Title: Angels, Watch Over Me Summary: Scully struggles with depression after Emily's death. February, 1998 Several minutes of silence had passed before Mulder realized that the soft tapping of Scully's fingers on her laptop keyboard had ceased. He looked up, to find her as he often did lately, staring intently at nothing in particular. His brow creased with worry as he yet again tried to figure out what to do to ease her pain. Over a month had passed since Emily died. At first, Scully had refused to talk about it, any of it. Now it seemed that she barely talked at all. She arrived at the office in the morning before he did, and often stayed late. When Mulder had suggested right after Emily's death that Scully take some time off, she responded, "What for? So I can sit around and think about it? No, I need to work." And work she did, although he wasn't quite sure at what. She spent hours moving papers around on her desk. When he brought out files for them to look over, she would sit with him and look at the pages and pictures, yet he knew that her mind was miles away. She quickly disappeared at noontime, always refusing his company for lunch with a quick excuse about having things to do. Yet several times Mulder had seen her walking slowly around the frozen reflection pool at lunchtime, her collar pulled up tight against the cold. He could tell that she'd been losing weight again, her face gaunt and drawn, her hands always so cold when he touched them. Just yesterday, Skinner had summoned Mulder to the A.D.'s office, and questioned him regarding Scully's state of mind. Skinner had noticed her detached demeanor when he'd seen her in the hallways, not noticing him or seemingly anything else. "What do you think, Agent Mulder? Should I be worried?" Skinner had asked. Mulder had stared down at his hands in his lap, uncertain how to answer. "Off the record, Agent Mulder." Mulder sighed and looked up at the A.D. "Agent Scully is grieving, sir. I don't know if there's any way we can measure what's normal for this situation. But I am concerned that she seems .. depressed. It's not like her. But with what she's been through, I don't really know what to expect. I don't think she does either." "Is she safe to stay in the field?" "Oh, I don't think we're at that point, sir..." "Because if she isn't, I would expect you to do your duty to her and yourself by taking her out. You won't be doing her any favors by putting yourselves in jeopardy to protect her." Mulder nodded. "I know, sir. I don't want that to happen. I'll inform you if I think that it becomes that much of a problem," he had lied. The truth was, he was worried sick about her. And no matter what he tried to do to help, it seemed to be the wrong thing. He knew that she needed space, and time to work things through. But he'd never seen her so defeated. She'd always been the strong one, much as he hated to admit it. His rock. It unnerved him to see her like this, and he felt completely helpless. Suddenly, she stood up and walked out of the office without a word. Mulder sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. Scully quickly climbed the stairs, stopping at the first floor where there was a window that looked out over the grounds. Snow was gently but briskly falling, everything covered in a blanket of frosty white. She stood there and watched, wrapping her arms around herself to ward off the chill that always seemed to envelope her now. She sensed him before she heard his footsteps behind her. Mulder's hands rested gently on her shoulders, as they had a hundred times over the years, as they had in the hospital a few weeks ago. The difference was, this time she didn't shrug them off. At Emily's bedside, Scully had wanted no comfort, no solace. She was driven to feel every soulcrushing moment, recognizing that this was all she would ever know of motherhood. But now... all she felt was drained and weary. Instinctively, Scully closed her eyes and leaned back against Mulder's chest, feeling the warmth of him against her back. His hands left her shoulders and wrapped around her waist, and a quiet sob escaped from Scully before she caught her lower lip in her teeth. She lay her hands on the arms draped across her, digging her nails into the material of Mulder's jacket. His breath was warm on her neck as his chin came down and rested against her shoulder. Opening her eyes, Scully blinked a few times to focus through the tears. She watched the snowflakes fall softly and silently, touching the window briefly before melting away to the liquid from which they came. In their work, Scully had seen human potential at it's worst. She had experienced tragedy and horror firsthand. But, until this, her strong survival instincts had propelled her forward, certain that she could somehow mine something positive and useful from whatever catastrophe had touched her. Now, she could only think of the grief and suffering that could so casually be thrust on anyone, anytime, with no warning. Lives left torn and unrecognizable, and those responsible no more concerned than if they had crushed a fly on the wall. What kind of world was this when a child suffered as Emily had, all for some monstrous political agenda? Was it worth all the struggle? She hated them most of all for trying to extinguish her hope. Scully sighed and spoke so quietly that Mulder could barely make out her words. "What's the point, Mulder? What's the fucking point?" His arms tightened around her. "We'll find them, Scully. We *will* find them." "Maybe," Scully answered, staring ahead. "Maybe we will. And if we do, I don't want justice. I won't let them slip through the cracks again. For once in my life, I want vengeance, Mulder." She pulled away and turned to face him."But, what then? Nothing will bring back what they've taken from me...from you..." Her voice broke as her eyes pooled and spilled over. Mulder could only stand by and watch as her anguish poured out like blood from a wound. Scully turned away from him and walked to the window. She leaned her forehead against the cold glass and brought her fists up against it with a thud. "All my life I've done what I believed to be right, I've fought the good fight, worked hard and struggled... for what? So that some faceless monster could reach down and cut my life in two... and there's not a damn thing I can do about it..." she was sobbing openly now. Mulder felt his chest squeeze tight, his own eyes wet. He reached up to touch her arm. "Scully... don't let them do this to you. If you give up, they win, don't you see? Don't..." She whirled around, her tear streaked face enraged."Don't what, Mulder? Don't hurt? Don't feel pain? Don't want to tear them limb from limb and watch them suffer? Are you the only one who's allowed that luxury?" She pulled away from his touch as if stung, and turned and hurried back down the stairs. Mulder moved to go after her. "Scully... wait..." She turned and pointed her finger up at him from several steps below. "Don't! Don't follow me!" she said in a choked voice. Then she turned away and took the steps down two at a time. "Hi, this is Dana Scully. Please leave a message after the beep." "Scully - pick up the damn phone!" Mulder took a deep breath and tried to calm his voice. "Please - I need to talk to you. Scully?" Nothing. With a sigh, he set the phone down in it's base and looked at the clock again. 