"Redrawing the Line" (2/2)
by Ten
kristena@ocean.com.au
Disclaimer in part one

"When you were brought into the ER, you didn't only have
the retrovirus. You had a bumper crop of sprains,
dislocations and bruises. And a very unusual bracelet,"
she accused, tapping his left wrist, knowing he had not
told her everything. That was perhaps unfair - since he
woke up he hadn't been in any condition to deliver a
statement of his experiences. And there was so much more
that could have gone wrong with him - death for one, the
possibility of pneumonia from being so inactive and not
doing any deep breathing and coughing...

"Tossed around by the Pilot in the sub - I had him
handcuffed to me. I shot him, got infected, he dragged me
up the ladder to dump me outside. Carted me along by the
hand like I was a toy... I took a swan dive off the
conning tower. Well, reverse swan dive."

"Then it's a wonder you didn't break something. There was
probably enough snow over the ice to insulate."

"Or my jelly blood protected me. Made me bounce."

There was a few minutes of silence. Mulder's eyes went to
the tape recorder on the trolley, seeing it for the first
time. He frowned slightly, a myriad of songs flashing
through his brain, bringing with them a patchwork of
other things. A cell phone ringing in the darkness; a
desire for brownies; other people having more control
over his limbs than he did, /Scully, make them stop
hurting me! Please... You're there, why aren't you making
them stop? Are they people? Oh God - they're aliens!
Scully!/; the touch of tubes everywhere, entwining him, a
big one down his throat - /The lifeform Firewalker found
in the volcano! Its infected me!/ - and trying to cough
it out; Scully's touches; "Lady in Red"; Scully's
voice...

"What about the retrovirus?" he asked fearfully.

"All gone. Completely."

He breathed with relief. "Thanks."

"For what?" She hadn't told him all the details.

"Everything. Not letting the bedbugs bite. Not letting
the doctors kill me. Giving me something to come back for
-" They both hesitated at this implication. Were they
ready to admit it? How slowly did they want to take
things after their confessions of yesterday? They had
both said 'I love you' in very roundabout ways. "I knew
you'd kill me if I didn't," he finished for cover.

"You still believe your sister is alive though - that
woman wasn't her. You had that to bring you back and your
determination."

/My determination answers to the name 'Scully'./

He wanted her to pick his hand up again. Learning to
count was never *that* sensual in school. His voice was
stronger now, and he used it as he stretched his legs out
a bit, feeling the splints, wincing slightly. "Why was I
so far down in the bed the first time I woke up?"

"Contracture prevention."

"Oh, joy. Hope it's successful."

"So far, it seems to be."

The ankle and shoulder which stabbed with pain out on the
iceflow before the cold lifted the pain had obviously had
enough time to heal, but he felt more discomfort now than
the other times he'd woken up. Perhaps from shifting
around or being more alert or the drugs were wearing
thin. "My hip and ribs hurt the most. Is that from the
bruising?"

"No." Scully mentally told herself off for lying against
his side all night. She knew about his ribs, but God, she
had needed to be with him! "You have cracked ribs from
the CPR, and the pain in your hip is from the sample of
bone marrow fluid we had to take to make sure the
retrovirus wasn't lurking."

"I *have* been missing out on all the fun..."

"CPR could have easily broken your ribs clean through -
and displaced the pieces! I'll get them to give you
another painkiller. So just take it easy for a few
minutes." She was about to head out, but saw he wasn't
really listening.

Mulder looked around at the splendour of their
accommodations. "This place is so dull...and I've only
had to put up with it for a day. You need some colour.
When can we get you home?" His voice was becoming fainter
and his eyelids fluttered.

"We are not going anywhere until you're stronger."

"I'm..." The next second, he was asleep.

"And until you can stay awake." She chuckled softly.
Since it was now safe to, she leaned over and kissed his
lips.

Several hours later he woke and resumed his attack. "Come
on, Scully. Spill our escape plans. You must have checked
out our travel options sometime in the last few weeks."

/For the first week my only concern was keeping you
alive. I didn't want to think about any travelling
because all I could picture was me and a lonely adjoining
seat, with you in a box in the cargo hold... Or held in
quarantine, never to be released./ She shuddered.

"Can't they med-evac me? I don't mind staying in another
hospital if we're back home..." /I can't believe I said
that... But at least Scully would be able to go to her
own apartment then./

"Med-evac copters are for flights up to 300 miles - that
kind of falls short of Seattle and D.C. And with a
special medical jet, that's TONS of money. The insurance
carrier is having kittens about you already - there's no
way they'd authorise it."

"What if I paid...?"

"With what? You'd be in hock for the rest of your life.
Best if you stay up here out of everyone's hair until all
parties calm down. No one wanted you taken back down
until you were cured. Look, I know it isn't that great
here. But be grateful for what you've got. Your life."

"And you. I am grateful, but I wish you weren't here.
It's not fair on you." He sighed. /But if you left me
now.../ "You're *sure* about the medi-vac?"

"We'd have to take a jet, and the only regular med-evac
jets capable of a flight like that with no stops would be
military 747's - and they'd never use that for one
person. Or in your case they might use it, to ship you
right up to the North Pole and leave you there! A small
med-evac jet, military or civilian, would need many
refuelling stops, and that many landings and takeoffs
probably wouldn't be good for you. Unless we sedated you
for the entire trip."

Her posture showed that was an option she was not happy
with, and at the moment he wasn't up to debating it.
Mulder had imagined she would be relieved to have him out
for the flight! He toyed with the possibility of asking
Senator Matheson about the lend of his private jet, but
had a feeling it would not be forthcoming.

Another option popped into his mind. "Commercial flight
with a gurney and nurse? Or would they waive the nurse
seeing as you're a doctor?"

"I want you well enough to go home, not to go straight
into hospital again at the other end. And it costs too."

Mulder thought for a minute. He really did want to go
back to D.C. on his own two feet and be able to travel
straight from the airport to his apartment. She was
making sense. And she wouldn't be as worried or disrupted
if he could avoid the hospital. "If I hang in there for a
bit longer, what about commercial flights?"

"Okay, there are two flights per day from Prudhoe Bay to
Seattle, both in the afternoon. One has no stops along
the way, so we have to make sure that you're strong
enough to handle it. Which will not be just yet! The
other is a puddle jumper, and that many stops isn't good
for you either."

"I can't do *anything*..." he complained, then kept
gathering facts. "Times?"

"One gets in to Seattle at 2:52pm, the other at 8:22pm."

Mulder grinned. As exacting as ever. No "around 3pm and
8:30pm" for her.

"The earlier flight is a big plane, flight time about one
to one-and-a-half hours. The other is a puddle-jumper.
Four hours."

He perked up further. "If we get the first one, we could
be back in D.C. by -"

"Not a chance! Mulder, whichever flight we take, whatever
time we get into SeaTac, we are going straight to a motel
to spend the night. *Then* we fly back to D.C."

"Scully, it really isn't necessary..."

