REV: ROCK BOTTOM (1/4) By Cathleen Faye / 
kimerikal@aol.com

CATEGORY: Story / Mulder Angst, Scully Angst / UST 
(well, there's a kiss, but let's just say it doesn't 
resolve much and only complicates things <g>)

SUMMARY: Mulder and Scully struggle with 
reconciliation, God, angels, demons, lies, truths, 
forgiveness, faith, and the changing nature of their 
relationship.

SPOLIERS: Story takes place during Folie as Deux. 

RATING: PG-13 for adult language and discussion.

REVISION NOTES: I first posted over two years ago and 
I always felt it could use some polishing. Well, I 
finally got around to reading it again recently and 
realized that polishing was way too gentle a word for 
what it needed! So I set to work on this revision. So 
if you've read it before, hopefully this is better and 
if you haven't, so much the better. ARCHIVING: Just 
ask! 
****


Chicago, Illinois State Psychiatric Ward

Mulder turned his head and stared back up at the 
millions of small holes that dotted the grimy ceiling 
tiles that were so common in places like this. Those 
tiles were all he'd been able to look at during the 
hours he'd waited for Scully to come get him. He 
glanced back over at the door that Scully had just 
passed out of moments ago and then he returned to 
staring up at the dots. 

They're kind of like reverse stars, he thought 
suddenly, with dark points instead of light.

They're ceiling tiles, another part of his brain 
corrected sharply. Get a grip, Mulder. 

He closed his eyes a moment. Great, now I'm hearing 
voices, he thought as he listened to the conflicts in 
his mind. He turned his eyes and glanced back over at 
the door for the tenth time in as many minutes.

Stop that. She's not coming back for you, moron. She 
left you here.

He looked back up at the dirty, water-stained ceiling, 
struggling to hold on to what little was apparently 
left of his sanity as the voices argued in his head, 
and the desolation of this hellhole bore down on him. 

Jesus Christ, how did they expect anyone to ever get 
well in a place like this?

****

The voices in his head had gotten an early start as 
he'd waited anxiously for Scully all morning, sure 
that she would arrive any minute to get him out of 
this place. However, as the hours wore on, another 
part of his head started nagging at him. The pride-
dominated part of his brain hadn't wanted his partner, 
just about the only person whose opinion he gave a 
shit about, to see him like this. He really didn't 
think he was up to having Scully see him committed by 
Skinner for dangerous and psychotic behavior, 
restrained like an animal and unable to move, scratch 
or even take a piss without permission or help. She'd 
see his sanity questioned, his freedom taken, his 
career most likely over, his pride and dignity in 
complete ruins. It was going to be one of the worst 
moments in his life and he just didn't know if he was 
ready to look her in the eyes as it was surely going 
to be another low moment in life seemingly filled with 
them.

He'd spent the better part of the morning lying to 
himself, trying to convince his ego that it wouldn't 
be so bad, that he'd been through worse periods and 
gotten through them, so surely he could get past this 
thing too. But that mind-game had proved to be a big 
mistake on his part because as he hauled up memories 
to make comparisons, his already troubled thoughts 
kept wandering into his dark places that he preferred 
not to go near as a rule.

If pressed to name the worst periods of his life, 
Mulder just might have more to choose from than the 
average person. As a boy, he would have said his 
failure to stop his sister's abduction was the worst 
moment of his life. However, as his mind moved forward 
in time, many other worthy contenders for worst moment 
honors stepped forth. 

There were his parent's vicious battles and the 
inevitable divorce. Then they became strangers as they 
both turned away from him. He'd escaped to Oxford only 
to feel even more the outsider there before being 
emotionally crushed by the Phoebe Greene steamroller. 
There'd been a temporary respite in his early years at 
the FBI and then he managed to get Steve Wallenberg 
killed simply by following the rules. It would have 
seemed hard to top the suffocating grief he'd felt 
upon his return to his vandalized apartment after 
Scully's life support had been turned off, when he'd 
felt so helpless and sure that he'd failed to reach 
her. But soon afterwards, he'd seen his father 
murdered only moments after he'd received the first 
hug and approving words from the man in almost twenty 
years. He still carried the sorrow he'd felt at his 
failure to save Lucy Householder from the demons that 
chased her; he knew too well how isolated she'd felt. 
Just in the last year, he'd had some serious new lows. 
Scully looked him in the eyes and told him that she 
been given cancer to make him believe the lies and the 
night he'd realized he'd willingly played the fool as 
he chased his elusive absolution. Then there was that 
night, not so long ago, when he'd knelt at his 
partner's bedside in the darkness; heartbroken for 
what they both might lose.

Mulder didn't often indulge in the luxury of self-
pity. Indeed, his ability to turn away from those 
memories, even as they colored his life, was 
instrumental to his well-being. As long as he kept 
moving forward, those memories stayed behind him. 
Except now. They'd caught up with him because he was 
strapped down like some fucking lunatic with nothing 
to do but stare at the ceiling dots, think about 
things that he didn't want to think about, and wait 
for Scully to come get him. He glanced over at the 
door yet again. Come on, Scully. Where the hell are 
you? Get me the hell out of here. And suddenly, as 
though in response to his thoughts, the door to his 
room pushed open. His partner stood there in the 
doorway bearing silent witness to his perfect 
humiliation and failure as she met his eyes. He felt 
his heart pound. Oh God, he'd been a fool to think it 
wouldn't be so bad. It was even worse than he feared 
and he wanted to crawl into a dark hole and hide from 
her penetrating gaze. For a moment, he wished that he 
really had lost his mind because maybe then he 
wouldn't have cared about what he saw when he looked 
up into her eyes. 

Slowly, Scully walked to his bedside and slipped her 
fingers into his as best she could with his hand being 
tied to the bed rail and all. He tried to rise above 
his mortification by making a feeble joke that she 
didn't laugh at. Of course, that wasn't so different, 
she never laughed at his jokes, and for a brief 
minute, he felt hopeful when she talked of the 
evidence in the case.

But then, as he looked up into her face, he realized 
that she was giving him the same look she would have 
given a dog that had to be put to sleep. Then after a 
moment more, it began to dawn on him that she wasn't 
talking about the arrangements she'd made for getting 
him out of here. When she began to talk of her hope 
for his recovery, he finally began to understand that 
Scully hadn't come to take him home. 

He felt her fingers tighten upon his but her touch, 
which usually soothed any hurt, physical or mental, 
gave him no comfort this time. As she gazed down at 
him, he could see the distress in her eyes, the pity. 
Did she think him wrongly accused or did she look that 
way because she believed that he really should be 
here? He wasn't sure. He wondered if she believed that 
he was lost to her; not to the conspiracies and 
everything else that strived to separate them, but to 
a demon in his own mind. 

Mulder began to panic as the situation began to spin 
wildly the wrong way. This was not happening. There 
was just no damn way this was happening. He'd never 
even considered this turn of events and he tried to 
get his jumbled and medicated mind to get things back 
on course. He'd always been able to reach her. What 
was he doing wrong?

He looked up into her face and in desperation, he 
begged her to be willing to see. He begged her to 
listen to him even if he was strapped to a bed in a 
psych ward. He pleaded with her, as he never had 
before. Telling her the truth, as he never had before. 
She held his gaze a long time and then with a single 
shake of her head, she looked away. 

And Mulder's hope died in his chest right there. Dear 
God, she was going to leave him here.

He closed his eyes to hide from what he was seeing and 
turned his head away with the realization that he'd 
finally found the outer limit of Scully's faith in 
him. He always suspected that he would push it too far 
some day and apparently, he finally had for this time 
it seemed that her allegiance would fall to her 
science that told her that a creature such as he 
described simply couldn't exist outside his mind. As 
he lay there, somewhere in the back of his head, he 
heard the loud crash and felt the pain of hitting a 
completely new rock bottom of his life.

After a few moments, he felt Scully slowly ease her 
fingers from his hand. He felt her slip away from him, 
leaving him alone in this place as her footsteps moved 
towards the door. He heard her call his name and 
unable to resist, he looked over to meet her eyes.

"Mulder, I promise..." Scully trailed off as though 
she was unsure of what she could promise him or if she 
could even promise him anything at all.

Mulder felt oddly disconnected with what was 
happening, almost as though he was watching it from 
outside. He didn't know if it was the medication or 
the shock, but he was amazed at how calm he felt. 
Shouldn't he be kicking and screaming? However, some 
last remaining shred of pride kicked in and one of the 
voices in his head told him not to make this parting 
bitter because there was a dark foreboding to it. He 
took a deep breath. "It's OK, Scully," he lied softly, 
absurdly proud of how strong he was able to make his 
voice sound, when he really wanted to beg her to stay. 
"Really. It's OK."

Scully gripped the edge of the door slightly. "No, 
it's not, Mulder," she responded. Then, turning 
quickly, she was gone. The door swung shut behind her 
and he was alone again. 

So now all Mulder could do was lie back and stare up 
at the ceiling tile dots again. They wavered and 
danced in front on his eyes now and he closed his eyes 
as a bitter laugh snickered out. Perfect. This was 
just frigging perfect. Mulder had always had a keen 
appreciation of irony and this was just almost 
priceless. All morning he'd lay here thinking about 
all the rotten moments in his life, worried that 
having Scully see him humiliated would be right up 
there. And it had been. 