11:43 p.m. He couldn't take it any more. He'd been trying to reach her since she ran out of the office this morning, with no luck. No answer at home, no answer on her cell phone. By 9 p.m. Mulder was starting to worry. In her state of mind he didn't feel that she should be alone. All night he'd been wavering back and forth about whether he should just go to her apartment and check on her, and this last phone attempt convinced him. He grabbed his jacket and headed out the door. A short time later, Mulder was pulling up in front of Scully's apartment. Her car was there, and he could make out a dim light in her bedroom window. His heart suddenly began thumping loudly, and he ran across the street and into the building. His key turned the lock on her door, and he opened it slowly. The apartment was dark except for the faint glow from her bedroom. Mulder blinked a few times and squinted to adjust his eyes to the darkness. "What are you doing here, Mulder?" Following her voice, he made out her silhouette tucked into the far corner of the sofa. He closed the door and walked toward her slowly. "I was worried about you, Scully. You didn't answer your phone..." She took a drink from a glass that she was holding, then replied, "There's a reason for that. I don't want to talk to anybody." She sounded strange. Mulder approached and took a seat on the other end of the sofa. Now that his vision had adapted to the murkiness, he could see a pint bottle of what looked to be vodka on the table in front of her, a carton of orange juice next to it. Leaning over, he picked up the bottle to find it nearly empty. He set it back down on the table and looked over at Scully. She glared at him, her eyes defying him to comment. Mulder dropped his gaze and folded his hands together, trying to think of the right thing to say. Finally, he looked up at her again. "Scully, I want to help you get through this, but I can't if you won't talk to me." Scully drained her glass and leaned over to refill it with the last of the liquor. In the process, she lost her balance and barely avoided tumbling off the sofa. Mulder leaned over to help, but she held her hand up to him, a clear signal to stay away. She righted herself, then grabbed the bottle of vodka and poured the last few ounces into her glass. Only then did she respond. "Why is it everybody wants me to talk, Mulder? I don' wanna talk, can't you people get that through your heads? I wanna be quiet, so, so quiet..." Scully paused to sip some of the vodka from her glass. She held her free hand up in front of her face and pinched the forefinger and thumb together."Quiet as a little mouse. I wanna be so quiet, I'll just fold in on myself and disappear..." Mulder scooted himself closer to her. "Scully... holding all this in is not the way to help yourself," he said quietly. "You need-" "What the fuck do you know about what I need, Mulder?" she interrupted. "Everybody thinks they know what I need! I'm the only one who knows! I don't wanna talk, I don't wanna listen, I don't wanna feel anything, can't you understand that?" Her voice broke. "There's no way to fix this, no way to get over it... how do I deal with losing something that never really was? You see?" She leaned back against the sofa and wiped her face on the sleeve of her shirt. "I just don't want to think about it anymore, no more..." They were both silent for a few moments as Scully tried to slow her ragged breathing. Then Mulder stood up and offered his hand to her. "C'mon, Scully," he said gently. "Let's get you to bed. You get some sleep, and I'll stay here on the sofa. We'll see how you feel in the morning." She didn't look at him, and didn't take his hand. She just said evenly, "Mulder, go home." "I'm not leaving you alone like this. Now c'mon-" and he reached down, took hold of Scully's hand and pulled her to a vicarious standing position. Suddenly, she seemed to explode, flinging her hands away from his, the glass flying against the wall and shattering to the floor in a hundred glittering shards. "Get out, Mulder!" "No! Let me help you!" "Help me? Leave me alone! You've already fucked up my life enough!" So. There it was. Mulder felt the floor move beneath him. It swayed and tilted and threatened to buckle. He backed away from her, her eyes searing into his now, a mixture of sorrow and pain that he would never forget. As he backed into the door, Scully brought a hand up toward him. "Mulder..." It came out as a moan, her voice choked and hoarse. He just shook his head, as his tears blazed a hot course over his cheeks. His hand went behind him to the doorknob and turned, and he slipped out without another word. Scully's own tears fell freely now, and she collapsed into a heap on the floor, her outstretched hand coming up to cover her face. "Mulder..," she whispered. Wednesday Morning The pounding woke her. Someone was pounding... something. No. It was inside her own head. Like a drumbeat, slow and steady. A requiem. Scully opened her eyes a little, squinting in the bright morning sun that was streaming into the living room. The living room? With a groan, she turned her head and felt the hard wood floor beneath her. Now she remembered. Some of it. Mulder. She remembered the look in his eyes as he retreated from her apartment. Sadness, suffused with a guilt that she never meant to lay at his feet. Oh, Jesus. Could it get any worse? she truly wondered. Could her life be any more fucked up? Out of control, spinning off into some black hole. And so, so alone. Slowly, with much groaning, she sat up, and pulled herself up on her feet. Holding onto furniture and walls, Scully made her way to the bathroom and turned the cold water on in the sink. She splashed her face a few times, purposely avoiding her image in the mirror. Then with barely a warning, she sank to her knees in front of the toilet and emptied what little was left in her stomach. When she finished, she sat back and realized she had peed herself while she was vomiting. The tears started then, building to great heaving sobs, even as she wondered how Dana Scully had come to this - sitting in her own piss on the bathroom floor. Eventually the tears slowed, and Scully struggled out of her clothes, leaving them in a soiled pile on the floor. Stumbling naked into her bedroom, she collapsed on her side in the bed, pulling the covers around her and up over her throbbing ears. Her knees pulled up, she wrapped her arms around them and attempted to stop the shivering she didn't seem able to control. She lay