Little Girl Lost

By suricata

 

                  

              "There's a dark cloud rising from the

              desert floor

              I packed my bags and I'm heading straight

              into the storm

              Gonna be a twister to blow everything down

              That ain't got the faith to stand its ground

              Blow away the dreams that tear you apart

              Blow away the dreams that break your heart

              Blow away the lies that leave you nothing but                           lost and broken-hearted."  --Bruce Springsteen,

                                          The Promised Land

 

 

 

 

     Dana threw the last article of clothing into her duffel bag and stood, hands on her hips, looking around the bedroom.  Everything was immaculate.  To the casual eye it seemed like the perfect apartment -- cozy and comfortable.  But she knew better.  The surfaces were clean because her mother and Melissa had wiped the fingerprint powder off them.  The glass coffee table had been windex'd to within an inch of its existence.  The carpets had all been vacuumed.  Even the air was fresh.  But she could still hear the glass breaking, feel rough hands on her -- smell the acrid scent of her own fear.  Cleaning the apartment wasn't going to get rid of that.  She had to clean herself.  And that wasn't going to happen here.

     The phone rang.  Dana picked up her duffel and headed out the door.

 

                        **  **  X  **  **

 

 

     She sat in front of Skinner's desk, hands clasped in her lap, suit carefully pressed.  To the outside observer, Dana Scully was the picture of unruffled calm.  But that calmness hid a cold, dead abyss, one that not even Skinner's impassioned outbursts could pierce.

     "I would have thought that you'd be eager to get back to work," he said, placing two sheets of paper flat on his desk.  "Back to the X-Files."

     Dana looked at him.  Her body was so perfectly still, it might have been carved from marble.  "No sir," she said in the patient voice of someone not willingly suffering a fool.

     Skinner sighed, steepling his fingers under his chin.  "Have you discussed this with Agent Mulder?"

     Her composure didn't crack.  "No sir."

     "No.  Of course you haven't.  You haven't spoken to him since you left the hospital, have you?"  He didn't wait for an answer.  "Do you have any idea what you're doing to him?"

     "Begging your pardon, sir, but I don't see as how that's any of your business."

     Skinner gave up.  "What is it that you want, Agent Scully?"

     "Time," she said flatly.  "As I explained in my request for an extended leave of absence."  She didn't look at the papers on Skinner's desk.

     He sighed.  There was nothing in her request that wasn't proper procedure, completely by-the-book, and he had no reason in the world to deny it.  Nothing but a screaming in his gut that this was a mistake.    "Four weeks.  And then I expect you to report to duty with a little more enthusiasm."

     "Not the X-Files."

     "No."  He shook his head, wondering how he was going to break the news to Mulder.  Picking up the second sheet of paper, he slid it into a file box.  "I will hold your request for a transfer until you return.  If you come back and still desire it..."

     "Thank you, sir."

     And the interview was over.

 

     That had been five days ago.  She had left Skinner's office and gone home to pack, leaving only a brief message on her mother's answering machine to say that she wouldn't be home for Thanksgiving.  To Mulder she had said nothing.

     Only now, safely in the mountains of Vermont, watching the snow come down, did she acknowledge the fact that she was running.  Running from her family, the FBI, from Mulder -- and from the X- Files.

     Her memories of the abduction were hazy -- during the day.  But at night, when the cold settled into her bones, the images came at her like a heavyweight's punch, knocking her into nightmares that woke her with a cold sweat, a speeding pulse and a scream caught in her throat.

     She knew that Mulder would understand.  She thought he might be able to help.  She held him responsible.

     From the moment she had woken up in the hospital, she had hated him. 

     Not a hot, blazing hatred, but one that came in spurts between times of missing him intensely.  She hated the fact he had been the one to give her the piece of metal found in Duane Barry, knowing that it could put her in danger.  If he had stayed with his cases and not brought her into any of them, she wouldn't have been put in harm's way. 

     But, once more, he had used her as a tool to find information.  And once more she had given him assistance because she cared about him, because he was her friend.  Or so she had thought.  The fact that he could have given her a piece of evidence that he knew could hurt her seemed to negate any feelings of friendship, or anything else for that matter. 