Yet within ten minutes of that moment, he'd discovered 
that there was apparently no end of the depths to 
which he could sink. It only goes to show that you 
never know where the day might take you, he thought 
with dark bemusement. No matter how bad a situation 
seems there is always the opportunity for it to get 
even worse. 

He felt a painful lump in his throat and his eyes 
burned with hurt, but he shoved that useless emotion 
back down roughly by concentrating on his rising hot 
anger. Feeding it instead of the pain as he twisted 
against the straps holding him down. Anger would serve 
him better in his battle against the rising fear.

He felt so alone in this dismal place filled with 
frightening sights and smells and sounds. Chicago was 
a mere two hours flight from DC, but it seemed on the 
dark side of the moon in his isolation. How had he 
reached this place? Why him? Why hadn't he just kept 
his damn mouth shut? What events in his life caused 
him to see that demon? What was so screwed up in his 
own brain that he was made to see things that no one 
else could see? Things that no one else believed in. 
God, maybe....

No -- he wasn't crazy. It was real. It was. Wasn't it? 
Foolishly, he moved his gaze back to the door again, 
staring at it as though if he concentrated hard enough 
Scully would come back for him. After a moment, he 
shook his head at his folly. Scully wasn't coming 
back, he was stuck here. Suddenly he realized that he 
might never see her again. At least, not in any human 
state.

The new thought that ate at him was that he would die 
here tonight because whatever the hell Pincus was, 
that thing knew Mulder had seen it. Pincus would bring 
him into that ungodly fold of the walking dead and all 
Mulder could do was lie here and wait for it, just as 
he'd waited for Scully all morning like a goddamned 
puppy waiting for its master. Helpless against what 
was coming for him. 

As he had at least a hundred times, he pulled against 
the restraining straps, feeling them dig into his 
wrists, chest, and ankles. Shit. Shit. Shit! He'd 
never been claustrophobic, but this was as close as 
he'd ever come to that kind of panic. Mulder felt the 
hurt and depression rise and again, he focused his 
mind on his anger to deflect it. There was no rage 
that burned like injustice and he became consumed by 
it. The holes in the ceiling began to pulsate as he 
stared at them.

Jesus Christ--how could Scully have left him in this 
hellhole? How could she? He would never have left her 
alone in a place like this, helpless and tied down 
like a fucking lunatic. No matter what he believed --
or didn't believe--he wouldn't have left her behind. 
But even as he seethed, his other more rational voice 
asked him logical questions.

What the hell was she supposed to do Mulder? Take you 
out at gunpoint? That's your kind of behavior, not 
hers. Your kind of behavior is what landed you here in 
the first place. What the hell is it you expected her 
to do? Ruin her life and career for you?

No. I just wanted her to listen. No, that's not true. 
I wanted her to consider the possibility. She was 
supposed to consider the possibility. That's all I 
wanted. That's all. She'd always been willing to do 
that in the past. What had changed between them that 
she couldn't do so now?

Oh God, maybe he really was losing his mind. All his 
voices made sense to him. He couldn't stand the 
turmoil going on in his head, coupled with the fear of 
what he knew was coming. Mulder felt the human 
instinctual need to put his hands to his face and curl 
up into a tight fetal ball to protect himself as his 
emotions pulled him inward. But even that small, 
pitiful, physical comfort was denied to him. His hands 
and feet were tied to the bed. He was strapped flat on 
his back and only able to stare at the ceiling, 
defenseless and vulnerable as an abandoned newborn 
kitten.

He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself, tried 
to divert his mind. But there was no diversion to be 
had; all he could do was deliberate why Scully had 
turned away from him since the beginning of this case. 
He'd joked to her earlier that she must have seen this 
coming, but now he wondered if that was actually a 
bitter truth. He wondered if this moment was something 
she'd always believed would come about as their lives 
became ever more intertwined. 

Just days ago, he'd ratcheted up all his courage and 
told Scully what he'd seen. He'd asked her if that 
made him disturbed, if that made him demented. The 
shock in her face had been evident and she'd 
immediately discounted his entire theory, which by 
itself, was not unusual. But what was unusual was that 
she wouldn't even consider the possibility of looking 
for more evidence. Instead, she'd dismissed him.

Frustrated, he'd resorted to sarcasm. He told her that 
if this was all in his mind as she believed, he would 
be grateful if she would assist him in proving that--
hoping that the challenge would needle her into 
helping him. However, she'd refused to be goaded this 
time. In fact, she'd just flat out refused to help and 
he'd been left to pursue his suspicions alone at a 
time when he needed her help, needed her scientific 
validation of the evidence they had. 

But why had she chosen this time to walk away when, 
God knows, she'd had so many other reasons and 
opportunities to the same in past? He couldn't figure 
it out. He wished now that he hadn't let his pride get 
in the way and he'd just asked her while she was here. 
Not that he would have gotten an answer. Mulder laid 
his head back into the pillow as he shifted 
uncomfortably against the restraining strap that dug 
into his rib cage. He looked at the tiny holes again 
and wondered suddenly how many he could count before 
he died tonight. Maybe that would help fill the time.

Suddenly he began to laugh out loud as a kind of 
hysteria set in. He didn't care. Fuck, let them all 
think he was crazy--he was in the right place for 
this. After all, there was really no point to the 
struggle to remain sane anymore was there?

****

As the day wore on, Mulder discovered something 
interesting: If time flies when you're having fun, 
apparently the earth can actually stop rotating when 
you're not.

He lost sense of real time; his watch had been taken 
along with everything else. He'd been given a meal, 
which he had no interest in and allowed to use the 
bathroom which he'd had a great deal of interest in, 
although that privilege was difficult to enjoy as a 
large and surly male attendant stood by watching him. 
He was hauled back to the bed and the nurse restrained 
him again to keep him from getting up--to keep him 
from getting out. He was given a shot of something 
that made his mind fuzzy and he forgot to ask what 
time it was. He did ask repeatedly when the Doctor 
would get there and he was told that it would be soon. 
Soon, of course, turned out to be never.

Late morning faded to afternoon, then evening, and 
then night. He marked the passage of time as best he 
could by the shifting light through the window in 
front of him as it filtered through the trees outside. 
Mulder, with his incredible ability to 
compartmentalize, had finally managed to not think 
about Scully anymore and instead thought about 
monsters and all their forms, real and imagined. This 
was mostly because the irregular dots over his head 
had now turned into faces as he stared up at them, a 
little side benefit of the medication.

As early darkness began to fall, the wavering shadows 
through the curtains in particular brought 
recollections of the abject terror of the shadow 
monsters that had lived in his closet when he was a 
very little boy. He would wake in the late, dark night 
and see the monsters lurking, waiting to strike. He 
remembered screaming hysterically in a child's panic, 
even yelling loud enough to wake the baby in the next 
room who then cried in sympathy with her brother, 
already in tune with him and his feelings.

Oddly enough, it'd been his father who'd come to his 
rescue back then. Mulder would sit in his bed, 
clutching the blankets about him and watching 
carefully as his daddy turned on the lights, searched 
the closets, looked under the bed, and generally 
chased the monsters away. Then he'd sit next to him on 
the bed, ruffle his hair, and assure him they were all 
gone now, he was safe, but he'd stay with him anyway 
until he fell asleep again.

His father had also taught him a trick. He'd turn out 
the light, tell Mulder to close his eyes and count to 
twenty very slowly. When he opened his eyes again, the 
darkness the room would seem much lighter. Of course, 
Mulder realized later that it simply gave his eyes a 
chance to adjust to the darkness, but as a very small 
boy he believed that his daddy had the power to make 
darkness go away a little bit. Then his father would 
sit with him and tell him stories only half-remembered 
now because Mulder always fell asleep before they were 
done. His father had been his protector when he was 
little; he'd even seemed to like doing so. That was 
the kind man that Mulder remembered now, not the 
alcoholic, embittered stranger his father later 
became. That was the man he missed so much all those 
later years, even long before his father's death. He 
thought about his father a lot as he waited for the 
monsters to come tonight. 

But this was a monster that wasn't going to go away, 
no matter how much he closed his eyes and counted. He 
had no shelter from the monsters now. His childhood 
protector was long gone and the person who'd helped 
him chase them away as an adult was now gone too. 

Mulder shook his head impatiently. Shit, he didn't 
need to go there.

The night nurse came in and gave him another shot of 
something that almost immediately made his mind, which 
had started to clear, a bit foggy again. And for a 
second he thought it might be nice to just go to sleep 
and wake up dead. Or would that be undead? Mulder 
almost laughed at his own black joke as the nurse shut 
off the light and left the room

Within moments though, the thing he'd waited for all 
day came and all humor left him as he gasped at the 
sight of the familiar shadow outside the window. He 
began screaming for the night nurse who appeared 
within a few moments. One look into her now cold eyes 
and Mulder knew that she was only there to aid in his 
demise. She made it easy for the monster to get in and 
left the room again.

It was simply his time to die now.