like that for a long time, eyes wide open, with words she never thought she would hear herself say repeating over and over in her mind like a mantra. why me-why me-why me... Mulder flipped on the lights in the office, and tossed his briefcase on the desk with a thud. Going through the motions, he started coffee, hung up his coat, checked his voice mail. There were several files left on his desk from yesterday; he picked one up and rifled through it without really seeing anything. Rubbing his eyes, he put the file back on the desk and leaned back in the chair. When he opened his eyes, they settled straight away on the empty seat across from him. He hadn't a clue whether Scully would be here today or not. There seemed to be no predicting anything about her lately. If she was smart, she'd stay in bed and nurse her hangover like any normal teetotaler who had downed too much vodka. It was obvious that she didn't want or need him around. She'd have to find her way through this one by herself, he thought with more than a hint of animosity. Mulder had been awake most of the night, his mind a jumble of emotions. He ached for her. He ached for himself. As much as he'd always felt the burden of guilt for the evils that had befallen Scully since she'd come to work with him, she had never blamed him, in her words or actions. At least, he didn't think that she had. Obviously, he didn't know her heart as well as he thought he did. He kept trying to tell himself it was the booze, or the sorrow that was overwhelming her, or something else but what it so obviously was. He didn't want to believe it. If he did, it meant the end of everything that he thought they had shared. He couldn't face that right now. Mulder picked up another file and threw it into his open briefcase. He scrawled a note to Scully and left it on the desk. 'I went to follow up on some things. Hope you feel better.' At the door, he turned and surveyed the empty office before he left. No. He wouldn't think about it anymore. There was no way to imagine what would happen to him if she left the X-Files. No way. He closed the door quietly behind him. When Scully woke again, it was mid-afternoon. With a start, she remembered that she hadn't called in to work today. It was definitely frowned upon to just not show up for work at the FBI, but she didn't really care about that right now. What worried her was that they might send someone to check on her. She reached for the phone and dialed the familiar number. When she reached the appropriate extension, some girl named DeeDee told her that she had been instructed to transfer any call from Dana Scully to Assistant Director Skinner's office. Oh, great she thought. After a moment of muzak, she heard Skinner's voice on the other end of the phone. "Agent Scully, where are you?" "I'm home, sir. I'm sorry about not calling earlier, but I'm not feeling well and I must have fallen back asleep." There was a pause on the other end. Then Skinner's voice again, tinged with concern. "Is there anything I can do for you, Agent Scully? Any way I can help?" Scully's eyes were instantly wet, and she struggled to keep her voice even. "No, I'm fine, really. It's just a stomach virus. I'll be alright in a day or two." "Well... please keep me informed, and let me know if you need anything." "Yes, sir. I will." Scully let out a deep breath as she hung up the phone. Her body was telling her to get up and empty her bladder, and she tried to ignore it but wasn't able to for long. On wobbly legs, she managed to make it to the bathroom. When she was finished, she washed her hands and finally looked at herself in the mirror. Her face was streaked with old makeup, her hair dull and tangled. Still naked, she noticed sharp collarbones reflected back at her, and further down she could see the outline of her ribs. Thinking back, she realized that it had been thirty-some hours since she'd eaten anything. But there was no hunger, hadn't been for weeks. She had been eating because she knew she was supposed to, but now it just seemed like too damn much trouble. There were so many things that she did just because she was supposed to, and where had it gotten her? She formed her hands into a cup and filled them with water, then brought them to her lips and slurped the liquid into her parched mouth. After several repetitions, her thirst was sated and she returned to bed, throwing a long T-shirt on herself on the way. She cocooned herself into the covers again, wishing for that feeling of safety and refuge that a warm, soft bed used to bring when she was a child. But there is nowhere like that now, she thought. There never really was. It was all a lie, and she had fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. Believed in right and wrong. Believed that the righteous would be rewarded, and the bad guys would get what was coming to them. If she'd had the energy, she would have laughed out loud. Mulder was packing up his briefcase to go home when there was a knock at the office door. "Come on in," he called. It was Skinner, who walked in and looked around for a moment before speaking. "I was just wondering if you'd heard from Agent Scully today." "Um, no, actually, I haven't. But she wasn't feeling very well last night..." Skinner gave a curt nod. "Yeah, that's what she said when she called in today. But, with the way things have been lately, I was just wondering if that's all there was to it." "Well, sir, if that's what she said, then I'm sure that's all there is to it." "Mm-hmm. You're probably right. Well, goodnight Agent Mulder." "Goodnight, sir." After the door had shut, Mulder leaned against his desk. So, that's the way it was going to be, was it? Call Skinner with an excuse, but leave me worrying. Fine. That's the way she wants it, that's the way it'll be. He couldn't make her take his help, and he sure as hell was not gonna beg and get kicked in the teeth again. "Damn it, Scully!" he said aloud as anger overwhelmed sympathy. Don't do this to us, he finished silently. Thursday 1:30 a.m. Emily was lying quietly in her arms, the life draining from her small body as Scully held her. She was doing the right thing. She wasn't going to allow them to continue to use this innocent child as their sick science experiment. Mulder had asked her, twice, if she would save Emily if she could. No. To what end? To live out what was left of her young life as a freak? To constantly be on guard against them coming after her? To live in fear? No. She was doing the right thing. Wasn't she? At the end, she had wavered. She had almost called out for help. She was an instant away from screaming out "Do something!" But instead, she just held her close, and hoped with all her might that Emily could somehow sense her love. She held her breath with Emily's last, and finally released it in a moan of anguish. Scully's eyes flew open, and she bolted upright in the bed, her breath coming in ragged little gulps. Finally, she