"This is just as much for me as you. There would be a
long delay between flights to D.C. and a change in
airlines. We'll need a break. Besides, I might want to
get you alone in the motel and have my way with you
before we get back to reality."

"Typical. Taking advantage of me in my weakened
condition... You could have your way here with me now..."

"Nah," she said, "these doors don't lock."

Mulder gaped at her grin.

Luckily, the Physical Therapist chose that moment to come
in.

It took another week and a half for Mulder to improve to
a satisfactory enough standard for Scully, Dr. Olsen and
the independent doctor that Worker's Comp. sent up on the
case to agree he was well enough to leave Alaska and last
the flights home. His ribs were healed enough, though
Mulder still took some pain meds and decided to put the
velcro rib belt back on to support and protect them
during the flights. Previous experience had taught him
this, since he couldn't lie down and take all the strain
off them. His hip wasn't sore any more. There were no
serious contractures. The central line had been pulled
after three and a half weeks. Tests proved that his
eyesight was his normal average, much to Scully's silent
relief, as was his cognition. His co-ordination and
attention span were good considering he still tired
easily. The staff were being extra careful with him
because of the strange nature of the retrovirus.

He deigned, without argument, to stay overnight in
Seattle. (The fact that his throat was worn out from
whining might have had something to do with it.) He was
so glad to be getting out of the hospital. /Four and a
half weeks! Thank God I was out for the first three./ All
those exercises they had him doing...more like an
aerobics camp!

It took several more days to arrange everything and to
wait for a spell of bad weather to lapse.

Mulder thought he had behaved extremely well today. He
had not overexerted himself by going crazy when at last
allowed out of bed - well, he had been previously allowed
out for walks along the corridors, but that was different
- and into civilian clothes for his discharge. He ate
with appetite, seemed quite perky on the copter ride to
Prudhoe Bay's airport ("Aren't you going to miss Alaska?"
"It's got the wrong kind of wildlife. Parasitic worms and
viruses don't do it for me.") and then slept most of the
way on the flight to Seattle. /Perhaps I should have
talked Scully into a flight last week, because what's the
difference between being sedated and sleeping all the
damn time anyway?!/

"Sorry for not being sociable, partner."

"That's fine, Mulder. I like you that way. So easy to
deal with." So damn cute to watch. Even when he wasn't at
100%, he was handsome. The woman across the aisle and the
air hostesses seemed to think so, from the rate of up and
down appraisals of his sleeping form.

"You must have really worn him out on the honeymoon,
sweetie," one commented, giving her a wink. "I can see
why you chose Alaska instead of some tropical beach. With
him, who'd care about the rest of the scenery... I'd
never leave the bed."

"You're right - I didn't," was all she could answer in
reply.

This opinion was given more weight when Scully insisted
on escorting Mulder to and from the facilities when
necessary. /Mile-high club my -/

"Scully - I'm housebroken. I'm a big boy now. Or do you
want to find out?"

"I've seen you naked, Mulder. In an ER." That shut him
up.

He was a bit pouty and *very* quiet all the way back to
their seats, before muttering, "We were in the
*Arctic*..."

Scully debated whether or not she should tell him he had
nothing to fret about. Well, 'nothing' wasn't the right
wording. She settled for laughing until he couldn't help
joining in.

At last, Seattle. People everywhere. But Scully only had
eyes for her partner. She was paranoid that someone would
accidentally elbow him in the ribs, and was prowling
around him, eyeing people so no one would dare enter
their personal space, and ready to intercept any close
contact.

He liked her air of propriety, like: "He's mine. Stay
back." Then again, after all the time she'd spent on him,
she wouldn't want her work undone.

He flat out refused a wheelchair to get through the
terminal. Scully didn't blow her top because he did seem
to be bearing up well. And there were golf carts and
large slidewalks, which were more inconspicuous and
acceptable for his ego. He sat guarding their meagre
luggage in the baggage pick-up section of SeaTac as
Scully phoned their hotel to get a pre-arranged shuttle
bus to come to the exit they were closest to. Her medical
rank and FBI credentials had allowed that to come about.
Then - refusing to let him even heft a small carryall -
she escorted him to the departure door to wait. She kept
studying him.

Mulder let out a tolerating breath and held up a little
sign he'd made in the pick-up section. The piece of
cardboard declared: "I'M FINE" with a smiley face next to
it.

She gave him a mock glare to match his grin, but was
still worried. After all, she had said the exact same
thing to him on the Pfaster case.

He shrugged. "I thought it would save my jaw..."

"From talking, not from my punch."

As they walked outside, Mulder sighed in relief
(inwardly, so not to worry her). /Ahh, Scully in sunlight
at last. Decent sunlight - more hours of light than a
handful. And no other woman has ever shown so much
interest in my body...or my well-being. We're nearly
home./

Scully was glad for the shuttle bus. She was worried sick
Mulder would be worn out. They had a half mile drive to
their hotel.

Mulder stared out the bus window as it slowed down. "The
Seattle Airport *Hilton*??"

"Yep. Only the best for you, Mulder."

"Skinner is not going to authorise this..."

"Olsen and I convinced the Worker's Comp. guy that the
expense was necessary. It's not like it's in the same
league as a medi-vac expense. You need to be close to the
airport to save unnecessary travelling. The chef can
prepare special diets, and there's an MD on call, which
is useful because I don't have my Mulder-medical bag,
only what meds you're going home with. Besides, after
your medical bill for this little jaunt, why not finish
the whole thing off in style? Skinner said after five
weeks in Alaska that *I* deserved the luxury!"

He gave a sad smile, and she could see the tiredness
behind it.

"Come on, you can have a few hours' nap before dinner.
Then if you're really good, I'll let you watch a bit of
TV before bedtime."

His eyes lit up. Paradise.

The Bell Captain stared at the couple coming into the
foyer. They did not have much luggage, and what there was
was being carried by the woman. Roger admiringly checked
her out as they approached, an easy thing to do as her
attention was on her partner. Great spread... He gave the
male a disguised sneer. Weak-looking and geeky. Walking
as if the carpet might trip him up. Probably drunk or
hungover.

"Hello," the woman said, smiling. "We want to be at the
airport early tomorrow morning, for an 8am flight. When
should we be in the lobby by?"

"Yes, ma'am." /Great smile. I can make it bigger./ He
gave her the information. He could care less about her
partner, currently leaning very quietly against the desk.
/I could take this pale wimp, easy. Speaking of take.../
Roger eyed the woman's trim, short form as she turned,
oblivious, and he pictured what he could do with it. Then
the man straightened up and stared at him.

There was nothing weak about the fury and possessiveness
in those hazel eyes.

The Bell Captain decided to leave them alone. Well alone.

They had two adjoining rooms. Scully gave Mulder his meds
and put him to bed. He didn't complain. But he was
secretly disappointed she didn't join him. She had done
so twice more in Alaska, but there had been no more
kisses. The closeness was plenty.

