each girls' nipple sliced off leaving pitiful dark holes. Mulder ran to erase the horror of the chestnut curls that wrapped angelic faces spoiled by a grotesque and unnatural death. What monster would he have to become to catch this evil son of a bitch?

Careful, Mulder. Just forget about it. Forget about it for just one goddamn night.

So, Mulder ran and ran until his legs trembled. He ran to forget the voice of a sister he couldn't protect or rescue. He continued to run to drown out the curses and the blows that his father delivered time and time again as righteous punishment for his failures. So many failures , so many beatings crowded in sometimes that he couldn't run fast or far enough, but he continued to try.

Normally when he was rested and fed, he could run for hours without muscle cramps. Tonight he'd run less than an hour before the twitching worked its way through his calves, up to his thighs, and deep into his groin. He ignored the pain and continued to run.

As it started to rain, the slick pavement became treacherous, so he slowed to avoid slipping in the low light. That's when he saw the headlights coming up from behind. He waved the driver on. As the dark van started around, the sudden sharp sting exploded to fire in the small of his back. Damn, what is that?

Mulder stopped running and reached around. There was something there, something like a small dart. Double damn

The world suddenly got so much colder, so much darker, but not so dark that he couldn't see that the van had gone only slightly ahead and pulled over to the shoulder of the road. Mulder felt himself drop to the wet pavement, concrete scraping against his knees and legs, biting into his bare palms. He couldn't hold himself up. He heard the slam of a car door, the crunch of gravel, and a voice. "Well, Fox, fall down, did we?"

Mulder wanted so much to get up and run some more, but the world was just too damn far away.

Later at a location unknown

Mulder awoke to blackness and a swirling nausea. He tried to roll over to stop the gagging, but only managed to turn onto his side. He didn't vomit, but his gut and throat screamed fire. He prayed to run. Cold cuffs cut his wrists and held his hands above his head to a metal headboard. He heard the clinking sound and registered the denting of the mattress below him. He hated being blindfolded, and, god, his stomach hurt. He pulled his legs up to help lessen the pain in his abdomen and realized he wasn't wearing his sweats, only briefs and a tee-shirt.

Icy air licked his skin. Now that his head stopped pounding, he could hear the ceiling fan as it delivered a chilling draft from above. Damn, I'm freezing. What the fuck's going on?

He tried to shift himself into a smaller ball to conserve his own body heat. He had no idea where he was or what was going on, but pretty obviously this was not a good thing.

A shuffling sound and a quiet cough came from the left. Cautiously he asked, "Who are you?"

He waited, his gut tight with a new spasm. After about a minute a voice finally answered, "I'm glad you're awake, Fox. I've been waiting so long for this, though I must say I did enjoy watching you sleep. You're quite beautiful when you sleep, you know."

Oh, shit, mother fucker's crazy. He's going to hurt me bad, I already know.

Mulder ignored the mad dog barking in his brain and tried to keep his voice steady. "You didn't answer my question. Who are you?"

A sudden shock ran across his back with the sharp slap of belt against skin. "Don't ask me questions, Fox. I'll ask the questions." Another smack landed lower across his exposed thighs. "Do you understand?"

Teeth chattering from the cold and the suddenness of the pain, Mulder nodded. Three slaps hit his back again. Fists pounded into his kidneys. A wide hand slapped his ass. "Answer me, Fox. Share your wonderful voice. Do you understand?"

"Yes." Another blow and then the belt hit his thighs again. Mulder tried to move away by stretching out his legs and kicking, but large hands grabbed and pulled him over. While one hand held him face down on the mattress, a fist hit him twice again in the lower back.

When the hand eased up, the voice hissed quietly, "Please, don't make me have to hurt you, Fox. I have no desire to cause you any pain and I won't if you don't make me. Now, when you answer, my beautiful young thing, you will say sir. Do you understand?"

Tears salted the side of Mulder's face as he managed, "Yes, sir, I understand."

The hand stroked the dark hair and then rolled Mulder over onto his aching back. The hand continued to pet Mulder's hair while the other hand rubbed his chest. He couldn't help the shiver that came over him. The hand didn't stop, but the voice whispered, "You are an incredibly beautiful boy. Do you know how truly delicious you are, my dear Fox?"

Fuck, the guy is too crazy

Before he could think of what to answer the voice continued, "Of course, you don't. That's part of the reason why you're so attractive. You are so totally unaware of yourself and how you affect others."

The larger body shifted down to the bed beside him. "You're cold, aren't you. Would you like to be warmer? You have to tell me when you need something, Fox. Tell me what you need, dear boy."

"I would like some clothes and to get these cuffs off."

A hard slap against his chest and his hair being yanked back took his breath away. "I told you, Fox, you have to say sir and with a request you have to say please. Why do you make me hurt you like this? Please don't make me bruise such a wonderful body." Rough fingers pinched his right nipple as the other huge hand pushed against his throat, first tightly, but then ever so teasingly.

"I'm sorry, sir. I just want to be released from these cuffs and to have some clothes please, sir."

The stroking of the hair started again. "Very nice. See, you can be polite. I am sorry though. I can't get rid of the cuffs quite yet. As for your clothes. I had to remove them. They were all wet and muddy from your little tumble. You have to be more careful running along the streets at night, my lovely Fox."

"You shot me with something."

A rough hand grabbed his balls.

Oh, fuck, please, mother of god, don't let this be real The squeezing stopped when Mulder gagged and choked on his own bile.

"Don't vomit, Fox. I'd hate to have to clean you up again. Now, I've warned you about not using sir. I hope you don't make me hurt you much more than this. You have to be more careful with your tone. You know about discipline, Fox."

His voice tight, air constricted, Mulder whispered, "Yes, sir, I do know about that."

"Better, dear boy." A soft blanket came up slowly across Mulder's legs. It stopped at the waist. An arm helped reposition him almost upright so that his captor's arm caged his neck. His body trembled, leaning back against the larger man's chest. Heated breath, burned an air trail across his cheek. Muscles and deep tissue shuddered and stretched the bones to breaking.

"Would you like to hear my plans, dear Fox?"

Son of a bitch is a crazy motherfucker and I'm in one hell of a lot of trouble. Please, Walter, wish you could find me now, like before this fucking nightmare goes one step further.

The pinch of his right nipple brought him back. "Answer, my sweet."

"Yes, sir. Please tell me about your plans." Jesus Christ, let me be totally wrong about what's going to happen here.

"You know I've been watching you for years now, since before you were even in Washington. I knew your father."

Mulder stiffened as if the man had struck him. Double fuck "You knew my father?"

The man pinched his ear before he said, "You are such a stubborn little man. Say sir."

Mulder took a deep breath. "How did you know my father, sir?"

A hand slipped under Mulder's shirt and stroking began, slow circles and then gentle lines down the middle of his abdomen. "I worked with him."

Holy Fuck, not another one.

"You know I hate to say this about a man responsible for bringing such a lovely being into the world but your father was quite an asshole."

Takes one to know one.

After a short pause, the voice continued. "Of course, everyone knew how he treated you, but no one would do anything. Despite the fact that he was such a son of a bitch, he did have a lot of power. He had a real tight grip on the balls of the country."

The rubbing of his chest stopped. A hand caressed the side of his face and softly brushed back stubbornly wayward hair. "I wanted to do something, but I was ordered not to. I'm so sorry about that. I've done a lot of bad things in my life, Fox, things I'm not proud of, but I suppose that's probably one of the worst, letting that SOB abuse you with impunity like he did."

Mulder wanted to pull away, to wrap himself under the cover of the total darkness he felt. He refused to let himself remember his father. He couldn't let himself remember the touches or the pain. God, the pain.

The man gripped him more tightly. "I fell in love with you when you were a child, Fox. I know that sounds sick.

Damn straight, babyfucker

But I thought of it as a special bond. I never acted on it until now."

Mulder tried to keep his voice even. "So, why are you acting on it now, sir?"

"Because it's time, Fox. I let you go off to Oxford and watched you about kill yourself in BSU. Then you started on the X-Files. My god, you are a blaze of passion when you work. It's inspiring to watch, but I have to say, watching just isn't enough anymore. Things are changing. I need more. You need more."

"More what, sir?"

Lips pressed down against his cheek and fingers lightly brushed against his lips. A hand slipped beneath the covers, past the elastic band to stroke his cock. "More of this, my lovely boy. More of this."

Fuck. Walter, would you please show up about now. I would be forever in your debt.

His cock defied him and began to respond to the touch. He hated himself and the man holding him. "Please, sir, don't do that."

The hand stopped. "You don't like it? Your body says you like it a lot."

My body is a fucking traitor "I don't like it, sir."

"I'd never do anything without your consent, Fox. Believe me, I won't hurt you unless you make me and I won't make love to you unless you allow it. I'm not a rapist."

Just a kidnapper and a sadist "I'd like to go home, sir."

A firestorm blazed through his right shoulder as the man jerked his arm back up behind him, forcing it beyond the limits of the cuffs. "I hate it when people make me to do things like that, Fox. Why is it so hard to understand and accept how much I love you. I want you? I have to make you realize just how important you are to me." He let Mulder's shoulder come back into a more comfortable position, but the burning ache continued. "Let me tell you more about what I've seen of your life lately, Fox."

"I won't change my mind, sir."

A quick shift brought the sound of a metal lid opening followed by the strong scent of wintergreen. A cool liquid spread across his nipples, and a breezy sensation floated across his chest. "Oh, I think you'll change your mind, Fox. Did I forget to mention how fond I am of your Agent Scully?"

Goddamn, mother fucker. Don't let him have Scully. "What about Scully?

Sharp fingernails scraped a path down the center of his exposed belly. A sharp intake of breath came before he managed to say, "What about Scully, sir?"

A damp cloth ran along the scratches on his stomach, a clash of cold against the sticky warm trail. The man beside him chuckled as he continued to clean up his captive. The heavier man leaned in tighter before he finally spoke. "Got your attention, eh, Fox? You can fool others, but I KNOW how you feel about Scully. I mean, who wouldn't want to fuck her? She is a lovely little bitch."

Mulder clenched his jaw, barely containing the army of raw words ready to fight. "Yes, I've seen how you look at her when you think no one can see. Tell me, little Fox, do you see her lovely pussy in your mind when jerk yourself off at night? Do you taste her sweet thick juices as you imagine sucking on her clit, stroking her ass with your fingers? Do you see yourself fucking her tiny tight ass with that wonderful cock of yours, Fox? Tell me how you want her, Fox."

Mulder yanked at the cuffs, pulling himself away with all his strength only to be flipped and pinned back down against the bed, the side of his face pushed into the mattress. The man lay stretched out on top of him. The weight crushed his air away as a tongue licked his ear. A husky voice whispered, "You want her to be safe, Fox? Do you want the power to protect your precious Scully? Well, do you, Fox?"

Mulder could barely breathe, the man's bulk an ugly hand across his life. "Yes, sir."

Roughly holding Mulder down with one hand, he used the other to remove the briefs. Then he leaned back in, grinding his hips and erect cock against Mulder's rear as he edged his legs further apart. "I snatched you easily, Fox. I could have her here in no time. I could be the one fucking her while you watched. I could drape her across the bed and spread those tight cheeks. She'd cry out and moan when I leaned in and ripped her open, my hungry cock ramming full force into that tight little round ass of hers." Aroused by his own words, the man pushed harder against Mulder's rear. "She'd let me do it with her consent, Fox."

Tears streaked the young man's face as his assailant's erection pressed into him. This is going to hurt like a motherfucker for sure. "No, sir, she wouldn't."

He suddenly pushed Mulder's knees forward. Strong arms wrapped around his waist and grabbed his cock, stroking it roughly. "Oh, but she would, Fox, she would. She would let me to save you. Won't you do the same for her?"

"I don't understand, sir."

"Save her, Fox. Keep her safe. Let me fuck you, and I promise to leave her alone. I swear it. Your Scully would be yours, safe forever."

God, the crazy bastard is nuts. God, let me just die now.

His abused cock withered and refused to respond to the intense, torturous stroking. The man behind him shifted awkwardly and raised Mulder's hips higher. "Sir, please don't do this."

"Not even for Scully? I told you, Fox. I won't make love to you unless you give consent, but I could fuck Scully's ass instead. I could suck her sweet juices and make her cry. Do you want that? Do you, Fox?"

God no. I can't let him hurt Scully. I can do this. I can do this for Scully. God, help me do this without choking to death.

"Don't you love her, Fox? I would've sworn you did, but if I'm wrong, just tell me. I don't have to do this to you. Her sweet pussy and excellent ass would be safe with me. Just tell me what to do, Fox, and I'll do it."

"Do you promise not to hurt her, sir?"

"You have my word, Fox. Now tell me, do I fuck you or do I fuck Scully?"

"Fuck me."

The man shoved a finger into Mulder's ass, using the pumping action and lube to get the tight opening ready. "That's sir, Fox. Say it. Say you want me to fuck you."

The taste of copper coated his tongue as Mulder bit his lip until it bled. "Please, sir, fuck me, not Scully."

Two fingers and then three pushed into him violently. Strong hands pulled his hips back and Mulder rolled in a wave of nausea as the tip of the thick cock pressed into him. Flames seared flesh, tissues burned to ash. A world of red blaze fired through his back up through his brain to cauterized sealed lids too dry to tear.

"Oh my beautiful boy. You have no idea how long I've waited for you to let me do this." Even more intense burning brought on cramps and spasms shaking down his legs as the man rammed forward. The heat and pain took his breath away. His back arched and he cried out. The pumping began. Harder.

Goddamn son of bitch is going to kill me. I'm going to split apart. Sweet Jesus, it hurts.

Muscles tore as every brain cell collapsed and melted to agony. The relentless attack ripped through veins and thin tissue.

Mother fucker I hope you die. I want you to die. And then I want to die, too.

His attacker grabbed his cock again, stroking it in a matching rhythm to his own brutal pumping. Raw pain swamped his shoulder, teeth tearing into him, ripping away flesh. Suddenly shoving forward and settling still, his captor climaxed. Without warning, dizziness overwhelmed him. He retched nothing but bile, but the dry heaving continued until the man finally withdrew. The warm cum and blood leaked down his thighs and soaked the bed beneath his damaged body.

Slowly the heavy weight shifted off his back allowing a damp chill to sweep over him. A hand fumbled with the cuffs and one of his hands fell with release. He immediately raised himself enough to wipe the slime from his mouth. A damp cloth brushed against his lips. "I'm sorry, Fox. You aren't well. I should've realized. Here, drink this." A straw snaked it's way into his mouth. Thirsty, he sucked on what tasted like cola, but not quite. "Come on, my lovely boy, drink it all now."

"Please, let me go, sir."

A cool hand lightly touched his forehead as he turned over onto his back. A few moments passed before a breathy voice spoke. "Soon, Fox. I'll take you home soon. Right now, you need to rest. I swear I never wanted you to be hurt by this. I really didn't. The pain won't last long, and then you'll understand why I had to do it. Someday you'll thank me. Just go to sleep. Things will be better soon. Trust me, Fox."

Mulder didn't notice how dark and deep the hole was until he fell into it.

---

Sunday 11 P.M. Mulder's Apartment

Another headache pounded until Mulder woke up. Everything hurt including his soul. This time he wasn't blindfolded and he wasn't handcuffed to anything. He was back in his sweats and he was stretched out on his own couch.

Christ, what a fucking nightmare He sat up and fought against the dizziness. On the coffee table was a note.

Dear Fox, I'm watching. Just remember, you belong to me. Any time. Any place. Yours, Lover

Fucking shit Mulder barely made it to the toilet before he heaved. Of course, he hadn't eaten anything in forever, so only air and what felt like his entire insides came up.

Anytime. Any place. Fuck. It's never safe. God, don't let this ever happen to Scully.

It hurt to sit down. It hurt to stand.

You're a shitty mess, Mulder. Straighten up and do something for Christsakes.

He put his hand to his throat and tried to swallow without choking. It wasn't easy. Glancing in the mirror, haunted eyes starred back. A dark bruise encircled his neck. He shook his head trying to clear the fog, but failed miserably. He wanted to remember what happened, but he didn't want to remember. Calling down the whispers of oblivion, he shoved away the temptation of shattering glass.

He fumbled with his sticky clothes and stripped off.

Burn those mothers later.

Awkwardly he managed to get into the shower and let the hot water wash over him. He lathered soap over his exhausted body, letting the suds sting the bite, the scratches, and all around his ass. He could hardly bring himself to touch his bruised and swollen cock. He watched the pink suds swirl away down the drain. In the back of his mind, Mulder realized he must be bleeding, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered. He knew there would never be enough hot water or soap to ever make him feel clean again.

He leaned against the slippery tile and let himself slide down to the bottom of the stall. After awhile the water started to turn colder and he just crouched there, dizzy to spinning with the memories that tried to swallow him alive. It took way too much energy to turn off the water, too much energy just to breathe. He wrapped his long arms around his chest as the uncontrollable shaking began. To finish it all would be so easy.

Where the hell is my fucking gun?

Monday Morning 7:30 A.M. FBI Headquarters.

Scully walked into the office, coffee in hand, not at all surprised to find Mulder sitting behind his desk as if he'd never left. She'd just heard about how he'd sent a bulletin up to Skinner with the name of the most likely suspect. Leave it to Mulder to break the case while no one was looking. What stopped her cold at the office door was the shocking appearance of her partner. He'd obviously cut his lip badly, he needed a shave, and his skin color was tinged a sickly gray.

"Jesus, Mulder, you look like shit."

"Nice language to start the work week, Scully. A good morning or have a nice weekend would've been plenty."

"Yeah, but it wouldn't have made the point. I'm serious, Mulder. What did you do, work all weekend after you promised to rest?"

Mulder dropped his hands down under the desk so she couldn't see them tremble.

It's a little hard to rest when you're being raped by some crazed mother fucker. Hell, Saturday disappeared altogether.

Without looking up from the documents on his desks, he simply said. "I did the best I could, Scully. I wanted to finish this profile before the meeting with the team at nine. I was up all night and had a breakthrough on some of the evidence. I sent a recommendation up to Skinner right before you got here." Nervously he shuffled the papers and picked up a pen. "I think I've got a handle on the details, if I could just have little bit more time alone with it."

"Don't mind me, Mulder. It's not like this is my office, too."

Mulder brought his hand to his face careful that the cuffs didn't slip and reveal the dark bruising around his wrists. He tried to keep from wincing at the pain in his shoulder, but didn't quite manage it. His back ached from the bruised kidneys and he wasn't all that comfortable sitting down. "I'm sorry, Scully. I know it's your office, too.

Please God don't let her see me break

"I just need to focus on this."

Scully came over to her partner and placed a hand on his shoulder. He jerked away as if burnt, but she controlled her concern by keeping her voice neutral. "Mulder, tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing, Scully. I'm just tired, that's all."

Not believing a word, she just nodded. Gee, Mr. Toughguy, if that's the way you want to play it, but don't think I'm not going to be watching you like a hawk on this.

"Sure, Mulder, whatever you say. I'll just go over here and sit quietly while you mastermind your profile so you can dazzle us with your genius come nine o'clock."

When there was no witty comeback, Scully searched his face again for some clue to what was going on with her best friend and partner. It hurt to look at his face. It was so incredibly sad. "Mulder, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that the way it sounded. I'm just worried about you is all."

Still keeping his head down and avoiding eye contact, he barely answered. "I know, Scully."

God, if you only knew. "Don't worry so much. I'll be fine."

Yeah, like it's anybody's fucking business how truly screwed up I am right this very minute.

"Well, I'm going down and talk to Connors before the meeting. If you change your mind and want to talk, let me know."