slumped back against the headboard and closed her eyes. Oh, God. Every time she relived that moment in her dreams, a little piece of her life disappeared with it's culmination. A little bit of her will. Soon there won't be anything left of me she thought. No more tonight. She couldn't take any more. She rose from the bed and made her way in the dark to the kitchen. Reaching up in a cupboard, her hand closed around what she was looking for. She pulled down a brown prescription bottle and tapped a yellow capsule out in her hand. After staring at it for a moment, she added another, and quickly washed them down with water. They were left from the long nights spent worrying about her cancer. The tiny pills had brought her blessed sleep when she was so afraid that what was left of her life might be counted in weeks. And now the thought of there being weeks, months, years ahead of her brought a sorrow she could barely contain. The bottle was kept tightly gripped in her hand as she returned to her bed. She pulled out the drawer in her bedside table and pushed them all the way to the back, then closed her secret up tight. As her head lay against the pillow again, the tears returned. She no longer knew when they would come, and she made no noise as they fell. His face came to her again, and she could picture him so clearly in the darkness. Mulder, can't you feel me calling you? How could she have been so wrong about so many things? "Scully?" Mulder's eyes snapped open as he sat up on his couch and looked around. He sucked in a deep breath and blew it out as he got his bearings. It was just a dream. He flopped back against the armrest. Oh, man. I am such a dick. He knew Scully was hurting. She didn't mean what she had said, he just knew she didn't. But he let his pride get in the way anyhow. Yes, she'd hurt him. But it was nothing compared to what she was going through. He glanced at the clock. Almost 2 a.m. Call? Don't call? Mulder reached for the phone, dialed two numbers, then hung up. No, she was having such a hard time sleeping lately, he didn't want to take a chance of waking her if she'd actually fallen asleep. Tomorrow. If she didn't come in to the office, he would go to her apartment after work and take her to dinner and maybe a movie - kidnap her if he had to. Anything to try and bring even a hint of a smile to her face again, he thought with a sigh. Thursday, Early Afternoon Scully had been lying awake for a while now, she wasn't sure how long. It seemed like hours, but she knew it couldn't be because the slant of the sun through the window had barely changed. She kept trying to sleep, but every time she shut her eyes Emily's face appeared - frightened, lonely, and reminding her so much of herself. For a while, sleep had been her refuge from the memories, but now even that no longer gave her any escape. Somehow, she had known it would come to this. There was no other way. The thought of living the rest of her life this way was more than she could conceive. Her eyes came to rest on a teddy bear sitting in the chair near the end of her bed. Mulder had brought it to Emily in the hospital, and the little girl had clung to it like it was gold. The shiny brown eyes gazed at Scully now, serious and questioning. Scully closed her eyes again. She had no answers to tell. Mulder looked up from the papers he was studying when the phone rang. He reached over the desk in one fluid movement and brought the receiver to his ear. "Mulder." "Agent Mulder, it's Walter Skinner. Have you heard from Agent Scully since I saw you this morning?" Mulder sat up straight in his chair and pulled off his glasses. "No, why? Didn't she call in?" "No, she hasn't. I was hoping you knew why." Mulder stood up and reached for his suit jacket on the back of the chair. "I'm going over there right now." "Let me know, Agent Mulder." Mulder's fingers drummed nervously on the steering wheel as drove. He pushed the 'redial' button on his cell phone again. "Hi, this is Dana Scully. Please leave..." "Damn it!" he said as the drumming fingers came down hard against the wheel. Something was wrong, he knew it. He squealed around a car and passed it in the turning lane, only to cut it off a few blocks ahead where he made a sharp turn. A few blocks more... Almost there, almost there... Mulder pulled up at an angle in front of Scully's building and ran in, taking the stairs in leaps. His hand trembled just a bit at the door and he fumbled with the keys before he could let himself in. "Scully!" His call received no answer. He walked further into the apartment and quickly took in the same scene that he had left late Tuesday night. The empty vodka bottle on the table in front of the sofa, half empty carton of juice next to it. He moved closer. There was a small puddle of water under the carton from condensation, and it had already marred the surface of the oak table. And, right where they had fallen that night, the shattered remains of the glass glinted at him in the bright afternoon sun. "Shit!" He moved quickly to Scully's bedroom. With a mixture of relief and apprehension, he noticed her in the bed, facing away from him, the covers pulled up tight against her neck. Crossing the space in a few strides, he crouched before her. "Scully... God, you had me so..." Mulder brought his hand up and brushed the hair back from her face. Sweet Jesus... he thought, as he tried to keep his reaction from showing. Her face was smudged with makeup, dark rings around her eyes, and he noticed the distinctive odor of someone who hadn't bathed in some time. Scully opened her eyes. She wanted to speak, but her throat was so dry. She licked her lips and tried again. "Mulder..." "I'm here, Scully. I'm here." She managed a faint smile. I'm so glad she thought. But you're too late. It's too late. Mulder's face was twisted into the disguise of the panicked rescuer who was trying not to panic the one he was attempting to rescue. Scully stared into his eyes, wanting to burn the memory of them into her mind so that she could hold onto the image. She knew that it would ease her fear when it was time. "Scully..." He struggled for words. "I'll be right back I'm just going to the other room for a minute." He walked backwards from the room, not taking his eyes off her. Suddenly, she knew. He was going to get help. No, no, no, no, no... Scully rose unsteadily from the bed, and made her way to the bedroom door. She strained to hear part of the conversation. "...not like her... don't think she's eaten... I know...been through so much...yes...I'll stay here..." Scully backed up carefully until she was sitting on the end of the bed. She took a deep breath. Mulder returned to her room, and she looked up at him. "Who did you just call?" "I called Skinner. He's been worried about you. He asked me if I thought he should ask Dr. Kosseff to come out to see you." Mulder knelt in front of her and rested his hands on her own tightly knotted ones. "I told