Then she went into her room and stared around. Space. No
corrugated iron. Chairs with decent padding over them.
Windows with views. A closet, not a locker... Bliss! The
contents of her two bags would barely cover a few hangers
though. Packing had not been high on her list of
priorities when Skinner gave her Mulder's coordinates so
many weeks ago. Soon she would be back in her apartment
with all her possessions. It was surprising how little
she missed them.

She noticed a package peeping out from a side pocket on
her larger bag. She had forgotten about the present
Jennie handed her as they were leaving for the
helicopter. Mulder hadn't noticed, and Scully slid it
into the pocket to open later. Now she did so. A few
moments later she was holding a framed polaroid of
herself and Mulder asleep together.

/It's beautiful... But I can't have it on my sideboard,
as much as I'd love to! We look so... This is the first
polaroid I've seen where I actually resemble myself. Who
am I kidding - I look better! Okay, exhausted, but
content. And everyone would jump to the wrong conclusions
about why. You can't even tell we're in a hospital./
Smiling through a blush, she carefully put the photo in
the bag between some clothes.

She checked out the bathroom...a spa bath. /Oh yes.../
That would be the perfect way to kill time before getting
ready for dinner.

Sleeping in a bed did have major advantages over the
couch and aircraft seating. Mulder thought he might even
get used to it...at least while so exhausted. He slept so
soundly he even ignored the fact there was a TV in the
room, just beckoning to be turned on.

Scully woke him and he got dressed in the spare set of
clothes the nurses at Eisenhower managed to procure for
him from the Corpsmen. They felt loose, and he chose to
believe they'd picked poor fits instead of him actually
losing any weight. Would he ever have his old level of
energy back? To jog... To not see a stranger in the
mirror. It all cut too close to the time Scully was
returned to him.

He felt her eyes judging him again, weighing the choices
of room service or going downstairs. He refrained from
begging.

She smiled and gestured to the door. "Let's go."

He blinked and grinned with delight. He did feel all
right, but Scully's definition - when it came to him at
least - was a lot more stringent. He had been sure she
would order room service, so he really must be doing okay
for her to agree that he was strong enough to eat "in
public".

Dinner was eaten down to the last morsel (with real
appetite, not just to keep Scully happy) and as they
relaxed in the dining room amongst the other patrons,
Mulder felt normal again. Not a specimen to be prodded or
a frail object. Scully seemed more animated too - less
doctor, more Dana. She needed this. The last weeks must
have been stifling for her. They smiled a lot at each
other, talked about events on the news, and enjoyed their
meal.

That night in bed, Mulder couldn't settle. He was out in
the real world again! And with a decent TV! He wasn't
worried about not being able to sleep - God knew he'd
done enough of that already. So much for insomnia.
Exhaustion would probably catch up with him, but he could
fix that by sleeping on the plane to D.C. He turned the
TV on with the sound down low, and lay in bed to watch
it. He kept one ear razor-sharp for sign of Scully,
knowing she would be doing regular checks through the
night. If he held the remote in his hand at the edge of
the bed, just peeking out from the covers, he could zap
the TV off the second she began opening the door, and she
would be none the wiser. Or if she saw the remote, she
could think he was holding it as a comfort/teddy
substitute.

But when she did come in, he had become too complacent,
wrapped up in an old black and white thriller. As the
door opened, Mulder fumbled and dropped the remote off
the bed. Fortunately, the carpet was so thick it
disguised the thump. He lay there in fear, eyes closed,
waiting. Hopefully she would just think he had the TV on
for white noise, to drift off to...

The covers were tucked more closely around him.

He felt the press of lips to his forehead. /My God - she
*was* serious about having her way with me in a hotel! Oh
yes... Mulder - stop that! She's just acting like a
mother with a kid; that's all. Nothing to get excited
about./ But it did seem to linger... Then little kisses
began working their way down past his eye, onto his
cheek, and along his jaw.

/Scully.../ He wanted to meet her gaze, to measure the
depths of her feelings, to show how intense his were, to
pull her into bed and generate enough heat to melt the
bedsprings, but he knew he couldn't manage it. He
couldn't quite believe it was happening. /She's probably
just testing to see if you're really sleeping!/

Her lips pulled away from his skin abruptly. The universe
wept. Her embarrassment hung around her like an aura. He
heard her leave. But the path of her kisses burned a
track down his face.

/Definitely no sleep tonight.../ Mulder lay there for a
long time, staring at the door, before going in search of
the remote control.

END PART FOUR OF SEVEN

-----------------------------------------------------------

"Redrawing the Line" (5/7)
by Ten
kristena@ocean.com.au
Disclaimer in part one

He looked so gorgeous. Lying there in sheets and blankets
that weren't hospital issue. Not in a blue gown or
sterile surroundings. Her mouth had quite gotten away on
her. Thank God he was out of it - a week ago she had
woken him up at around two in the morning because she'd
gotten mixed up and stumbled half-asleep into his room
and begun doing ROM exercises on his 'comatose' sleeping
form. "Is this a come on?" he'd mumbled, befuddled. She
convinced him he was dreaming and fled. Well, this visit
was more in the line of his dreams. Or those videos.

Dana went back to her room and set her alarm so she could
check him again in another three hours. And cursed when
the shrill noise obediently woke her from a dream in
which Mulder was completely recovered. And uncovered. And
pleasuring her senseless...

In the morning Mulder had a bath - nothing unusual in
that, apart from the fact that he had to leave the
bathroom door open so Scully could sit in a chair outside
the door, facing away, leafing through a magazine and
having a conversation with him, so if something went
wrong, she could rush in.

Mulder silently wondered how long that little arrangement
was going to be enforced.

They left Seattle on American Airlines because it had the
wider choice of flights, and at better times. The problem
was still the length of the flight, literally all day,
with a 90-minute stopover along the way. Scully discarded
the earliest arriving flight, which left at 6:47am and
arrived at 3:55pm, as too hard on Mulder. So they got on
the 8am one, which would touch them down in 6:20pm, which
included the three hour time difference.

Plus she hoped they could avoid the traffic standstill
that choked D.C. when people were all heading home from
work.

Mulder silently hoped he could catch up on his sleep
along the way. He felt wiped out. He *had* tried to go to
sleep at the hotel, but no go. He passed the time
congenially with the TV and plans of what he was going to
do back in D.C. And replaying Scully's little night
visit. That morning, both had acted like nothing
happened. Besides, if Mulder mentioned it, he thought the
only thing he'd then get on the lips would be a punch!

"Nearly home," he whispered to his partner to see her
smile.

But he could not get comfortable in his seat to rest.
Scully watched in concern as he shifted, his expression
frustrated and eyes at half-mast. Sleeping sitting up was
not the best. She wished they could have taken a train
with a sleeper compartment in Canada, but it would have
been too long a trip, sold out far in advance, and they
would have been too far from a hospital for three days
and nights. How could she lull him off to sleep without
him catching on? She didn't exactly have anything to read
to him as a bedtime story apart from the airline
magazines. A light went on in her brain. /Perfect./

"Mulder, let's talk about your medical insurance."
*She'd* handled the paperwork. Every time she brought up
the subject in Alaska, he'd fall asleep. She couldn't
tell if that was deliberate or coincidence, but she would
take advantage now. Even if it had been deliberate, he
should be bored insensible in a few minutes.