The sound came again before he saw it. The evil trill 
announced the thing's arrival before Mulder even saw 
its shadow. Fully aware that it was useless, Mulder 
screamed again, further straining his voice already 
hoarse from past efforts. He couldn't take his eyes 
off the ominous creature as it continued its slow, 
murderous approach, still making the ugly noise that 
sent shudders though every limb of his body as he 
struggled in futility to get away. At the hideous 
quavering sound, he called out again for help, knowing 
that it wasn't coming and that no one heard or cared. 
He was alone and at the will of this monster.

God, this just couldn't be happening. No. He'd seen 
this thing, believed in its existence, but facing it 
now in the dark shadows of his room, he just couldn't 
get his mind to accept that this was real. This just 
couldn't be happening to him now. Mulder cowered away 
from the approaching dark menace, pushing away with 
his feet, trying to scramble out of harm's way as he 
pulled desperately against the retraining straps that 
held him securely in place for the demon's taking. In 
his blinding terror, he ignored the searing pain 
shooting from his hands up to his shoulders as he 
continued his vain struggle for escape. He didn't even 
feel the strap cutting deeply into his rib cage. The 
demon had traversed the ceiling and started to move 
down the wall next to him, still making that crackling 
noise as it prepared to take another victim. 

Suddenly, Mulder heard the door to his room slam open, 
the curtain next to his bed was shoved violently aside 
and he saw the last person he'd expected to see 
tonight. Scully.

Her gun was already drawn as she met his eye for just 
a flash even as her gaze was pulled upward to the 
movement of the demon above his head. He saw her eyes 
widen even as she drew down on it without hesitation 
and fired just as the monster moved on him. She fired 
again and the demon had turned, abandoning its prey, 
heading back the way it came for escape, crashing 
through the half-open window. Mulder watched as she 
fired her weapon again as she followed it to the 
window.

It was gone. Scully had chased it away.


Scully looked down to the street below. Sweet Jesus, 
where was that thing? She looked up and down, but 
there was no evidence that she'd injured or killed it. 
She looked for bloodstains until she realized that she 
was assuming that the thing even had blood. It was 
nowhere to be found. There was no proof beyond what 
she'd seen and only that.

Bewildered, she turned back at Mulder to make sure he 
was all right and he nodded to show her that he was 
unhurt. Scully looked back out the window to make sure 
it wasn't still lurking and waiting to strike the 
moment her back was turned. God, what the hell was 
that thing? She shook her head, having trouble 
reconciling what she'd just seen out at the nurse's 
station and here in Mulder's room, with reality as she 
knew it. Or used to know it. God, what had made her 
see that thing when she hadn't before? The hot rush of 
response chemicals began to fade from her blood, 
leaving her feeling just a little shaky, both 
emotionally and physically. Scully gripped the 
windowsill, breathing deep, still looking below for 
the demon.

"Did you kill it, Scully?" Mulder's quiet, but hopeful 
voice reached her from behind.

Scully turned back from the window as their eyes met 
again. "No," she shaking her head as she stared at him 
a moment. He was pale and there was a sheen of sweat 
on his face. 

"But it's gone?" Mulder's voice was shaky, his 
apprehension still evident.

"It's gone, " she assured him as she moved quickly 
back across the room towards his bed. 

As she approached, Mulder instinctively reached out to 
her, forgetting that he was still tightly restrained 
and his gesture was abruptly halted. Enraged, he made 
a noise of frustration as he struggled against the 
straps before he looked up to meet her eyes, silently 
asking for help, before he looked away again. He was 
still humiliated that she would see him this way, 
still angry with her, still scared to death. He drew 
ragged breath as he tried to force his mind to push 
past the medication, adrenaline, and fear into 
clarity. 

Scully laid her gun down and sat on edge of the bed 
facing him. She saw that his hands were shaking in the 
confines of the tethers and her heart pulled apart in 
little pieces at his ordeal and her own self- 
recrimination. She quickly undid the strap across his 
chest, then reached across his body to release first 
one hand, then the other and then reached down to undo 
his feet. 

Mulder was finally able to move freely and he sat up 
as he pulled free of the tethers. He crossed his arms 
over his chest as he tried to catch his breath and 
racing heart. He felt light-headed and put one hand up 
to cover his face, ducking his head down, pulling in 
as though trying to make himself as small as possible. 
His entire body began to tremble as the jolting rush 
of fear-induced adrenaline left his blood and he felt 
chilled to his bones. He took deep breaths, trying to 
force himself to calmness.

As Scully watched him fight this losing battle, she 
put her hand on his shoulder and he flinched away from 
her unexpected touch. Scully knew what he was feeling. 
Knew it well. This was the very stuff of every 
nightmare. Unable to protect yourself, unable to hide 
or even run as your darkest imaginations came to get 
you. Of course, Mulder didn't have any idea how well 
she knew that because she'd never told him. She leaned 
into his body and took him in her arms, but Mulder was 
non-responsive. He held himself separate from her; his 
arms still crossed between them and his face turned 
away. But Scully held on, physically willing him to 
let go of the emotion he was holding onto so tightly, 
hoping that he would take her solace even if he was 
angry. She knew what he needed to hear. 

"I saw it Mulder," she whispered in his ear, her 
breath sending an involuntary shiver of a different 
kind through him, compounding the chaos in his head. 
"It was real."

At her admission, Mulder's last tenuous reserve 
finally crumbled. Scully felt him uncross his arms and 
reach for her, not only accepting her comfort but 
seeking it as his arms encircled her waist, pulling 
her against him as he buried his face against her 
neck. "Jesus, Scully," he said softly. "Jesus." The 
slight catch in his voice told her that he fought back 
the tears of survivor's relief; that emotional 
response that so often came after a terrifying 
situation had been dealt with and the build-up of the 
body's chemical fight or flight response fades away. 
But within just a few minutes, the worst of it had 
passed, the moment gone as suddenly as it had arrived.

"You really saw it, Scully?" he asked, as though 
needing further confirmation although his voice was 
stronger now. 

"Mulder," she said, stroking his back, "that was one 
girlie-scream sized bug."

As her words sank in, the complete and utter insanity 
of what all had just transpired struck Mulder hard. He 
began to laugh at the absurdity as he entered the next 
normal phase of the relief mechanism and giddiness 
overtook him. 

After a moment, his breathing became even again and 
his mind was coming around to some semblance of its 
usual order. She'd come back for him after all. He 
could hardly believe it. She'd saved his life and for 
the moment, his relief and his gratitude were so 
strong that they temporarily obliterated all his other 
questions and animosity. "Thank you, Scully," he told 
her softly.

His words ground into her heart and Scully felt her 
own tears well, then slip silently, for she rarely 
allowed herself the luxurious release of outright 
crying. What the hell was he thanking her for? He'd 
asked her for her help, even angrily begged her for 
it. She knew Mulder didn't understand why she hadn't 
been able to help him, why she couldn't help him. 
Moreover, she didn't know how she could ever begin to 
explain. 

But right now, there wasn't time to try. Right now, 
she had to get him the hell out of this place. It 
still wasn't safe for him here, that thing was still 
out there. Even so, she held on to him a bit longer, 
so grateful that she wasn't crying over the dead body 
of her partner because she'd been afraid to believe, 
because she'd been angry with him for seeing a demon 
and then telling her about it. Mulder exhaled a long 
sigh and she could tell he was feeling better. He 
raised his head, drawing back slightly from her and 
she reached up to push his hair back out of his eyes 
to see his face, but really, it was just an excuse to 
touch him, to assure herself that he was alive. 

It was then that Mulder saw the remnants of her own 
tears and was puzzled by them. "Scully, what the hell 
are you crying for?" he asked.

"I don't know," she answered with a shake of her head. 
"I guess because you were." That set off another round 
of gentle laughter between them as she reached up to 
wipe her tears away, but Mulder beat her to the 
gesture, brushing his fingertips gently. "I'm sorry," 
she whispered as her fingers gripped his arms. "I'm so 
sorry."

Mulder heard the remorse in her voice as he looked at 
her. He still had so many questions to ask of her. But 
for right now, she'd come back for him and he was 
alive when not ten minutes ago he was certain he would 
die. It was enough for that moment; they'd get to the 
rest later. "Don't cry anymore Scully," he told her, 
calm now, back in control as he pulled her back 
against him, giving her the comfort now. 

"Are we going to be OK?" she asked. 

He drew back to look at her and started to say 
something, but he lost the words as he met her 
troubled gaze. The emotional, healing kiss that 
followed so naturally instead didn't seem strange in 
the slightest. It was a soft, slow moment that they 
both got willingly lost in, lingering in the 
indulgence a bit before turning and finding their way 
back to their good senses. As they drew apart, each 
looked down and away as self-conscious awkwardness set 
in. They were silent as they each decided if they were 
going to simply chalk this moment up to stress and 
fear.

It was Scully who looked back first, her decision 
made. "I'm going to go find out where the hell 
everyone is," she said, returning to business, moving 
gently out of his arms. "Get dressed Mulder, one way 
or another, we're getting you out of here tonight." He 
looked up and nodded mutely. She picked her gun up off 
the bed and handed it to him. "Keep this with you 
until I get back." And with that, she hurriedly left 
the room in a swirl of long black coat as he watched 
her go.