     That was what hurt the most.  Dana glanced around the interior of her parent's cabin, unable to lose the pain inside even surrounded by the warmth of this place.  The coldness that she had built up as protection from the nightmares had become too much a part of herself, an extension of the professional reserve she had worked so hard for.  Once a blessing in the face of sexist professors and, later, doubting co-workers, it now seemed to stifle her.  And yet she clung to it like a security blanket, unable to let go.  She stared into the fire and tried to make sense of her feelings.

     She wanted desperately to blame her partner -- her former partner -- for what had happened to her, but a little voice in the back of her mind stopped her.  Told her that Mulder hadn't known the danger, would never have hurt her that way intentionally.  That she could have walked away any time before the X-Files were closed by requesting a transfer and afterward by simply refusing to get involved in his cases.  Instead, she had jumped in to help him every time he needed it because he was her friend, more than that, he was her best friend. 

     "If there's an iced tea in that bag...this might be love."

     She almost smiled at the line which popped into her head.   Always trying to break a tense situation with humor, he had said it trying to shake her out of a serious mood.  It had worked, but perhaps it was what had started her thinking about exactly what their relationship was.  There were times before her abduction when she had thought about him as more than just a friend, of what it might be like to get closer to him.  She had even started to dream about him, her mind casting him as a lover who took her body with a tenderness close to reverence.

     But that had been before Duane Barry kidnapped her.

     Erotic dreams about Mulder had been replaced, the memories of her missing time coming back to torment her in the dark of the night, leaving her shaking in her bed almost every night. 

     She would wake and automatically reach for the phone, wanting desperately to call Mulder.  There were times when she needed to hear his voice, but she would force her hand away from the receiver, cursing him for having put her in this situation to start with.  She had nowhere to turn, no one in which to confide, and once again she would tell herself how much she hated him.

     So she was left with the dreams, flashes of memories in dark rooms.  The image of a flat circular table criss-crossed with pale streaks of light, of restraints which weren't visible yet which held her as strongly as steel handcuffs to the table's surface.  And pain. 

     Scully flinched at the thought and blinked back the memories, refusing to allow them to surface.  She sat heavily in a chair beside the fireplace and stared into the flames, making her mind a blank to the torment inside her and the memory of Mulder.

 

                      **  **   X  **  **

 

 

     Mulder sat alone in his apartment, the lights turned out as he stared out the window.  Scully had been out of the hospital for over a week now and he had still had no contact with her.  His calls had gone unanswered and he hadn't had the nerve to go to her apartment and check on her. 

     Her rejection hurt deeply, but in a way he could understand  it.  He had been the one to give her the piece of metal which had led Duane Barry to her, the one to put her in danger.  For that he hadn't forgiven himself, much less expected her to forgive him. 

     "You're the only one I'd put myself on the line for, Mulder."

     The words were as clear now as they were that night in the car.  He had always known that she would be there for him whenever he needed her, even after the X‑Files had been closed, and in certain ways, he had taken advantage of that fact.  Now, knowing that helping him had been what put her in danger just added to his guilt.  Especially now.

     He remembered going into the hospital the night she had "returned".  Seeing her there, so fragile, her only breathing done mechanically, had torn at him.  He had never felt as helpless as when he had to stand by and watch her family turn off the respirator, not knowing whether she would live or die, and he never wanted to be in that position again.  Her smile when he had first gone in to see her after she woke up had been the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, making him choke up so badly that he had to leave the room or risk her seeing the tears in his eyes.

     At first, he had been glad Scully had taken the time off. She needed to get away from work for a while, to heal, and he could run the X‑Files by himself until she was ready to return.  But then, this morning, Skinner had informed him that she had also put in for a transfer, that she wouldn't be coming back to him after all. 

     He had thought about going after her, had even gone so far as to track her down.  That had been no easy task.  Scully had covered her tracks well, apparently not wanting anyone to find her until she was ready to come back to D.C.