In the hospital Mulder had asked a few questions, signed
things where she'd told him (or let her, since she held
his Medical Power Of Attorney) but spent most of his time
sleeping and harping about going home. But now he was
awake, on his way home, and intrigued.

"You're on the regular insurance plan; the government
covers your premium. You rarely get sick or injured that
isn't work related, so -"

"Oh God!" he interrupted. "It wasn't work-related... It
was personal - I lied about it and ran off. Worker's
Comp. won't accept it - I'll have to pay..."

This was a bad idea. He was even more awake and looking
terrified, so much so he'd forgotten about the Worker's
Comp. doctor she kept mentioning and who kept examining
him - surely he'd worked out they'd accepted the claim?
She supposed all the carers had become one big annoying
blur to him. Perhaps if she sang the news to him,
crooning like a lullaby... Forget it. She may score
perfectly on the firing range, but not in the vocal
range.

She leapt in hastily. "Relax, They agreed that you were
injured on the job, so they *are* paying 100%."

"Now that's an X-File..."

"Yep. You won't have to live off beans."

He gave a shaky sigh of relief.

Scully looked at him. "But they're going to start a
special high premium rate just for you if you keep this
up."

He shrugged and changed the subject. "Ahhh, if only the
FBI would let me use my vacation time since my sick leave
has expired. I certainly didn't have any sick days left
over from '94. What with being shot, quarantined twice
and going into toxic shock..." The last two he said
quietly - they weren't things to be bragged about in
public. "And I think I've blown this year's lone
accumulated day. Several times over. When can I go back
to work?" He hadn't dared to ask about work - there had
been no further news on the missing sub and he'd just
been focused on getting home. "I've got to start
accumulating again, or I'm in trouble."

"You won't be ready to go back to light work for at least
another seven days, probably more, so that will be six
weeks racked up. You can get short-term disability."

"Doesn't mean I have to enjoy it. I suppose it beats
living off my savings." He knew he did need the extra
time off. And the money.

"At least you'll be reimbursed. Not like you could blow
it in Alaska anyway. Sixty percent of your wages for this
'holiday' is better than nothing."

"Sixty percent... That irritates me more than a
catheter." He tilted his head back and stared at the
ceiling.

/Why aren't you dropping off?/ "Lucky you chose the
highest monthly premium, or you wouldn't get that much.
Let me point out that my treatment of choice may have
been correct, but it was certainly *not* the treatment of
choice for hypothermia, which is all the doctors
initially knew about, and, as you say, you ran off to
Alaska unofficially. By *your* way of thinking. That
usually makes it *not* a Worker's Comp. illness, but we
got it through."

"You would have had fun convincing them of the legitimacy
of my claim. I mean, they pay my premiums, and I've
missed a heap of work and I can't even do desk duty yet,
but -" he dropped his voice to a whisper, "- getting an
alien retrovirus past them???? Well done!"

"An *unknown* retrovirus," she retorted just as quietly.
"Though since you're alive to argue with me, you can call
it 'Bob' for all I care. You're making the paperwork a
nightmare for me and the doctors. We've been arguing
about what to put down as your return to work date."

"Hey, you only have to fill it out every month. And
believe me, I'm not hanging around home after *two*
months are up... Six weeks, even seven - fine, if I must.
But no more."

She got back to answering his question. "Skinner reviewed
my reports after the fire at the clinic and decided it
really was a legitimate case. Agent Weiss, that killer,"
/Him kidnapping me.../ "all of it. Skinner was putting
together a team of agents to look into it - he didn't
want to disturb you until you'd had that time off you
requested, and he wanted to keep on this investigation.
Then you were gone, chasing the killer. Still part of the
case, even though to you it was personal. *Then* came the
study of 'Bob'. In depth, up close, and very personal. It
is valuable information. We have documented proof of it -
so, to Worker's Comp, you had a covered accident."

"Thank God..."

/I have,/ she thought silently. /Many times in the last
five weeks./

He was on the edge of sleep. "How...how much did I cost
this time?"

/Nearly my sanity./ "As usual, Mulder, you proved
priceless. Ask no questions and you'll get no lies. Let's
leave it at that, okay?"

He nodded and lay his head back on the seat, but again
moved restlessly. She saw his fingers tighten against the
armrests.

"Here," she said quietly, patting her shoulder.

"More comfortable than a futon..." he murmured gratefully
as he accepted, and no more was heard from him.

She sat feeling his sleeping weight against her side and
his hair against her cheek. Her hand stole over his and
held firmly. She remembered their kiss back in Alaska.
The brief but sweet touch of lips and feelings. They had
not said anything about it. /Will we dismiss it? Should
we?/ The thought excited and terrified her. /The
risks...the gains.../ Once Mulder recovered enough to
stop falling asleep in the middle of conversations...then
they would see. Meanwhile, Scully lived on the progress
he made and how his eyes brightened when he saw her.

After such a concentrated time trapped in each other's
company, both had the right to be heartily fed up with
each other and want a break. But, no. Mulder had lived
through three months of Scully not being there, and she
had no knowledge of that time. Now she had three weeks
sans-Mulder, which he couldn't remember. No wonder they
weren't sick of each other. They were even more aware of
what they could lose.

At one point his lips rested against her neck, and it
took all Scully's resistance not to arch and moan and
demand more.

Mulder did sleep, though there was a period where he just
enjoyed lying so intimately close to Scully. The least
little thing seemed to wake him. Yesterday, on the way to
Seattle, he had slept through the kids playing up and
announcements and people going past to the toilet, though
Scully had woken him up for the meal and beverages.
("Sorry, Mulder. But you need to take your medicine and
eat just as much as you need to sleep. We can't have you
being a well-rested dehydrate.") He kept down his food,
but the light bugged him in a way it had not yesterday.
He felt awful. A night-time flight had sounded really
peaceful, but Scully had vetoed that idea: it could be
crowded with business people, or even if it was half-
empty, it would still be noisy; he would get off the
plane even more exhausted; and he needed a decent night's
sleep on top of what he got during the day. And that was
that! Mulder refrained from telling her that even with
the hotel, he still didn't get a restful night.

The rush of the travelling, the crowds, the hotel and the
excitement was all getting to him. The lack of the normal
sleep he needed with his extra sleep was draining him.
The agents were always travelling, and Mulder had long
ago learned the knack of ignoring the hustle and bustle
at various airports... But now they were back in D.C. he
was so exhausted he had reached the hypersensitivity
stage, where his brain could not block out the background
noise and activity. It all assailed him.

/Just hang in there. Not much further. You're almost
home./ He was missing the quiet of Alaska. /You held on
against the virus, don't flake out now!/ "I'm fine," he
kept telling his partner. He didn't feel he could keep
lifting the little sign.