Carefully avoiding the broken glass on the floor in 
his bare feet, Mulder got up, walked to the window and 
looked out, wishing that he would see the creature 
lying dead in the street below. Hard actual evidence. 
However, as usual in his life, there was nothing. 
Nothing except a broken window and bullet holes in the 
wall. And Scully. He took some comfort in that now he 
had Scully's admission that she too, had seen such a 
creature.

Mulder found his clothes in a closet across the room 
and began to dress as he tried to force his mind to 
concentrate on the simple thing he was doing. It was 
proving to be damn difficult to do.

****

As Scully approached the nurse's station, she was not 
at all surprised to see the night nurse was now gone. 
Finding no one else of authority about, she picked up 
the phone and dialed the security desk on the first 
floor. A bored, male voice responded to her angry 
questions with the explanation that hearing screams 
all night long from the psych ward was not in the 
least unusual and that they only responded when one of 
the nurses called for assistance. He claimed to have 
not heard the gunshots or breaking glass, but he would 
call the police.

Scully slammed down the phone and then found the 
number of the hospital's physician on call and rousted 
him from a deep sleep. She bluntly informed him the 
hospital had serious security problems and as a 
Federal Agent and medical doctor, she was taking 
Mulder out for his safety. Now. The physician 
questioned her about the intruder and Scully 
hesitated. The I-saw-a-big-fucking-bug answer wasn't 
going to get Mulder released tonight. In spite of her 
bluster, technically, the physician could still block 
Mulder's release and if he thought her nuts too, it 
wasn't going to help matters. There was JUST no way 
they could tell these people what they'd seen.

So she lied. She told him that she'd seen an intruder 
in Mulder's room and that she believed it to be Pincus 
who attacked Mulder and then escaped through the 
window. The physician quite naturally made the 
assumption she was talking about a human, not a demon 
and in the face of that story, Scully's tone and 
authority, the fact that she was willing to take full 
and complete responsibility for the patient, the 
physician agreed to sign the release orders. All the 
less work for him in the long run and one less nut for 
him to deal with in his jurisdiction. My tax dollars 
at work, Scully thought. At least his complacency was 
to her advantage.

Having started the lie, she would have to continue it 
for the police. She looked back down the hall towards 
Mulder's room, dreading the thought of having to ask 
him to lie. However, the police would be here shortly 
and it was the only way to get him out of here 
tonight. But after all he'd been through, she didn't 
think he would be of a mind to be reasonable about 
this. Not that she blamed him a bit. In spite of what 
had just passed between them, she knew that deep down, 
he was angry with her about the last few days. They 
were not yet back on their usual level playing ground 
and she was possibly about to make it a hell of a lot 
worse. She took a deep breath and walked down the 
hall.

She gave a knock on the door and then gently pushed it 
open. Mulder was sitting on the bed, just finishing 
buttoning his shirt, but not bothering to tuck it into 
his pants. He looked up at her expectantly. "You're 
being released to my custody," she told him. "The 
doctor is on the way up to sign the papers. The police 
will be here in a few minutes, we'll have to make a 
report for them."

Mulder nodded and started rolling up the sleeves of 
his shirt a bit rather than buttoning them. As he did 
so, Scully took in the raw, red marks on his wrists 
from where he'd pulled at the restraints and she was 
sure he had some painful bruising on his rib cage too. 
Scully crossed back across the room to look out the 
window again. She was hesitating and Mulder seemed to 
sense her disquiet. "What is it Scully?" he finally 
asked. 

She turned back. "Mulder, I...I think it would be 
better if we just told them there was an intruder and 
that it was Pincus. I don't think they need to know 
anything more than that."

His response was evenly measured as his eyes bore into 
hers. "You mean tell them it was human."

She heard the accusation in his voice. "Mulder, this 
is not the place for this. Telling them what you saw--
what we saw--won't get you out of here. They won't 
understand it."

"But you saw it too, Scully."

She came close to him and looked down into his eyes. 
"Yes, I did Mulder. But what I saw won't matter to 
these people and we need to get you out of here 
tonight. It's not safe. When we get back to DC, we can 
make a complete report to Skinner of everything. This 
is an FBI matter. Getting you out of here tonight is 
more important than anything else right at this 
moment."

Mulder stood up, brushed past her, and walked back to 
the window, the glass crunching under his shoes. He 
looked out to the street below and struggled with the 
decision a moment. Shit. In his mind, he knew that 
Scully was right--this was not the place. However, 
pretending that he hadn't seen what he'd seen just 
infuriated him. He took a deep weary breath and 
sighed. God, he felt drained, physically and 
emotionally. He was tired of everything he did or said 
being called into question. Tired of fighting for 
every shred of legitimacy. Tired of his own word never 
being enough.

On the other hand, he knew he couldn't let pride cloud 
his reasoning either. Scully would back him to 
Skinner. If she stood with him in this, if two people 
could say they saw it, it wasn't just Spooky Mulder. 
He turned back and he slowly nodded his acquiescence 
with her plan. "Let's just go home, Scully."

Scully almost sighed in relief. But now that this 
temporary accord had been reached, for the first time 
in her life, she felt awkward in his presence. A 
silence stretched out between them. 

Mulder felt their uneasiness and hated it. No, he 
couldn't deny that on some levels he was still angry 
with her. Yes, he knew that she felt guilty about his 
being here in the first place and he certainly knew 
that coming back in here and asking him to lie had 
been difficult for her. And God knows, the kiss that 
they apparently weren't going to acknowledge was going 
to hang embarrassingly between them for a while too. 
They had a lot to explain and heal between them. But 
they needed to do that when they were both thinking 
clearly and he didn't know about her, but he was 
exhausted. "I'm going to go see what's taking so damn 
long," she told him as she headed towards the door

"Scully," he called to her softly and she turned back 
and met his eyes. "It's going to be OK," he said 
although he wasn't sure quite just how or when. A 
small smile briefly graced her lovely face as she 
nodded before she passed through the door and it 
swished closed behind her. 

Mulder sighed. He wasn't dead; he should be feeling 
really good about that. Instead, all he felt was a 
tired confusion. Maybe things would look better when 
they got back to DC.

It took over an hour to get Mulder checked out by both 
the hospital and police. The police dutifully took the 
report, asked a few questions, then concluded that 
Pincus had crawled up the drainpipe near the window 
and sent some officers off to his residence. Scully 
knew that was probably a futile effort, Pincus and his 
followers were likely long gone. The book closed as 
far as they were concerned, Chicago's finest shuffled 
off to get some donuts and coffee. The staff physician 
then questioned Mulder briefly and he gave all the 
right answers. The doctor finally signed the release 
papers; Mulder picked up the personal belongings taken 
from him and walked out of the mental ward at 2am, a 
free man.

He stood on the steps of the hospital a moment. 
Although weary, he actually began to feel a little 
better, the depression was lifting, and the crisp 
night air smelled cold and beautiful after the sour 
hospital atmosphere. He was emotionally drained, but 
he was alive and he felt strangely hopeful as he 
looked up at the moon and stars. He felt Scully at his 
side and he turned to her. 

"Mulder, it's very late--what do you want to do? Get 
some sleep at a hotel or head to the airport?" 

"I want to go home, Scully. I can sleep on the plane."

Scully called a cab and as they rode to the airport, 
she called ahead to find any airline that had a flight 
that would that would take them back to DC at that 
time of night. She finally found one that would be 
leaving in about an hour. They got to the airport, 
checked in, and then sank down on to the benches to 
wait. Not a hell of lot of people were flying to DC at 
this time of the morning and terminal was fairly 
deserted and quiet.

Scully looked over at Mulder, who sat slumped 
uncomfortably on the bench next to her, his eyes 
closed, his hair falling in his eyes, and the lines 
etched deeply in his unshaven face. He'd said little 
since getting in the cab and she knew he was 
physically and emotionally depleted. She touched his 
shoulder and he raised his head and looked blearily 
over at her.

"Come on and put your head down, you need sleep." She 
folded her soft wool coat on to her lap and without 
argument, Mulder gratefully laid his head down on the 
makeshift pillow, stretching his long legs down the 
bench.

"Wake me when the plane comes," he requested softly as 
he nestled in.

"Don't worry Mulder, I won't leave you behind."

Mulder's mouth twitched in what may have been a smile 
and he was out instantly.

Scully gently ran her thumb over his bruised wrist as 
she watched her partner sleep and she wondered what 
she was going to do about all this.

****

Washington D.C. FBI Headquarters

Mulder paced nervously by the elevator, waiting for 
Scully to emerge from Skinner's office. They'd arrived 
back in DC that morning and he'd slept the entire 
flight. They'd each gone home, changed, and returned 
to the office for a meeting later that day with 
Skinner.

Skinner hadn't wanted to talk with him though. He'd 
dismissed him from the office while he talked with 
Scully instead. Mulder knew the questions that were 
being asked. He paced some more and finally, the door 
opened down the hall and Scully stepped out. Mulder 
watched as she walked slowly down the hall towards 
him, almost as though she didn't want to reach her 
destination, never once lifting her eyes from the 
floor. Mulder's heart ground to a stop as he observed 
the body language he knew as well as he knew the color 
of her eyes. 