"Sure." Jesus, just leave, Scully. Just leave before I lose it all.

No sooner had Scully left the room and Mulder was in the john throwing up the little bit of coffee he'd been able to force down. His throat throbbed, scalded and raw. Then when he'd gotten the retching under control, he discovered that he was also passing blood in his urine.

Fucking wonderful. It must have been the blows to the kidneys before I got the Sir down right. Son of a bitch. It's not bad enough I'm still dripping blood out my ass, now I can't even piss. Even my prick is black and blue. Like I really need to let a doctor look at me right now. One look and he'd know, she'd know, then Skinner would know, too. Fuck. Walter can never know.

Before he left he bathroom, he turned to check himself in the mirror only to see what Scully saw, a disaster. He did look like shit. His lip was bleeding again. His eyes were bloodshot with dark circles surrounded by dark circles. No wonder Scully worried when she saw him. He's seen better looking corpses on her tables.

Bloody hell, I'll act like I've got a bug or something. Yeah, or something all right.

He tightened his tie up around the high collar that hid the wide bruising around his neck. It was hard enough to swallow the first time. He was going to have to get over all this puking before he ripped something important. Damn, breathe, man, breathe.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. "Hey, Mulder, you in there?" It was Connors from the team. "Come on out, Spooky. Scully sent me down to check on you."

He took a deep breath, tried a weak smile, and opened the door. "Yeah, and when Scully says go fetch, you go fetch, right, Connors?"

The young man looked at Mulder, the shock not very well disguised. "Hey man, you look rough. You got that bug that's been going around or what?"

"Flu bugs have no respect for government officials, Connors."

"Yeah, sort of like the rest of the world. But seriously, maybe if you're going to puke or faint, you ought to go home."

"And let you and Scully take all the credit for this praiseworthy profile I'm about to present. No way. I do need to go back and get it off my desk though. Go on back to Scully and the rest and tell them I'll be there in just a minute."

Connors noticed Mulder's unsteady hands and registered the bruising. He'd seen it too many times on victims not to recognize the classic presentation caused by restraints. Connors had heard all the stories about Spooky and he was living up to most of them. He didn't even want to imagine what was going on with this man, so instead he just looked away uneasily. "Sure, Mulder. Whatever you say."

Mulder watched the newcomer head back up the stairs and then looked down at his hands. His blood sugar was dropping. He needed something to eat, but just the thought of food made him want to head back into the toilet. Maybe some nice, flat ginger ale would do the trick.

There has to be some of that shit around here somewhere. It's a goddamn federal building for christsakes. Don't let me pass out in front of the whole group. Please god have mercy on a poor whipped soul. Nobody listening? Yeah, well, like's that's new.

9:10 in a Meeting room

Mulder walked into the room with a folder in one hand and a soda in the other. Around the table sat six agents besides Scully. Walter Skinner sat at the end facing where Mulder would be seated.

Oh shit. Scully, please say you didn't call him. Damn. Let me faint and be dead already.

"Sorry I'm late. I needed to get a few more notes and make some more copies. Did everybody get those?"

AD Skinner nodded and said, "We've all read over them, Agent Mulder. How can you be so sure that the man we're looking for is this Todd McGraw? It's amazing that no one ever made the connection before."

"Not really, sir." Mulder felt himself unconsciously cringe at the word sir.

Get over it, Mulder. It's going to be a fucking long life if you have a seizure every time you use the word. It's not him. It's Walter. Move on.

Skinner noticed the Mulder's stiff posture and obvious discomfort. He wanted more than anything to be alone with the man, to comfort him, to make sure he was all right. Of course, that would never happen, so he decided just to keep going, business as usual.

"Explain, Agent Mulder. I've had a warrant issued for this man based on your profile and recommendation. I want an absolutely clear picture before anyone goes toe to toe with the suspect."

Mulder placed his drink and folders on the table and took a deep breath before he began speaking. "No one made the connection to McGraw before now, because he was really careful about the clues he left. He wanted to be caught, just not right away. At every site he left just a bit more of himself. I outlined the progression on the list. I suppose what made it leap out at me was at the last crime scene. On all the previous sites the crowd shots were pretty full. I noticed this guy showing up in some of the photos, but on the last scene, he was in every shot, almost like he was posing for the camera. He even gave a statement to one of the first cops on the scene. When I searched to find out who the guy was, I found McGraw. I also found that he'd given a statement at two of the earlier scenes, but under different names. When I searched his background, I found out that he was the son of a minister who had been convicted of murder and rape of 4 little girls including McGraw's sister Amy. He's repeating what he probably witnessed as a boy. He hates what he does, but can't seem to stop himself. That's why he's moving closer and closer, trying to get our attention."

"And when did you discover all this Mulder?"

"Last night, sir. I couldn't sleep and I knew there was something there. It was staring right at me all along. I just didn't see it."

AD Skinner shook his head and marveled at the brilliance that saw the tiny hint of twist against the greater curves. Mulder could track the devil into his own haunted nest and survive. "I put out the warrant an hour ago. McGraw should be in custody by the end of the day."

"I'm just sorry I didn't catch on sooner. The clues were there. I should've seen them."

Scully jumped in before anyone else could speak, "Don't be ridiculous, Mulder. We all looked at the same evidence and came up with nothing even close to this.

Connors seconded her vote. "She's right, Mulder. You're the one who should get the credit for getting that sicko off the streets."

Mulder shook his head and whispered, "If I'd seen it sooner, the last few victims could've been saved. I should've made the connection at least two little girls sooner." As Mulder turned to leave, Skinner's voice stopped him.

"Agent Mulder, wait. I'd like to see you for a few minutes. The rest of you, except for Agent Scully may leave. Agent Connors, please inform me when word of McGraw's arrest comes through."

"Yes, sir."

The rest of the team left the room quietly and Skinner shut the door. "Sit down, Agent Mulder."

Slowly Mulder eased himself into the chair, but his stiffness was more than obvious to both the other people in the room. "Agent Mulder, would you like to tell me what's going on with you?"

Mulder refused to look up, he cheeks growing more pale as he sat there wondering just how far Walter would push and how much energy he would need to stay in one piece. "I'm not sure what you mean, sir."

"Bullshit, Mulder."

Mulder looked up, shocked by Walter's harsh words and tone. Even when his boss had been really outraged about one of Mulder's private little excursions, he'd never used that word before, at least not in the office. Mulder looked over at Scully who remained way too quiet for his liking. Her arms were crossed and she looked at him with that look she got whenever she was going to do something that he was really going to hate, but was for his own good.

Shit. What has she done?

"I really am fine, sir. I appreciate your concern, but as you can see I've been working really hard to close this case, and I'm just a little tired. I might even have a touch of that flu that's going around, but nothing else."

"The flu, Agent Mulder? Did the flu chew up half your lip or make you walk around looking like you went fifteen rounds with Muhammad Ali in his prime? I don't think so. I think you went and got yourself in some trouble this weekend and, as usual, you don't want any help. Well, that's not going to work this time."

Scully jumped in. "Mulder, you obviously are in a lot of pain. You can't keep anything down. You look like you're going to fall down any minute. Connors said he heard you vomiting again. You know there aren't any secrets around here when it comes to people retching in the restrooms. It's not like you can do that sort of thing quietly." Scully's voice got softer before she continued, "And, Mulder, your cuffs aren't long enough to cover those bruises on your wrists. You are not well, but it's not the flu. You have to talk to someone."

"Is that why you went running to Skinner?

"Agent Scully did not come to me about this, Mulder. I have eyes and I know my agents. I'm responsible for you. Right now my main concern is to find out if you're going to pass out on us or not."

Mulder gripped the edge of the table and tried to keep his voice level, reminding himself that both these people were really concerned about him. "With all due respect, sir. I am not that sick nor am I in any trouble. I just want to finish this case and go home."

Skinner crossed his arms, a matched set to Scully's stance. "Okay, Agent Mulder, I'll make a deal with you. Take off your shirt and let Agent Scully examine you and if she doesn't find evidence of a pretty significant beating, you can go home with my apologies for jumping to conclusions."

Mulder swallowed hard before he spoke. "Look, sir, I did fall while I was out running this weekend, so yeah, I'm a little stiff. No big deal. It was a stupid accident and I didn't want to say anything."

With deep concern in her voice, Scully pleaded, "Mulder, why are you lying about this? What's going on?"

Not daring to look up, his shaky hands held down in his lap below the table, Mulder just whispered, "I'm not lying, Scully. I did fall. Please, just let it drop. I promise that I'm really okay."

God, Walter, don't look at me like that. Just go away.

"Let Agent Scully examine you, Mulder, or I'm putting you on immediate sick leave until another physician has seen and released you." Mulder shook his head stubbornly, but Skinner persisted. "I'm not making any deals about this."

Mulder waited a moment, weighing his options and finally nodded in defeat, "Okay, but I don't want Scully to do the exam."

Skinner and Scully exchanged concerned looks and Skinner said hoarsely, "Okay, Mulder. We're going over to the infirmary."

"I can go by myself, sir."

"Sure you can, Mulder. I just need the exercise. Sitting behind a desk too long makes it hard to keep fit."

Mulder stood slowly and then looked up at Scully. "I'm sorry, Scully. I just can't talk about this."

"I know, Mulder."

Skinner moved in along side of Mulder before he turned to Scully and said, "Take care of things here for awhile."

"Yes, sir."

Scully held her breath while she watched the two men walk out of the room. She felt like the air had been stolen. AD Skinner walked tall beside Mulder who seemed to almost fold in on himself. "My god, Mulder, what's happened this time?"

An hour later

The doctor's report shocked Walter Skinner like the first glimpses of the holocaust. He clutched while pushing his rage back into its dark cage. Then he knocked before entering the room.

Mulder sat on the table, a mass of bruises across his back and a savage red bite on his shoulder.

God, and look at his throat. It's like he was half-strangled with a belt. Jesus, who can I kill? Damn what a mess.

"Agent Mulder, do you want to tell me what really happened now?"

"Not really, sir."

Skinner shifted nervously before he continued. "Dr. Merrick recommends that you go over to Georgetown Medical for a full exam since you refused to let him do one despite the fact that you're bleeding. He also says you're dangerously dehydrated, have blood in your urine from bruised kidneys, and that the bite is infected. You need fluids, but apparently can't keep anything down long enough to do much good and that you'll need antibiotics."

"Doctors are alarmists, sir. Haven't you noticed that?"

"Actually I haven't. I can't force you to tell me what happened, but I do need to make you take your doctor's advice. You're on medical leave until you are verified fit for duty. Now, get dressed and I'll drive you to the hospital."

Mulder reached for his shirt, but only made it part way there before he found himself doing a one-sided dance with the floor.

Jesus, Mulder. Pass out in front of the boss why don't you. Sure, why not. Why should he care? It's not like he hasn't seen it before.

---

Sometime later in Georgetown Medical

He woke up in a hospital bed with IV fluids being forced into his left arm. God, he was tired of waking up feeling so goddamned tired. What was the point of passing out if you didn't wake up feeling any better?

No damn point, Mulder. None at all.

"Mulder, how do you feel?" Scully's hand held his.

He jerked away and couldn't bring himself to look at her. "I'm okay, Scully."

God, I'm so damn dirty. How can I ever let her touch me again?

"Sure you are, Mulder. Maybe if you say that enough times we'll all believe it."

"I'm sorry, Scully. I don't know what to say. I just want to be left alone."

In her most practiced I'm going to humor you just for a little while, Mulder voice, she said, "Okay, Mulder. I'll be back a later when your fluids are up and your fever down."

As soon as she left, Mulder raised his free arm to cover his eyes. He wanted oblivion. He needed to not think and yet all he could do was think, think about the hands, the terrible thrusting, the awful consent he gave to keep Scully safe.

Please God, just let her be safe.

While he was lying there a nurse came in with a needle. He stopped her and asked, "What is that?"

"Just a little Valium to let you sleep. You need some more rest. Looks like you really haven't slept in awhile."

"I don't need it."

"Well, the doctor ordered it and you do need it."

"I have the right to refuse medication."

The middle-aged, slightly chunky nurse tilted her head and studied the young man in the bed. She had kind brown eyes, but a no-nonsense tone. "Sure, honey, you can refuse it, but then it'll probably take you longer to get out of this place. Then again maybe that's what you want. Do you like staying in hospitals? Seems like you make more visits than most."

"How would you know that?"

"Your medical file takes up most of the nurses' station.

"Oh."

"You need the shot, Mr. Mulder. You've been through a terrible experience and you need to get your strength back."

Mulder felt to exhausted to fight about it anymore. "Okay. You win."

She put the medication into his IV line and started to leave. "The counselor will be in to see you a little later after you wake up."

Mulder tightened up. "What counselor?"

"The rape counselor, Mr. Mulder. She can help if you let her. Now, just lie back and try to sleep."

Fuck. They knew. Double fuck. What about Scully? God please don't let her know. Dumb bastard that I am, I should've just gone on home and let Walter suspend me. God, Walter already knew. Damn, I'm really fucked. No shit.

The drug hit his system before he had much more time to worry about why Walter had left and stolen his gun.

Later that same evening.

Mulder awoke to bone-numbing cold and the sensation of his own teeth chattering. He tried to shift to a sitting position, but panicked when he discovered both wrists in leather restraints. "What the fuck's going on with this shit?"

Skinner's hand reached over and pushed Mulder back down in the bed. "Lie back, Mulder."

"What the hell's going on? Get these goddamn things off me." Mulder continued to struggle against the cloth bonds, while Skinner pushed the call button by the bed.

"Listen, Mulder, behave and don't go crazy about this. You were confused and not quite lucid for awhile there. You kept trying to pull out the IV's. They had to keep you restrained so you wouldn't hurt yourself anymore."

"Well, I'm awake and on full alert now, sir. Get them the hell off. NOW." Mulder dropped his head back on the pillow, flashes of being held down running through his mind. Tears slid down the sides of his face. "Jesus, Walter. Just get them off. Please."

Go crazy? A bit fucking late to worry about that little detail.

"Mulder, calm down. I know you're scared, but..."

"I'm not scared. I'm pissed. Get them off."

"I said settle down, Mulder. Listen to me. The doctor will be here in a minute. Just as soon as we're sure you won't pull anything out or try to get out of bed, he'll take them off. Just be patient."

"Fuck patience, sir. I've sort of used up my quota of that lately."

"Like you had big share before, Mulder."

The original intensity eased. Both men relaxed slightly, almost comfortable in their roles.

"Yeah, well, it never was one of my strongest features." His heartbeat slowing down, Mulder realized that having Walter Skinner there helped ease the free-floating fear swarming through his skin, diving through his deepest tissue. The AD made his world a tiny bit safer.

A middle-aged, dark-hair man wearing the doctor's white coat came in the room. Mulder didn't recognize him. Must be a new guy.

"Glad to see you're awake, Mr. Mulder. I'm Dr. Boysen. You had us going there for a minute."

"Get these restraints off, Doctor, before I get you going even more."

"Now, now, Mr. Mulder. You have to promise not to rip out anymore IV's. Nurses get a little irritated when they have to keep cleaning up blood sprays and restarting lines."

Fucking arrogant clown.

"I promise, Doc. Just get these things off. I have a thing about being tied down, okay." Mulder didn't fail to notice the serious exchange of looks between Boysen and Skinner.

Please don't fucking ask. Not yet, I just can't talk about this right now.

Dr. Boysen nodded for Skinner to do the right wrist, while he released the strap on the left and checked the line while he was at it. Mulder reached over and rubbed his sore left arm, noticing a whole row of new bruises.

Somebody must've had a fine old time while I was out cold. What a screw up this is.

"Better, Mr. Mulder?"

"Yeah, thanks, Doc. Now, when can I get out of here?

Boysen's face twisted with a touch of surprise. "Get out? I'm afraid that's not going to happen for a least 4 or 5 days. We'll have to wait and see how you respond to your medications and your treatments."

Panicked, chest tightening, Mulder shook his head, "Days? I can't stay here that long."

Skinner put a hand on Mulder's shoulder, but removed it at the automatic flinch. "Mulder, you've got some serious problems to deal with here. McGraw's in custody and has confessed. Your case is pretty well wrapped up. You've got no other pressing cases. There's time to rest and recuperate."

"I can rest at home, sir."

"Normally maybe, but not right now. I've got a 24-hour guard posted outside. You'll be safe here."

"I can take care of myself. I want to go home."

Dr. Boysen looked at his chart and then back at his uncooperative patient. "Mr. Mulder, before I go over just all the details about why it's so important for you to stay here awhile longer, would you like Mr. Skinner to leave?"

"Leave?" God, no.

"I'm an FBI agent, doctor. He's my boss. Anything you tell me, he probably already knows or will find out. There doesn't seem to be much point in his leaving now."

Dr. Boysen nodded and then took a deep breath. "I want you to listen very carefully, Mr. Mulder. You don't seem to understand the seriousness of some of your injuries. While you were unconscious, I had to do emergency surgery to repair the tears and stop the increased bleeding caused by the anal trauma you suffered. Didn't you notice the periodic hemorrhaging before?

"I thought it would stop." The voice sounded small, tripping over the simple words.

"Well, you lost several pints of blood and your blood pressure dropped to a dangerous level. I've put you on massive doses of antibiotic to avoid peritonitis and to treat the infected kidneys as well as the laceration to your shoulder. There is always the possibility that one or both of your kidneys could fail, one from trauma, one from previous damage. We have to monitor to prevent that. We've taken blood tests for HIV and STD's, but those aren't back yet. In addition, your fever is making it difficult to reduce the dehydration and in general I would say your overall state of exhaustion is not helping any aspect of your situation."

"So what you're saying is that I'm pretty much in shitty shape."

"Shitty is not exactly the medical term I would've used, but yes, I'd say that pretty much sums it up. I mean, when exactly was the last time you ate anything that stayed down?"

"Do sunflower seeds count?"

"About as much as air. I'm going to put you on a liquid, high-calorie diet for awhile."

"That would be the Ensure plan, right?"

Boysen shook his head, already frustrated. "Yeah. I see you're familiar with our routine. Sorry, but I don't think it comes in sunflower flavored yet." His expression sobered even more. "Mr. Mulder, based on your previous medical records you tend to neglect yourself and often have delayed your own recovery by refusing to eat. If you try that with me, I promise you that I will put in a feeding tube."

Mulder started to interrupt, but Boysen cut him off. "We have to build you up. If we can't get fluids and calories in you, the infections are harder to fight. And I'm not going to kid you. Your physical condition is not the only thing that concerns me."

Christ, here it comes. "Cure the body, Doc. I'll take care of my own mind, thank you."

Skinner's deep voice intruded on the conversation. "Mulder, I don't think this is going to be something you can take care of entirely on your own."

Mulder closed his eyes and hiding in the darkness behind the sealed lids. "Walter, I know you mean well, but this isn't something I can talk about."

The AD's voice caught for a moment, still surprised at the use of his first name. He recovered quickly and argued, but with a more calm tone. "Mulder, you've been assaulted. We need to file a report. We gathered evidence from your apartment, but you need to make a statement."

"You had no right to go into my apartment. Shit. You had no fucking right to do that."

"We had every right. A crime was committed against you, Mulder. When we catch this guy, physical evidence beyond your injuries and testimony could be crucial in putting the perp in prison."

Mulder closed his eyes and turned away. "I'm not making a statement. It's my decision and I'm not going to talk about it."

Skinner paused slightly, uneasy, and finding it difficult to find the right words. "You were violated in a terrible manner. I can't imagine what it must be like. There's no shame in needing help."

Mulder squeezed his lids harder trying to fight back more tears. Fuck, don't cry. Don't cry in front of Walter. Shit. Distance. Give me distance.