him I thought it would be a good idea," he continued gently. Her eyes were cast down on their hands folded together, and Mulder followed her gaze for a moment, resting his sight on her naked thighs. Jesus, she's so thin! Scully's hands felt bony and weightless and cold in his, and he rubbed them a bit to warm them. Scully kept her eyes down, her mind reeling. I can do this, she thought. Just get through the rest of this day. She straightened her spine and looked up, meeting his eyes. "Well, then, I guess I'd better get cleaned up." With that, she rose and walked to the bathroom without another word. Mulder's eyes followed her as he sat on the edge of the bed. His head dropped into his hands and he pressed his knuckles into his forehead, hoping for a miraculous insight to come to him. Finally, he stood up wearily and went to the living room to clean up the mess. Scully turned the water on, circling the hot spigot until the mix of water was as hot as her hand could stand. Dropping her clothes on the floor, she stepped in to the tub. Her hands moved of their own accord, her body an automaton, washing, scrubbing, rinsing. Her mind felt sharp now, a slight buzz in her ears. She could do this. After all, there was no one better at hiding emotions from the world than she. She dried off and wrapped the towel around herself. Turning on the blow dryer, she brushed her hair as it dried, running the brush through harder and harder until her eyes stung. Next she chose a pair of jeans and a sweater to wear, and stood back to see herself in the mirror on the back of the bedroom door. That would do. Now, to wait. She tucked herself into the armchair near the foot of her bed, picking up the teddy bear and hugging it to her chest. She gazed out of her window, her mind drifting, afraid to dwell on a single thought for long. Soon, Emily. Soon. It didn't seem long before her trance was interrupted. "Scully?" Mulder opened the door and warily peered around the edge. "Is she here?" Scully looked over as she heard a soft familiar voice ask, "Dana? May I come in?" Dr. Kosseff moved from behind Mulder and took a step into the bedroom. Scully nodded. Dr. Kosseff walked in slowly and stopped a few feet away from Scully. Reluctantly, Mulder backed out and closed the door quietly. "I'm sorry Mulder dragged you here. It probably screwed up your whole afternoon," Scully said as she picked at a loose string on her jeans. "I wouldn't have come if I didn't want to, Dana. May I sit down?" Scully nodded, and Dr. Kosseff sat on the corner of the bed with her hands in her lap, keeping a comfortable distance between them. After a silent moment, the counselor continued. "Agent Mulder is concerned about you." "I know." "Mr. Skinner filled me in on a little of what's happened recently." Scully was silent, not looking up. "Could we talk about it a little bit?" Dr. Kosseff asked. Scully pulled her arms up to cross over her knees and rested her chin on them, shaking her head. "Mulder is making too much of this, really," she replied in a calm voice. "Have you talked about it with anyone?" Scully lifted her head and spoke quietly, her gaze straight ahead. "My mother knows most of it. Mulder knows." "Dana, what I'm asking you is, have you talked about how you feel about it?" She turned to look at Dr. Kosseff. "It's very personal. Mulder doesn't know that you and I are already... acquainted. You know me, Dr. Kosseff. You know I don't share my feelings easily. I am working through this the best way I know how." Scully sighed and forced herself to meet the woman eye to eye. "I'm doing alright. I know Mulder's concerned. I haven't shared much with him, and he doesn't think that's 'normal'. It's taking time, but I'm working through it." Scully gave the other woman a small smile. Dr. Kosseff returned it with one of her own. In the living room, Mulder paced the same few feet over and over, occasionally glancing at the closed bedroom door. He sat down for a moment, only to rise and walk the same path again. Maybe he was overreacting. But, shit, he'd never seen her like this. He was scared, he admitted to himself. He felt powerless to help. Maybe he had called the therapist as much for himself as for Scully. He looked at the closed door again. For a moment he considered putting his ear up to it, then thought better of it. On the other side of the door, Scully continued her performance. "Dana, I think I have a little bit of an idea where you are right now," Dr. Kosseff continued, "and I know that sometimes hope seems very far away. But I want you to know that together we can get you back to a place where life seems worthwhile again. We'll take it in tiny steps, ok?" Dr. Kosseff waited while Scully gave her a slight nod before she continued, "I'd like you to take one step tonight, ok? One small step. I want you to eat something. Will you do that?" Say yes, Dana. "Alright." "And tomorrow, one more small step. Will you come and see me at 10 o'clock tomorrow morning?" Say yes. "Yes." "I'm going to leave my card right here by your bed, Dana. You can call me at that number anytime." She stood and gave Scully a small smile. "I'll see you tomorrow morning." With that, she turned and left the room, closing the door behind her. Scully closed her eyes and leaned back in the chair. Now to keep Mulder mollified. She could do it. Just a few more hours. As Scully scooped the last spoonful of soup from her bowl, she glanced up at Mulder to find him still watching her with a solemn appearance. She wiped her face with her napkin and took a long drink from the glass of milk, fighting back the nausea that was washing over her. "Thank you, Mulder. That was good." He grunted. "Mmm-hmm." "It's getting late. You don't have to stay here all night, you know." "I'm not leaving, Scully." "Mulder..." "I'm not leaving." She pressed her lips together and looked down at the table for a moment before she spoke again. Forcing a smile, she lifted her head and faced him. "Let's watch TV." They retreated into the living room where Scully purposely sat in an armchair so that he couldn't get too near. Mulder took a seat on the sofa while Scully found the news with the remote. She kept her eyes on the television and heard bits and pieces of the reports, but she felt curiously detached from the sounds; anesthetized, almost. It kept the pain at bay, and she was thankful. She was aware of Mulder stealing glances her way, but she did not acknowledge it. After a time, she leaned her head back in the chair and closed her eyes, pretending to doze off. At one point, she felt a blanket being placed gently over her, and she opened her eyes a bit and smiled at him. Mulder's palm rested against her cheek for a moment, and he stroked her skin lightly with his thumb, a sad smile crossing his face. "I'm sorry, Mulder." He knelt down in front of her chair. "It's all right. I want to be here for you. I just wish I knew how to help." Oh, I wish I did too, Mulder