Unable to look at her any longer, he turned and 
punched the elevator call button hard, hearing her 
footsteps approach behind him. He steeled himself, 
tried to quell his suspicions; He might be wrong, that 
he might have misread her. He turned and lifted his 
eyes to her. "What did you tell him?" he asked.

"I told him the truth." Scully never lifted her eyes. 
"As well as I understand it," she hedged.

He wasn't going to leave the qualifier alone. "Which 
is?" he pressed. He was going to make her say it to 
his face. He almost leaned down to her eye level.

The elevator arrived just then and they stepped on. 
Scully still refused to look at him. She just turned 
and faced front as his stare bored through her. "Folie 
a deux," she finally answered cryptically. "A madness 
shared by two."

What the hell did she mean by that? Mulder grimaced 
and punched the button that would take the agents down 
to their basement domain. There was only one 
explanation in his mind--she'd denied him to Skinner. 
If she hadn't, she wouldn't be acting so inscrutable - 
she would have simply reported that she'd told Skinner 
about the demon and be done with it. She denied what 
she saw or found an excuse for it.

He was nearly blinded by the hurt and the depth of his 
fury was startling to him. He'd thought he'd been 
angry in the hospital but that paled to this moment. 
They reached their floor and began the long walk down 
their hallway as the tension built. Mulder was 
seething as he tried to work it through in his mind, 
tried to come up with an explanation for her seeming 
betrayal, something that wouldn't make him feel the 
way he felt about her at this moment. He unlocked the 
office door and stepped inside as Scully followed.

Mulder slammed the door shut even as he knew there was 
no such thing as privacy here. He waited a moment for 
her to explain or elaborate. He waited for her to tell 
him her reasoning. However, Scully moved past him to 
her work area where she began to shuffle through the 
files on her desk as though looking for something. By 
all appearances, it was all over as far as she was 
concerned and she was moving on to her next case.

Mulder stood by his desk, hands on hips, amazed at her 
behavior. "So was that was your answer to Skinner?" he 
finally asked, his voice low and tight. "That what you 
saw was a hallucination transferred from me to you? 
That you're now just seeing things too because of your 
unfortunate close proximity to your nutcase partner?" 
She didn't respond and he stepped forward. "Scully, 
did you or did you not tell Skinner that what you saw 
was not human?"

She didn't look up and she didn't speak, but she 
finally shook her head slowly.

"Why Scully?" he finally asked, his voice low and 
angry. "You know what you saw. Why did you do that 
me?"

Scully spoke finally. "I did it for you Mulder."

He gave a dark, bitter laugh at her absurd assertion. 
"That is such bullshit." He stayed on his side of the 
room, needing to keep distance. "This isn't about 
protecting me. Isn't it really that you're scared that 
everyone will look at you the way they look at me? 
Isn't it because you can't have anyone think that 
you're like me? FBI Monster boy? Do you think I 
haven't noticed during the last five years that you 
squirm with embarrassment whenever I tell people what 
I know to be true?"

She looked up at him for the first time. "Is that what 
you think? That this is about my pride?" Scully's 
voice took on a more angry tone. 

"I don't know what to think! That's been the problem 
with this whole damn case." He threw his hands out 
wide as he approached her. "Give me another 
explanation, Scully. That's all I want, because all I 
know now is that since the beginning you wouldn't help 
me. I got locked away, shot full of drugs and tied 
down like animal and you didn't seem to give a damn."

"Mulder, I had no idea you would end up there. Seeing 
that happen to you was one of the worst moments in my 
life. How can you think I didn't care?"

"Because you had the power to prevent the whole damn 
thing in the first place and you did nothing." His 
voice was shaking with fury. "Two days ago, I asked 
you--in fact, I just about begged you for your help. 
What was your response Scully? WHAT WAS YOUR FUCKING 
RESPONSE?"

Scully's voice rose to match his. "I wasn't going to 
help you PROVE that you were insane, Mulder. I wasn't 
going to assist in your destruction, even if you 
begged me to!"

He rolled his eyes. "Oh please, that makes a nice 
story after the fact Scully, but the truth is you'd 
already dismissed me even before we reached that 
point. You made the decision without one shred of 
investigation that I was wrong. You refused to even 
consider what I said I'd seen. Then you did a half-
assed autopsy on the only bit of evidence I did have. 
You could have had some hard evidence two days ago. 
Two days ago! Now in spite of what you know to be the 
truth, you just lied to Skinner--you didn't see a damn 
thing, or maybe it just a hallucination passed on to 
you by your whacked-out partner." Mulder now stood 
before her, shaking his head slowly. "You're the 
perfect federal agent Scully," he taunted her angrily. 
"Deny everything."

Mulder suddenly broke off, turned, and walked away 
from her as his long-simmering hurt burned into white-
hot anger. God help him, he almost hated her at this 
moment, and it scared him. He would never have 
believed such a thing was possible. He stood with his 
hands on his hips; breathing deep and knowing he had 
to calm down to continue this. His eyes settled on his 
poster that proclaimed, "I want to believe." The irony 
not lost on him. 

God, was this it? Was it possible that they'd finally 
come to the end of this strange journey together; that 
they'd finally reached a breach they couldn't cross? 
He turned back and looked at her to find her staring 
at him with hostile eyes. Did she even care that this 
was all falling apart? It sure as hell didn't seem so. 

He was silent for long moments before he finally 
spoke, his voice despondent. "I said this to you once 
before, Scully--you're either working with me or 
against me in this. That's your decision to make. But 
maybe you need to consider doing something else with 
your life. Maybe you need to find something where you 
can be in total control, where all your days make 
perfect sense and demons don't inconveniently appear 
to ruin your view of the world."

Scully stared at him and her eyes widened. "Are you 
saying that you don't want to work with me anymore?"

He quite literally felt sick to his stomach and the 
pain in his head was pounding along with his heart. 
"No, I'm saying it's pretty damn clear that *you* 
don't want to work with me. It's the only explanation 
I have. You won't give me anything else."

He sat on the edge of his desk, drained and cold. "How 
many times have we gone down this road, Scully? How 
many times has your denial of what you've seen or what 
you feel caused dissention between us? Yeah, 
occasionally you get generous and you'll clue me in, 
but usually after the fact. Only after it doesn't even 
matter anymore."

Before she could answer, he began to tick off 
examples. "You never told me the feelings you were 
having during the Pfaster case. Did you tell me what 
Leonard Betts said to you? No. And how about 
Philadelphia? Instead of telling me what was going on 
in your head about the job, I nearly lost you to some 
lunatic, tattooed stranger. You spent months 
pretending that you were fine after you'd been 
diagnosed with cancer. You didn't tell me until 
afterwards that you were seeing visions of all those 
dead girls. You didn't tell me about the phone calls 
you were getting when you first found Emily in San 
Diego. You didn't tell me you were feeling drawn to 
Ruskin Dam by the implant in your neck."

Scully looked away, unable to contradict his 
assertions. "I told you I saw Emily after she died," 
she said finally, quietly. "You didn't believe me." 
She paused a moment, then looked up at him. "I needed 
you to believe me and you didn't."

Usually that injured tone from Scully never failed to 
soften Mulder's heart. But not today--he'd been too 
wounded himself. He bent down to her level and looked 
her in the eye, his voice cold and sarcastic. "Yeah? 
Well, welcome to my world, Scully. How's it feel?"

With that, he turned and strode out of the office, 
slamming the door so hard behind him that it rattled 
the desk she was leaning against.

****

Fox Mulder didn't return to work that day. He didn't 
return the next day either. Or the next. Skinner 
accepted his story that he needed a few days off with 
no question. He had no clue if Scully was in the 
office or not. He didn't care. He didn't care if he 
ever saw her again. He didn't care about one Goddamn 
thing in his life. He spent the days in his apartment 
in one of darkest moods he'd ever experienced. Feeling 
as alone as he ever had in his life. He was hiding. 
This just couldn't be happening, it couldn't all be 
falling apart like it was. He was the one in denial 
now and it was hideous. God, how did Scully stand 
living this way?

By 3pm on Saturday, Mulder knew he had to see her. 
He'd walked out because he'd reached the point where 
he could no longer be rational, where he'd thrown 
aside everything he knew as a Psychologist about 
communication and resolving conflicts. Not that any of 
that shit had ever helped him in learning to deal with 
Scully anyway. But he couldn't live in this purgatory. 
He had to finish this between them or he really was 
going to go insane. He didn't know what he was going 
to say, he wouldn't know until he saw her. But it had 
to be resolved.

A half-hour later, he stood outside Scully's door 
staring at it as though it was going to do something. 
He purposely hadn't called beforehand and now he just 
stood there like an idiot. He'd already walked away 
twice and come back. Finally, he raised his hand and 
gave two sharp raps on the door. He heard footsteps 
approach on the other side. The door opened and in 
front of him stood Scully's mother, Margaret.

Ah shit, he thought. Wrong Scully.