"Sir, I know what you're saying is true. In my mind I know it, but I don't feel it." He shook his head, his eyes still tightly shut. Words trembled on an unsteady air. "I just can't talk to anyone about what happened. Not yet, maybe never. I just can't. Please, Walter. I just can't."

"It's okay, Mulder. We can decide what to do later when you're better."

"No, sir. It's decided. Back off. I'm not going to talk about this. It's my life, my body. Just stay the fuck out of my business."

Boysen showed his concern for his patient's escalating distress and dangerous readings by retrieving a syringe and injecting a sedative directly into Mulder's IV. "Mulder, just calm down for now. No one's going to make you talk about anything right away."

"No one's going to make me do anything, Doctor. Just give me whatever fucking papers I need to sign and let me out of here." Mulder grabbed for his IV line and started to get out of bed. Skinner wrestled to control Mulder's hands.

"Settle down, Mulder."

"Leave me the fuck alone. Why can't everybody just mind their own goddamn business?" Struggling against Skinner's attempt to restrain him, he growled, "Get your hands off me, Walter. Don't fucking touch me!"

Valium slowed down his runaway, irregular breathing. His eyes suddenly lost focus as his head fell to the pillow and the rest of his body slumped back into the bed.

Boysen checked the readings and shook his head. "I'm afraid our Mr. Mulder has quite a difficult road ahead." As he placed Mulder's wrists back in the restraints, he looked over at Skinner and said, "You know I'm going to have to get psych to come in on this just to be safe. Based on what I've seen and read in his history, I can't take any chances. He may not be able to control himself for awhile.

"I understand, Doctor. Just do what you have to."

The assistant director gazed down at the sleeping man. Unconscious, he looked so much younger, and much too vulnerable. Sometimes when he least expected it, he found himself thinking of Mulder like some dark, tortured angel. He'd never known anyone so physically beautiful both in spirit and body, so tempting and so incredibly dangerous at the same time. Mulder dedicated all his passion to his job or his quest, leaving no room for personal connection. Walter respected the man's integrity and loyalty, but he feared for him like no other person in his life. Nobody he'd ever know suffered more than Mulder. Nobody had ever touched him so deeply as the melancholy force of nature lying before him. It never once occurred to him that he could fall in love with anyone who could swallow his very soul, devouring his very will and that he, Walter Skinner would beg to give even more.

AD Skinner shook his head, weary to his very bones. Damn, Mulder, we're both going to need some major backup on this one.

---

Mulder walked along a gray beach in Chilmark bare-footed and exposed. It was a low, dark November sky, the sun ashamed to show his sorry face. Along the shoreline corpses from all his past cases lay like so many rotting fish. Hundreds of children sprawled before him, some naked, some clothed, all pitiful in their helplessness. Women of all ages, arms and legs spread wide, wove themselves like dark straw amidst the smaller bundles. Men and boys spotted the edges of the restless sea.

The fuzzy edges of the water rolled in and wrapped decaying remains. A ripe stench of spoiled flesh and salty brine skated on the wind. Tan foam curled around the bodies and littered the space with slimy seaweed and debris. He heard the crying of seagulls, but could not hear the roar of the ocean waves. It was as though someone had masked the sound of nature around him to allow him only bits and pieces of this freezing, windswept world.

As he continued to walk along, he stepped over and around the bodies trying to figure out why he was here, wherever here was. Confused he jammed his hands in the pockets of the navy woolen jacket he wore. He remembered it was the jacket Samantha had helped him buy for Thanksgiving so many years ago. His eyes burned with confusion and the light blurred while he continued to move through the carnage around him.

Gradually he focused in on one of the children just to the right. A naked dark-haired boy of about 12 lay on his side while a scavenging gull peck away the bulge of his remaining eye. The corpse's sides, legs, and arms all had chunks of flesh missing, gaps in his fragile being. Mulder stopped and stared at the bloated face. He could almost remember where he'd seen it before when he heard a voice call from a few feet away. "Fox, why are you here?"

He looked up to see an 8-year-old Samantha, her head slightly tilted, watching him. "Samantha? Where have you been? Where exactly are we?"

"Fox, you can't stay here. This is a very dangerous place. It scares me."

Mulder shook his head. God, his head pounded again. He looked back at his sister. "Samantha, please tell me that this is not where you stay."

Samantha smiled slightly. "No, Fox. This is the far edge of the world. I only come here when you do. It's a haunted place. I don't like it here. You need to go back. Go back to Scully and Walter. They need you, Fox."

"Scully? Walter? You know about them?"

"I know everything you know, Fox. She's your best friend. And he's something else. He's your friend, too, but more."

He pushed away the image of Walter, unable to focus on anything but his sister's voice. "You're my best friend, Sam."

"Thanks, buttmunch, but I'm not around right now. Let your friends help you. I don't want to have to visit you here. It scares me. You scare me, Fox."

He wanted to run up and put his arms around the little girl, but he couldn't move. His head hurt worse, and he grew heavy and clammy with the cold. "How do I scare you, Sam?"

"It's too lonely here. You're too lonely and sad. The world doesn't have to be like this."

"It's the only way I know."

"I know and that's why you have to go. Leave before it's too late. Don't let Dad or the others win."

The mention of his father brought a hammer blow to the back of his head. He fell to his knees, the wet sand soaking into the fabric of his thin jeans. His hands sank into the ground and he felt himself being sucked into the gritty earth. Terror wrapped him up, but he would not let himself scream. The greedy earth was starving and eating him alive.

Sam walked over to him when only his head remained above the surface. She kneeled beside him and lightly touched his face, cupping his chin in her small, cool hand. "Fox, go home and remember everything you need to. Remember the good as well as the bad. Understand?"

In a weak and trembling voice, Mulder whispered, "I can't, Sam. It'll destroy me. I can't think about it. I don't dare remember all of it. It would kill me, Sam. It really would." Mulder felt the bile rise in his throat as he swallowed some of the grimy sand.

"No it won't, Fox. I promise. It'll free you. Let go, Fox. Go home and finally remember the truth. Save yourself before it's too late." Again she stroked his face, but then stood to leave.

"Sam, don't go!" Mulder called out desperately to the departing back of his lost sister. She didn't turn around, but faded as she walked past all the bodies that lined the beach like chalky, broken shells.

Still choking, Mulder sank deeper as the foamy edges of the sea erased his face. He was drowning in a very dark place.

---

Late Tuesday evening Georgetown Medical

At first he thought he was back in Alaska. Frigid temperatures and icy needles pricked at his exposed skin. Mulder wanted nothing more than to be able to reach down and pull the covers up over his head, to block out the cold and the light. Unfortunately with the return of consciousness, he realized that once again his arms were restrained by his sides.

Fuck. Would this shit never end?

Braving the light, he opened his eyes into slits, letting himself slowly adjust to brightness. Carefully turning his head to avoid shattering his sensitive skull, he saw Scully lying back in a chair. She obviously had been there a long time before dozing off. He remembered Sam's words to him, that she needed him. He wanted to believe that, and watching her while she slept made him almost imagine that it could be true.

His partner suddenly shifted, sat up abruptly, and looked over at Mulder. "Thank god, you're awake. Jesus, Mulder, you could give a girl a breakdown with your antics."

His brief smile faded at his friend's distress. "Sorry, Scully. I didn't mean to worry you."

Scully stood up, straightening herself quickly, before coming to his bedside. She smiled and said, "You never do, Mulder, but you always do. You'd think I'd be used to it by now."

"You'd think."

Scully shook her head. "I'll never be used to it, Mulder. Never." She reached over and cautiously touched his arm, remembering how he'd reacted every other time when she'd tried to touch him since his attack. This time, however, he didn't pull away, but just closed his eyes as if it took a concentrated will not to jerk away.

God, Mulder, what's happened to you. Hell, stupid question. I know what's happened. Fuck.

His little boy voice came from far away when he made his plea. "Scully, could you get these restraints off? I promise to be good this time. Honest."

She pushed the call button. "I'll see what I can do, Mulder. You gave us all quite a scare. You know this new guy Boysen isn't quite used to you yet. He keeps trying to treat you like his other patients. We both know that's a mistake."

Mulder tried a weak smile and noticed the tube running from his nose for the first time. He also realized that he had a lot more wiring now than when he'd last been conscious. Monitors surrounded him with all kinds of annoying blinking and beeping sounds. It was enough to make a guy nervous if he weren't used to it.

Damn, I've got to stay awake around here before they hotwire something important.

"Scully, how long have I been out and why is it like the Arctic circle in here?"

"Over 24 hours. Your fever spiked. It got up to 105. We finally ended up having to use a cooling blanket and dropped the air temp. Seems to have worked though. Your temperature's back to almost normal."

"Then can I get a real blanket?"

She smiled in sympathy. "In a little while. We just have to do some blood tests, and be sure the infection's coming under control, too. We don't want a relapse or anything."

"I never understood how having a fever could freeze your ass."

"I know, Mulder. Just hang in there. It'll get better."

Boysen came into the room looking a lot more tired than he'd looked earlier. Drug and restrain me again why don't you. I'll make your life a misery, for sure.

"Good to see you with us again, Mr. Mulder."

"Looks like my next stop will be Dairy Queen, Doc. How soon can we lose the deep freeze around here?"

Boysen smiled. "I'm also glad you can have a sense of humor about all this."

"Humor? I was serious, Doc."

"I'll have blood drawn for various tests and then we'll see."

Scully asked, "What about the restraints, Dr. Boysen? Mulder's fever is down and he's lucid. He's promised to be a good little trooper." When Boysen looked hesitant, she continued. "Look, Doctor, I'll be here or AD Skinner will be. He's right down the hall. We'll watch our boy here and if he shows any sign of breaking his promise, I'll restrain him myself. Better yet, Skinner will put him in another strangle hold."

Ignoring the look of confusion on the doctor's face, she turned her glare on her partner. "Isn't that right, Mulder?"

Sheepishly Mulder grinned, "Sure, Scully."

Recognizing his familiar I'll just say what she wants to hear and then do what I want tone, she spoke firmly. "Don't think I'm kidding, Mulder. You even think about removing any tube or line by yourself or try to get out of that bed before you're told and I'll not only restrain your wrists, I'll drug you into oblivion until this is over. Is that fully understood, young man?"

"Yes, Ma'am." If his hands had been free, he would've saluted.

Boysen chuckled at the interchange. Satisfied that Scully would control the recalcitrant agent, he relented. "Okay. The restraints are banished for now on the conditions that Agent Scully listed. All tubes and lines stay put for awhile."

Mulder wanted to argue, but suddenly felt drained by all the activity of speaking. He lay back and let Scully take off the straps. She noticed his sudden quiet and asked, "You feeling worn out already, Mulder?"

"Yeah, well it's not like I just slept for 24 hours or anything. I'm getting old, Scully."

"And I hope you get a lot older, Mulder. Listen, to me, my friend. Your body needs rest, lots of it. It's just letting you know that. Listen to your body, Mulder. You can't expect to go days without eating or sleeping and still function very well."

"I think we've had this conversation before, Scully." He lay back with his free right arm up over his eyes, shielding them from the light.

"And we'll have it again until you finally hear it, Mulder."

Dr. Boysen stood listening to the banter while he jotted down the readings on the monitors. While Scully talked, Mulder's pressure and pulse rate dropped slightly. For the first time since being admitted, Boysen saw Mulder drift into a natural sleep.

"Well, Dr. Scully, it seems you missed your calling as a sleeping agent."

Smiling in recognition of his weak attempt at humor, Scully just nodded and then asked. "What now, Dr. Boysen?"

With a more serious expression, Boysen motioned her to the corridor. Once out of the room, Boysen spoke, "We'll get his body up and running on its own. We'll do all the blood and kidney tests. Then we'll get him to eat and have bowel function on his own. Because of the nature of his trauma, I'd say that could take a few more days."

Scully shook her head, knowing what an outrageous patient Mulder could be as he recovered. The longer remained in the hospital, the more he balked at following directions. "He's not going to like that."

"That I've already figured out. But frankly, two to three days is conservative. That's the timeline if everything goes okay physically. So far, Mr. Mulder hasn't been an easy or predictable case."

"He never is."

"So, I've gathered. His blood work is some of the most unusual I've ever seen, and one of his kidney's is compromised by an earlier serious problem. But, frankly, it's his mental health that worries me the most."

Scully avoided his eyes and nodded, "Me, too."

"What about other family?"

"His father's dead. He and Mulder never got along anyway. His mother is recovering from a stroke, and his sister disappeared when he was 12. There isn't much of a family."

"I see." Nodding to himself, Boysen finally did see. Listings of various broken bones and other injuries dating all the way back to early childhood, and then again at the early teens flashed in his mind. He visualized the scar tissue he'd seen during his exams and surgery. It should have occurred to him sooner. Abuse went a long way to explain why his partner, rather than an actual family member, was listed as next of kin and clarified a lot of Mulder's behaviors. It was a damn ugly picture appearing before him. No wonder the boy grew up to track down serial killers. He'd learned about monsters early in life.

"Agent Scully, you and AD Skinner seem to be fairly close to him. When he's better physically, you've both got to convince him to seek professional help. I haven't been able to get psych in to evaluate because he's been too sick and is such a radical case, but he will have to be seen by someone before he leaves."

"I understand, Dr. Boysen, but you have to understand, too. Agent Mulder is a trained psychologist who trusts almost no one. He knows every trick in the shrink's guidebook. I've seen him play this game before. He'll tell a joke and give an Oscar-winning performance to show just how well he's doing under the circumstances. He'll run circles around anyone you send to evaluate him."

"Why would he want to do that?"

"Avoidance, Dr. Boysen. It's one of his favorite coping mechanisms. He's been doing it for a very long time and he's very good at it."

"I have to tell you, Dr. Scully, I'm out of my depth here. I can help Mr. Mulder get better as far as his physical injuries, but I'm not a psychiatrist. If what you say is true, and I have no reason to think it isn't based on what I've observed, what do you suggest I do?"

Scully shook her head. "I'm not sure. I know he won't be allowed back to work without mandatory counseling and evaluation. AD Skinner will demand that, I'm sure. Maybe there'll be a miracle and Mulder will decide that he really does want to get help this time."

"Maybe." Boysen's voice betrayed his doubt. Before Scully turned to go back in to sit with Mulder, Boysen asked, "And what about you, Dr. Scully?"

"What about me?"

"What happened to Mr. Mulder affects you, too?"

Her blood chilled with the words. "What do you mean?"

"Don't think for a minute that being raped only affects the victim. I've seen the aftermath enough to know that everyone who cares about that man is going to be deeply disturbed and changed by this. It'll get a lot worse before it gets better. You might consider talking to someone, too."

Scully nodded thoughtfully. "I will, but first let's take one disaster at a time. Right now I've got to get Mulder up and back in the ring." With that she pushed open his door and prayed that she'd spend several hours just watching her best friend get a good night's sleep.

3:30 A.M. Wednesday Georgetown Medical

Mulder awoke confused and in pain. His head and back both ached with burning sensations that throbbed in an even rhythm. His stomach fired with a new degree of dedication. He ignored the pain and tried to turn over on his right side, but only managed to send more agony up through his groin. He'd yanked too hard on the catheter and tangled it, himself, and the wires in the sheets.

"Mulder, lie still before you hurt yourself." Scully came over to the edge of the bed. In the low light, Mulder saw the deep lines of exhaustion in her face. He felt guilty for being the cause of it.

As she reached to rearrange the bedclothes and tube, Mulder's reflexes came alive. He grabbed her hand. "Don't, Scully."

"Don't be embarrassed, Mulder. I'm a doctor."

Mulder carefully resituated himself, being cautious even in the dim light not to expose himself. "Gee, Scully, give a guy a break. I know you're a doctor, but..."

"But, what?"

"Well, you know, Scully. It's hard enough to have any privacy under these circumstances. I mean, I just wanted to turn over for Christsakes and I've got tubes and wires everywhere, and I do mean everywhere. It's humiliating. I feel like a failed science project."

Scully smiled sympathetically. "I know, Mulder. It's never easy at this stage. When I first came out of my coma, I hated feeling so dependent. But it will get better. Hell, your readings are already a major improvement over just 24 hours ago."

Mulder relaxed while listening to her soothing tone. Sometimes Scully knew exactly what to say. He adored her when that happened. Of course, he'd never tell her that. "Are they good enough to qualify for a reduction of hook-ups?"

"Maybe in the morning. Now, do you need something to help you get back to sleep?"

"What about you, Scully?"

"What about me?"

"You've got to sleep, too."

"Are you asking me to sleep with you, Mulder?"

Her teasing, playful voice made him sputter, and Mulder was grateful for the faint lights. Then he noticed Scully blinking back tears as she laughed, "Gee, Scully, what's so funny?"

"Nothing, Mulder. It's just that I was imagining what kind of readings those monitors would give if I were to crawl in there with you."

Mulder grinned. "You're a wicked woman, Dana Scully. Why is it you suddenly start making propositions when I can't do a thing about them? That doesn't seem too fair."

"Fair is a four-letter word, Mulder. Now, back to the question, do you need something to help you sleep?"

"I do now."

Even though she knew it was only for a brief moment, it was nice to have Mulder seem like himself. "I'll be back in just a minute. I'll tell the nurse to get your medication."

As soon as she was out the door, Mulder pulled back the covers. He lifted the gown enough to see the damage. Lovely. It's never been that color before. Fuck. How disgustingly grotesque. He felt sick to his stomach again. He lowered the blanket and leaned back. Tears stung his eyes, blinding him, trapping him in his own impotence.

Mulder could kid around with Scully all he wanted, but it would never change the fact that he could never act on any of it. He loved Scully, but she was his partner and his friend. He could never feel anything sexual for her. Though he never understood what she got out of it, he knew that without her, he was lost. He could never confuse his feelings for her with sex and romance.

Pulling the covers higher around his neck, Mulder tried to push the images away from his mind. Sex for him had always meant pain and submission, always. Even alone with his fantasies, he always felt needy and pathetic. Shame made for a durable mistress. He wished more than anything that he could get up to take a scalding shower, a shower to wash the filth away. Powerful images of strong, demanding hands both revolted and claimed him. He hated himself for craving what damaged him most. He felt lost in his own mind.

Scully came back in with syringe. She studied the man huddled under the covers, his mood obviously darkened in her absence. "Mulder, what is it? Are you in more pain?"

"No more than usual, Scully."

The plaintive words and tone of his voice plucked at her heart. "Here, Mulder. I'm putting this in your line. It'll let you sleep some more. You'll feel better in the morning."

Mulder barely whispered, "Scully?"

"What, Mulder?"

"Stay with me for awhile longer."

"I'm right here, Mulder. Don't worry. You won't be alone." Scully stood there by the bed until the dark hazel eyes shut and Mulder's breathing evened. Only then did she dare reach over to soothe the strands of chestnut hair back up off his forehead, stroking his head in a steady rhythm. "I'll never leave you. Never. No matter how many times you try to shove me away, no matter how hard you push. You're really and truly stuck with me."

---

8A.M. Wednesday Georgetown Medical

"Come on, Mr. Mulder. It's time to wake up now." The insistent voice floated down from another universe. Mulder opened his eyes slowly and tried to swallow despite the huge wad of drug-induced cotton in his mouth. A thin gray-haired woman leaned in at him, checking for alertness.

"Who are you?"

"Nurse Dante. Dr. Boysen wants me to take your N/G tube out today to see if we can get you to eat on your own for awhile."

"Terrific."

"Don't worry. It won't be so bad. Come on. Let me position your bed a bit higher." Mulder heard the whine of the motor as the head of his bed raised. The slight dizziness passed quickly.