     However, once he had accomplished it, he wasn't sure he wanted to make the trip to Vermont.  He wanted to see Scully, to talk to her, but was afraid of the reception he would get.  She had gone to so much trouble to cover her tracks, he was sure she wouldn't want unexpected company.  As much as he wanted to rush up to Vermont and drag her back, and as much as it hurt that she had made it plain by her actions she didn't want him around, Mulder had paced his living room and talked himself out of intruding on her privacy.  But that was before her mother called.  

     The shrill ring of the phone invaded the silence of the room and Mulder picked it up.  "Hello?"

     "Fox?"

     "Mrs. Scully?" 

     "Yes,"  Margaret Scully was obviously upset, her voice filled with concern.  "Fox, have you heard from Dana since she left?"

     "No, I haven't."  It hurt just to say the words.  "I haven't talked to her since she left the hospital."

     Mrs. Scully was quiet for a moment.  "She didn't come home for Thanksgiving, Fox.  She's never cut herself off from the family on the holidays before.  She called me last night, but she seemed so distant, and she just didn't sound like herself.  I'm worried about her."

     Mulder searched for something to say, something that would help allay her fears.  "She's been under a great deal of stress, Mrs. Scully.  I'm sure she's just taking a much needed rest."

     "It's not just that.  There's something wrong here, Fox.  I could hear it in her voice.  She's scared."  Scully's mother was quiet for a long moment.  "I tried to talk her into letting me come up there, but she refused.  She's being so stubborn."

     Margaret Scully sounded just like her daughter for a moment, used the same tone Dana used when she disagreed with him, and it made him smile.  He could almost see the expression on Margaret's face, imagining it to be the same put-out look that Dana used in such times.

     "She needs someone there with her."  Mrs. Scully continued.  "Someone she trusts."  Another silence.  "She needs you, Fox."

     Mulder didn't say anything for a moment, trying to think of a reason to refuse the request he knew was coming next.

     "Will you go up and talk to her?"

     "Mrs. Scully, I don't think..."

     "Please, Fox.  She needs you there to help her through this."

     "Mulder...I need your help...Mulder!"

     Mulder closed his eyes trying to block out the memory.  What if she did need him?  Could he risk failing her again?

     "All right, I'll drive up and see how she's doing."

     "Do you need directions?"

     "No.  I know where she is,"  Mulder didn't think about what he had said until it was too late.  "I mean..."

     "It's all right."  Mrs. Scully's voice was actually approving instead of censuring.  "You were worried about her, too."

     Mulder didn't comment.  "I'll have her call you before I leave there."

     "All right."  Silence again.  "And Fox..."

     "Yes?"

     "Thank you."

     Before Mulder could reply, Mrs. Scully had hung up the phone.

 

 

     Dana sat in front of the fire with a book in her lap.  She hadn't turned a page in 15 minutes, had just stared ahead of her into the flames, her left hand rubbing her pajama top just over her navel.  She could feel the small pinkish scar on her stomach even through the material of her night clothes and an involuntary shudder went through her.  Some shadow of pain moved in the back of her mind and her body answered with a cramp in her abdomen so strong that she bent over.  It was gone as quickly as it hit, leaving her to wonder if she had imagined the pain.

     She closed the book and lay it on the table beside her chair, giving up trying to concentrate on the damn thing.  She was out of the chair and reaching to turn out the lights when she heard the knock at the door.

     "Who is it?"

     "Mulder."

     Dana closed her eyes, her fingers gripping the back of the nearest chair.

     "Come on, Scully.  It's cold out here."

     She walked over and opened the door a crack, leaving the chain in place.  Mulder stood on the tiny porch of the cabin, his hands deep in his pockets.

     "Hi."

     Dana looked him up and down.  "What are you doing here, Mulder?"

     "Your mother called me.  She was worried about you."  He looked pointedly at the chain on the door.  "Can I come in for just a minute?"

     Dana hesitated a moment before she shut the door and slid the chain off then opened it again to let him inside.  After Mulder walked past her to the fire, Dana immediately shut and bolted the door again.  "You said my mother called you."

     Mulder moved to the chair she had just vacated and sat down.  "She's worried about you, Scully.  She said you didn't sound like yourself the last time she talked to you."

     He saw Dana's mouth twist in what should have been a smile, but didn't reach her eyes.  "So she asked you to come up and check on me?"