"Hello Fox, come in." She smiled warmly, genuinely 
pleased to see him. Apparently, Scully hadn't filled 
her in on their problems. Big surprise there, he 
thought sarcastically. After all, she hadn't even told 
her mother she was sick, she'd asked him to do it.

Mulder continued to stand in the doorway even as Mrs. 
Scully stepped back to let him enter. He didn't want 
to have the words he was planning to have with Scully 
in front of her mother. "Is Dana here?" he asked 
cautiously. 

Mrs. Scully shook her head. "No, but she's on her way 
I'm sure. I'm a little early."

"Early?"

"We're going to Mass together and then out to dinner."

"Mass?" Mulder blinked in surprise. 

"Yes, Dana has been going with me more often 
recently." She noticed that he was still in the 
doorway. "Fox, come on in and wait. She'll be here in 
a bit."

He shook his head. "No, I'll come back--" Just then, 
the phone began to ring. Mrs. Scully gestured to 
indicate he should wait while she picked it up. After 
a moment, it became obvious that it was Scully on the 
phone and as Mulder listened to half of the 
conversation, it was clear that she was running late.

"Where are you sweetie?...You had to work on a 
Saturday? No, it's OK, I haven't been here long at 
all. Fox is keeping me company....Yes, he just got 
here...do you want to speak with him?" There was a 
long pause in the conversation and Mrs. Scully glanced 
his way before continuing. "No, that's OK...Why don't 
I just meet you at St. John's? We can have dinner 
after. No honey, it's not a problem." Another long 
pause and Mrs. Scully's voice became lower. "Dana, are 
you OK?... All right, I'll see you in about a hour. 
Bye-bye."

After the strange conversation with her daughter, Mrs. 
Scully turned and for the first time, really looked at 
Mulder who standing awkwardly in the doorway. He was 
hunched over, his hands shoved deep in the pockets of 
his jeans and the usually meticulous young man was 
disheveled, his hair a mess and he hadn't shaved in a 
couple days. He looked worn and bleary-eyed. Something 
was seriously amiss here. "That was Dana," she said 
unnecessarily. "She...she couldn't talk to you where 
she was."

Suddenly Mulder smiled a bit. "Come on, Mrs. Scully--
you'll just have to confess that lie at Mass," he told 
her with no rancor. 

Margaret Scully approached him. "Fox, what's wrong?" 
she asked. "The second Dana found out you were here, 
she suddenly decided she wasn't going to church. I had 
to tell her to meet me there. What's going on with you 
two?"

"Excuse me, Mrs. Scully, but I really don't think Dana 
would want me to talk with you about it."

"Oh Lord, no--she'd hate it. But from the looks of 
you, you're about to have a seizure over something." 

"I'm fine." He stared to back out of the doorway, "I'm 
sorry, but I've really got to be going now."

Mrs. Scully looked irritated at him, as though she'd 
heard the words, "I'm fine" a few too many times in 
her life. He knew the feeling well. But her next words 
surprised him.

"Fox, I'd appreciate it if you would drop me off over 
at the church. We can talk on the way and Dana can 
bring me back." 

Mulder was aware that she was using that tone that all 
mothers use to get wayward children to obey and as he 
could find no gracious way to refuse her, he nodded. 
He watched as she got her purse and coat, took his arm 
and directed him towards his car, even as he was 
wondering how hell he was getting bulldozed into 
driving Margaret Scully to Mass when he knew she had 
her own car there. 

The church wasn't far from Scully's apartment and they 
made small talk on the way as Mulder carefully avoided 
anything having to do with the topic of her daughter. 
He pulled into the parking lot at St. John's and 
waited for Mrs. Scully to get out of the car. She 
turned and leaned down to his window.

"We're very early, come inside and sit with me for a 
bit Fox. You've done a fine job of avoiding my 
questions and I still want to talk to you."

Mulder shook his head. "I don't think so, Mrs. 
Scully."

Margaret Scully just fixed him with a look. Three 
minutes later, he was sitting with some agitation in 
the very back pew of St. John's. They were virtually 
the only people there and Mulder looked about 
curiously. Mrs. Scully turned to him. "Have you ever 
been to Mass?"

Mulder laughed slightly. "No. I'm Jewish by birth, 
Mrs. Scully, but I don't practice that faith either."

"So you follow no faith?"

"Only my own," he replied quickly. Mrs. Scully just 
looked at him and Mulder became aware of just how 
arrogant that sounded. "I just meant-- "

"I know what you meant, Fox. It just seems lonely."

Mulder was silent a moment as he thought about that, 
then he finally nodded. "It can be."

She gave him a moment before asking quietly, "What's 
wrong? What happened?"

Mulder rubbed his forehead. What happened indeed? How 
could he tell her the whole bloody story without 
seeming to criticize her own daughter, no mother was 
likely to take kindly to that. Taking a breath, he 
started in, telling him about the case they'd been 
investigating that had appeared to be nothing at first 
glance. Then he told her of the demons he saw, 
Scully's refusal to help him investigate further, his 
spiral downwards and the hospital incarceration, the 
attack, Scully's denial of what she'd seen and even 
the ugly fight in their office. Margaret Scully sat 
through it all, her eyes delving into his, nodding 
occasionally, absorbing it all. Amazingly, she didn't 
even seem particularly nonplussed by the idea of the 
demon. And in the end, she only asked one question.

"So, why do you think Dana acted like she did?"

Damn, all this time he'd been hoping she could tell 
him. He knew that was why he'd allowed himself to be 
maneuvered here. He shook his head. "I just don't know 
Mrs. Scully. I can't reconcile it in my head. I can't 
get it straight. I don't want to feel this way about 
her, but I just feel so completely..." He trailed off, 
not even sure what word to apply.

"Abandoned?"

God yes, he thought. That was pretty much it. 
Abandoned. He nodded to Mrs. Scully.

"You know, my daughter is a still water that most 
definitely runs deep. She doesn't do anything without 
a reason, she thinks too much if that's possible. Her 
father was much the same. I took me years to learn my 
way around him so to speak." She smiled a bit, "I 
guess the Scullys tend to be esoteric."

"I want to understand. But she won't talk to me." He 
drew a long breath. "All I know is that if I can't get 
past this, I don't know how we can continue to work 
with each other anymore. But I don't know that I can 
do the work without her at this point. If I could only 
understand why...I just can't find the answer." 

"I know you want your answers, but the only place you 
will find them is with Dana. So, you need to try 
again. After all, isn't that why you went to her house 
today?" Mulder had no answer to that and after a 
moment, Margaret asked him another question. "Fox, so 
much has conspired to separate the two of you over the 
years and yet you've both survived it all. Is this 
going to be the thing that finally does it?"

Wow, this woman had a way of slicing through to the 
heart. She asked the very question that he'd spent the 
last few days flipping over in his head until he was 
dizzy. "I don't know," he answered. 

Mulder shook his head and sighed deeply; what the hell 
was he doing here? He looked up and glanced around the 
church again. He was silent a long time; taking in the 
candles, the stained glass, and the strange sense of 
hope that always seemed to permeate every church he'd 
ever set foot in, no matter what the religion. He 
glanced over at Mrs. Scully and wondered how with all 
that had happened to her that she could still have 
faith in an ordered universe. "Do you find your 
answers here, Mrs. Scully?"

"Not always."

"Then why even come here? Why pray to your God and 
your saints?" There was no challenge in his voice, 
just real questioning.

"We don't pray to saints," she corrected gently. "We 
ask them to pray with us. When I pray for you, I ask 
St. Joseph to lend his voice to mine."

This new bit of information rocked Mulder completely. 
The idea that Margaret Scully included him in her 
prayers made him feel uncomfortable and he laughed a 
bit nervously. "I would have thought that St. Jude 
would be the appropriate Saint for me, Mrs. Scully," 
he said lightly to deflect the emotion.

"Because he champions lost causes?"

Mulder nodded.

"So you believe your causes to be lost ones?"

Suddenly the small joke had turned serious and Mulder 
looked away a moment before he answered. "There are 
times when I feel that way, yes."

"When do you not feel that way?"

That answer was sadly clear. "When Scully..." He left 
the rest of the sentence unspoken. They sat together 
in silence for some time and a young woman and her son 
walked past them, to the front of the church. She 
paused and lit a candle, crossing herself as her lips 
moved just slightly in silent prayer. As Mulder 
watched, his thoughts returned to something Mrs. 
Scully had said. "Why St. Joseph? What is he the 
patron saint of?"

"It's not about being a patron saint sometimes. We 
choose an individual that we think will best 
understand our problems or the needs of the people 
that we pray for. In life, Joseph was an ordinary man, 
a carpenter, who was told an unbelievable story by an 
angel of God. What he was told defied all logic; it 
was simply impossible. And yet, without concern for 
gossip, convention or personal safety, he listened to 
the angel and he followed what his heart believed to 
be true." Mrs. Scully looked at him. "I go to St. 
Joseph because I think he would understand you."

Mulder digested this information, a bit amazed by it 
all. He couldn't for the life of him figure out why 
this woman would pray for him. It seemed to him that 
from the time he'd crossed paths with the Scully clan 
only pain, death, and dissention between siblings 
followed. "Why do you pray for me, Mrs. Scully?" he 
asked so quietly, looking at his feet.