Nurse Dante put on her gloves and placed an emesis bowl on Mulder's lap. "Now, when I tell you to, I want you to take a deep breath and hold it while I pull this out. It may be a little uncomfortable and you might feel nauseated. You might also get a nosebleed. Don't worry, that's normal."

"I know. I've done this before. It always makes me puke."

"Well, we haven't fed you this morning, so maybe it won't be so bad. Let's get started."

Mulder held his breath as she pulled steadily to remove the tube through his nose. After the tubing slid free, the heaving began almost immediately. The pan now at his chin filled quickly with bile and blood. Nurse Dante's calm demeanor faded with alarm and she pressed the call button for assistance. She quickly got another tray and pressed compresses to Mulder's nose trying to stop the bleeding. Another nurse came in to help coordinate the effort. His vision swirled in a fog.

"What the hell's going on here?" Scully voice filled the room. She stormed in and took control. "Get some ice for the back of his neck. Mulder, I'm putting something in the IV for the nausea. Don't worry. It's going to be okay."

A few minutes later, his stomach felt a little sore, but wasn't trying to exit his body. The bleeding stopped and he was able to rest his head back against the pillow. They quickly changed his ruined hospital gown before Nurse Dante and her evil assistant left contritely, taking most of the evidence of their sins with them. Scully stood by the bed looking down at him. "Damn, Mulder. I leave you for a minute and look what happens. I only went to get a cup of coffee."

Mulder's hoarse voice scratched the air. "Next time take me with you and I promise not to bleed."

"Fat chance, Mulder. I think you bleed when you breathe." Her voice softened slightly. "God, Mulder. It was only an N/G tube."

"You know those things always make me gag, Scully."

"I know, Mulder. I'm sorry. I should've insisted on the anti-nausea drugs before Dante took out the tube.

"I would've bled anyway. Don't worry about it. It's okay."

"Don't be such a martyr, Mulder. Let's just make sure you eat something soon so we don't have to put one back in."

"Don't even joke, Scully."

"I'm not joking, Mulder. Boysen's ordered a special liquid diet for today and depending on how you handle that, we can move you up to semi-solids." With a sober tone in her voice. "He won't even think about releasing you until you can eat on your own and keep everything down for at least 24 hours. You know that."

"I know, Scully. I've been through all this before."

God, you sound tired, Mulder. Trying to change the subject, Scully realized just how scraggly her friend looked. "Why don't I give you a shave, Mulder. That'll make you feel better. I know it'll cheer up me up no end."

Mulder raised a weary hand to his chin and realized that the stubble was indeed thick. "I can shave myself, Scully."

"Mulder, you can't even hold a spoon to feed yourself yet. I'm not giving you a razor."

"Then get me an electric one. I don't normally use electric, but someone around here is bound to have one."

Skinner's husky voice came from around the door and said, "Bound to have what?"

Scully answered with a smile, "An electric razor. Agent Mulder needs a shave."

"I hope it's his face we're talking about."

"Very funny, sir." Mulder grimaced at the AD's weak joke.

Scully turned to Skinner and said, "He's had a hard morning already. Be gentle while I go track down a nurse to see about the razor."

Puzzled, Skinner watched her go before he turned his attention back to the pale agent reclining in the bed. Some of the discarded compresses from his bloody nose were still in a tray, and Skinner guessed what had happened. His stomach knotted, he forced his hand into his pocket to stop himself from reaching out a comforting touch.

He tried on his office voice. "I take it they're going to finally make you start feeding yourself?" A weak nod was all Mulder could manage. "Well, it's about time."

"Sir?"

"Mulder, I need you back on your feet, not lying around here for weeks."

Mulder realized what the AD was doing, trying to get him up and motivated, but all he wanted to do was just roll over and go back to sleep. Before Skinner could say much else, Mulder found himself drifting back into grey silence. Skinner let his own breathing slow as he watched his agent from the safety of the corner, the familiar comfort of distance. He barely heard Scully when she came back into the room carrying an electric shaver.

"Is he asleep?"

"Looks like it."

"It must be the anti-nausea meds meeting up with the army of other drugs pumped into him. Several tend to cause drowsiness."

Skinner looked at Scully and saw the tight lines of fatigue. "Agent Scully, you need to go home and rest. I can stay awhile."

"You've been here as much as I have. Why don't you look like shit, too?"

"Did you just say shit in front of the boss, Agent Scully?" The tease brought a slight blush."

"Yeah, well sometimes I forget that." She studied the dark eyes for a minute as if considering some other question, but she waited too long to speak."

"Go home, Scully. I'll take the watch for awhile."

"Hesitating, but seriously considering the offer, Scully asked, "But what about the office? You've been here almost the entire time since this thing started."

Skinner glanced over at her sleeping partner and shrugged. "What's the point of being the boss, if I can't change the schedule?"

Something worrying and persistent nudged questions at the back of her exhausted mind, but she shut it down. She struggled to barely function. Analyzing curious behavior would have to wait until she could get her brain to play along without blinking out mid-thought.

She handed the assistant director the shaver, and retrieved her things, before finally agreeing with a nod. Looking over at Mulder, she whispered, "I'll be back in a few hours, or sooner if you call."

Skinner lightly touched Scully's arm, something he rarely did, and looked her into her eyes. "He's going to be okay."

Scully looked away and bit her lip. "I know, sir, but it's still hard."

"I know, Scully. I know." And he did.

---

Wednesday 1P.M. Georgetown Medical

When Scully walked back into the room, she found quite a scene. Skinner was pretending to read a report and a clean-shaven Mulder was scowling fiercely at a spoonful of green jello. His face twisted with the obvious loathing at the thought of having the disgusting stuff in his mouth. When he saw Scully, he put the offending food down and crossed his arms. "Well, it's about time you got here."

"Nice to see you again, too, Mulder."

Skinner cleared his throat and interrupted, "Agent Scully, would you please explain to Agent Mulder that eating isn't supposed to be such a torturous process."

Scully smiled at the petulant tone of both men. Well, well, powerplays all over the place.

"Listen, Mulder, you have to eat. You KNOW that."

"But I don't have to eat green jello, Scully. I HATE green jello. Why does every hospital insist on serving something that looks like that stuff that ate a hole through your shoe?"

Scully actually laughed. Skinner and Mulder both looked at her with puzzled expressions. "Well, I can tell you're certainly feeling better. Why don't you go on back to the office, sir. I think I can handle him for awhile."

"Nobody needs to handle me, Scully. I'm perfectly capable of handling myself."

Scully and Skinner both choked on that one-liner. Realizing his goof, Mulder blushed dramatically. "Damn, for government officials you two have dirty minds ."

"Dirty work makes for dirty minds, Agent Mulder." Skinner got his things and shook his head. "He's all yours. By the way, I'm going to recommend a raise for you on the next evaluation, Scully. You deserve more than the government can possibly afford."

After the AD left, Scully turned and said, "My god, Mulder, what the hell did you do anyway? I was only gone a few hours."

Mulder pushed his tray away, his food not eaten. "Nothing, Scully. He's just being pissy."

"And you're not?"

Ignoring her comment, he continued. "I hate being told what to do all the time as if I'm some kind of child. I'm not a child, I'm not."

"If you say so, Mulder."

Recognizing just how childish he did sound, Mulder shifted in the bed trying to get some level of comfort before he spoke. "I'm sorry, Scully. I'm just frustrated. I hate having someone baby-sit me all the time, especially Skinner."

"Why especially Skinner? He's really worried about you, Mulder. He's been here since the beginning."

"I know that Scully, but he's the boss. At first having him here made me feel safe, but now it mostly just makes me uncomfortable. It freaks me out to have him here watching me.

He knows too much. Suspects too much. God, how can he even bare to look at me now? I hate myself like this.

"I can't explain it. There's no rational explanation, so don't expect one."

Scully took a deep breath before she spoke. "Okay, Mulder. I understand that you don't fully trust Skinner. But you have to know that he does care about you, if for no other reason than he feels responsible for you as one of his agents."

Mulder rubbed his face as if trying to strip away a few layers of unnecessary skin. "It's more than that, Scully, and you know it."

"I have to admit his dedication as a watchdog has surprised me."

"He cares, but I don't want him to."

"Now I'm confused, Mulder. Why wouldn't you want him to care about you? Why would that be so awful?"

Because he's too dangerous, too strong. He can destroy me.

Mulder shrank down a bit in the bed and pulled the cover up. "Because I'd have to care back and I don't have the energy for that, Scully."

Scully nodded, but still not fully understanding. "Mulder, when people care for you, you're not obligated to care back."

"But I feel obligated, and right now I can only handle caring for one person."

"It's only right that you care about making yourself well, Mulder. There's nothing wrong with that."

Mulder shook his head. "You don't understand, Scully. That's just it. I don't care about myself. I only care about you."

Damn, did I say that out loud? What next, my confession about the boss? Christ. What kind of drugs are they giving me anyway?

Scully blushed, but tried to control her voice. "I care about you, too, Mulder."

"I know you do, Scully. And right now that's all I can handle. Anything else is just too much."

Walter is too much.

I just have to try to get well so you can be okay."

Scully shook her head, trying to take in his twisted thinking enough to unravel what he'd said. A major flag went up in Scully's head. Mulder had revealed himself and his biggest problem. He didn't think he was worth saving for himself, and until he did, he'd never get better. Fuck, now what?

"Gee, Mulder, put a girl under pressure why don't you?"

"What do you mean, Scully?"

"I mean, what you're basically saying is that I'm the reason to get well, that wanting to get well for yourself isn't worth bothering with. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?"

"I'm confused."

"Damn straight about that. Confused is putting it mildly."

"Would fucked up be better?"

Scully nodded with a slight smile. "Thank god, I'm not your therapist, Mulder. I'd need more than the raise Skinner promised."

Mulder grimaced at the mention of word therapist. "Scully, I'm not going to a shrink."

"Sure you are, Mulder."

Seeing the panic rising in his tight features, Scully hurriedly added, "But it's not going to be today or in the next few days. We've still got to get you up and out of the bed first."

"I will not discuss what happened with a stranger."

"Mulder, you said yourself that you're confused and fucked up. The fact that you recognize that is good. Now, you need to acknowledge that sometimes you can't always fix things by yourself."

"Nobody can fix things for me."

"True, but someone objective can listen and make suggestions. Mulder, you have to change some of your thinking. You can't go on living for me, Samantha, or anyone else. You need to value yourself and know that you're a good person who deserves to live with some happiness instead of pain and suffering."

Mulder remained quiet, unable to talk anymore. He'd already said too much. From a distance he realized what she said was probably true for most people, but he also knew he wasn't most people. She hadn't understood what he was trying to say. No wonder in that. He wasn't completely sure himself.

When he hadn't spoken in several minutes, Scully sighed and then asked, "Why don't we try to tackle eating something now?"

"Well, if you'll wrestle it to the ground and hold it steady, I might be able to slurp up some of that congealed broth, but don't expect me to enjoy it."

"Enjoy it? You? Wouldn't dream of it." She reached over and retrieved the spoon and the small bowl of soup. "Do you want me to feed you, or can you do it yourself?"

Mulder took the spoon from her hand, their fingers barely touching. "I'll manage, Scully. It's only broth."

"Well, it was only jello, Mulder, and it got the better of you."

"Yeah, but it was green, Scully, and that gives it super powers." Scully looked at him with a what the hell are you talking about now stare as he continued. "What? You didn't know? It's sort of like that Kryptonite stuff. Every crime fighter knows that."

With a shaky hand, Mulder took a small sip of the salty broth. Despite the fact that it was cold, he managed to keep it down. His stomach took a tiny heave, but stopped. After a minute he took another and then another. Feeling proud of himself, he smiled over at Scully who promptly said, "It's only soup, Mulder. Don't get cocky. We've still got to get the catheter out."

"Killjoy."

"Silly rabbit."

"I just love this witty repartee, Scully. It makes me long for the good old days."

"Then eat the jello."

"Only if you'll eat some, too."

"Damn, Mulder, you're such a big baby."

"Yeah, but you like me just a little don't you?"

"Don't push your luck, Mulder. There's a fork on that tray and I've been trained to use it. Now get busy and finish your lunch. Nap time is right around the corner and it's almost time for another set of meds."

"Gee, I keep forgetting you're a doctor."

"Lucky for you, I never forget."

Mulder finished the broth, his tea, and the ever popular Ensure. His stomach ached from the pressure. Sheepishly, he said, "I can't handle the jello, Scully. I'm really full. Maybe at supper if it's a different color."

Scully relented. "Okay, Mulder. I'll make a point of asking for cherry or strawberry. Now lie back and get some rest. Dr. Boysen will be here in a little while."

Suddenly very tired, too sleepy to even keep his eyes open, Mulder did what he was told. He drifted off under the watchful and worried eye of his companion.

Joke all you want to, Mulder, but I know you're in big trouble. Why is it so hard to see what I see? Why can't you like yourself even a little? Why is it so hard for you to love yourself? Damn your father, the brutal son of a bitch. Damn Cancer Man and all those other assholes out there. Most of all damn the sorry bastard that hurt you like this.

Scully looked up and lightly touched a hand to her heart. Silently she prayed that God would find a way to reach Mulder and let him know that he was loved and worthy of it. Was that too big a miracle for an omnipotent being? She thought not.

Wednesday 5:30 P.M.

"Mulder, Dr. Boysen said you had to drink both of those. You haven't even touched either one." Scully tapped her foot impatiently while she watched her pale partner shove the tray back at her for the second time.

"I just ate a whole tray full of stuff."

"That was this afternoon for lunch. You have to have dinner and another serving before 9."

Mulder held his arms across his stomach and groaned. "Tell Boysen there is no way I can do that. It's too much."

Scully nodded in sympathy, but kept a firm tone. "I know you believe that, Mulder. But you have to remember that you haven't been eating for awhile. It probably feels like we're force feeding you, and in a way we are. You are seriously under-nourished. The IV's are not enough to get you healthy again. If you don't start eating the minimum required calories and supplements, Dr. Boysen has ordered another N/G tube."

"No way." Stubbornly Mulder shook his head.

"Then drink the Ensure. The other things on the tray are optional, but those aren't." There were a few more moments of strained silence. "Well?"

Mulder picked up one of the cans in a mock toast and took a sip. "Okay?"

"It's a start."

Mulder took a deep breath and started drinking. Damn, this stuff tastes like shit.

When he'd finished one can, she took it out of his hand and gave him the other. About half way through, he found himself gagging and overwhelmed with nausea. Scully picked up on the body language, grabbed an emesis bowl, and had it ready. When he'd finished retching, Mulder sighed. "Please, don't tell me I have to drink anymore of that stuff right away. I'm really just too tired."

Scully removed the bowl, handed Mulder a cloth for his mouth, and then gave him some water. "Look, I know you're tired and probably frustrated like hell. Just try to relax a little. Why don't I leave you alone awhile, Mulder? Dr. Boysen will have to decide what's best about the diet later. Lie back and get some more rest."

"Where are you going?"

"Well, unlike you, Mulder, I usually enjoy having an occasional meal."

"Lucky you."

She patted his arm. "I'm just going down to the cafeteria. Jenkins is outside the door. If you need anything, have him come get me."

Mulder closed his eyes. "Don't worry, Scully. I can probably hang on for a little while. Enjoy."

Hearing the door close behind her, Mulder imagined how good it would feel to walk out with her. God, I want to be in my own place, on my own couch.

He heard the door open. "Hey, Scully, that was a quick meal."

"Agent Mulder?"

The strange voice brought Mulder to full alert. "Who are you?"

"I'm Dr. Greg Harris." A middle-aged man stood inside the doorway holding a hospital folder. His dark hair, cut short, framed a narrow face. Intense brown eyes studied him. He moved closer to the bed, but stopped a few feet away. "I'm here for the psychological consult requested by Dr. Boysen and the Bureau."

Monitors beeped a little faster. "And the consult was requested because?"

"It's standard policy in situations like yours."

"Situations, like mine?"

In a calm, even voice, Dr. Harris answered, "Situations when someone has been violently and/or sexually assaulted."

"I've been beaten up before."

"And have you been raped before?" Mulder closed his eyes tighter, wrapped his arms around himself, and remained silent. "Agent Mulder, this isn't like the other times when you've been injured in the line of duty. This time you might need a little help to deal with what happened."

Breathing quickened, but his lungs didn't seem to work as well. "I don't want to be rude, but I don't need your help."

"I was told you did."

"You were told wrong. Just how did you get in here anyway? Isn't there a guard on the door?"

Harris tilted his head as he considered the hostile man in the bed. This was going to be a very difficult case indeed. "I'm not dangerous, Agent Mulder."

You're more dangerous than a bullet to the head, Doc.

"I'm sorry you wasted your time coming here, but I'm asking you to leave."

"It's natural to want to be defensive and in denial."

"Listen, doctor, I have a degree in psychology. Don't tell me what it's natural to feel, okay." Mulder hissed out the words.

"A degree, huh? Then you can't claim ignorance about needing help."

"I'm not claiming anything. I can take care of myself and I don't need an evaluation of my psychological state, nor do I want any help from you or anyone else. Now, if you don't leave, I'll call for the guard to remove you."

"Being some kind of tough guy isn't going to help you deal with this, Agent Mulder. As to throwing me out, I don't think so. People are worried about you. This is not an easy thing for anyone to deal with. I've read your medical records and you're a man who's already had more than his share of trauma. We all just need to know how you're going to manage."

Mulder shut his eyes and tried to take a deep breath. "You don't know me or my situation. Just go away."

"Excuse me, but who are you?"

Scully to the rescue.

"He was just leaving."

"No, I wasn't. You must be Agent Scully. I'm Dr. Greg Harris, the friendly neighborhood shrink. I came here at Dr. Boysen's request, but apparently your partner doesn't seem to think he needs any help in dealing with a vicious attack against his person."

Mulder watched as his partner scrutinized the slim man blocking his view.

Come on, Scully. Get him out of here.

She offered her hand. "Nice to meet you, Dr. Harris."

Oh, fuck, it's going to be a tag team event.

"Scully, I asked him to go. I told you I wasn't going to talk to anyone about this."

"I know what you told me, Mulder, but I think you should. You have to talk to someone."

"Who the fuck do you think you are, Scully? Don't stand there telling me I have to talk to someone about this....this thing. I am not going to do that. Now, why don't the both of you get the hell out of here before I start puking again."

Scully noticed the rise in the readings on the monitors behind Mulder. His flushed face warned her that nothing would be gained by fighting this battle tonight. He just wasn't ready. "Calm down, Mulder. We'll leave and let you settle yourself, but don't think that the subject is closed or that I won't be back."

Scully turned to the silent, but observant Dr. Harris. "Why don't we go down the hall and get some coffee?"

Harris looked over at Mulder who had folded himself into a tight ball and then eased himself to the far corner of the bed. Curled there he could have been any small boy hiding from the monsters under the bed, or in Mulder's case just outside the window. "Sure, Agent Scully. Coffee sounds good."

"I'll meet you down there in just a minute."

As soon as Harris was out the door, Scully stood by the bed. "Mulder, are you going to be okay for a few minutes?"

A hoarse whisper answered. "Scully, don't do this to me."

"Do what?"

"Betray me."

The words sliced her heart. "God, Mulder. I'm trying to help you, but you've got to help yourself."

"You don't understand."

"Help me understand."

"I trust you, Scully. I can't talk to anyone else."

"Are you saying that you'll tell me what happened?"

"Eventually, but not right now."

"Mulder, I'll listen if you want to tell me, but that's not enough."

"Damn, Scully, when is enough enough?"