     "Yes."  He watched her for a moment, noting how pale she looked, beyond even her normal Scully-pale complexion.  Her hair was limp around her face, as though she had washed it but hadn't touched it with a brush for a while.  Her eyes had none of their usual sparkle and the hollows under her cheeks were so pronounced that he found himself wondering if she was eating at all. 

     "I'm worried about you, too, Scully."

     She shot him a look that he couldn't quite fathom.  "I'm fine, Mulder.  I'm just taking a much needed rest," she said.  There was an edge to the words that he had never heard her use before, not even in the beginning of their partnership.

     He took a deep breath before speaking again, half afraid of the answer to his next question. "Why haven't you returned my phone calls?"

     Dana stared at him for a long minute.  "I just wasn't up to talking to anyone."

     "You look like hell, you know."

     "Careful, Mulder. You could turn a girl's head with those kind of compliments."

     "When was the last time you had a decent meal?"

     Dana shrugged.  "I don't know.  I ate something yesterday.  I just don't have an appetite lately."

     "You need to eat something, Scully."

     Dana gave a small "huh" and shook her head.  "This from a man who lives on sunflower seeds.  I have a mother, Mulder. I don't need another one." 

     Her voice was sarcastic, even slightly cold now, and Mulder got the distinct feeling that she wasn't telling him everything.  He pushed her.  "Do you want to tell me what happened?"

     "What do you mean?"

     "You've had some memories return, haven't you?"

     Dana turned away from him.  "Stop.  Just drop it."

     "That's why you look like you haven't slept in days.  You've been remembering what happened to you."

     "I don't want to talk about it, Mulder."  Her voice rose another notch in volume.

     "You need to tell someone about what happened to you.  You need help dealing with it, Scully.  Let me help you."  He had walked toward her and with the last sentence placed his hand on her shoulder, stunned when she whirled on him in anger.

     "You've done enough, haven't you?"  Her eyes brimming with angry tears, Dana lashed out at him.  "Duane Barry wouldn't have come for me if it hadn't been for that damn piece of metal."

     "Scully...I... "

     She brushed his hand off her shoulder and turned away again, her voice shaking but not so angry this time.  "Or maybe he would have. I don't know.  That's just the only rational explanation I can come up with.  It just makes no sense at to why he would take me and not someone else.  Someone more accessible."   

     "Maybe if I had kept it, he would have come for me instead.  I don't know, Scully.  But I never wanted any of this to happen to you."

     "I know.  That's what hurts the most, Mulder.  I was a way for you to get information.  A tool for you to use.  The thought that you could be putting me in danger by giving me that piece of metal probably never crossed your mind because you were to busy searching for your truth."

     Mulder blinked back the hurt her words caused, unable to say anything because, deep down, he knew they were at least partially true.  He had used her to find out what the metal was, with little thought as to what could happen to her because of it.  That fact had haunted him through the long months in which she was missing, and would continue to weigh on his mind.  He swallowed hard.

     "Scully, tell me what you remember."

     For a moment he didn't think she would answer.

     "Pain."

     The word seemed dragged out of her and Mulder flinched at the sound, almost wishing he hadn't asked.

     He moved to her side, watching her profile as she spoke.  "I was leaving a message on your machine when I heard something outside my window, so I pulled the blinds apart to look.  He was standing outside, Duane Barry.  I don't know how long he'd been out there, but the moment he saw me, he flung his arm through the window.  I remember pieces of glass hitting me on the chest and arms, then his foot was hitting what was left of the glass in the frame. I tried to get out of the way, but I had stood there too long.  He was through it before I could get away."

     Scully glanced sideways at him then turned back to stare into the flames, her arms crossed over her chest protectively.  "I didn't know what to do, so I just kept screaming into the phone, hoping you would come in and hear me.  I knew that even if you did, you'd never get there in time to help me, but it was all I could think of, letting you know what was happening."

     "Scully..."  Mulder reached out to her, but she backed away.  "Don't. Just let me finish."  The look she gave him pleaded for his understanding, asked him to be just a little patient.