Scully was fretting silently as they travelled on a
luggage mover to the elevators. She *did* think that
Mulder had slept most of the time, but there was still a
tiring period ahead before they could rest properly. He
didn't want a wheelchair to get through the ground floor.

She was going to take Mulder to her place, but first they
would have to navigate the airport, wait for the shuttle
bus to her parking lot, get to the car, load it, wait in
line to pay to get out of the lot... At least they didn't
have to wait for the luggage to be unloaded, because they
had hand items easily stowed in the overhead
compartments. National was a two-hour drive to
Annapolis... She prayed the traffic on Route 50 would be
kind. Hopefully Mulder could sleep more in the car.
Perhaps she would stop at a motel if the journey
stretched out too long.

At least the weather was holding up. She gazed into the
darkness - no rain or snow, otherwise there would be no
way that traffic would be even moving.

It turned out she didn't need to worry about all that.
Mulder solved that problem while giving her even more
cause to panic...

It was when they were waiting for the shuttlebus. There
were a lot of people of various ages already there, so by
the time they reached the spot, all the benches were
full. Scully had to ask a teenager if he'd mind giving up
his space on the bench for her partner, as Mulder did his
embarrassed best to hide behind a pole.

The youth was not moved. "Lady, if he was pregnant or
elderly or willing to hand over your phone number,
there'd be no problem."

Scully felt like saying she'd worn him out on the
honeymoon, but instead flashed her badge. The kid
vanished like vapour.

When the shuttlebus came, Scully leapt in to intercept
the driver so he could save seats close to the door for
them. Then he was inundated with people wanting to stow
their gear, so Scully was cut off from Mulder, still
sitting on the end of the bench as he waited for the rush
to die down.

"Mommy - look at the man!"

Scully's gut twisted. She pushed through people and
possessions to find Mulder had collapsed.

END PART FIVE OF SEVEN

--------------------------------------------------------

"Redrawing the Line" (6/7)
by Ten
kristena@ocean.com.au
Disclaimer in part one

He was lying half on the cement, the top half of him
sprawled across a fortunately soft-looking piece of
luggage.

"Mulder?! Mulder..." People got the hell out of her way,
and in a second she was beside him. He moaned, shifting,
his eyelids fluttering.

Fear and anger raged in her. /God - don't let this be a
relapse, *please*. Just let it be exhaustion... though if
it is, I'll be furious! The last place I want either of
us to be is back in hospital when we're so close to home!
To begin putting this whole nightmare behind us. Why
didn't he tell me he wasn't well?/

She immediately began taking his pulse with one hand and
pulled out her cellular with the other. Mulder's eyes
were open now, and he went to raise his head. Her fingers
left his pulse to flatten out against his cheek. "Stay
still."

He saw the phone and redoubled his efforts to get up.
"Scully - I'm okay! I just tripped over a suitcase strap,
and it knocked the wind out of me."

"Can it! You were unconscious. You collapsed. Do you want
me to ask one of these people for an eyewitness report?
End of discussion." She summoned the paramedics.

Mulder found he was too tired to argue. He was lucid but
drained. And cursing himself for not holding on a bit
longer - he could have collapsed into bed without
sounding any bells.

The airport staff cleared the area, setting up a
temporary shuttlebus stop 500 metres away. The ambulance
arrived. Scully showed her badge, declared her doctor
status, then began a discourse on Mulder's medical
situation. Since the public were now dispersed, Scully
could mention the retrovirus to let the EMTs know the
risks of taking him on as a patient.

One EMT began bringing out IV paraphernalia, asking
Scully if starting one could lead to exposure. Mulder
noticed and freaked out. He yanked his arms away.

"No! No IV, *please*, Dana!" He was in tears of near-
hysteria, tucking his hands in his armpits. "I'm sorry -
I'm sorry - I just wanted to see you in the sunlight
again!"

She ran a hand through his hair since she couldn't get
near his arms. "Please, Mulder, we have to take you to
the hospital. It could be a relapse. We have to find out
- I don't want to lose you again..."

"Okay! Okay...but no IV. Surely all my blood must've been
replaced by saline water already?" As if to prove it,
more salty tears slid out of his eyes.

Debbie, one of the EMTs, held her radio, not quite
knowing how to relay *this* little scene to the hospital.
Male in early thirties, in meltdown at the prospect of an
IV, with a no-nonsense FBI Agent Doctor partner watching
him and the EMTs simultaneously. The Agent Doctor saying
he was recovering from an unknown retrovirus infection.
The man muttered "Alien!" once, then subsided.

Must be a joke...

As she professionally did her job, on another level
Debbie had to admit he was a looker. Even pale and weak
and in tears, he was *so* appealing. It just made you
want to hug him and run your hands... Not that Agent
Doctor would let you anywhere near. Ring up the
ambulance, and then not let them do their job... She just
stopped herself shaking her head. Redheads... This one
fitted the stereotypical bill. But *was* Agent Doctor a
real redhead?

She informed the hospital as to what was going on, and
got the verdict back: since there was a doctor at the
scene, the doctor could make the final decision about the
IV.

Begging hazel eyes shot back to Agent Doctor.

Debbie saw her sigh and consider carefully. It looked
like she wanted to follow usual procedure, but didn't
want to stress her partner out any more than necessary.
He wasn't unconscious, so they didn't need to start the
IV "TKO" to keep the vein open, just in case. Agent
Doctor had said that an IV needle would not cause the
virus to spread, and gloves were worn as standard
procedure anyway, but if this was some weird virus, did
they *want* to risk sticking him out here?

"Okay, no IV."

Handsome seemed ready to father her firstborn in
gratitude... Debbie felt jealous - until they arrived at
the hospital and she realised just who the patient was.
The Legendary Fox Mulder. /Avoid him like the plague,
girl. Because with his track record, he's bound to *pick
up* the plague eventually!/

In the ambulance, a still upset Mulder stared up at
Scully, who was sitting by his head. Haltingly, he tried
to explain. "I was so sick of IVs and hospitals and
catheters, and I just wanted to be home, to feel human
again and to see you in sunlight for a change. I wanted
you to be home."

Her fury at him melted. She forgave him and realised she
had let Mulder convince her he was ready to leave Alaska
on his own feet because she *wanted* to believe he was
fine. She wanted to get him home too.

"It's okay." /This isn't the retrovirus again. I won't
let it be that!/

In the hospital, Mulder did not complain about the blood
samples. Well, having blood drawn was less painful than
having an IV started in the back of a hand. The blood
didn't jelly up. They were keeping him in the ER until
they could figure out what was going on, which service
they would admit him to, and who his doctor would be.

The prognosis was cumulative exhaustion. A catch-all
phrase which basically meant he was worn out and needed
lots of rest.

Mulder was not dehydrated - Scully was not surprised. He
had eaten every meal, though he could have thrown them
back up in the toilets on the plane and hotel. So he
didn't need an IV. He almost wept with relief. And he
hadn't worsened his ribs in the fall.