"When you go to someone objective who specializes in this kind of trauma. I'm your friend and partner, Mulder. You're the same as family. Your pain is my pain. I'm not even in the same universe as objective when it comes to this kind of kickass situation."

Mulder opened his eyes and stared into her anxious face. "Scully, I just need more time. It's too raw."

"Okay, Mulder, but you have to promise me that when you're healed physically that you won't just pretend like you're all better with no problems. You have to promise me that you will get help and seriously try to deal with this."

"I'll do what I can, Scully."

"Promise me, Mulder."

With some hesitation, Mulder finally answered quietly, "I promise."

Scully reached over and uncrossed his arms. "Let me see those fingers, Mulder."

Smiling weakly, Mulder responded, "Yes, Mom."

---

Wednesday 10 P.M. Georgetown Medical

Dr. Boysen came into the room to find Mulder mentally pacing. He shifted restlessly in the bed, tugging at and rewrapping the sheets. "Mulder, what are you doing?"

"Do you have any idea how hard it is to get comfortable in one of these beds? It's almost impossible." Especially when everything hurts like a mother fucker.

"Well, you must be improving, because you were in no condition to notice all that just a few days ago."

"If I'm so much better, why don't you take out some of these tubes and cut me off from all these wires. They're starting to get on my nerves."

"Speaking of nerves, I think the nurses around here are beginning to use your name in vain."

Mulder leaned back and tried to look contrite. "Well, I really don't mean to be difficult, but frankly, I don't need to get a sponge bath when I can wash myself."

"Nurse Janes is only doing her job, Mulder. And the lab techs always have orders when they come for blood. You going into overdrive and challenging everything is only going to alienate the staff. You don't want to piss off people with needles and sharp instruments, Mulder."

"Yeah, well, it's a bad habit. I tend to piss off most people these days."

Dr. Boysen came over and checked Mulder's readings. Then after looking back down to his charts, he said, "Your kidney function seems to be a little better and most of your blood tests are improving. I plan to remove the catheter tomorrow."

"How soon can I go home after that?"

Boysen leaned the metal chart against the rail of the bed. "You're still not holding down even liquid food and until you return to completely normal kidney and bowel function, I will not release you."

"Any idea how long that'll be?"

"I'm not finished yet." Mulder looked puzzled. "You won't be released until you have at least two sessions with Dr. Harris and he signs off with his approval and recommendations."

"Fuck." Mulder pushed his weight angrily back against the bed. "What is the big deal here? I wasn't hurt on the job, so how can the Bureau mandate counseling?"

"AD Skinner doesn't feel comfortable allowing you to return to duty until he's sure you're able to handle what happened along with the stress you're bound to encounter in your job. As your doctor, I have to agree with him."

Walter thinks I'm nuts. Fuck.

"Why do you have such a hard on about this anyway?"

"Interesting choice of words, Mr. Mulder."

Mulder flushed with anger. "Fuck you, Boysen."

Boysen didn't budge and remained calm. "Mulder, at this point there is little physical reason for your severe bouts of vomiting. If you'd stop for a moment and be honest, you'd realize that it's more than a little liquid Ensure you can't stomach."

"What are you talking about?"

"Your medical records show that during times of extreme stress, especially when you were in BSU, you went through acute episodes of vomiting, dehydration, and exhaustion followed by periods of depression. Sound familiar?"

"What's your point?"

"My point is that you were involved in a horrendous case and already suffering seriously from mental and physical fatigue. Then along comes this assault, which by the way, you totally denied until confronted by your superior. You almost let yourself die, Agent Mulder. Now, don't make me waste my time telling you how what you went through can be just as damaging to the mind. You already know that."

"My mind is fine, Doctor."

"Mulder, I won't pretend to understand why you act the way you do. You're the perfect example of why I chose not to go into psychiatry. I will tell you that I refuse to take the responsibility if you end up killing yourself."

Mulder starred at the man startled, "You think I'm suicidal?"

"Maybe not right this minute, but the potential is there whether you want to admit it or not. Your long history of clinical depression and self-destructive, impulsive behavior requires that I do everything I can possibly do to make sure that you don't hurt yourself. That's not going to happen while you're under my care, young man. You will see Dr. Harris. Do you understand me, Mulder?"

Taking in a deep breath of defeat, Mulder sighed. "Okay, but on one condition."

"What's that?"

"At least let me get up and put some clothes on before I have to see him."

Confused, Boysen asked, "Why in the world would that be important?"

"Shrink rule #19--Never wear fewer clothes than your therapist."

"And that's because?"

"It's a power issue."

"You've got a strange sense of humor, Mulder."

"You think I'm joking?"

Boysen remembered Scully's comments about Mulder's previous experiences with mandated counseling and nodded. "Okay, Mulder, but first you have to drink some Ensure and keep it down. Then get some sleep, and in the morning, we'll see about clothes."

"Goodie. Who said life wasn't just stuffed full of simple pleasures?"

Boysen studied the agent's odd expression. It was the same expression his cat Luther used to get before he sneaked out and ate one of old Mrs. Gracie's pet canaries. Mulder was up to something. Boysen just hoped it didn't include anything too painful.

Thursday 2 A.M.

Mulder jerked awake, grabbed the side rails to the bed, and tried to keep from screaming. Sweat poured down from his forehead into his eyes, the salt stinging like tiny needles to blur his vision. Drenched sheets clung to his body as he tried to slow his breathing and remember where he was. Damn, I'm in the hospital. Where's Walter?

"Are you okay, Mulder?" Scully stood quietly by his bed holding a cup of water. She studied her partner and checked out his vital signs by way of the monitors.

"Just a little sleep disorder, Scully. Nothing serious."

"You sure? Looked pretty serious there for a minute? What were you dreaming about?"

Mulder couldn't meet her eyes when he spoke, so he starred out ahead of himself. Continuing to grasp the safety rails, he spoke quietly, "I don't really remember all of it. It was confused."

"Confused how?"

"It started out like the ones I usually have."

"You still have nightmares on a regular basis, Mulder? You told me that wasn't happening anymore."

"Well, I guess I sort of had a relapse here, Scully."

"Okay, so was it about Samantha?"

"It started out that way, but then I couldn't see or move. Samantha was calling out, but then it wasn't Samantha calling my name."

"Who was it?"

Mulder closed his eyes before he answered. "It was Skinner."

"Our Skinner?" Scully watched Mulder nervously as he shifted uneasily in the bed, still keeping his eyes tightly shut . "What was he saying when he called out?"

"He was trapped somewhere and hurt. It was strange, Scully. He just kept calling out to me. Over and over, and I couldn't move. I couldn't see and I couldn't move. It was so cold." Mulder gave an involuntary shudder.

"Are you cold now?"

"Yeah, a little." Scully went to her chair, brought over her own blanket, and placed it over Mulder. "You don't have to do that, Scully."

"Of course, I don't, but I can go out and get another. No problem."

"Thanks." Mulder finally looked at her. He saw the fear and exhaustion in her face. "Scully, you should go home. I'm okay now. You need to get some rest."

"Okay? Sure you are, Mulder."

"It was just a nightmare. I'm used to them. I'm just not used to anybody else seeing what they do to me."

"What they do to you is scare you shitless. Hell, Mulder, you heart rate just broke the sound barrier a few minutes ago. I'm not leaving you until I'm sure you're really okay."

"But wearing yourself out won't do me or you any good."

"I am tired, Mulder, but I won't get any rest if I'm at home and still worried. You know you're the same way, so don't kid yourself."

Mulder's readings gradually returned to normal, and a general heaviness settled into his limbs. "I never kid myself, Scully, and I do appreciate you being here."

"I know you do." Scully watched as Mulder began a slow drift back into sleep. "Sweet dreams, partner. I'm right here beside you." She took his hand and held it gently. At her words she could've sworn, Mulder squeezed his reply.

Thursday 7:30 A.M.

Boysen came in early to find Scully draped awkwardly in her chair. Her head was back, but as soon as he walked through the door, she was up and alert. Mulder was still sleeping. "I hear that Mulder was busy last night."

"And loud."

"I reduced his medication. I think it may have been too soon."

"He's had nightmares before, but these were different."

"Different how?"

"The first time he woke up, he told me that he dreamed that our boss was calling for help and he couldn't do anything. The last two times, he screamed for several minutes before I could even get him to realize I was here. When he did recognize me, he refused to tell me what he dreamed."

"Nightmares aren't unusual in trauma cases."

"I know, but it's still frightening."

Mulder groaned as he rolled over in bed. "It's not so bad, Scully. Once I wake up, I barely even remember."

Seeing her partner's fuzzy expression, she grinned wearily. He was rubbing his face into the pillow, and looked just like a waking child. Then she thought about how terrified he'd been all throughout the night, and her expression became very serious. "Maybe if you remembered, you could get rid of them."

"Maybe." Mulder swallowed hard and tried to sit up. "God, I feel like I've been hit by a truck. Did somebody lay me out on a highway last night?"

Boysen frowned and came closer to the bed. "Last night's marathon dreamfest probably didn't help your muscles any. Also I've started cutting back on all your meds, including the Demerol. You'll feel a lot more sore and achy before we're finished."

"Gee, that's great news, huh, Scully? More achy bits for Mulder."

"You're an achy bit yourself, Mulder."

"Terms of endearment only prove how much you care, Scully."

Scully shook her head and turned to Boysen. "I'm going to get some coffee and clean up some."

"Sure. I'll be finished with my exam shortly."

Scully looked over to Mulder with concern when she saw him grimace. "Don't worry, Mulder. Just keep telling yourself it's one step closer to getting out of here and home to your couch."

"That can't be too soon."

Scully left and Boysen turned to Mulder. "Don't worry. If it hurts too much, I can stop. I'll remove the catheter and then the drain and packing from your surgery. Then the nurse will do a cleansing and medicated rinse. If you have a problem at any time, just tell me."

Mulder took a deep breath and shut his eyes. "I can do what I have to, Doc. Don't worry about me. Just don't ask me to chitchat while you're busy."

Boysen called for the nurse. Mulder felt himself drifting to another place, removing himself from the scene. Over the years stepping away from himself had come in handy when things became too intense. Fog traced his mind and he found that the voices only filtered in slowly through the grey haze that softened the world.. The hands touching him in private places were touching someone else, that body over there, not Fox Mulder. Somehow blocking off his senses wasn't nearly as hard now. It seemed he'd gotten better with practice.

---

"Mulder, can you hear me? Mulder?"

Startled, Mulder realized that Dr. Boysen stood by the edge of the bed, while Scully shouted his name. "Gee, Scully, why are you screaming like that? I'm right here."

"Damn, Mulder, you scared me. What the hell happened?"

Confused, Mulder shook his head. "What are you talking about?"

Boysen jumped in, "She's talking about the fact that while I treated you, you became non-responsive."

"Non-responsive?"

"Yes, Mulder, as in you went somewhere and locked us out." Scully's voice shook. "Mulder, I've seen you in a lot of serious conditions, but I have to tell you, this was very scary."

"Sorry, Scully. I don't remember. I was just lying here, and then you were here."

Boysen asked, "What is the last thing you do remember?"

"Scully left and then she was back. Funny, huh?"

Boysen shook his head, "Not funny, Mulder. Do you realize what just happened?"

"I took a nap and missed the painful part of the movie?"

"Stop joking around, Mulder," Scully scolded.

Boysen continued, "It's as though you separated from yourself so you wouldn't have to deal with the situation. You're a psychologist. You know what that's called."

Mulder shook his head in denial. "No way. I just hared out a little bit, that's all. I did not have some kind of fucking disassociative episode. Don't even try to say that."

"Call it whatever you want, but something's not right." Scully touched his arm, which he quickly pulled away. "You didn't just lose memory of the procedure, Mulder. You didn't come back to yourself until almost half an hour later. You weren't asleep, but you weren't aware of the world around you either."

Finally taking in the gravity of what she was saying, Mulder looked at her and spoke carefully. "Don't make such a big deal about it, Scully. I didn't want to handle the discomfort, so I took a way out. So what? I'm back. No harm's done."

"You know better than that. Has this happened before?"

Mulder hesitated and then lied. "Not that I know of, Scully."

Boysen noted the stiff, defensive posture of his patient and then motioned for Scully to follow him out. "Agent Mulder, we'll talk later. Get some rest."

Outside in the corridor, Boysen spoke in a tense tone. "You know what this means, Dr. Scully?"

Scully nodded sadly, "It means, Mulder's in a lot more trouble than we thought. Damn."

"Damn, indeed."

---

Thursday 11 A.M.

Scully entered Mulder's room to find him out of his bed. Boysen had removed the monitor, but his IV was still attached. He cradled it in one hand like a baby, while he was shuffling things around with the other. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I need some clothes, Scully. Where the hell are my clothes?"

"You need to get back in bed. You don't need any clothes."

"Where's my suit? I know I had a suit on when I came in here." Mulder was frantically looking through drawers and all around the cabinet. "Where the fuck is it?"

"The shirt was ruined. The suit itself is at the cleaners." While she was talking, Scully edged her way slowly toward her skittish partner. "Get back in bed, Mulder. I'll get you a robe."

"I don't need a goddamn robe, Scully. I need my clothes." Mulder turned and saw her closing in. He moved back reflexively. "Leave me alone, Scully. I'm okay. I'm not dizzy or anything. I need to move around. I'm too stiff from being in bed too long."

"I understand that, Mulder, but you can't just be moving around on your own without someone here in case you do get dizzy. Now, please, get back in the bed."

Deliberately being stubborn, Mulder shook his head. "I'm going to the bathroom first." Starring her down, he continued, "And don't even think of following me in there."

Grudgingly, Scully said, "Okay, but I swear if you pass out on me, I'm going to hurt you myself, Mulder."

Smiling weakly, Mulder edged his way to the bathroom. He held the IV bag with one hand and steadied himself against the wall with the other. A short time later, she heard the unmistakable sound of relief. Way to go, partner. She stood by the door and waited patiently until Mulder emerged triumphant.

"Gee, Scully, who would've thought such a simple thing could give so much satisfaction. It didn't even hurt this time."

"Things are looking better then, huh?"

"Sure enough." Mulder suddenly looked pale, and turned his attention to getting back in bed. With Scully's help he got his legs up under the covers and leaned back. "I think that'll do me for a few minutes."

"That'll do you a while longer. Boysen's going to be pissed you got up without supervision."

"Scully, I don't really need a baby-sitter anymore."

"I hate the way you just decide what you need, Mulder. You're better, but you're still weak. Doctors go to school a really long time to learn about all this, and you just willy-nilly decide to have your own way about everything, no matter what anybody says. That really pisses me off sometimes."

"Willy-nilly, Scully?"

"Mulder, don't avoid the point. You're too impatient with yourself. You don't give yourself enough time to heal. In the long run sometimes you end up hurting yourself and that beyond annoying."

Giving her his best puppy-dog look, he said, "Sorry, Scully. I know you worry, but believe it or not I do have a right to make decisions about my own body. I really do take in to consideration what others want, but bottom line is, it's my choice."

Shoving his shoulder with more than just a little frustration, Scully countered, "I know that, Mulder. It just seems to me that for a smart man, you do some really silly things when it comes to taking care of yourself."

"You think I'm a smart man, Scully?"

"Mulder, please, be serious. I know you truly believe that getting yourself up and around, will make everything okay, but it won't."

"Scully, stop. I can't talk about this right now."

"Yes, you can, Mulder. Don't deny the seriousness of what's happened to you. The body heals easily compared to the mind. We both know that." Mulder turned his face away from his partner. "You're one of the toughest people I know. You can handle this, but you cannot do it alone. Why is it so damn hard for you to admit that, Mulder?"

"It just is." Mulder waited for a few moments to get his voice under control. "I hear what you're saying, but you know how hard it is for me to trust anyone. How can I trust some stranger with my darkest moments? How can I do that, Scully? Could you?"

"Yes. In fact I have."

Surprised, Mulder turned to look at her. "When?"

"During the Donnie Pfaster case. It was hard to deal with everything. I don't think I ever got over my father's death and the fear about my abduction. I hated feeling out of control. I hated the fear, but I mostly hated not being able to control how the fear made me feel. I did go to someone and talk about it and it helped."

"You could've come to me."

"I know, but sometimes a person needs an objective ear. You take everything on yourself. If I'd told you some of things I told my counselor, you would've felt guilty that you couldn't fix everything or protect me. I know you, Mulder. You take on the worries of the world and neglect yourself. I wasn't about to add to that."

"It wouldn't have been a burden, Scully. I need to know when things aren't right with you. I'm glad you had someone to talk to."

Impatiently, Scully tilted her head and crossed her arms. "Oh, I see. So, it's okay for me to need someone, but not you?"

"It's different."

"Different how?"

"I've always taken care of myself."

Lord knows that's true.

"Well, now it's time to let someone help a little. Listen to me, Mulder." He shifted uneasily at her strict tone, but didn't turn away. "I've talked to this Dr. Harris and he seems like a really good psychiatrist. I did a background check on him and he's one of the best in his specialty, which happens to be traumatic stress and abuse. He's on permanent retainer with the Bureau to help with agents in trouble. That would be you, Mulder."

"I'm fine, Scully. All I need is a little more rest and I can get back to work. Work is what I need, not counseling."

"One is not going to happen without the other, Agent Mulder." Skinner's voice boomed inside the room. Both agents were startled by his stealthy entrance. "I've been talking to Dr. Boysen."

"I can just imagine what that blabbermouth said."

"He told me that you had a little problem with response and alertness this morning. I was already determined you would be evaluated, now it's not even a voluntary option for either of us. You will not return to work until you've been released by both Dr. Boysen and Dr. Harris."

Mulder started to whine some protest, but Skinner raised his hand. "Don't even say it. You can argue all you want, but if you want to play hardball, I can do that, too." Jesus, why do you make me do this?

"Walter, please." Scully glanced at her partner, surprised at his use of Skinner's first name, and saw the faintest blush on the AD's face. A puzzle formed in her mind, but she remained quiet, watching and collecting clues.

"If you refuse the counseling, I will put you on indefinite leave without pay or benefits. If I have to take that route, I will also have to do a paper trail of details about why. Do you really want that, Agent Mulder?"

What a hardass motherfucker.

The bed wasn't deep enough. Mulder took several quick breaths and closed his eyes. "I really hate you sometimes, sir." I hate this. I don't hate you. I will not take it back. Fuck you. Fuck me. Shit.

Skinner nodded and smiled sadly, "I know you do."

After a few more quiet, tense moments, Mulder finally spoke. "Could I at least get some clothes?"

Scully breathed easier and touched his shoulder. "Sure, Mulder. I'll go get your sweats."

"No suit and ties?"

"What, and frighten Harris before he even gets to know you? Forget about it."

With his eyes still closed, Mulder missed the worried glances between Skinner and Scully. "Get some sleep, Agent Mulder. We'll be back later."

He heard the two leave, leaving him alone, a long line of terrors playing games as they war-danced and taunted him from every corner of his mind. Taking a deep breath he tried to focus instead on the comfort of oblivion. Then he made the mistake of letting himself think again.

I wonder if Harris wants to believe? Fuck. Last chance. How many shrinks does it take to screw a Mulder? Just one. Say the wrong word and I'll never get to see my goddamn gun again. Double fuck.

Thursday Noon

Mulder stirred his cup of broth dejectedly. He'd managed to drink one of the cans of Ensure and not throw up. His stomach felt tight, but not heaving. He focused on the voice in his head that told him that the sooner he ate, the sooner he could leave. Visions of being alone in his apartment without prying eyes and mandates made for quite a motivating force. As he contemplated how he could swallow the salty beef bouillon without gagging, Scully walked in carrying his overnight bag.