     "The first time I woke up, I was in the trunk of a car.  It was dark and cold, and I could smell the exhaust seeping through the carpet under me.  Barry had the radio playing so loudly that my head hurt. 

     "I didn't know where we were or how long we had been driving, but I heard sirens behind us.  When the car stopped and the radio went dead I stayed quiet for a minute.  I wasn't sure what was going on at that moment, then I heard a police officer shouting at Barry to get out of the car.  I started kicking the side of the car so hard that the echo hurt my ears, but I knew I had to get the attention of whoever was out there.  Then I heard the gunshot."

Scully closed her eyes and Mulder touched her shoulder.  This time she didn't move away, but left it there.  When she looked up, there was a fresh layer of pain in her eyes.

     "Barry killed that trooper because of me.  Because I held his attention long enough for Barry to shoot him."  She chewed her bottom lip nervously, a habit Mulder hadn't noticed her doing for a while.  "If I'd just stayed quiet, he might still be alive."

     "You had to take the chance, Scully."  He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze.  "You had no way of knowing Barry would shoot him."

     "I know, Mulder, but it doesn't help."

     Scully was so quiet for so long that he was surprised when she started speaking again.  "The next time I woke up, I was on a wide, flat table.  It was black with narrow luminescent lines running across the surface.  I couldn't move, but I couldn't feel any physical restraints either, so I don't know what was holding me down.  I just know that I couldn't move."

     She flinched involuntarily and Mulder noticed her hand go to her stomach.  "They put something inside me, some kind of probe I think, stuck it right through my stomach."  She looked at Mulder and he was shocked by the pain in her eyes.  "I couldn't scream.  I tried, just to release some of the pain, but I couldn't make a sound."

     Mulder watched as her eyes filled with tears and she blinked them back, turning toward the fire once more.  "The last thing I recall was waking up in an all white room.  There was an orderly standing over me.  I felt a sting in my upper arm then everything went black again.  I must have drifted in and out of consciousness for days before I came to in the hospital."

     He touched her arm. "That's all you remember?"

     Scully moved away from him slightly.  "That's all I want to remember, Mulder."  She turned her back to him and looked out to window at the rapidly falling snow outside the cabin.  He saw her hands clench behind her back, but didn't think she was aware of doing it.  "I can't face any more right now.  Not even for you."

     Mulder closed his eyes and tried to fight down the feeling or helplessness in his chest.  "I'm sorry, Dana.  If I hadn't given you that piece of metal..."

     "It's over.  I just want to get on with my life."

     "That's why you put in for a transfer."

     Dana looked surprised.  "How...?"

     "Skinner told me this morning.  That's another reason I came up here, to try to talk you into coming back to the X-Files."  She started to say something but he held up his hand.  "I'm not going to try and talk you out of the transfer now.  If you change your mind, then I'll thank whatever powers that be, but if not, I want you to know that I understand your reasons."

     Dana looked relieved.  "Thank you, Mulder."

     He looked down at his hands, which were clenched in front of him.  "I never meant for any of this to happen, Scully.  I never wanted you to be hurt because of my actions."

     She didn't say a word, just waited for him to look up then nodded. 

     Mulder moved toward the door, gathering his coat from the arm of a chair on the way, but Dana stopped him before he could open the door. 

     "Why don't you stay here tonight.  It's snowing heavily and you have a long drive back.  You can sleep on the couch."

     "Are you sure?"  Mulder looked at her, uncertain whether she meant the offer.

     Dana nodded. "I'll grab some blankets and a pillow."

     Moments later, Mulder was bedded down on the couch as Dana flipped out the lights.  He buried his face in the pillow she had given him, the faint smell of her still lingering in the bedding.  He closed his eyes, but the action did nothing to block out the sight of the pain on her face as she had told him what happened to her.  He knew he would never get the image out of his head.  Mulder put a hand over his eyes and once again cursed his photographic memory.

 

 

     It seemed that he had just drifted off to sleep when he first heard the sounds from the bedroom.  Muffled noises came out of the room and sent a cold shill down his spine.  Automatically, Mulder reached for his gun and slipped it from the holster.  Dana's bedroom door was closed and he hesitated a moment before trying the knob.  The door opened to reveal her sitting up, leaning against the headboard.  Her shoulders were shaking and she was huddled into a ball. 