she thought to herself. "You've always been there for me," she said aloud."But, sometimes, there just isn't anything you can do." Mulder nodded, and stood up. "Why don't you go to bed, Scully?" He looked toward the window, the street lamps casting shadows through the glass. He turned back and reached a hand to her, and, reluctantly, she took it. As she stood, she leaned against him momentarily, and before she knew it her arms were around his waist. "I'm sorry," she repeated, her voice muffled into his shirt. His arms went around her, his voice shushing her apologies. "It's okay, it's okay..," he murmured. then she pulled away without looking at him and walked to her room. She spent a long while in the armchair, looking out the window. Snow was falling again, deceptively soft and inviting. Like so many things, she thought. it's not what it seems to be. Eventually moving to the bed, Scully lay several pillows against the headboard and leaned back against them. She pulled a tablet of paper and a pen out of her bedside stand, and began her missives to the two most important people in her life. The letter to her mother came slowly, and after two pages she folded the tear splotched papers and wrote 'Mom' on the front. When she placed her pen to the paper for the next letter, the words came like a river rushing to overflow it's banks. '...I can't expect you to understand... never meant to hurt you... the pain is too much... can't forget her face... please forgive me... I love you and I always will...' Scully again folded the papers, and in her neat script wrote 'Mulder' across them. She placed them both on her bedside table. She opened her bedroom door quietly and peeked out into the living room. Mulder's still silhouette was stretched out on the sofa. Silently, she made her way to the kitchen and filled two glasses with water. As an afterthought, she grabbed a spoon from the drawer. As she turned to trace her steps back to the bedroom, she glanced over again at Mulder asleep on the sofa. Damn! I swore I wouldn't do that she thought to herself, her eyes growing moist. But once her sight fell on his gentle face at rest, she was drawn to his side one more time. Scully stopped just an inch from the sofa, and the corners of her mouth turned up just a bit, belying the ache that gnawed at her heart. She slowly reached out a hand and ever so lightly touched her fingertips to the lock of hair across his forehead. Leaning over, she paused a moment before brushing her lips to his. He mumbled softly and turned over on the sofa. Scully quickly pulled back and retreated to her room, closing the door and quietly locking it behind her. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Scully pulled open the drawer in her bedside table. She reached back and pulled out the brown bottle. The glasses of water were placed neatly next to each other on the table, and she chose the one less full. For a moment, she struggled with the child proof cap on the bottle, her hands shaky. Finally she removed it and spilled the contents into her hand. She didn't count the capsules, already estimating that there was enough to do the job. Placing them in a small pile on the table, Scully picked up the first one and twisted it apart carefully, then dumped it's powdery contents into the glass of water. She repeated this task again and again, until the empty halves of the yellow capsules lay where the full ones once had. She stirred it well, the cloudy whirlwind becoming clearer as she mixed it. Her hand shook, and she gripped the spoon tightly to steady it. She stared at the glass for what seemed a long time. She was not having second thoughts. Just remembering. Places, people, happier times. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes, making one last appeal to God to have mercy, then brought the glass to her lips. The liquid was bitter and burned her throat. She drank it slowly, interspersed with sips from the clear glass to wash it down easier. She didn't want to rush this, and have it come back up. It wouldn't do to have them find her lying in her own vomit. When the glass was empty, Scully set it down carefully on the table and waited. It wasn't long before she heard a buzzing in her ears and a warm sensation start to wash over her. As her eyes traveled her room one more time, lights faded in and out, patterns waved like a carnival funhouse. Her sight settled on Emily's bear, and she inched her way down to the chair to retrieve it. She had to lie down on the bed and crawl carefully back to the head, where she lay on her soft familiar pillow, the teddy bear tucked against her breast. Finally, sleep overtook her. And for the first time in a long time, she did not fear awakening. "...she needs you..." Mulder blinked, and opened his eyes. Swinging his long legs down, he sat up and looked around the room. "Scully?" No answer. He shrugged and shook his head. He could have sworn he heard someone. But the room was dark, and Scully's bedroom door was closed. He noticed a sliver of light coming from beneath her door. Maybe she was awake, and had called out for him. He stood up and stretched, then walked over to the door and knocked gently. "Scully?" he asked in a quiet voice, not wanting to wake her if he was wrong. Again, no answer. He turned to go back to his post on the sofa, but at the last moment decided to crack the door open to check on her. Mulder attempted to turn the handle, but the lock held tight. He frowned. What kind of crap is this? he thought. Why would she lock her door against him? Did she think he was going to come in and... Jesus, Mulder, don't be stupid. He wiggled the knob again without success. He knocked harder. "Scully!" he called, his voice betraying his concern. Nothing. She's gonna kill me for this he thought as he backed up a couple of feet and brought his foot hard up against the door. The door jamb cracked off at the lock and the door flew open. He walked quickly around to where Scully lay on the bed, still and quiet. It took a full thirty seconds for the scene before him to register in his mind. "Oh, my God..." Mulder dropped to his knees at her side and grabbed her shoulders. He shook her until her head bobbed like a rag doll, but still she was silent. "Sculleeee! No, God, no,no,no ...!" Mulder dropped back and rocked on his heels, his mind torn into a million shreds and all semblance of rational thinking gone. Finally, one thing rang clear in his head. He stumbled to the other side of the bed and grabbed the phone, stabbing at the numbers '911'. The words came tumbling out, directions given, and he dropped the phone and crawled over the bed to where Scully lay. Her breathing was ragged, her pale skin cool and clammy. Mulder's wail echoed in the room and throbbed in his ears, his throat stinging, as he held Scully to him and called her name again and again. Her face was wet with his tears as he cursed God and himself and every living thing. As the stretcher