"Well, either eat it or shoot it, Mulder. Put one of you out your misery."

"Hey, don't joke, Scully. This stuff is awful. I know I have to eat. I keep telling myself over and over that it's the only way out of here, but I swear there's got to be some kind of Nazi working in the kitchen around here."

Scully shook her head in mild amusement and put his bag on the end of the bed. She observed that he'd eaten about half of what was on the tray. "At least you're improving."

"Small favors." Changing the subject from his lack of appetite, he questioned, "You bring me my sweats?"

"Yeah, and a few other things. I also stopped and got you this." She handed him a small package wrapped in plain brown paper. Mulder eyed it suspiciously as he pushed his tray aside to examine it. "It's not a bomb. Open it."

Top removed, the box revealed an electric shaver. "Gee, Scully, it's a nice thought, but why'd you do that? I'll be out of here and home soon."

"I know, Mulder, but you still need one now and I just didn't like the idea of you using someone else's. Besides, it's no big deal." Suddenly feeling uneasy, Mulder put the shaver down, and studied his tray. Noticing his change in attitude, Scully asked, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Don't tell me nothing. What is it?"

"I was just thinking that maybe you don't think I'm going home anytime soon."

"Why would you think that?"

"Well, maybe I need an electric shaver, because you don't trust me to have another kind of razor."

Scully shook her head in sad amazement. "Mulder, it's just an impulse gift I picked up. I swear, you're the most paranoid person I know."

Mulder felt tears sting the sides of his eyes and he fought to keep from crying. "I'm sorry, Scully. It's just I'm really afraid of being trapped here." He struggled to keep the choking sound from his voice. "I couldn't stand it if I had to stay here much longer."

"You're going to be out and home soon, Mulder. Just talk to Harris and do whatever you have to. It'll be okay."

Not wanting to embarrass her partner further, Scully busied herself by shoving the shaver away while she removed the sweats from his bag. "I'll tell you what, Mulder. Why don't you finish what's on that tray and then you can get dressed? That'll make you feel better. Okay?"

"Okay, Scully." He reached over and got a Kleenex to blow his nose. Then he tackled the monumental task of finishing off the apple juice and the Ensure. Scully moved his tray away and then handed him some briefs and his sweat pants.

"You still have an IV, so you're stuck with just the bottoms for now." "Anything's better than bare." Mulder swung his legs over the side of the bed and got a grip on the IV pole. "I'm going to the rest room first and I'll change in there."

"Sure. Call if you need me."

Mulder made an OH PLEASE face and said, "Come on, Scully. I've been doing this awhile now."

As he made his way to the bathroom, Scully sat down in the bedside chair to wait. She thought of his uncharacteristic tears. Physically he was so much better, but emotionally she'd never seen him so fragile. It scared her. He scared her. She wanted wrap him up and keep him safe, but then that was the whole point wasn't it? She couldn't protect him, not really. God, if only I had a clue.

"What do you think, Scully? Am I ready for the cover of Hospital Active Wear yet?" He held out one hand in a "Ta Dah" fashion while the other hand clasped his IV pole.

"You're a cover model all right. Now don't get any ideas about tooling around the hospital corridors just because you're dressed for it, not until Dr. Boysen says. Promise me."

Noting the concern in her voice, Mulder nodded without a fight. "Sure. It just feels good to be dressed kind of normal for awhile. I'll be good. Don't worry."

"With you I always worry. Now get back in bed. You've had enough excitement for a morning."

As Mulder climbed into the hospital bed and adjusted the covers, he marveled at just how much better he felt physically. Now if he could convince Harris that his mind wasn't cracked, he'd be home in no time. He raised his hand to touch the top of his head and rubbed his hair.

"What are you doing, Mulder?"

"Just checking."

"Checking? For what?"

"Oh, nothing." Nope, no cracks. Just dents. No problems.

"Go to sleep, Mulder."

---

Thursday 3P.M.

Mulder felt restless as he shifted in his bed. God, I wonder what's happening on the McGraw case. I wonder if I can get Scully to sneak me my laptop and a modem.

The door opened and Harris walked in. This time he didn't have an arm load of files, but only carried one. "Good afternoon, Agent Mulder."

Mulder immediately stopped fidgeting and wrapped his arms around his chest. His teeth clenched and he found himself unable to speak.

Harris noticed the change, but made no immediate comment. Instead he went to sit in the bedside chair. He made himself comfortable and then said, "When you're ready, Agent Mulder."

Time passed slowly. Mulder refused to look at the doctor, but instead closed his eyes and leaned his head back. After a half hour of silence, Dr. Harris got up and stood by the bed. "Agent Mulder, I'm not going to force you to talk or interact with me. When you get tired of being here, then you can decide what you want to say. It's entirely up to you. I know you resent being forced into this evaluation, but how long it lasts is up to you."

Mulder moved uneasily still refusing to speak or meet Harris's eyes. "I'm going away for awhile, but I'll be back in an hour. We'll try this again and again. Like I said, the decision will be yours."

As Harris started for the door, Mulder managed to utter a barely audible, "Wait."

The doctor stopped and turned around. Mulder asked, "What do I have to do to get out of here?"

Harris headed back to the chair and settled down. "Well, that depends."

"On what?"

"On you. Why don't you start with telling me how you feel today."

Taking a deep breath, his arms still crossed around his chest, he answered, "I'm fine."

"Define fine."

"I mean I'm okay."

"How are you sleeping?"

"Is this a test to see if I'll tell the truth?"

"Why do you ask that?"

"No doubt, you heard about my little screaming fits last night. So, I'm having nightmares I can't remember. I'm entitled, but then they're nothing new. I've had nightmares since my sister was abducted when I was twelve. I'm sure there are several notations about all that in my file."

"So, you don't sleep well?"

"I track down serial killers. Would you sleep well?"

"This isn't about me." There was a short pause before Harris continued. "You say you're fine, but you're not sleeping. You're still barely able to tolerate a liquid diet after four days here. Even though your physician says there could be some nausea because of the kidney ailment, it doesn't really account for your repeated vomiting. Is that how you define being fine?"

Picky bastard. "Okay, I'll admit I've been better, but I've been worse, too. I just want to get out of here and get back to work."

"Work is important to you then?"

"My work is my life. I need to get back to it. I've already been away too long. I still have the case reports to finish up on the McGraw case. There are all kinds of files in my own department that I've neglected since I got loaned out to Behavioral. I just can't afford to be caged up here for much longer."

Harris nodded while he studied the young agent. "So, what would happen if you couldn't go back to work for awhile?"

Mulder immediately became defensive. "Are you going to be one of those power players who's going to hold my work over my head?"

Softly Harris answered, "No, I'm just asking because I need to know what you would do if you couldn't work."

Puzzled both by the question and tone, Mulder answered simply. "I have to work."

"Why?"

"Because it's what I do. Work is the most important thing in my life."

"More important than your health, your family, or your friends?"

Mulder frowned. "My mother is my only family and she has her own life. I have no friends outside the job. My health depends on my job."

Harris noticed the obvious tension in Mulder's voice when he mentioned his mother, and made a mental note to come back to that later. Then he asked, "So, tell me, on a rough estimate, how many hours do you work a week?"

"I work in my own division. I don't punch a time clock. I set my own pace."

"And what pace is that?'

"However much time it takes to get the job done." Mulder could see the clouds of concern leveling in Harris's eyes, so he added. "I do other things, too. I write articles and investigate other things besides bureau files."

"According to your records, except for sick leave and hospital stays, you haven't taken anything but mandated vacation time since you joined the bureau."

Mulder cocked his head. "So, I get demerits for being dedicated?"

"No, but as a psychologist you know that being able to relax away from the job is important to maintaining perspective, especially in high stress fields like law enforcement."

"Yeah, well, that works for some people, but it's never worked for me, not ever. I'm good at what I do and it gives me satisfaction to investigate and solve a case. Some people paint or ski, I track down killers and solve crimes."

Harris nodded slowly taking in the depth of the compulsive nature of his new patient. "So tell me, do you have a relationship in your life?"

Mulder hesitated before he answered. "I don't have a love interest, if that's what you're asking. It wouldn't be fair to the other person." It wouldn't be fair to Walter. Disaster, thy name is Mulder.

"Why not?"

"Relationships, good ones, take time, time I'm not willing to spend. I'm committed to my work, not to a person."

"What about your partner?"

"What about her?"

"How do you feel about her?"

"She's my partner." Mulder avoided Harris's gaze.

"So, do you have strong feelings for her?"

Mulder paused before he answered. "Yes."

Frustrated to the return of short answers, Harris pushed harder. "How strong? I noticed that she's listed as the person to contact in case of emergency. Would you go so far as to say you love her?"

"More than that. I trust her. She's one of the few people I trust."

"Trust is more important than love?"

"I suppose that's just a life choice, but yeah, for me it is."

"And you trust your partner, but don't love her?"

"Yeah."

"And you can't do both?"

"No."

"Why is the love more difficult than the trust?"

Mulder turned and looked at Harris intently as if he were trying to decide what to say next, whether he should reveal what he really felt or keep playing. Then Mulder grinned a sardonic grin and leaned his head back. "Doc, love doesn't exist for me, and trust, well that's pretty much the issue of a lifetime. Frankly, it bores me to just keep talking about it. Fact is, I don't trust easily, never have, and that's not because of what's happened recently. Point of fact, it's a complicated matter and I really don't want to tackle it today. What I do want is to find out what I can expect from you in the way of letting me get out of here. Are you going to let me out as soon as Boysen says I'm physically able, or are you going to hold me up to mental blackmail?"

Taken aback momentarily by the sudden aggressive shift in Mulder's demeanor, Harris immediately countered, "How could I blackmail you? Do you think I know something that could be used against you? Is that what you're afraid of?"

"I don't like having the decisions about my life taken away from me." Harris could see the flush rising in his cheeks and his muscles going tense again.

"Control is important to you?"

"Hell, yes. It's important to anyone. I don't understand why everybody seems to suddenly think I suddenly can't take care of myself. I've been making decisions and controlling my life since I was just a kid. No matter how shitty things got, I could always do okay without any interference." Darkness covered his face as Mulder starred down into his fists. It was suddenly so hard to even breathe.

"So you resent it when people worry about you?"

"If it means they don't trust me to be capable enough to manage, yeah, I resent it. It pisses me off. Skinner and Scully, neither one think I can make the simplest decision these days. I hate that. I want everybody to get the fuck out of my life and leave me alone. Stop telling me what to do. Let me heal in my own way." Mulder's breathing became more rapid and labored.

Not touching him but moving closer to the bed, Harris said, "It's okay to be angry, Agent Mulder. Just be sure you truly know why you're angry and who deserves the anger."

Tears fell down his cheeks, as Mulder desperately tried to control himself, but he couldn't. He shut his eyes and stopped talking. After about five minutes, Harris cleared his throat. "Look, I think we've talked enough for now. What I'd like to do is come back tomorrow. Would that be okay with you?"

"Doesn't really matter what I think. Without your good word, I'm pretty well screwed."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because I know, Skinner. He's not going to let me come back to work without the okay from you. Walter's a hardass that way. He doesn't trust me at all."

"Walter? Walter Skinner?"

"Yeah."

"And why do you think Mr. Skinner doesn't trust you?"

"He thinks I'm on self-destruct."

A big red flag waved in Harris's mind. Cautiously he continued. "And why do you think that is, Agent Mulder?"

"Just call me Mulder. Everyone does."

"Okay, Mulder, answer the question."

"He's thinks I take too many risks."

"Do you?"

"I don't think so."

Dr. Harris stepped closer to the bed, tilting his head, observing the lack of eye contact and the nervous fingering of the sheet. "Mulder, do you trust AD Skinner?"

After only a brief hesitation, Mulder spoke quietly. "Yeah, I do."

"And you said trust is important to you. Don't you trust him to try to do what's best for you when he's afraid for your health?"

"Yeah, I guess I do, usually, but he's wrong about this. I can take care of myself and I don't need evaluation and therapy. I just want to be left alone. I just don't see why that's too much to ask."

"Normally it wouldn't be, but this isn't a normal situation."

Ignoring the comment, Mulder's voice hardened. "My point is Skinner's in charge of my life right now and he's waiting on you. I'm waiting on you and I don't like it."

"I have to be honest, Mulder, I can't make an evaluation or give Skinner any word yet. I don't know what I think, except that to help you, you're going to have to want that help. I don't think you're even sure about that. Now, may I come back to talk to you tomorrow?"

"I guess. It's not like I'm going anywhere by then. Boysen won't take out the IV. Plus, I still can't even shit on my own. It's a drag."

"It must be frustrating."

"Yeah."

Dr. Harris observed the slight shaking of his patient's hands. He needed to close up the interview soon. "Mulder, I'd also like to have your permission to talk to your partner and AD Skinner about you."

Mulder's head jerked up. With a deeply suspicious tone, he asked, "Why?"

"They're the closest people to you. You said you trusted them."

"I do."

"So, do you trust them enough to let them help me understand you?"

"I don't want you talking to Skinner. Scully, maybe, but not Skinner."

Harris noticed the hesitation, the slight catch of fear mingled in the words. "Okay, not Mr. Skinner. But what about your partner?"

"I trust her, but I'm not sure I want you talking to her about me."

"Are you afraid of what she might say."

"I'm sure she could say a lot. No, it's not that."

"Then what is it?"

"I'm afraid of what you might say."

"I see. Okay, how about this? I'd like to talk to her and ask her if she'd be willing to help me with your case. I won't tell her anything we discuss unless I have permission from you first."

"Not anything?"

"Well, unless you threaten to hurt yourself. Then you know what I'm obligated to do and say. Otherwise, it will be under your direction."

Uneasily Mulder considered the suggestion. Reluctantly he nodded, "Okay, but only if she agrees to the limits."

"Good, then I'll talk to her and come back to see you in the morning. Agreed?"

"I suppose."

"Do you agree or not, Mulder? There is no half-way here."

"Jeez, don't be such a persnickety son-of-a-bitch, Doc. I agree."

Like I have a fucking choice.

Relieved when he left Mulder's room, Harris was also thankful that he'd decided to let his partner help. The doctor knew after only one session, that FBI Special Agent Mulder was definitely going to take a bit of work. During the whole time, he hadn't even mentioned the assault trauma, as though not discussing it somehow canceled out its existence. He headed to his office to get his notes and thoughts down while they were still fresh. On his mental list of things to do was to get with Dana Scully as soon as possible. He also wanted to follow up on the unusual relationship between his patient and his superior. What was going on between the two men--work, friendship, or something else?

Mulder reminded him of one of those old nature films that showed a trapped animal gnawing off its foot rather than staying still and letting anyone help. Yeah, Mulder was definitely getting ready to start chewing any minute.

Thursday 6P.M.

"Well, the good news is that you came up negative for STD's and HIV. Of course, you should be retested for HIV every three months to be safe."

"Safe? Surely you jest, Doc."

Boysen glanced up and saw Mulder forcing a weak grin. "Actually, I'm not. I'm afraid I don't have much of a sense of humor."

"So, I noticed. So, what's the bad news?"

"The bad news is that you're still fighting a low grade infection and still haven't managed to move on to semi-solid foods. Nurse Jamison told me you threw up after we tried a transition meal."

Mulder moaned lightly and held his stomach. "Well, I did keep down lunch. That's an improvement."

Nodding slightly, Boysen agreed. "Yes, it is. However, I still want you to keep the IV another day or two. You need the antibiotics and the fluids."

"A day or two? How much longer do I have to stay here? I mean people have open-heart surgery and get up and out faster than this."

"I know you feel frustrated, but I don't think your stomach can tolerate oral meds yet. Plus you haven't resumed bowel function."

Without warning, Mulder snatched up his water pitcher and threw it across the room. The pitcher, water, and ice flew everywhere with a crash. Scully chose just that moment to enter the room. Everything was very quiet for a few moments. Finally, Mulder whispered, "I'm sorry. I don't know why I did that."

Scully answered, "Don't worry. It's just water, not a suspect or anything. I'll clean it up."

As she was picking up the evidence of his temper, Boysen said, "I know you're not happy, Mulder, but just try to be patient. You are better, just not well enough to go home yet."

"Could I at least have something to do? I need my files or my laptop. I've got to do something or Dr. Harris is really going to have to have me committed. I have to be able to control these feelings and I can't do that if all I can do is just lie here."

Hearing the urgency of his plea, Boysen finally said, "I'll ask Dr. Harris his opinion about that and let you know. For now, I'm going to have them bring you another tray. Finish it and then I want you to rest. I'm going to give you something to help you sleep tonight."

"I don't need anything like that."

"I don't want to argue about it."

As Scully finished wiping up the water, she chipped in, "Look at it this way, Mulder. Maybe the other patients around here would like to sleep."

Grudgingly, Mulder relented, "Okay, but on one condition. I want you to go home tonight, Scully. You've haven't been sleeping either. You go home and I won't fight being knocked out."

Studying Mulder for a minute, Scully tried to figure out if he was up to something. He starred back innocently. "If you promise to take the stuff, I'll go."

"You don't trust me?"

"Not about this, no."

Pretending to look hurt, Mulder shook his head, "You of little faith. Then it's settled. Also, you should tell Skinner, I don't need a guard at the door. I don't think I ever really did, though it was a nice thought."

Scully shook her head. "No way. The guard stays. You want Skinner to take him off, you tell him. Guess what he'll say."

"That's a rhetorical question, no doubt."

Boysen cleared his throat and interrupted, "I'll leave you two to iron out the details. I'll see you later, Agent Mulder."

When he was out the door, Mulder continued his plea, "Come on, Scully, you know I'm not in any danger here. I'm going to sleep through the night with a little help from Mr. Happy Needle. Then Harris is going to let me have my files and laptop and I'll be a good little boy until Boysen releases me."

"And everyone lived happily ever after. Save the fairy tales, Mulder. The guard stays. Take it up with Skinner. As for the files, Skinner won't let you have those either and you know it. You're on medical leave and you're denied access to any of the case work."

Mulder turned on his side and punched his pillow. "Fuck, Scully. At least let me have the laptop. I've got to do something. This is driving me crazy."

"So I noticed. What was the pitching contest all about?"

"Nothing. I'm just angry. I hate this, Scully." He looked so incredibly sad, she had to fight back her own tears of sympathy.

"I know you do. So do I, but you've got to be patient."

Mulder became very still and began to speak quietly. "I cried in front of Harris today."

"I know."

Mulder nodded in recognition of what that meant. "You've talked to him."

"Yes. He wanted to know about your history, your daily behaviors, all the little foibles that make you special. Basically it was a MULDER 101 course."

"Not more like abnormal psych?"

"Is there a difference?" Scully moved closer and sat on the edge of the bed. Mulder shifted his legs away. "Seriously, Mulder. I didn't tell him anything much that he didn't already have documented in your previous files. He also asked me if I'd be willing to help out with some support work if he recommends some cognitive therapy to help change some of your more, as he put it, self- defeating behaviors."

"Self-defeating, huh?"

"Well, let's face it, Mulder, you do on occasion get in your own way."

Mulder refused to look up into his partners face and continued to study his pillow like an ugly bug. "Sounds like Harris has some long term plans."

"Don't jump to conclusions, Mulder. He's just saying that once this crisis stage is over and you're back on your feet, it might not be a bad idea to follow up with some therapy to help you be a little happier in your life. Face it. You're not exactly Mr. Sunshine."

"More like Mr. Grim."

A nurse's aide came into the room with a tray. Mulder groaned and pulled the pillow up over his head. "Please, Scully, get a hammer and put me out of my misery."

"Mulder, don't even kid. Drink up while I show you what I brought."