They kept him in for twenty-three hours for observation,
during which time he slept a lot and kept down what he
ate. If they kept him 24 hours, it would be an
admittance, which cost more. (The insurance carrier
already had Mulder as their number one pin up boy...on
their dartboard. But they forked out for this too because
Mulder had been cleared for travel by their own doctor.)

He fully admitted in private to being overexcited in the
Hilton and faking sleep when she checked him. Scully
sighed - she should have realised... She had just thought
the TV was his white noise, and she'd been so relieved to
be in a comfortable bed for a change that she hadn't been
as regular or sneaky in checking on him as she was in the
hospital.

Apart from the up-close examination with her lips...

/OH GOD - he was *awake* for that...??!!/

Now wasn't the time to curl up in embarrassment though.
She was too worried about Mulder's attitude towards being
in hospital again. Namely that he didn't seem to have one
now!

Scully had expected protest about spending nearly a day
in there, about wanting to go home and be left alone, but
he didn't seem bothered one way or the other as long as
he could lay back and sleep. That definitely meant he
wasn't feeling well. After all he'd been through,
depression could easily be setting in. She would keep a
close eye on that.

She stayed the whole time, beginning the arduous task of
breaking in another bedside chair to her body's contours
and sleeping in the waiting room. When 23 hours was up,
Dana looked at the more rested Mulder. He didn't say
anything, but she could tell his mind was screaming: "Let
me out of here!"

"Is it still all right if we still go to my apartment,
Mulder? I know you'd like to be in your own bed - couch -
...but Mom's had my fridge stocked and kept the apartment
aired and so on while we were away. I don't know what
your place would be like by now. Do you mind?" /And it's
only a few steps up the front, not three flights./

"No... Whatever's most convenient for you. I'll be home
either way. And it'll be nice for you to be in your own
home instead of being stuck at my place or a hospital
room." He knew there was no way he could get out of being
looked after by her. He didn't really want to.

Her neighbours were intrigued at the sight of Scully
carefully helping Mulder up the steps.

"That's it, dear. Get him straight to bed."

"Promises, promises..." Mulder grinned.

Scully was firm. "You *are* going straight to bed."

"And you?" delivered huskily.

"The sofa."

"Role reversal... We could share...if it's a double, of
course. Not that lack of space stopped us before."

They were back in D.C. now. She had to be firm with him
and herself. And she didn't want her feelings distracting
her when she should be monitoring him for depression.
Time enough for all that when he was well again. "You're
sleeping alone."

That sentence proved half true. Dana enjoyed lying next
to him for a while - much better than in a hospital bed -
but couldn't go back to sleep. The nightmare was hard to
shake. She'd battled so much in reality to save him
without a flatlined Mulder reappearing in her
subconscious and bringing his ghost sister along as well
as the ER staff. Amazingly, Mulder hadn't suffered any
nightmares that she was aware of in the last two weeks.
Perhaps a combination of exhaustion and sedatives and
medication had prevented them. Or the fact that he didn't
believe that woman was his sister, but that his real
sister was still alive.

Scully eventually got up and resumed work on her report
for Skinner. There was a knock at the door and she found
a delivery man there with a package needing her
signature.

She examined the package and laughed as she brought it
into the sitting room. She knew what it contained.

"What's up?" Mulder's voice, hoarse but curious, just
reached her from the bedroom.

"You've got a present. Hang on a minute and I'll bring it
in."

Soon she went into the bedroom with her hands behind her
back.

Mulder eyed her from where he was lying. "If the Gunmen
have sent me a snow globe, I'll put their photos in the
tabloids..."

"Actually, this is from Skinner."

"Now this I have to see."

Scully presented him with a brand-new cellular phone tied
with a ribbon. Exactly like the phone ruined when he was
hit by the car.

Mulder laughed. "I hope the bow was your touch."

"Yes. I told him how we kept missing each other's
messages and calls and what it led to. You with a phone
is dangerous, but I'd much prefer you with one and
accessible instead of going through all that again."

He closed his eyes, smiling. "You insinuating that I call
you too much, Scully? That I don't leave you alone?"

She snorted. "You're the only man I know who's just as
irritating in a coma as he is out of it!"

/You'll keep./ He turned his head to the right, burrowing
half his face against the pillow, getting comfortable
again. He sighed deeply - and Scully's perfume filled his
nostrils.

Mulder's eyes opened. He sniffed again, then turned to
look at his partner. She was standing near the end of the
bed. The smell was coming from the pillow. /Ah ha!/ And
the bedclothes on the other side were rumpled.

"And just what are you insinuating, Mulder?" Her
expression was that sheen of ice he knew she put over
panic or guilt.

"Nothing. I just think it's nice that you keep air
freshener in your linen closet that's the same as your
perfume." He smiled the smile of his that usually
guaranteed a quick thaw.

Her face was summer as she shook her head and put the
phone down on the nightstand next to him.

"I lost my gun too," he reminded her hopefully.

"That's going to be a bit harder to fix. I don't think
you get letters of censure in your file for losing
phones, although if you keep up such a rate, I'm sure it
will start... But as for the gun...you'll have to
requalify first, and we'd better make sure Skinner's
bruises have healed completely before we approach him."

"Bruises? What do you mean?"

That was something she had not got around to telling him.
In full detail at least. Perhaps he assumed she'd found
him by psychic connection. "When you ran off I managed to
contact your contact at your apartment." She smiled at
his startled look. "You're not the only one who can light
up an 'X'. I was desperate. He wouldn't give me any
information and left. Next thing I knew, Skinner was at
your door, face a mess, rattling off your co-ordinates.
So I don't know if you've lost another source...but you
gained also. Skinner really put himself on the line for
you."

"My God... I'll be such a model agent from now on, he'll
think I'm a clone." His face darkened at his own poor
choice of words. "Well, at the least I'll try not to lose
my next gun for a full month."

Mrs Scully came to "babysit" when Scully had to go meet
with Skinner, as well as make a trip to Mulder's
apartment for clothes and his mail.

Maggie eyed her pale charge. "Try running off on me,
young man, and you'll regret it."

/I'd rather face the retrovirus again.../ He shifted
uncomfortably on the sofa under the gaze of two very
determined women. /No wonder I ditched Scully via e-
mail.../

Mrs Scully's face softened. She knew why her daughter
could not stay mad with him. She was all ready to settle
down with Fox and catch up, but Dana was still hovering
around. "Hon, are you ready to go? We're fine here."

"Um, yeah... In a minute."

Maggie realised. "I'll go make myself some tea."

Mulder opened his mouth to say she hadn't wanted any when
she came, but instead asked her to please hand him the
remote control on her way past.

Scully stood over him. /God, I'm *dithering*! I don't
'dither'!/ She tried to hide her nervousness at leaving
him. This would be the furtherest apart they'd been in
weeks. "Um, I'll be back soon, okay? Then I'll set up a
mini basketball ring on the back of the bedroom door and
you can throw toy balls at it and scrunched paper and
stuff."

"What if you come in and I hit you instead?"

"Ten points."

"It'll leave a mess - they won't all land in the bin, you
know."