She looked at him indulgently, and laughed gently as 
though he'd asked a stupid question. "Because everyone 
needs help. Especially those that think they don't."

Slowly Mulder grinned and shook his head a bit, as he 
raised his eyes to meet hers. "Mrs. Scully, I'm just 
not sure what to make of all that, but it means a lot 
to me that you think I'm worth all the trouble." 
Margaret Scully looked over his shoulder as she stood 
up, then reached down and ruffled his hair fondly the 
way his father used to, the way Scully had done on 
rare occasion. It was amazing how comforting a simple 
human touch could be. 

"Oh, you're trouble, Fox," she smiled down at him. 
"You are that." She nodded towards the door behind 
him. "Here comes Dana."

Mulder turned around to see Scully entering the church 
door. He almost cursed out loud before he remembered 
where he was. He'd planned on being out of there 
before she arrived. He stood up slowly, feeling 
trapped although his inner psychologist knew that 
somewhere he'd made the unconscious decision to stay 
until he saw Scully again. However, from the look on 
her face, he could see that she was completely 
disconcerted to see him here and she stopped up short 
before continuing her approach. And Mulder had never 
thought there would ever be such a sad moment between 
them.

Mrs. Scully hugged her daughter. "Hi Sweetie, Fox was 
just keeping me company until you got here."

"So I see," Scully said softly.

Margaret turned back to Mulder, letting him go. "I 
appreciate you giving me a ride tonight, Fox. Thank 
you."

He nodded. "My pleasure. I enjoyed talking with you. 
Good night." ." Mulder finally met Scully's eyes and 
gave her nod as he brushed past her into the aisle, 
still looking at her but unable to think of anything 
to say. leave. He finally moved his gaze away from 
hers and turned to leave. He'd only made it a few feet 
when he turned back abruptly. "Mrs. Scully?" 

As she looked up at him, Mulder hesitated and she 
understood. She nodded, "I will, Fox."

He smiled his thanks and left the house of worship, 
heading to the sanctuary of his world, his apartment.

It was after midnight when he heard the quiet knock at 
the door. He almost didn't hear it at all. He was in 
the kitchen, having suddenly realized that he hadn't 
eaten all day, splashing milk over a bowl of 
Fruitloops when he heard the small sound. He knew who 
it was; he'd been waiting for her all evening. Mulder 
set the milk carton on the sink board and walked to 
the entryway, where he stared at his front door for 
just a moment. The sound came again, a little stronger 
this time. He stepped forward and opened the door.

"I know it's late, I should have called but I took a 
chance you might be awake," Scully said softly. When 
Mulder made no move and no answer, she dropped her 
gaze to the floor a moment. "Can I please come in?" 
Still no answer and she looked up at him. "Mulder, 
please. I need to talk to you; I need to explain. 
Please."

Mulder opened the door wider and gestured her in, 
closing it behind her and then leaning back against 
it. Seeing her in the church earlier had picked at his 
mind all night. It had only been three days and he'd 
missed her. He'd missed her. The realization of that 
feeling had confused him even more and having her here 
right this moment only added to that. How could he 
miss someone that he was so angry with? Scully was in 
the living room when she realized that Mulder hadn't 
followed her. She turned and looked at him, waiting. 
Mulder entered the living room, his arms crossed. He 
nodded to her.

"Mulder, I know you're angry at me. You have every 
reason to be. What I did was..." she trailed off as 
she searched for the words and only came up with one. 
"Wrong." She looked him directly in the eyes. "What I 
did was wrong and I betrayed your trust. It went 
against everything in my nature and the words, 'I'm 
sorry', aren't even close to conveying what I feel." 
Her eyes were filled with emotion. "I'm so ashamed, 
Mulder."

Mulder took a deep breath. Her apology appeared 
sincere, but then again, so had her promise to tell 
Skinner that she'd seen the same thing he had, and he 
was wary now. He stepped forward. "I still don't know 
why, Scully," he said, speaking for the first time.

Scully sat down on the edge of his couch. She bent 
forward and rested her elbows on her knees, her hands 
laced together. She stared at them a long time. "The 
truth is Mulder, you were right. I was afraid to tell 
Skinner what I saw. However, not for the reasons you 
thought. Not because of my pride." She looked up at 
him. "When you told me about your suspicions about 
Pincus it scared the shit out of me. You told me you 
saw a demon and all I could think about was if such a 
creature exists how are we ever to know what is real 
and what is not? Pincus seemed to be such a benevolent 
soul and yet he was a demon." Scully pushed her hands 
through her hair and stared at a spot on the wall, 
speaking softly as though talking to herself. "How are 
we ever to know what's real, what story to believe? I 
don't know what's real anymore...I just don't know. 
I'm afraid I'm losing my mind sometimes. Nothing fits; 
nothing in my life makes sense...I don't know what's 
real."

Mulder wasn't sure where she was going with this; she 
was rambling and clearly upset. "Scully--"

"Mulder, I saw an angel," she whispered.

"What?"

She looked back, focusing on him now, her eyes bright 
and deadly serious. "I saw an angel. When we 
investigating the deaths of those four young girls, I 
saw it. Not a hallucination, not a dream. I saw an 
angel of God. Several times, in fact."

Mulder just stared at her, not sure what to say to 
that.

"I told Father McCue about it but he didn't believe 
me, in fact, he seemed to think I was disturbed. But 
was I disturbed because I saw the angel, or did I see 
the angel because I was disturbed? Sound familiar, 
Mulder? So I sought a second opinion, only my 
confessor didn't seem to buy into my story either." 
Suddenly, Scully began to laugh a little and she 
leaned forward and rested her forehead on her hands. 
"Two men of my church didn't believe I could see an 
angel. But I saw it Mulder, it was real. Except it 
couldn't be because God's angels don't appear to 
people like me and ask them to do their bidding."

Mulder turned the chair around from his desk and sat 
down on it, looking intently at her bowed head as she 
continued speaking from the shelter of her hands.

"But somehow in my arrogance I became convinced that I 
was intended to save that girl from a demon. God, what 
was I thinking? That girl, that child, died because I 
believed I saw an angel, because I'd convinced myself 
that I was God's messenger. Like God needs my help..."

"Scully, that wasn't your fault--"

Scully's voice quavered as she interrupted him and the 
words tumbled out. "The only way I could live with it 
was to convince myself that I hadn't seen what I'd 
seen and I began living that lie. I began believing 
that lie. I didn't see and angel and I didn't see a 
demon and that girl died of unknown causes. I boxed it 
all up and put it away. But then you came to me with 
your story. You actually wanted me to help you prove 
that demons existed!" Scully looked up at him again. 
"Oh God, Mulder, I didn't want you to be right. That's 
why I didn't help you--I didn't want it to be real. 
Your demon couldn't be real because that meant mine 
could be too. So, the answer that I wanted was that 
you'd imagined it all, just like I had. But I made a 
huge mistake. I should have known that you couldn't 
let it go, you can't put things away like I can. But I 
never imagined that it would go so far."

Mulder listened to her intently, trying to understand. 
"But you did finally look for the evidence. Why? What 
changed your mind?"

She looked up to meet his eyes. "Because of what you 
told me in the hospital. You said if I didn't believe 
in you, no one would. I knew what that desperation 
felt like Mulder. But then to get you out of there I 
had to lie about what I'd seen. God, it was so easy, 
Mulder. Nobody questioned it. Then when Skinner asked 
me about what I'd seen, it just seemed easier to 
continue the lie, like it hadn't really happened and 
then it would all be over and we could put it behind 
us." She looked up at him, her eyes bright. "I lied 
because if I acknowledged your demon Mulder, how could 
I continue to deny the angel to myself? How could one 
be true and not the other? I was trying to make it all 
fit into the scenario I had devised in my head. The 
truth was that I wasn't thinking about how it would 
affect you, I was only thinking of me. But by the time 
I'd closed the door on Skinner's office I knew I 
couldn't live with it. Even before I saw the look on 
your face, I knew I couldn't live with that lie too."

"Scully, for God's sake, why didn't you just tell me 
any of this?"

She shook her head. "I was afraid you wouldn't 
understand. You were already so angry and I was afraid 
it was too late, that I'd never be able to make you 
believe me or understand. I...I was..." she swallowed 
hard and she looked up at him, her eyes filled with 
tears now. "I was afraid that you hated me for what 
had happened to you." She lowered her head into her 
hands, "I'm sorry Mulder, oh God, I'm so sorry. I know 
I hurt you. I know you don't think you can trust me 
and I don't blame you. But I couldn't stand it if you 
hated me, Mulder. I couldn't stand it."

Mulder had never seen her this upset. Hell, he'd only 
ever seen her cry a few times in five years and her 
obvious anguish cut at him. and he knew that for her 
to confess this much uncertainty was a major admission 
for her. 

Everything she'd talked about for the last ten minutes 
jumbled around in his brain and he wasn't sure if any 
of it made any sense. But it made sense to Scully. 
Clearly, it made sense to her. Just as his demon has 
made sense to him.