     "Scully, are you okay?"

     He could barely see her in the dim light of the room, but he thought she nodded. 

     "I'm fine."  Her voice was hoarse, broken and he started to approach, but she waved him away.  "Just go back to sleep, Mulder."

     He started to move away when he heard her catch her breath in a low sob, the sound so muffled he knew she had tried to hide it.  He glanced back toward the bed and only hesitated a moment before making up his mind.

     It took two steps to get to the bed and he laid his hand on her shoulder.  "Scully...I'm sorry."

     He didn't know what to say, and that damned phrase seemed so inadequate, but it was all he had.  He felt her hand reach up and squeeze his then he sat down beside her, an ache building in his chest as she looked up at him.  There was enough light in the room to see this close up, and he suddenly wished it were darker.  The pain reflected in her face cut him to the core.  It hurt so much when someone you loved was in pain and there was nothing you could do, and Mulder was honest enough with himself in that moment to acknowledge that he loved Dana Scully.  If he could take her pain away, he would, no matter the cost to himself. 

     He reached up to brush a strand of hair away from her cheek and saw her eyes fill with tears.  "Dana..."  he said the word on a whisper and she moved into his outstretched arms, crying softly.  He let her cry, feeling her body shaking against him, and held her as though she were made of glass, the most precious thing on earth to him.  Long after the last of her tears were shed, she stayed there in his arms, her hand creeping up to lay against his neck, fingers soft against his throat. 

     Dana didn't know exactly when the atmosphere changed from one of him comforting her to one very different.  The pulse point at the base of his throat beat strongly against her fingertips and she could hear the steady beat of his heart under her ear.  Cautiously, she looked up into Mulder's face, not knowing exactly what she expected, but surprised to see how dark his eyes had gotten.  The desire she saw there entranced her and she raised her hand to his face, placing her fingertips along his cheek.  A flash of heat shot through her when Mulder turned his head to the side and placed a warm kiss in the center of her palm, his eyes never leaving hers.

     Dana closed her eyes, mind and body at war.  This was what she had wanted, for longer than she cared to admit.  It felt so right, there in his arms.  It felt safe, and she wanted nothing more than to burrow into that safety and never come out.  Then his arms tightened around her, and the tiny voice in the back of her lizard brain exploded into full alert.   Breaking out of his embrace, she scooted to the other side of the wide four-poster, arms crossed over her knees defensively.  Her head hurt, a sharp pounding in her brain that wouldn't stop but still couldn't block the pictures trying to overwhelm her.

     "Scully?"  He sounded hurt, but she was beyond caring.  Eyes wide, she stared somewhere at something he couldn't see.

     "Scully, what is it?  What's wrong?"  Mulder started to move closer to her, then stopped.  Something had frightened her, and the only thing he could think of was his presence.  Moving slowly, he backed towards the door.  "I'll be just outside, Scully.  If you want to come and talk, I'll be right here."  He knew, watching her curled up like a lost kitten, that he wouldn't be going home in the morning.  Something was wrong here, something beyond the trust he had unthinkingly fractured, and he would be damned if he'd leave her now.

 

 

     She felt him leaving the room, and part of her cried out for the loss of that warmth, that security.  But another part of her cowered in the corner of that cold white room, angry and afraid, and wanted only to be left alone.

 

                   **  **  X  **  **

 

     Mulder woke to the sound of water running.  He lay on the uncomfortable sofa and stared at the ceiling.  He had waited for hours, hoping against hope that Scully would come to him.  But she had remained in her bedroom, silent as death.  His mind shied away from the simile, but the fact remained.  She hadn't moved from the position he had left her in, at least not until after sleep had finally claimed him.

     Now, in the faint morning light, he reviewed the situation, trying to force his mind to work with the facts, not his jumbled emotions.  The facts, simply put, were A) that Scully didn't want him here, but B) she needed him.  Otherwise she would just withdraw into herself even further.  So he would be staying.  A + B = C.  Easy enough. 

     Convincing her this was a good idea was going to be the tricky part.