rolled through the emergency room doors, the staff sprang into action. "Where we going?" the EMT called out as he rode the head of the stretcher, his hand squeezing the ambu-bag with the mask tight over Scully's mouth and nose. "In here, in here..." In a well practiced routine, Scully was moved from the stretcher and slid to the E.R. gurney, the lift under her quickly unzipped and pulled away. The EMT resumed his station at the head of the gurney, again squeezing the bag to force more oxygen into Scully's lungs. He rattled off a quick report to the doctor. "Apparent overdose - appeared to be Nembutal 100 milligrams. We counted twenty two pills... she emptied the capsules. Respirations shallow and irregular... BP seventy over thirty... heart rate one-thirties and thready... constricted pupils. " The young doctor called out orders as he listened to Scully's heart and lungs with his stethoscope, his eyes on the heart monitor above the bed. Medications were given and a second I.V. line started "Is she making any respiratory effort at all?" the doctor asked. "Very little," the EMT responded, and stopped bagging her momentarily. There was no chest movement and the pulse oximeter showed her blood oxygen levels beginning to drop immediately. "Gimme a scope!" the doctor yelled. He moved to the head of the bed and, as the EMT stepped away, the doctor quickly and carefully slid the laryngoscope into Scully's mouth and into her trachea. A nurse handed him a long plastic tube which followed the course of the laryngoscope blade. The laryngoscope was removed, and the bag quickly hooked up to the end of the tube where the EMT continued his compressions on the bag, infusing Scully with the life giving oxygen that her lungs were failing to supply. "I need a lavage..." A flexible tube was passed next to the endotracheal tube in Scully's mouth, and continued into her stomach in an attempt to suction out any remains of the drug. "Heart rate one-forties ... she's throwing PVC's all over the place... " "Dammit! We're losing her - gimme the paddles... two hundred - clear!" The shock to her chest caused Scully's muscles to momentarily convulse. She felt no pain, but was somehow aware of her surroundings, aware of the activity in the room. Let me go... "Three hundred - clear!" Again, her body rose slightly off the cushioned steel gurney, and relaxed. Let me go... "Three sixty - clear!" Then darkness, silence, peace. Monday morning Before her eyes opened, she was aware of the sounds. Soft beeping. Voices far away. Her eyelids felt so heavy, it was a struggle to lift them. She blinked in the bright light, her mind attempting to make sense of her surroundings. She moved her hands, and felt one in the palm of another's. She turned her head slightly to the left, just in time to see Mulder's eyes open and turn toward her. They lit up, and creased at the corners, giving away the smile that was still hidden from her view. He rose from the chair and leaned over her bed, her hand now held tightly in both of his. "Are you really with me this time, Scully?" he asked softly. Scully parted her lips slightly to speak, but her throat was dry and sore. She swallowed hard and winced. Mulder moved closer. "You're alright, honey. Everything's going to be okay..." Suddenly his voice caught and he squeezed his eyes together tightly. When he opened them, a single tear fell. He leaned into her and buried his face against her neck as a sob escaped. "Scully..." She brought her other hand up and lay it on the back of his neck, marveling at the warmth of it, his hair soft against her hand. His voice was muffled as he spoke. "Don't you know by now... I won't let you leave me..." Scully blinked again. A sense of wonder soared over reason and memory as one thought came again and again. I'm alive... March, 1998 Mulder paced in the visiting room, passing the bouquet he held from hand to hand. He straightened up and took a deep breath, let it out slowly. Relax. It'll be fine, he thought to himself. But he wasn't convinced. He hadn't seen or talked to Scully in over three weeks. During her two week stay in the ICU, he was there every day. She had said little, and he never pressed her to talk, but she seemed to be comforted by his presence. She was then transferred to the medical psychiatric unit, where she would begin therapy as her body continued to heal. The morning that Scully was transferred, Mulder had received a call from her mother, Maggie. She had told him that Scully asked that he not come to see her until she called him. Mulder was hurt, and surprised. "But... I don't understand. Is there something you're not telling me? Something else wrong?" Maggie's voice was filled with compassion for him as she spoke. "Fox - no, there's nothing else wrong. I don't really know what's behind her reasoning, but I think we should do as she asks for now. She's still very confused, and I know she feels terrible for what she's put you through." "Damn it! There's no reason... " He sighed, resigned to a situation out of his control. "Please, Maggie, tell her... tell her I'm thinking about her, and... tell her I love her." "I will, Fox. Don't worry, dear. It's going to be alright." Maggie had called him several times since then to calm his fears, and let him know that Scully was doing well and making progress. It had been a long three weeks. He'd spent many late hours awake, wondering how he could have missed it, how he could have let her down so. The irony of his degrees in psychology smacked him square in the face. But, when he was honest with himself, he knew. In the past year, he'd had to re-examine everything that had steered him on the path that he had long ago chosen. He'd come to realize how much he depended on Scully's strength, how much a part of him that she had become. To see her crumble made his every elemental fear surface. He felt betrayed, alone, and scared to death. that night, as he had held her and desperately tried to keep her from slipping away, something he'd felt in his gut for a long time became as clear to him as anything ever was. He didn't want to go on without her. Last night his heart had leapt at the sound of her voice on the phone. She had called and asked him to come and see her today, and of course he quickly assured her that he would. It was a short conversation, and she didn't offer any more information about her situation. So, here he was, as nervous as a kid on his first date. Then he heard a noise, and all that melted away as he turned and saw her come through the door. Her hair was pulled up in a clip, a shiny, soft sweep of red. She was wearing jeans and a jade green turtleneck sweater, her body a little fuller, her pale skin smooth and delicate. She looked beautiful. She smiled shyly, and seemed hesitant to meet his eyes. She stopped an arms length away from him and glanced up. "Thanks for coming, Mulder." Not sure of what to say, he held out the flowers, and she thanked him and