Removing the pillow, Mulder saw the excitement in his partner's wonderful blue eyes. "What? A surprise? Why didn't you say so."

"Well, the flying pitcher trick and the little pity party distracted me, but there's a VCR with some of your favorite tapes out in the hall with Jenkins."

"Not my FAVORITE tapes, Scully. This is a hospital and I know they've seen anatomically correct images, but..."

Scully punched him playfully. "Shut up, you. I brought some 8 Hour SCI-FI marathon oldies. Everything from THE FLY to PLANET OF THE APES and all the sequels."

"My god, Scully. Will you adopt me?"

"In your dreams, trouble child, which is exactly why I brought them. I thought about it, and I figured out that maybe you can't sleep because not only do you not have your couch, you haven't had your TV flickering at night."

"And you know about the flickering because?"

"We always have adjoining rooms in the field, Mulder. You rarely go through the whole night without the TV on. I just thought this might help."

Mulder shook his head in admiration. "Damn, you're good."

"You know it. Now drink while I get you plugged up and ready."

---

Thursday 9PM

Scully had started the tapes and then left. When Boysen came in the room, he appeared to be almost asleep. "Hey, Doc."

Noticing the movies, Boysen asked, "What's going on?"

"It's how I sleep without pills at home. Scully's idea."

"So, you think that this is better than the medication?"

"Sure. I'd rather not have the shot, if this will work instead."

Boysen considered the situation and decided. "Okay, but I'm going to leave orders that if you're awake in the night, the nurses are to give you the meds."

"Sounds fair."

Boysen watched the screen for a minute while Vincent Price's face attached to a fly's body screamed, "Help me!". He was clueless how this could be the least bit therapeutic, but then looked over to see Mulder snuggled down in his bed, eyes closed. The reports said he'd retained all his food. Pleased with the progress, Boysen left.

As soon as he was out the door, Mulder's eyes were open. He sat up, removed his IV and started to get dressed. His hands shook from the nervous thrill. He found his keys in the bedside table, but no wallet. Scully must have it. It didn't matter. He made one quick phone call out before he arranged the blankets in the bed to appear to be a sleeping form. Then he picked up his phone and called another number. He asked to speak to Agent Jenkins. After a few moments he peeked out, saw Jenkins down the hall at the nurses desk talking into a dead telephone line. He was out and down the emergency exit before the other man could get back to his spot. With any luck, he'd have at least 2 hours before anyone discovered he was missing. By that time he'd be home. They'd all be pissed, especially Scully and Skinner, but he didn't care. He needed to be free to decide what he wanted to do. He couldn't do that with everybody messing with his head. He had to be alone to just sit and think.

Friday 10 PM

Frohike let Mulder out in front of his apartment building. The little man had been the one to answer the phone when Mulder called to request a lift home. "Hey, Man, you going to be okay? You look kind of shaky. Maybe you should get Scully to come over to check you out."

"I'm fine. Thanks for the ride. I'll talk to you and the guys later. Now, beat it."

By the time he'd reached his door, Mulder's whole body wanted to quit on him. Everything seemed to be turning into sand and shifting. He put the key in the lock and entered the darkened room. When he turned on the lights, he found that his place had been searched. Skinner's words about collecting evidence barely scraped his memory.

Walter saw the blood, the semen. Fuck.

His stomach cramped up and a wave of nausea hit. He barely made it to the bathroom before he lost it. After he finished vomiting, the stomach spasms began again. He removed his sweats and finally after almost a week of no bowel function, went to the bathroom. It hurt like hell, but there was no blood. He cleaned himself, but when he tried to stand, the room spun around. He sat back down and put his head between his knees.

Oh, man, what a fucking disaster.

After a few more minutes, his body gradually settled into a calmer rhythm. Slowly he raised his head and after a few more tries got himself up and into the kitchen. He got a utility knife and towel from one of the drawers, and sat down on his couch. Still not wearing his sweat pants, he looked at the inside of his right thigh. He traced the multiple scars that ran parallel up to his groin with the tip of his finger. Placing the towel under his leg, he then started to make two shallow, neat slices next to a line of puckered skin. Mulder felt the pain and relished it. He controlled it. Watching the blood well up and run down his leg, he felt the warmth pool into the towel and press against his skin. He put the knife on the table satisfied with the cuts. It was enough to know he could do it if he needed to. No one needed to know and no one could stop him. He was home.

After a few minutes, Mulder took the towel and slowed the bleeding by applying pressure. When he was sure it was finished, he got up still holding the pad in place, and returned to the bathroom. He got into the shower, turned the water on as hot as he could stand it and let himself stand under the steamy jets. He leaned his head against the tiles while he let another wave of nausea and dizziness pass. When the water started to turn colder, he turned it off and got out. After drying off, he dressed the wound like he'd done so many times before. Then he pulled on fresh briefs and sweats.

He went to his computer. For the first time in days his head felt completely cleared and focused. He powered up and the search was on.

Let Walter keep my gun awhile longer. I have work to do first. The bastard is out there and I'm going to find his sorry ass.

Friday 12:15 A.M. Mulder's Apartment

Pounding on his door and Scully's angry voice, broke Mulder's attention from the databases on his screen. He bookmarked his page and shut down quickly. He heard the key in the lock right before Scully barged in. "Just what the fuck do you think you're doing, Mulder? I swear to god there's something seriously wrong with you and I'm not talking about your body."

Mulder tried his best pitiful-puppy-dog look. "I'm sorry, Scully. I had to get out of there."

"Sorry doesn't get it, Mulder. You've put yourself in danger here."

Mulder sat on the edge of his couch, his hands balled up into fists as he struggled to control his rising anger at having to defend his actions. He didn't want to fight, but she just didn't understand, not about this. "It's my body, Scully."

"Mulder, when the nurse went in and found you gone, Jenkins finally got around to realizing that you'd made the call and then he contacted Skinner and myself. Skinner's on his way over here. You know what he's going to say."

"I'm not going back, Scully. He'll have to suspend me. At this point I don't really care."

"Care about what, Mulder?" Skinner stormed into the room, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets to control the terrible frustration. He wanted to pound the wall, kick out every window, throw himself around the rebellious nomad who'd stolen his heart. He stared in amazement at the stubborn agent on the couch. Anger lay the first wash of heat across his skin, but relief at Mulder's safety brushed on a second layer of chilling reality.

"Care about the fact that I just had to chew out Jenkins for falling for one of the oldest ploys around? Or care about how many forms have to be filled out now that you've left against doctors orders, not to mention my orders? Did it ever occur to you that putting yourself needlessly at such risk and refusing to accept help are the very reasons I wanted you evaluated?"

"Sir, I don't need to be evaluated. I don't need you or anyone else telling me how to take care of myself." Mulder could barely bite out the words. His whole body stiffened as he spoke. "I don't care what you do. I am staying here, alone. Just leave me the fuck alone." He dropped his head to his hands exhausted and shaking.

Scully seated herself on the sofa beside him, but did not touch him. She spoke quietly. "Mulder, you're scared. I understand that, but..."

Before she could finish, Mulder jumped up off the couch shoving the files on the table violently all over the floor. He moved to one of the corners of the room and stood with his back to it. Wrapping his arms around his chest, he leaned there and tried to control his breathing before he finally spoke. "Please, don't tell me you understand, either of you, because you don't."

Still maintaining her calm tone, Scully simply said, "Explain it to us, Mulder."

"Being attacked like that was like losing all control in my life. I have to get that back. Ever since you made me go to the hospital, I haven't been able to make the simplest decisions. At times I can't even control my own body. I can't eat or sleep. I need to regain that control. The only way to do that is to do it the way I've always done it--alone. I need to be able to work through this myself."

Walter remained silent, watching Scully's soothing technique as she slowly spoke and leaned a bit closer into her partner's space. He envied her ability to touch the man so distant, so forbidden.

"Believe it or not, I do understand what it feels like to have to depend on others. I didn't just hop out of bed ready for action after I woke up from that coma, Mulder. I think I have some clue to what it feels like to have control ripped away, but you can survive it. I'm here for you. You are not alone in this."

Terrible pain gripped his gut. He slid down the wall and he realized that he wasn't going to make it to the bathroom to throw up. Falling forward onto his hands and knees, he retched, bringing up only the water he'd drunk. Waves and waves of nausea struck him and he continued to dry heave until he let himself drop to his side to finally lie still.

Suddenly, he felt those awful hands all over him, heard the intrusive voice of his attacker and of his father, each telling him what they were going to do to him, each holding him down, hurting him. God, he wanted to scream, but instead all he could do was start heaving again while trying to get enough air. "God, please, make it stop."

Scully moved to squat next to him while Walter moved to the other side, kneeling there, but not making contact. She reached out and rubbed her friend's back trying to calm him while he sobbed. At first he tried to jerk away from her touch, but she persisted and finally he was just too tired to move at all. The warmth of her hand and the circular motion made him start to relax and feel drowsy. She whispered to him. "Don't worry, Mulder. We're going back to the hospital, but I'm going to stay with you. We'll get through this. I promise."

Reaching from far down in his gut, he whispered, "Where's Walter?"

Looking up, momentarily shocked, her eyes locked onto dark brown. Understanding dawned behind blue irises. "He's right here, Mulder." She whispered over her friend's back. "Talk to him, sir. He needs to hear you to know he's safe." She reached over and took the older man's hand, placing it on her friend's trembling back. Together they made a safe place in the world of hurt known as Fox Mulder.

With a voice like soaked leather scraping over and over across flooded stone, he spoke in a hush. "I'm here, Mulder. Don't worry. Scully and I will take care of you. You're going to be okay. I promise."

Mulder didn't want to listen, but couldn't help himself. The music of his voice wrapped him in a warmth that banished all the taunts, all the jeers from his personal gallery of failures and fears. He needed him in a way he couldn't understand and couldn't explain. As long as he could hear Walter Skinner's gruff tones, he felt the only safety he'd ever known. All he wanted was to stop hurting and go to sleep and oh, yeah, kill the bastard who raped him.

God, Walter, just keep talking. It's a cold, dark place I'm looking in on.

Friday 9:30 A.M.

"Hold still a bit longer, Mr. Mulder. I'll be finished in just a minute." A pink-faced young woman capped off the latest cylinders of blood. As she placed the last one in the tray, she said cheerfully, "There you go. All done."

"Promise?"

Smiling, she apologized, "Sorry, I meant to say all done for now. You've just got to try harder to kick this nasty infection, so I won't have to work so hard myself."

"I'll do what I can, Miss Kim."

"Yeah, well, see to it. Now, get some rest. Maybe these samples will be the ones that do the trick." She practically skipped out the door. It made him weary just to see her with so much energy, when he felt like absolute shit.

Personally, Mulder couldn't remember ever being so damn tired. He shifted in the bed, trying see past the gulf of blankness that covered any wayward images of the night. Perfect memory put the gaps into contrast, niggling and screaming to be noticed. Jesus, say I didn't humiliate myself. I'm such a dumbshit.

He did know that eventually Scully and Skinner managed to get his sorry ass traitor of a body back to the hospital so that Boysen could drug him into oblivion for a few hours. Then the round of testing had started again.

"Hey, Mulder, don't look so goddamn serious."

"Hey, Frohiki. What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same. Fuck, Mulder, do you have any idea how much skin Scully chewed off my ass when she found out I'd helped you escape?"

"I would've thought you'd like that."

The short man moved closer to the bed to study his pale friend. Mulder lay with his right arm covering his eyes. He hadn't bothered to look at him while he talked. "Jesus, Mulder. Don't you know when to take it easy and stop being such a dumbfuck?"

"I guess not."

Troubled by his lack of defense, Frohike asked, "So, are you going to be okay or what, Mulder?"

"They tell me that I might rise again if I'm a good boy."

"Then you're really seriously fucked."

"Yeah, well, I guess you heard."

Frohike choked, but tried to recover. "Mulder, you've got to get out of this dangerous state of mind, man. The Lone Gunmen depend on you. You crash out on us, it's going to be a lot harder to do the work, you know."

Mulder looked wearily at the squat man at the bed edge. "I'll see what I can do, Frohike. I mean, if the world's fate is at risk, what's a little mental anguish, right?"

"Right. Hey, by the way Beyers said that he's got a lead on that Database you wanted him to look for when you called."

For the first time Mulder shifted upward with a little energy. "Did he say how good a lead it was and if he could get me some hard copy?"

"Not yet. He just said he's close to cracking into some sealed files that could be helpful. Could be a day or two, but I'm sure that he'll get what he can. What's this about, Mulder?"

"What is what about, Frohike?" Scully scathing voice came from just inside the door. "What are you doing here? Mulder is not supposed to have any visitors yet."

Looking contrite, Frohike apologized again, "Agent Scully, I told you that Mulder conned me. Seriously, I'm just here for moral support."

"Well, if he looking for morals from you, he is in trouble."

Mulder took a protective tone. "He was just leaving, Scully. Tell, Beyers I'll call later."

"Sure thing, Mulder. Have a great day, Agent Scully."

Scully refused to smile as she watched the little man slink away. Then she turned a fiery look at Mulder. "What are you up to, Mulder? What is Beyers doing for you?"

"It's nothing, Scully. Just some research I asked him about."

"You'd better not be lying to me. I'm getting really tired of this."

Trying to smooth over his behavior from the night before, Mulder turned on his side and lowered his voice. "I know you're tired, Scully. I don't know why you even put up with me."

Scully unfolded her arms and walked over to the bed. She stood there a few moments, starring at her partner as if seriously considering what she wanted to say next. She decided to ignore the pity remark. Instead she opted for something more serious. "Mulder, I need to know something."

"What?"

"I need to know about those cuts on your leg."

Shit. "What do you need to know about them?"

"Well, thank god, you didn't say what cuts or try to deny them. I want to know if you cut yourself, Mulder. Boysen said they were self-inflicted."

There were several minutes of silence before he finally answered. "Yes, Scully, I did."

He could hear her breathing quicken and get louder. "My god, Mulder, what were you thinking? Why? I don't understand."

"I know you don't, Scully."

She thought her heart would break watching Mulder pull in on himself, the way he sometimes did when a crime scene was too horrible for his overburdened eyes. Watching him then, she saw the same thing. The eyes focused on a different place. "Tell me, Mulder. Make me understand why you would possibly want to cut yourself. Why hurt yourself like that?"

"Control."

"Control?"

"I've been in pain most of my life, Scully. I know that's not what you want to hear, but it's true. I found out that I couldn't stop the hurt. I was there and there was nothing I could do to stop it from happening."

"So, why would you want to add to it?"

"Because I can control how much it hurts and how it hurts. Nobody but me."

"Jesus, Mulder. I still don't get it. How does deliberately hurting yourself make anything better?"

"When it hurts too much inside, if I can focus on the outside, it helps. I can't really explain how, but it's what I do, what I have done for a long time."

"When did it start, Mulder?" Scully fought to control her voice, uneven and husky from fighting back tears.

"Can't you guess?"

"Was it after Samantha was taken?"

"That's when it got to be the worst. Before that it was just little stuff. Dad would get mad, hit me. I couldn't stop him, but I could out do his pain. After Sam, well, it got really bad sometimes." Mulder pulled himself into a tighter, protective ball, his left hand held unconsciously between his legs. "Sometimes I had to cut really deep even to feel it. Then Dad would find out and hit me harder."

Scully jerked up suddenly and ran to the bathroom. Mulder heard her retching and squeezed his eyes shut even tighter.

Sorry, Scully. I know I'm a puking pathetic creature. God, please don't leave me, Scully.

She came back in with a damp cloth held to her mouth. After she'd regained control, she whispered, "I'm so sorry, Mulder."

"No, I'm sorry, Scully. You shouldn't have to hear all this."

"Hell, Mulder, I'm just listening to it. You had to live it. Hell, Mulder, your father was a fucking bastard."

"Yeah, that he was, Scully."

She froze at his words. "Mulder?"

"What?"

"Are you saying what I think you are?"

"What are you talking about, Scully? Isn't beating bad enough?"

"Did your father molest you, Mulder?" No answer came. Mulder settled his face deeper into his pillow.

"I don't want to talk anymore right now, Scully. I don't really feel very good."

Her heart ached with the weight of the newly revealed truth. She hadn't seen it because it was so alien to her mind. Her parents had been so loving, so very kind. How could anyone do such a thing to a child, to the man she cared so much about? She could barely hold back the tears. "Sleep then, Mulder. I'm going to be right here in the chair until you feel better."

"Damn, I hope you brought a library with you. It could be awhile."

"As long as it takes, partner. As long as it takes."

Scully pushed the damp cloth into her mouth to smother a desperate scream she felt rising in her throat.

God, how can the world be such a wicked place? So unfair. William Mulder had hurt his only son, his baby boy, my best friend. Thank god the son of a bitch is dead or I'd put the sorry bastard in the ground myself. So fucking unfair.

Then she sat down and decided to pray. Clenching her eyes shut, she pleaded to whatever god there might be to send her, if not answers, at least a little guidance. What the hell could she do to help Mulder save his very soul?

---

Friday Noon

After sending Scully on a break, Harris sat quietly as he watched Mulder sleep. While writing his notes from the observation of the night before, he looked up to see the young agent staring at him with sad, clouded eyes. "Well, it's good to see you awake."

"If people would stop poking me and shooting me up with tranquilizers, I could stay awake a lot more."

"If you'd stop running off and scaring people, that might be arranged." Pausing briefly, he saw Mulder had no comeback. He put down his notes and asked, "So, would you like to explain that little stunt?"

"Not particularly."

"Listen, Agent Mulder, you keep talking about wanting to get out of here, but it seems to me for an educated, bright fellow, you're doing your goddamn best to get yourself locked away."

"Is that how it seems to you?"

"Don't play with me. You used all kinds of subterfuge and left the hospital knowing full well that you were not ready. You scared your partner, your boss, your doctors, everybody."

"I don't know why everybody's so worried and pissed off. It's not like I'm terminal or anything. I just wanted to be left alone. I mean, I'm sorry if Scully and Skinner got worried, but hell, they both worry too much anyway. Why can't I just go home? I can't rest here. I feel like a prisoner."

Harris shook his head and sighed in frustration. He took a deep breath to try to regain some patience. "Agent Mulder, I know it's hard to be here. But face it, you blew your chances at getting out early when you cut yourself."

Mulder rolled onto his back and gazed at the ceiling. "I'm sorry about that. I didn't mean for that to happen."

"What you mean is you didn't want anyone to find out about it. Dr. Boysen had noted the previous scarring, but never attributed it to self-mutilation. Last night's efforts shed a whole new light on your psychological profile."

"Well, I've always been a little on the dark side."

"Go ahead and joke, Mulder. I know you use humor to deflect, to shield yourself from dealing with your issues, but it's not going to work this time. I'm on to you."

"You make it sound like I'm a criminal."

"I don't mean to, but I just think it's important that we both know where we stand. I'm not a game player. You are in serious trouble for a lot of reasons. You've suffered a recent trauma and that's brought you to this critical stage, but your problems go a lot further back. Self-mutilation isn't just an annoying personal problem. It's a serious long-term indicator."

Mulder shifted uneasily in his bed. "It's not so bad. I mean, I didn't try to commit suicide and I'm not going to. I would never hurt Scully or Skinner like that."

Harris jerked his head up as if smacked. "Wouldn't hurt Scully or Skinner like that? So, if your partner or your boss weren't around, it wouldn't make a difference if you hurt yourself?"

Mulder shook his head and answered slowly as if talking to a slow child. "I told you that I'm not suicidal. Cutting myself was a mistake. I realize that. You don't have to worry about it. I won't do it again."