He crossed over and knelt down in front of her. He 
took one of her hands, pulled one of her hands gently 
from her face, and held it in his. God, she felt so 
cold. This isn't what he wanted; it certainly didn't 
give him any pleasure to see her like this. He didn't 
say anything, he just sat with her as she regained her 
composure.. 

"Scully--"

"Mulder," she interrupted him, raising her head and 
looking into his face. "I came here tonight because I 
needed you to know what was happened had nothing to do 
with you, it was my problem and I dealt with it badly. 
And I know I can't make amends for it all, I know it's 
too late. But I still wanted to give you this." 
Releasing his hand, she reached into her coat pocket 
and pulled out a folded piece of paper, holding it out 
to him.

Mulder took the document. "What is it?" he asked as he 
unfolded it.

"It's a copy of my revised report on the Chicago case. 
The original is sitting on Skinner's desk."

Mulder read it quickly. Scully had detailed everything 
she'd seen that night at the hospital, from the 
walking dead at the nurse's station right down to a 
detailed description of the monster that had attacked 
him and the noise it made. A full accounting in her 
usual clear, concise, professional manner.

he refolded the document and looked up over at her, 
meeting her eyes. "Thank you, Scully," he nodded. 
"Thank you for doing this." 

He stood and placed the report on his desk. He leaned 
against the wall next to his window, crossed his arms 
and looked out on the darkened street below. He raised 
his eyes and noticed absently that there was a full 
moon, golden and beautiful. He stood there and thought 
about all that Scully had just told him. Angels and 
demons and the mistakes that humans are subject to as 
they try to make sense of it all.

"Is it too little, too late Mulder?" she asked in a 
quiet voice behind him after a few moments.

Was it? It seemed to Mulder that he had two choices 
before him. One would satisfy his ego and one would 
satisfy his heart. He turned back and looked at her as 
she sat huddled on his couch and he knew he had little 
interest in satisfying his ego. Three days ago, he 
would have thought that he would have taken immense 
pleasure in seeing her miserable as he was. But now 
all he wanted was to have his partner back. He needed 
the continuity and the sense of purpose that he found 
with her. He'd invested five years with her, probably 
the best five years of his life. And he knew that 
there was no way that he was going to turn away from 
that, or from her, so easily. Mrs. Scully had asked if 
this was the thing that would finally drive them 
apart. And suddenly the answer was clear.

"No." He shook his head. "No, it's not too late, 
Scully. I don't want it to be...and I don't think you 
do either." He looked over at her from where he stood. 
"I don't think we're going down so easily-- without a 
fight. I don't think that really in either of our 
natures, do you?" She slowly shook her head, agreeing 
with his assessment of the two of them. "And all I 
ever wanted was to understand why. I knew it was out 
of character and I just couldn't figure out what I'd 
done wrong to cause you act that way."

He looked back out the window at the moon and sighed a 
little. "Scully, you screwed up," he told her with no 
indictment. After a moment, he gave a small laugh. 
"And trust me, as someone with a long history of 
screw-ups behind him, I can recognize a really good 
one when I see it." He smiled just a little as he 
glanced back and saw for the first time, saw the 
smallest of smiles from her in return. Mulder looked 
back out the window a moment, up at the stars, the 
moon, and the possibilities. "Did you know your mother 
prays for me, Scully?" he asked softly, moving his 
eyes back to hers.

Scully shook her head slowly.

"I know that you've chosen your own path in working 
with me Scully, but it wouldn't be unnatural for her 
to resent my presence because ever since I crossed 
into your life, sadness has followed into hers. You 
were taken; she was forced to make decisions no mother 
should ever have to make. Melissa's death, which could 
have been yours. She watched you be put though months 
of physical pain and mental torture with your cancer. 
You and your brother hardly speak now because of me."

Mulder looked back out the window as he shook his head 
in disbelief. "But she believes that there are reasons 
for these things that we, as humans, just don't 
understand yet. She doesn't seem to hold me 
responsible. She forgives me. She prays to her God for 
me. She seems to think I have a soul worth watching 
over and she wishes me well." Mulder gave a small, 
incredulous laugh. "I find it almost unbelievable that 
there are people who can live their lives with that 
kind of grace. It certainly doesn't run in my family. 
I certainly never had that from my own mother." He 
paused because his voice was wavering a bit and he 
took a breath. "But even though it's something I don't 
understand, I know it's real because I see it in her. 
And how can I possibly receive that kind of 
forgiveness unless I'm willing to give it too." He 
looked at her again. "Screw-ups I can forgive," he 
said very quietly. "And God Scully, of course, I don't 
hate you. I might be tempted to from time to time, but 
I just don't think it's actually possible. I think I'd 
be lost for good if I tried...I don't ever want to be 
that lost..." He trailed off before continuing. 

"But the nature of this work we do isn't ever going to 
change either." He turned around to face her now. "I 
would never ask you to blindly believe or follow me--
I'd have no respect for you if you did. And there 
isn't a person in the world I respect more than you," 
he added, needing her to know that. "Maybe that 
doesn't mean much--"

"It does Mulder. It does. Because I feel the same way 
about you...I think that's why this hurts so bad."

He nodded in understanding. That was true, if they 
didn't care, this wouldn't hurt either of them at all. 

"Scully, in the past, I've discounted..." He stopped 
and then started again because he needed to return the 
honesty. "I've refused to consider a possibility 
because it seemed to be influenced by this God that 
you believe in despite your science. It's true--had 
you told me of the angel, I probably wouldn't have 
believed it because it's an idea born of a faith and a 
God I don't understand. I can be arrogant about my 
beliefs Scully--almost as arrogant as you can be about 
yours," he said with another small smile, catching her 
eye and she nodded at this truth between them. "But 
God, Scully, even with my arrogance, who am I to say 
that the possibility of an angel is any less real than 
the possibility of demon simply because I didn't 
happen to see it myself-- simply because angels don't 
fit into my scheme of the world?"

They were silent a long time before Mulder shrugged 
out of his introspection and came back to the current 
time and place. He moved from where he was standing 
and came back to Scully, sitting down on the coffee 
table facing her. 

"We can't keep hurting each other like this, Scully." 
She shook her head in agreement, holding his gaze. 
"You said earlier that you felt like you couldn't tell 
what was real anymore and you know I've felt that way 
too. But if we're going to get past this, you and I 
need to decide together what is real and what is not, 
not just make the decision for the other."

He reached out and took her hands back in his and she 
held on tightly. "Scully, if you can bring yourself 
share what you see and what you're feeling, I won't 
ever make you feel like you shouldn't have. I can't 
promise you that I'll believe it. I can't promise you 
that I won't question it. But I can promise that I'll 
never make you feel small about it. I can promise that 
I won't dismiss you. I'll help you figure out what is 
real." Mulder sat back a little. "But I'm going to ask 
for the same from you because I just can't go through 
this again, Scully, I just can't." He paused a second. 
"I won't." 

She drew a deep breath as she looked at him directly, 
her voice strong and clear. "No, we won't, Mulder," 
returning the promise to him.

Their accord reached, Scully started to withdraw her 
hands from his, but he held on to her for a moment and 
he smiled just a little. "Do you ever wonder, Scully, 
why you're seemingly doomed to see angels, But I'm 
doomed to only see demons? What do you suppose the 
deal is with that?"

She tilted her head slightly and smiled back at him. 
"Oh, I've seen demons, Mulder. So maybe someday you'll 
see an angel too." He nodded and he wondered at that 
possibility as he let her hands go. "I should go, it's 
late." she said standing slowly as though very weary.

Mulder nodded. "I'll walk you to your car."

"Just the elevator is fine."

His independent Scully, some things would never 
change, he thought affectionately with a smile. God, 
if you are there, please do bless this woman. Everyone 
needs help. Especially those that think they don't. 
They walked silently down the hallway to the elevator. 
He punched the down button and turned back to her as 
they waited.

She looked up at him. "Mulder, are we gonna be OK?"

He gave a mock frown as he ticked off the topics on 
his fingers. "Well, let's see, God, angels, demons, 
lies, truths, forgiveness, faith, the nature of 
friendship and the mysteries of the universe. Yeah--I 
think we just about covered everything."

"No wonder I'm tired," she interjected and they 
laughed together and God, that felt good.

Mulder looked down in her eyes, serious now. "We'll be 
OK, Scully," he promised softly.

Scully leaned in and gave him what was supposed to be 
a quick hug, but Mulder pulled her close into his arms 
as he drew it out. He stroked her hair as she laid her 
head against his chest and for that moment anyway, all 
was right again in their very strange world. 

The world's slowest elevator finally arrived and as 
the door slid opened, she slipped out of his arms. 
"Good night, Mulder. I'll see you on Monday."

"Yes. Good night," he answered. He watched her go as 
she stepped on to the elevator and pressed the down 
button. He turned back to his apartment but had only 
made it two steps when he suddenly remembered the one 
thing they hadn't covered and he turned back to her. 
"Hey...Scully?"

She looked up into his eyes as the door began to slide 
close.

"About that kiss...."

Scully just smiled beautifully at him as the door 
closed shut.





*****



Thank you for reading my story. The feedback monster 
loves to be fed comments, criticism and anything else 
at kimerikal@aol.com Cathleen Faye.