smiled again as she brought them to her nose and inhaled. Finally, he decided on a safe opening line. "How are you feeling?" "A lot better. As a matter of fact, the doctor's going to let me go home tomorrow. I was hoping you would pick me up?" "Of course I will. You just let me know when." They were silent for a moment, then Scully said "Let's go for a walk. Do I need my coat?" It was one of those early spring days when the temperature was chilly, but the sun was bright and warm. "No, I don't think so," he replied. "As long as we don't stay out too long." She led him through a door and out into a small garden, where they strolled slowly on the tiled path. After a few awkward moments of silence, Scully spoke without looking at him. "Mulder, I... I'm not sure what to say. I'm so sorry for what I put you through." "Scully, you were the one who went through hell, not me. You don't owe me any apologies." She stopped and looked up into his eyes, searching for an answer she wasn't sure she'd find. "I'm going to be alright, I really am. But, I just... I don't know how I'll ever earn your trust again... how you can ever believe in me again..." Mulder turned to her, his face open and accepting. He didn't say a word. He just opened his arms. Scully hesitated for a mere second. Then she fell into his embrace and wrapped her arms around his waist. "I've missed you so much, Scully," he said, his voice choked. "I never stopped believing in you, I never stopped trusting you... I just want to know what to do, what you need from me..." His heart beat reassuringly against her, and she knew that she didn't need forgiveness from this man, for he had never condemned her. She tightened her arms around him. "Just love me, Mulder. That's all I need from you." He lightly kissed the top of her head, and stroked her back gently. "Always, Scully. Always." Early December, 2001 Scully chewed on her lower lip again and squeezed Mulder's hand tight. He took his eyes off the road for a moment and looked over at her, the smile returning to his face as it so easily did today. "Honey, stop doing that. You're gonna chew your lip off." She turned to him and smiled back nervously. "I know, it's just... well, you know..." Mulder squeezed her hand back. "It's going to be fine," he said soothingly. "It is! Everything's gone like clockwork so far. The papers are signed, and they haven't heard anything else, remember?" He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed the back of it lightly. Scully sighed. "Yes... you're right... ok, I'm not going to think any more negative thoughts. Oh, there's our turn! We're almost there!" She turned her wedding ring round and round on her finger, as was her habit when she was nervous. They pulled into the parking lot and, miraculously, found a parking spot close to the entrance. They were a few yards away from the car when Scully stopped. "Oh, wait - I forgot something." She turned back and retrieved a small bag from the car, then hurried back to Mulder's side. "Can't forget that," he agreed. Scully just smiled. They walked quickly to the entrance, pulling their coats close around them against the cold wind. Inside, they made their way to the elevator and proceeded to the 4th floor. As they exited the elevator, Scully reached for Mulder's hand as her eyes searched for reassurance from his. Mulder pulled her aside in the hallway and wrapped his arms around her. She hugged him tightly around the waist. "I love you," she whispered into his neck. He bent his head to bring his mouth to her ear. "Always." His familiar reply helped to calm her jangled nerves. She pulled away and looked up at him. "Okay," she said, taking a deep breath. "I'm ready." They walked hand in hand to the window first, scanning over all the cribs to find the one they were looking for. Scully quickly found it and pointed toward the back row. "There she is! Oh, look Mulder, they put a little Christmas hat on her!" Mulder came behind Scully and crossed his arms in front of her, pulling her to him. She leaned back into him and brought her clasped hands to her lips. "Oh, God, she's so beautiful! This is going to be the most wonderful Christmas..," she said, and her voice resounded with all the hope and promise that a new life brings. Scully suddenly remembered the bag stuffed into her pocket. She pulled it out and removed the small red and white sleeper tucked inside, then held it up before them both. "Do you think it'll be big enough? I don't want it to be too tight and squeeze her little arms..." Mulder reached out and gently took the garment from his wife's hands. "Dana, she's going to swim in it. It'll be fine." Just then, a nurse turned and recognized them through the glass. She waved and beckoned them in. They walked around to the door and pushed it open, the sudden sound of mewling cries making them both smile. The nurse came to greet them. " Dr. Scully, Mr. Mulder... this is a special day for you!" she said with a wink. She led them over to the crib where a tiny brown haired baby waited, awake and silent, chewing on her balled up fist. Scully reached in and gingerly brought the child from the crib, lifting her until she was at eye level. The baby locked her eyes on Scully's, attempting to focus. Scully's vision blurred as the tears came, tears of joy and faith and love, and of a bond now made that would never be broken. She held the baby girl to her shoulder, and kissed her on the soft crown of sweet smelling hair. Mulder stood back and silently watched the pair, a haze surrounding them from his own misted eyes. His beautiful wife, his beautiful new daughter, madonna and child, his life. Once again he silently blessed the young woman whose pain was about to bring them such great joy. Scully turned to him and held out her hand while carefully cradling the warm bundle against her. She brought his hand up against the baby's feathery hair. "Feel it, Mulder. Isn't that the sweetest thing?" Like he imagined the wings of an angel to be. He leaned over and kissed the top her tiny head, inhaling that sweet fragrance that only a new baby has. "I can't believe she's coming home with us today," Scully said in a near whisper, as if to speak it aloud might break the magic bubble they were in. "You're going to be an incredible mother," Mulder replied, looking into Scully's soft eyes. He leaned closer and whispered into her ear. "Did I ever tell you how sexy you look holding a baby?" Scully smiled and shushed him, with a look that clearly told him there were still secrets to be discovered. Their lives were full of new discoveries now, and for the first time in many, many years Mulder welcomed them with anticipation instead of the fear of what new lies would be revealed. The future held promises and contentment and a new found peace for them both, all of which was about to be enriched with this gift from God. This gift named Elizabeth Hope. End
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