"I know." She plucked at a hair on the sofa. "I'll be
back soon, okay?" she repeated.

"And if you go now, you'll be back sooner. I'll be here."

Scully hesitated, then quickly leaned forward and kissed
him on the cheek. She hurried out.

END PART SIX OF SEVEN

------------------------------------------------------

"Redrawing the Line" (7/7)
by Ten
kristena@ocean.com.au
Disclaimer in part one

Maggie smiled at him as she came back in, ignoring the
faint lipstick imprint. Though her next words: "Incentive
to stay." brought a blush, until she presented him with a
bag of sunflower seeds.

Mulder's eyes lit up. He hadn't had the pleasure of
crunching seeds for ages. He delved into the bag eagerly,
only to find it seemed to take an effort to crack them.
The reverberations felt like they went through his whole
frame and hurt his teeth and head. His taste buds were
dulled. His stomach wasn't eager.

But Maggie was sitting in the armchair, watching him
closely, worriedly. One of those mothers who served up
tables groaning with food and knew all was right in the
world when it was devoured. He would do anything to keep
her happy, so he soldiered on doggedly, and she was
content.

They had an enjoyable chat. He and Scully said goodbye to
Maggie later on, then Dana remembered a few minutes later
she needed to go to the drugstore. Mulder was propped up
in bed, purusing the newspapers and subscription
magazines that had piled up on his doorstep in his
absence, and said he would be just fine while she ducked
out.

Scully eyed some of the magazine covers. "Go easy there.
I don't want your heartrate getting too fast."

"I need exercise! Tell you what, I'll only look at one,
just enough to build up to a brisk walk. I'll put the
others aside then and concentrate on the conspiracy
reviews."

It was great to finally have some decent reading.
Deadhorse and the aeroplanes were not literary meccas.
Not that he could read for hours on end... The most
interesting thing he'd read there was his med chart
(Which he'd snuck a look at when strong enough to get up
and look around unaided. Oh sure, he had a legal right to
ask to see it, but he had a feeling it would upset
Scully.) He knew enough to get the gist of his condition
in the bad stage. His Glasgow scale had been below
Scully's requirements for *herself*. That fact was
something to ponder on, but now he was really alone for
the first time, no one - someone - not in the next
room...and he didn't know if he liked that or not.

He needed time to *think* though, think without dozing
off or being interrupted. So much had happened. After his
collapse at the airport, Mulder found it almost a relief
to be back in the hospital once he was there. He guessed
he still had to shake off this 'patient mentality'. Of
the real world being overwhelming.

Scully arrived home after forty minutes to find Mulder
had been ill just inside her bedroom door and was
attempting to clean the mess up himself.

/Oh God, he's vomited. Is the virus back? Is he sick with
something new, or was it the stress of going to the
bathroom by himself? I can't go through this again.../
She tried to disguise her alarm. "Mulder - oh Mulder,
it's okay. Leave it! I'll do it; get back to bed."

The pale and sweating man ignored her. He dipped a rag
into the bucket of hot soapy water he'd managed to haul
in, despite feeling like pressing it into a more urgent
service on the way. "I'm sorry...I went to the bathroom
and it wasn't until I was coming out that I felt - I
tried to get back in time..."

"It's okay. Come on, Mulder, please. I have to examine
you." She could not keep the fear out of her voice.

"It was the seeds..."

"What?"

"Your mom gave me sunflower seeds, and I ate too many." A
tiny apologetic smile appeared. He was disgusted with his
recovering body. "I knew my stomach wasn't in the mood,
but she was looking so anxiously for a sign of the old me
that I kept going. Please don't tell her..."

Dana's sigh of relief was shaky yet heartfelt. She
offered up a silent prayer, then went back to dealing
with her partner. The humiliation and shame was coming
off him in waves. "It's okay, Mulder. It's not your
fault. None of this is. Now back to bed; it's cold."

He pushed back on his knees and actually laughed.
"Believe me, Scully, this isn't cold."

"True, but I still don't want to have to nurse a man with
pneumonia. We already came too close to that. Come on."

He resisted. "It's my mess." He felt so tired. Carrying
the bucket had exhausted all his resources. But he kept
cleaning. "I don't want to be one of those guys who act
like they're dying and get the poor woman to race around
after them."

"Been there; done that. Mulder, this isn't just a cold
you had. You were very sick!"

"So were you," he said pointedly. "But you didn't want me
helping you then."

It was Scully's turn to rock back. She had stayed at her
mother's for a while when recovering from her abduction.
When Margaret and Melissa both had appointments, Mulder
came over. Then she felt dizzy in the hall and he wanted
to carry or at least aid her to the sitting room sofa.
But she valiantly insisted she would be all right, that
she would get there. She had. Carefully, slowly, hand on
the wall, and in small steps. Sitting down on the sofa,
she had looked up at his anxiously hovering presence and
smiled triumphantly. But he did not look happy. He was
worried and wanting to help. He had needed to help her.

Knowing when to *accept* assistance was just as important
as regaining independence. And knowing when someone
*needed to give* assistance. She had hurt him. And made
herself unnecessarily lightheaded for hours afterwards.
For what?

/I know I'm strong. This inner strength had allowed me to
survive so much. I don't have to keep proving it in that
way./

Scully waited until he put the rag back in the bucket,
then leaned across to hug him. A big, tight hug she never
wanted to break.

Mulder was surprised, but it was what he needed too - his
ribs barely protesting - and he gratefully returned the
hold, though he couldn't make his grip as strong.

Scully rubbed her cheek against his t-shirt. "I should
have accepted your help. I was too stubborn. Let's learn
from that mistake and not repeat it, okay?"

She felt his nod against her shoulder.

"Come on, back to bed."

This time he didn't resist and was asleep in seconds.

Mulder opened his eyes to find the Pilot glaring down at
him. And holding Samantha. The eight year old struggled
in his tight grip.

Mulder tried to get up, but he was so weak it was
impossible. "Please...please give her to me." He
stretched out a shaking hand.

"An exchange," the Pilot said. He pointed.

Mulder looked. Scully was lying beside him in the bed,
arm around his waist in sleep.

"No..." Mulder whispered.

"Fox..." Samantha whimpered.

He looked back and forth between his partner and sister.

"CHOOSE!" the Pilot bellowed.

Mulder screamed.

He sat up yelling, "Samantha!" But the space beside the
bed was empty.

"Scully!" he cried, and threw aside the blankets, but she
wasn't there next to him.

"NO!" He punched the pillows. "No no no nonono!" It
blurred into a wordless scream.

"Mulder!" Her arms were around him, trying to hold him
down. He immediately went limp, on some level not wanting
to accidentally strike her.

Scully cradled him in her embrace, whispering tenderly.
She had heard the names he yelled.

After an age she judged he was calmed down enough for her
to risk broaching the subject they knew had to be
confronted. Had known ever since a freezing morning on a
bridge.

"Why did you risk your sister for me?"

"It wasn't her." He would not look at her. He kept his
head down, his arms clinging to hers.