     Groaning, he eased his body off the sofa and grabbed his sweater off the chair.  "Hey Scully, where's the heat in this place?  You were maybe expecting polar bears?"

    

     Standing in the shower, Dana tuned out all noises except the falling water.  The steam rising around her soothed sore muscles, relieving some of the tension she lived with constantly.  She knew it was foolish -- they were done with her.  They wouldn't be coming back.  But she still looked over her shoulder so many times she felt as though there was a permanent hinge in her neck.  Handy in a stakeout she thought to herself, head bowed to let the water slick over her.  Just call me owl-head.   She ran the soap over her body, unconsciously avoiding the patches of scar tissue, and rinsed one final time.  Turning off the water, she reached though the curtain for the towel.  Her groping hand passed over the leather of her holster, stuffed between the wall and the towel rack, and settled on the thick terry material.

      Drying off, she could hear the sounds of Mulder rummaging though the kitchen.  "Hey, Scully, you leave me any hot water?" he yelled through the door.  The thought of Mulder in there, sharing the steamy air, brought a prickle to Dana's skin that had nothing to do with the temperature outside.  She closed her eyes, remembering the scene last night, and decided to stay in the bathroom indefinitely.  He'd have to leave eventually -- there wasn't any coffee in the cabin, and she'd yet to see Mulder get a coherent sentence out without a cup to jumpstart him.  She could change the locks then.  And this time she wouldn't let him back in.

Dana knew there were things going on that she had to deal with, she just wanted to deal with them her way, in her own time.  And she wouldn't be able to do that with Mulder hovering, feeding her anger at the same time he made her want to erase that guilt from his eyes and replace it with the passion she had sensed last night.

     "He makes me crazy" she said to her reflection.  "Absolutely crazy."

     "Scully?  You alive in there?  Where'd you hide the coffee?"

     She couldn't help it.  The first snort of laughter escaped, and then it became a flood of giggles, making her sink to the tile floor and convulse with laughter.

     The door opened slowly, and Mulder stuck his head around.  "Scully?"

     Then he saw her on the floor, wrapped in a towel that barely covered her, hands over her mouth and a tiny glimmer of glee in her eyes.  "Was it something I said?"

     She lost it again, the laughter bordering on hysterics.  "Go away, Mulder" she managed finally, waving him off.  The towel slipped a little, and Mulder backed off quickly, closing the door behind him before she realized how much damp skin was showing.

     "We're going out for breakfast" he told her through the closed door, his voice sounding strained to his own ears.  "So hurry up and get dressed, before I starve to death."

 

                   **  **  X  ** ** 

 

     Mulder sat back in the booth at the local Dunkin' Donuts and watched Scully pick at her croissant.  She was twitchy as a republican under indictment, shredding her food rather than eating it.  "If this is how you've been eating," he scolded her, "I'm going to have to tie you down and feed you by hand.  And that could get messy."  She smiled, but it was a pared-down version of her usual smile, and did nothing to lift the fear that had been clogging his chest since he saw her last night by the light of the fire, looking so abandoned, even though it had been Scully who had done the abandoning.

     That moment of laughter in the bathroom might as well never have been, she changed moods so rapidly.  One minute she was cool and remote, the next clinging to him, the next...  It was giving him a headache behind the eyes, trying to keep up.  Right now, he was sure, she was counting the moments until she could get rid of him.  He hadn't broken it to her yet that he was there for the duration.

     "Mulder."  Her voice was quiet, but it broke through his preoccupation immediately.  "Yeah?"

     She swallowed once.  "Do you..." she started again.  "Do you have any vacation time you could take?  Just, just for a while?"  She didn't look at him, instead concentrating on rearranging the shreds of pastry left on her plate.  He reached over and took her hands between his own, the fear melting away to be replaced by a terrifying sort of joy.  "As much time as you need."

     Dana felt the tears start.  This time, she didn't try to stop them. 

     "Scully."  The hands around hers tightened until she looked up at him.  "I love you."  He grinned, that little-boy grin that had been the only thing worth seeing when she had let Nurse Owens talk her into returning to the outside world.  "This wasn't exactly the place I'd planned to tell you," and he cast a wry grin around the deserted storefront, "but I never was much on timing, anyway."