"You and I both know that established behaviors like this are hard to change. You say you won't do it again, but what happens the next time things get too tough, when you hurt a little too much, and you need that fix, you need that feeling of controlling the pain? My experience says you'll do it again, not necessarily because you want to, but because it's what you've always done. It's addictive behavior."

Gritting his teeth, angry that the doctor challenged his words, "I said, I wouldn't do it and I won't. Now, why don't you leave me alone for awhile. I'm tired and want to go back to sleep."

"Not just yet. Tell me what you remember about last night when you returned to the hospital."

Taking his time to straighten the sheet around him, Mulder tried to think back. After collapsing in his apartment, the trip back to the hospital and returning to his room pretty much remained a blank. He was uncertain what Harris was after. "What's to remember? I came back, got a shot, and went back to bed like a good little guy."

Harris studied Mulder a few moments before he responded. "You don't remember do you?"

"I was upset. I didn't want to be here."

"You were more than a little upset. You were in the middle of a flashback, a serious episode from my observations. You were confused about where you were and what was happening. You kept calling for your sister. You kept begging someone to stop hurting you." You were holding your boss's hand and not your partner's, but that's a whole different issue.

Ice flooded across his skin. He didn't recall the words or actions, but had no doubt they'd happened. He hated the blankness in his usually clear and quick mind. Now, he only felt dull and useless, unable to process the simplest information and clear memory of anything but the most horrible points in his life. He closed his eyes and didn't say anything.

"Agent Mulder, I'd like to believe you when you say you wouldn't hurt yourself, but I don't. I'd like to believe that given some freedom to go home and come back into the hospital for counseling on your own, that you could be trusted to do that. However, I can't really believe that based on what I've seen. Right now, you're still primarily under Dr. Boysen's care for your kidney infection and your other physical symptoms. When he releases you from his care, I'll have to decide whether to admit you to the psychological center for in-house care. Right now, I'm leaning in that direction."

Mulder wanted desperately to bite off his tongue. Instead he managed to say, "You can't be serious."

Harris leaned in and braced both his arms on the side of the bed and spoke evenly. "I'm very serious. You've got until Boysen releases you to convince me that you're capable of honest effort to tackle your problems and to accept help. If you can't do that, I will have you admitted."

"You can't prove involuntary committal."

"Oh yes I can, Agent Mulder. You've given me plenty of behaviors to cite. I don't want to do this, but if you don't turn around and get busy, you will be admitted for psychiatric treatment."

The untamed monster of his breathing reared back and it took all his energy to control it and himself. He spoke through a blood-colored light, his tender tongue scraping across a razor-sharp air. "Do you realize that would destroy my career?" Mulder hazel eyes dilated and swirled with a dark anger. His hands clenched the sheets by his side.

"Frankly, that's what I'm betting on. I know what you said about your job being the most important thing in your life. I'm not even going to address why that's a problem in itself. What I am going to do is use the fact as a motivational tool. If you want to remain an active field agent, then you'd better seriously consider working with me without all the walls. Defense mechanisms can be useful for survival, but sometimes they just get in the way. Right now, they're what's keeping you locked in your own prison. It's time for a change."

Reluctantly Mulder settled back, but every nerve in his body started to fire up for a fight. Then just as quickly they seemed to fizzle and die.

God, I'm such a pathetic weak shit.

"You seem to have all the power here, Doc."

"It may seem that way to you now, but you're the one with the power, Mulder. You've just got to learn out to use it without letting it blow up in your face. This isn't a war between us. I really do want to help you, not fight you. I want to help you fight the ghosts that keep pounding at your defenses."

"Ghosts?" Mulder gave a weak half-laugh. "No, not ghosts, Doc. Demons."

Harris nodded sadly, "Yeah? Why don't we bust their asses together?"

Eyelids drooping, Mulder whispered like a little boy. "Okay. But, I'd better warn you. They're some nasty motherfuckers."

"Yeah, well, I can be a pretty mean son of a bitch myself."

"So I noticed."

Harris stood up straight and allowed himself a small smile. "Go to sleep, Mulder. You're going to need your strength."

"Are Scully or Skinner coming back in?"

"Agent Scully is getting something to eat. She'll be here shortly. AD Skinner is running interference between the Bureau and the insurance companies over that little stunt from last night."

"Oh." God, I'll bet he's pissed.

"Don't worry. The man can handle himself pretty well. You're lucky to have him on your side.

"I know. Thanks."

"Now, go to sleep."

"Okay." Any resistance had temporarily drained from his voice and body.

Harris went over to the chair, picked up his folders, and glanced back at the man who had already drifted into sleep.

Demons indeed. A whole fucking army of them.

Harris could almost smell the stench of Hell's gate as it inched its way open. Shaking off his morbid, melodramatic thoughts, he headed out the door and prayed that Scully and AD Skinner could fight like the devil, too. The battle was so damn close, he could actually hear the gnashing of teeth. Turning back for just a second, he realized Mulder was grinding his molars in his sleep. A shiver ran through him as he left the room.

Yeah, demons, and all of them too fucking close.

---

Friday 5 PM

Determined, fired by an almost overwhelming rage, Walter Skinner stomped down the hospital corridor, a dented envelope in his right hand. Scully turned at the sound of his footsteps on tile. "Sir? I thought you were going back to work." His tense expression prompted her to continue. "What's wrong?"

He touched her elbow lightly, his earlier flash of anger contained. "We need to talk privately."

"What's going on?"

He didn't answer, but she let his hand guide her to the far corner of the empty lounge. They sat side by side before he handed her the envelope.

"I found this on the front seat of my car. I think you'd better read it."

Blue eyes locked with dark brown. "Sir, what's going on? What am I going to be reading?"

"Just read it, Agent Scully. I need your advice on how to continue with this."

Anxious anticipation tightened her chest. She pulled out a letter and set of photographs. A large color picture of a white male, heavy build, about 60, peppered dark hair, brown eyes, a thin scar on his chin stared back at her. The second shot showed the same man in black and white obviously taken after the bullet entered the forehead.

"What the hell is this?"

"Read the letter, Scully." Skinner sat perfectly still, years of training working overtime to keep him from shaking apart.

Several minutes passed before Scully looked up. "Shit."

"My sentiments exactly."

"Do you have any idea who sent this?"

"I don't need a crime lab to tell me that the paper reeks of a particular brand of cigarettes. My question is what do I tell Mulder?"

"He has a right to know."

Skinner stood, pacing several moments before sitting back down. He pushed his glasses back. "Scully, I know he has to know. I'm just not sure he has to know the whole thing."

"You mean tell him the man who attacked him is dead, but don't tell him his rapist was assassinated by the very man he hates the most, the man who apparently employed him to spy on him for most of his life?"

"Something like that, yes. I don't know how he'll react to the idea that the Smoking man's involved up to his ass on this one, too."

"Well, I think we both can figure out, he won't react well. I mean, would you? I know I wouldn't. Then again, after all that's happened, I'm not sure I how I'd feel. This is all so unreal. Hell, I don't even know what I feel now and none of this has really happened to me." Scully sat shaking her head, confusion tensing her cheeks and erasing color from her skin.

"That's where you're wrong. It has happened to you in a way. You have this almost empathic connection to Mulder. I sometimes envy the ability you two have as partners to share and be there for each other. His pain affects you deeply. This has been hard on both of you."

A misty sting wavered the light around her as she looked up to see the AD studying her intensely, his dark eyes coal black. "Thank you, sir, but it's been hard on you, too."

He didn't answer, so she didn't push him to share more. She stuffed the pictures and letter back in the envelope and handed them back. "I think we should give them to Mulder. There's no way to prepare him for this and he has to be told."

Nodding reluctantly, Skinner stood up. "I agree. Come on. I can't do this one alone." His voice caught slightly on the words.

"Mulder's stronger than he looks, sir. He'll handle this."

"I've go no doubt about that, Agent Scully. I'm just worried about how he'll handle it, if you get my point. Mulder's coping mechanisms have been called into question of late and I don't want to be the messenger who brings him the bit of news that might push him even closer to that edge. I mean, seriously, how much shit is one man supposed to take anyway? When is enough enough?" The anger in his tightly clipped words made her flinch.

"Sir? Are you all right?" She placed a concerned hand on his arm.

He glanced at it, took a deep breath, and squeezed his eyes shut for a few moments. Then he spoke very softly. "I'm okay. I just hate this."

"I know. It's hard to admit isn't it?"

"What?"

"He gotten past your defenses."

Standing a little straighter and pulling back, he pretended to be ignorant. "My defenses? He's one of my agents, just as you are. I take attacks on my people very personally."

Moving in just a little closer, she whispered. "I know that, sir. But, we both know that Mulder isn't just another agent to either one of us. You and I both witnessed last night the level of trust he has for you, that need he has for you, sir, not me. Trust is important to Mulder. It's not a sin to admit that he's special to you, not a crime to admit that you care about him maybe a little more than you do for your other agents."

Pulling back, Skinner stepped aside as he shoved his glasses up nervously, his skin flushed with the heat of discovery and lure of acceptance. He spoke quietly, his breathing too tight. "That's enough. I'm not going to talk about this right now."

"I know. The timing sucks."

"Let's just go see your partner, Agent Scully."

Fingering the cross around her neck, she agreed. "Yes, sir."

About fucking time you got a good one, Mulder.

She followed the larger man down the hall, her pumps clicking with renewed energy and hope.

---

Friday 5:30 PM

Mulder sat quietly at first and then placed the envelope very carefully on his lap. Without looking up, he spoke, his voice barely moving air. "He's dead then." A statement, not a question reached Skinner's ear.

"According to the letter, yes. The man who attacked you is dead." Skinner stood on the right side of the bed, his thigh against the mattress edge. Scully flanked the other side.

"How can we know for sure?" Mulder still refused to make eye contact with either of his friends.

"The letter said where to find the body. I sent a team out to the spot and got a call saying it's been retrieved."

"Yes, and I plan to do the autopsy myself, Mulder. With the samples from your apartment, we should be able to verify his identity pretty quickly."

The world vibrated painfully around him as Mulder pressed himself to manage the words dancing in chaos on his tongue. "And then what? Do we investigate who killed him? Do I ever get any answers?"

Skinner braced his right hand on the back of the raised bed. He leaned in a little closer, the weariness of the long ordeal settling into the deepest tissue and scraping like jagged nails at his bones. "There are no answers for something like this, Mulder. As for investigating, I'll leave that up to the city. It's not FBI jurisdiction. Frankly, if this was the man who hurt you, I'm sorry he died so fast. A bullet to the brain was a mercy he didn't deserve."

Mulder raised his head and let his too bright eyes lock with Skinner's. Walter's passionate anger touched him, dragged him up from the abyss of lost faith that sucked at his spirit. "Thanks."

"For what?"

"For being so pissed. I'm too tired to really care yet."

Skinner nodded in understanding. "But you will, Mulder. And when you do, the rage is going to be a ball buster. You think you can handle it?"

A polite "ahem" came from the other side of the bed and both men turned to look. "I'm going to go do the autopsy, Mulder. You two talk."

Mulder reached out and grasped her hand before she could move away. "Scully, you don't have to leave."

"Yes, I do, Mulder. We all need to know for sure. If it is the guy, we can focus on getting you back on your feet without having to constantly worry about another attack. If it's not, then we'll worry about it then. Meanwhile, you and the boss have things you need to discuss."

Skinner cleared his throat, suddenly self-conscious and unsure. "Agent Scully, this isn't the time for this."

"Why not, sir? Agent Mulder was attacked, but he's not dead. He needs to know the truth. The truth, sir. Remember how that tune goes?"

"Scully, what the hell are you talking about?" Mulder focused on his diminutive firebrand.

"I think you know, Mulder, but even if you're still figuring it out, it's time for me to go. If you know what's good for you, you'll talk and listen. And, please god, for once, Mulder, pay attention." She leaned over and lightly kissed his forehead. He didn't flinch at all. However, he scrunched his face a little and blushed a lot. The young man finally realized for the first time just how brilliant his partner was. She knew all along. Hell, she probably knew before he did. Scully could be that way.

As soon as she closed the door behind her, Mulder turned and watched as Skinner stood up straight and crossed his arms around his chest. Inside his own chest, his heart pounded in a rush. "Sir, I'm not sure what to say here."

"I know. Me, either. This is damn awkward, not to mention just plain bad timing."

"Well, I'm used to all that. We should get along fine."

A quick smile cracked through to melt the serious features. "I'm sorry about all this, Mulder. I don't want to do or say anything that might be a problem for you."

A sudden swelling tightened his chest. "I understand that, sir. I'm not even sure what to say about any of it. I know this must be hard for you. I've been such a royal pain lately."

Walter stepped closer to the bed, his face red. "Shit. Don't do that. None of this is your fault, Mulder. And stop calling me sir. What I hate is knowing you've suffered and there's been nothing I can do to make it go away." The words hissed and sizzled the air between them.

Unsettled by the pain behind the strong words, Mulder sank down into the bed and turned away.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be a jerk like that. I just want to help."

"You do help, Walter. Your being here helps. At first I tried to deny how it felt to have you around. But I can't seem to control the feelings I have for you right now."

Walter's voice drifted softly to his ear. "And how do you feel right now?"

"Safe. I know it's not sexy, not romantic, but it's how I feel when I'm with you." He hesitated, but then let his voice test the unexplored world. "Before all this happened, I used to think about you a lot."

"You did?"

"Actually it was the two of us together, but now, after what's happened, my thoughts are just too messed up. I can't think about anything like that, not now, not yet."

Walter shook his head almost violently. "Of course not. Besides, I have to tell you that even if this assault had never happened and somehow I'd gotten up the balls to tell you how I felt, we certainly wouldn't be rushing into anything. I mean, my god, Mulder. Think about it. We're in the FBI for godsakes. I'm your boss. God, that alone makes me crazy to say anything."

"I hate the word crazy."

"Sorry. It's just you know how it is, Mulder. We've got this image at the bureau about being tough guys and pricks. We're not supposed to fall in love with each other for godsakes." His usually strong voice flirted with control.

"We're manly men, huh?"

Again the unexpected chuckle tickled Mulder's starved ear. "Yeah. I guess what I'm trying to say, though not very well, is that we need to take this slowly. This is a dangerous thing this feeling between us."

Mulder let his head fall back against the pillow, squeezing his eyes shut, letting his mind float into a grey, wispy space. "You have no idea how dangerous, Walter."

"What are you talking about, Mulder?"

After several moments the young man opened his eyes and reached for Walter's large hand. Unlike Scully's petite, cool palm, the AD's had thickness and rough strength. A fiery tremor telegraphed from Skinner's hand to Mulder's, make a firestorm in his brain.

"I guess it's no secret that one of your agents is truly and totally fucked. And I'm not saying that in my usual sarcastic way. I'm really confused about a lot of things. Believe it or not, I was a little baffled before any of this happened."

"Really?" The tone laced the air with a light tease.

Mulder held Walter's hand in his palm and stroked each thick finger with one of his own, very gently, almost a feather's touch. Skinner's groin tightened with each whisper of flesh against his own.

"What I'm trying to say is that it's not just dangerous to be with me because of the homophobic nature of this world, but because I'm truly and royally fucked when it comes to a relationship and sex and my place in either."

"Mulder, my marriage to Sharon wasn't that great. I'm not exactly the best person when it comes to making it through the relationship gambit myself. What matters is that we've finally decided not to pretend that there's only respect between us."

"Respect? You respect me?"

"Well, hell, yes. Didn't you know that?" Mulder stopped stroking Walter's hand, but he didn't release it.

"No. I just thought you tolerated me."

"Oh, I do that, too, but it's gotten to be necessary to have a stronger dose all the time. You're addictive, Agent Mulder. A person gets a taste and gets hooked pretty quick."

Mulder found a smile could actually gain access to his lips. He'd forgotten what a lovely sensation it could be. After a few moments of quiet, Skinner spoke softly. "Mulder, would you mind too much if I touched your hair?"

"My hair?"

"Yeah, I love your hair. And no cracks about being jealous either."

"I wasn't going to say that. I was going to say, okay. And, Walter?"

"What?"

"I appreciate you asking first."

Walter nodded, leaned forward slightly and ran his fingers through silky thick layers. Mulder's breathing increased, and the older man stopped. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I just had a flashback for a second that's all. I'm sorry."

A mix of rage and sadness circled his heart, ready to go wild, to tear flesh for revenge. Practice let him calm his tongue before he could finally formed sensible words. "I'm sorry, too, Mulder. I hate that you have to even deal with this, but I know you can do it. Harris seems like a pretty good doctor."

"Yeah, he's all right." Mulder's features suddenly clouded, his face drawn and pale.

"What is it?"

"I never told you this before. I didn't tell Scully either, because I didn't want to think about it."

"What?" Skinner's bone and tissue fought against muscle to remain still.

"This man who raped me, the letter said his name was Aaron Turner, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, it was rape, but it wasn't."

Blood thundered. Synapses flashed nova bright. "Mulder, what are you trying to say?"

"I told Turner he could fuck me."

"Mulder, I doubt that."

"I know. In my mind I know it was rape, but he asked me to consent to it if he'd spare Scully, and I did."

"You're saying he threatened Scully?" Walter's fists balled tightly against mere palm flesh.

"He said he'd rape her, if I didn't let him do what he wanted. Walter, in my mind I know, I've been trained, to understand this kind of thing. He wanted to pretend he had permission to do what he did. Like I said, in my head I understand that, but I swear, it's hard to get that reality into the heart, you know."

"I know, Mulder, but you have to. You have to know it for truth. If you don't, it'll never get better."

"I know, Walter. It's just hard." Mulder turned his face away to hide the tears slipping down his cheeks.

Walter wanted so much to take the young man in his arms, but he held back. Instead, he simply whispered. "You're going to get through this, Mulder. You're not alone. Scully and I are both here."

"But I don't want to sleep with Scully."

Caught off guard, Walter coughed to cover his surprise. Unsure, but willing to try, the AD leaned against the bed rail. "Well, then consider it strong motivation."

Mulder laughed out loud. "Motivation? Shit."

Keeping a straight face, Walter pretended innocence. "What?"

"And some people just get suckers when they go to the doctor."

"Well, if you're really good you get a sucker, too."

"Oh, man." Mulder let the weight of a thousand worries hover and float away. Aware that the thin sheet revealed secrets too easily, Mulder shifted to lie on his side. Taking respite when he could, he reached for Skinner's hand again. "Walter, just promise me that you'll be patient, okay. I mean, we can joke all we want, but I'm not going to get better in a few days. This could take awhile."

Still holding his agent's slender hand, AD Skinner actually kneeled down by the bed. Face to face, intense eyes locked, neither man turned away. "Mulder, I have to confess here."

"What?"

"I've been waiting for you almost since the beginning. I'll wait as long as it takes, and I promise to be here until the end."

His features softened as his breathing slowed into comfort and the drowsiness of relief turned Mulder's limbs into heavy stone. "I swear, Walter, I would've never guess you for a romantic kind of guy."

"Well, consider it an X-file."

"Done." Closing his eyes, Mulder drifted, warm satin air removing all pain, his hand held tenderly, but firmly by Walter Skinner's. The entertwining of fingers anchored him to safety, connected him to an actual shot at that elusive thing called hope. Salvation existed in a simple touch, a fated connection. He closed his eyes and let the final understanding of it seep into his bones, into the very fiber of spirit that held him together. The desert spaces within him no longer frightened or stretched so vast as the distance between stars.

Destiny's curve ball changed the whole game plan with one hard pitch. He finally knew he had to keep playing to win. The reason to believe traced and teased his hungry fingertips, the truth branding initials into tender skin.

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The End