"At the time you thought it was her."

"You couldn't be the price for her return. I thought I
could save you both...but I should have known I couldn't
hold onto two valuable things." His voice wavered. "The
universe just doesn't work that way, does it?"

"I wish you had her. I'm so sorry you don't."

His head came up. His eyes met hers. One hand
disentangled to cup her cheek. "I have you. I still have
you. If I'd lost you again, I don't know what I would
have..."

"Mulder, if you ever have to choose like that again -"

"I'd do the same."

"You'd have to tell me who she was! It was my choice
too."

"No. I'd do the same, just like I knew your reaction if
you had known her identity. And it is *not* going to
happen a second time."

"Good. So you're promising me you won't leave me like
that again?"

His jaw set. He couldn't. He let go of her and busied
himself rearranging the bedsheets.

She kept a hand on his shoulder. "Mulder, we're going to
have to discuss this. I don't want a repeat performance.
I don't want you running off on your own."

"You said it yourself: a line had to be drawn."

"Then we're going to have to redraw it! With the both of
us over the same side!"

Mulder shook his head, more convinced of this than his
UFO convictions. "Over the side of constant danger, cut
off from the rest of the world. That area isn't for you."

"I'm a Federal Agent, dammit!"

"With a risk of getting shot at or facing down criminals,
yes. But due to who else could you end up abducted for
months then turn up in hospital buried in wires and
tubes...?"

"Mulder, the same thing just happened to you. If you'd
let me in, you wouldn't have ended up that way."

"We *both* would have, Scully. One of us would have shot
the Pilot, and we both would have been exposed to the
retrovirus. There would have been no one to charge in and
stop the ER crew from inadvertently killing us."

Both were getting frustrated and Scully could see that
Mulder was still exhausted. It was only a few hours since
he had vomited. "We'll talk more later - settle down for
a while."

She felt tired too, but decided to stay up and read.

Mulder woke up hearing Scully making frantic noises. He
looked around, disorientated, then scrambled up and raced
into the sitting room. She was slumped against the sofa
arm, crying desperately: "Mulder? Mulder?"

"I'm here; wake up, Scully, I'm here!"

It took her several minutes to come back to herself
enough to realise he was indeed there. They sat and held
each other silently, trapped in horrifying thoughts.

Mulder gently rocked his partner, his chin on her hair.
"You dreamt about Barry, didn't you? That I wasn't there
to save you."

"No, about being in the ER and not being able to keep you
alive..."

That rocked *him*. He thought he was the cause of her
nightmares, not the subject.

"I keep having it... This time it was longer. Your sister
wanted to take you with her, but I wouldn't let her. She
was saying that you wanted to be with her and I knew it
was in death and I couldn't let you go. But you weren't
fighting, Mulder, you wouldn't live... You were going
towards her, and I didn't know if you wanted me to stop
you or not." Her tears flashed to frustration. "For God's
sake - don't you know that these five weeks have been
more terrifying for me than how I could *ever* feel about
whatever happened to me after Barry? I was so scared and
we didn't know for so long whether you'd be okay or
not..." Their eyes locked. She stepped off the cliff.
"Mulder, I love you and..." She couldn't go on.

His face broke into the most wonderful smile she had ever
seen him use. "I don't think there's anything more you
can say. Or need to. I can say that I've loved you for so
long. I knew for sure when Barry took you, and I had a
lot of time during those months... I couldn't bear losing
you again. So there was no decision to be made when the
Pilot had you. I knew what I had to do."

"And I began to realise when I heard you calling out to
Sam on the bridge, and I knew just what you had done.
When I saw you in the ER... I had a lot of time to think
about it too."

"I've been thinking about doing *this* for a while..."
With that, Mulder put his lips to hers. The universe
cheered and began throwing streamers. This was not just
one brief meeting of mouths - this was conflagration and
both of them were full participants.

Eventually they pulled back enough to look at each other.
They grinned.

"I've been thinking about doing a lot more too, but I
think it'll have to wait a while yet!" Mulder admitted.

Scully laughed and nodded. "But I don't want to wait to
do this again." She kissed him, he responded. He made her
feel like her blood had turned to jelly in the best
possible way. /Kiss stimuli! Why didn't I try that
before!/

He chuckled. "I keep feeling that a nurse or your Mom is
going to walk in." That didn't stop him sucking at her
ear.

"I know. Makes it more exciting, don't you think?"

A snort of amazed and delighted laughter tickled her ear,
and he hugged her tighter.

"Are your ribs okay?"

"They ain't feeling no pain."

Her hands traced over his chest gently, then explored his
face and arms and came to link with his hands, which were
on her face. Mulder lifted their joined hands for them to
look at. She was bringing him out of long weeks of
hibernation. "I much prefer this sort of ROM. Keep giving
me this, and I'll be 100% in no time."

"Behave!" she mocked.

"Like you were in the hotel room? Just what were you up
to, Agent Scully?"

She pulled her hands out of his. He got worried. Then she
pushed him, gently but firmly, so he was lying back
against the sofa arm. His legs were on the floor, so
there was still enough room for Scully on the sofa.

"Dana?"

She leaned over him. "You asked a question, Agent Mulder.
I'm just providing the answer. Or do I have to draw you a
diagram?" She kissed his forehead, then began tracking
kisses down his face. This time she didn't stop short of
his lips.

"Ten points," he said when he could think again.

"No, if you hit me it's ten points. I hit on you, so I
get twenty."

"Want to try for another twenty?"

"I'm listening..."

"Mind showing me what that finger counting thing was all
about? I don't think I got the full lesson."

"Okay, but just to make sure that your finger joints have
no contractures." Her hands and mouth gave each digit a
thorough test. "And now I think it's time for a rest."

"After THAT maths lesson? I won't be able to sleep for a
week!"

"You've only had a few broken hours of sleep so far. You
need more than that - go and nap while I fix something
for us to eat."

"Order a pizza."

"Mulder -"

"So we can have a nap together. So I can feel you in my
arms instead of just your perfume and instead of hospital
life going on around us. No guilt or uncertainty."

"Pizza." She folded her arms and stared at the phone.
"This goes against every grain in my body."

"Hey, so do I, but somehow, we work."

Scully phoned their order in. Once wouldn't hurt. Then
she got up and held her hands out to him. He stood and
they put an arm around each other to move into the
bedroom.

Mulder noticed she was looking at him very seriously, and
knew their talk had not ended. "What is it?"

"We'll have to redraw the line," she said firmly.

He nodded, leaning down to kiss her again, accepting her
totally into this last little isolated bit of his life.
"Into a circle around us. A ring."

And three days later Dana Scully was wearing the
affirmation of their bond.

THE END.

"Outwitted", copyright by Edwin Markham

He drew a circle that shut me out--
Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout.
But Love and I had the wit to win:
We drew a circle that took him in!

Used without permission, no infringement intended, not
for profit, but because it was perfect!

And thanks to: Gerry, Kristina J, Lisa, Crash and
Frogdoggie.