     She stared at him, mouth open.  He freed one hand and lifted it to her chin, closing her mouth gently.  "I just wanted you to know."

     At his words, and more, at the tenderness with which they were said, the calmness she had cultivated as protection, the facade that had cracked when she first saw him standing in her doorway, crumbled completely, and she couldn't bear it. 

     "Get me out of here" she said in a harsh whisper, the panic showing in her eyes.  "Now."

     Mulder heard the urgency in her voice and wasted no time, pulling her out of the booth and half-carrying her to the door.  She made it to the recently-shoveled path, and then her body turned traitor on her, crumpling into Mulder's arms.  He scooped her up, barely missing a beat, and carried her to the security of the 4-wheel drive vehicle he had rented in D.C. after hearing the latest weather report for Vermont.  Making sure that she was securely fastened, Mulder got in on the driver's side and started the car, breaking all speed limits and safety considerations to get her home.

    

                        **  **  X  **  **

 

 

     Mulder cupped his hands around the steaming mug and breathed in the scent of chocolate floating up.  Six days without coffee, and he was still able to function.  He wouldn't have believed it.  But there hadn't been a chance to get into town and buy supplies.  Scully wasn't up to the trip, and he wouldn't leave her alone for even the hour such a trip would take.

     She came out of the bedroom just then, as though his thoughts had called her.  Wearing a worn sweatshirt and jeans, she looked more like a college student than anything else.  Then he read the slogan on the sweatshirt and almost choked.  "You don't know me -- Federal Witness Protection Plan," he read in disbelief.

     "Yeah."  Dana sounded resigned.  "My baby brother has an odd sense of humor.  He got it for me my first Christmas working for the Bureau."

     Her smile was a little more relaxed now, her posture less tense.  She still wouldn't tell him what memories were coming back, but she let him hold her through the worst of the nightmares, and that seemed to help.  He had let her set the pace for the first week, never asking for more than she was willing to give.  Now it was time to push a little.

     "Come here," he said, patting the sofa next to him.  She sat obediently, and he took the brush from her hand.  Settling her comfortably, he ran the brush gently though her hair, occasionally putting it down to untangle the threads with his fingers.  He took those chances to memorize the texture of her hair, the scent of her shampoo, caressing her until he could feel the tension leave her body completely. 

     "Talk to me," he said, pulling the brush through now-smooth hair with mesmerizing slowness.  "Talk to me, Dana."

     She knew what he wanted.  "I'm in a room.  They put me there after -- after the probe.    It's white...cold.  I know that there's a door, but I can't find it.  I can't...  People come in and out.  They talk to each other, not to me.  It's like I'm not even there.  I lie there and wait for them to notice me.  I'm not afraid... not anymore.  But it hurts, Mulder.  It hurts so badly I want to go away someplace where it won't hurt anymore.  So when they give me a shot that makes me sleep, I just let go."

     Mulder continued brushing, even though her hair was smooth as silk by now.  "Where did you go?" 

     "There was water, and trees.  I've been there before, but I can't remember when.  There isn't anyone around.  It's so quiet, so peaceful.  I never wanted to leave.  I really resented her telling me I had to."

     Mulder was startled, but didn't let his body react.  "Her, who?"

     "Nurse Owens.  Only there isn't any Nurse Owens.  She kept talking to me, telling me I had to go back.  But I wasn't going to.  I could hear everyone, but it was so far away, and the water was so peaceful.  And then."  Dana stopped.  "I wanted to go with him, but he walked away, and I couldn't follow.  They wouldn't let me go with him."

     Mulder put the brush down and caressed her arms gently.  He didn't have to ask who "him" was.  "We're glad you came back," he said softly, letting his breath warm her neck, then moved away, careful not to crowd her.  He'd already noted that close contact seemed to trigger something painful in her memories, so he tried to keep a few inches of space between them at all times.  It was difficult, when all he wanted was to feel her skin against his, taste the life flowing through her, and reassure himself that she was still there, still with him. 

     He'd worried, at first, that he was projecting his feelings about Samantha onto Scully, letting her take the brunt of his emotions.