But It's My . . . (PG-13)

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He fell silent.  What had he thought he could say?  And she was just watching him, like a microbe under her microscope.  She seemed so calm and detached from him.  It sent a shaft of cold up his spine.  They sat in uncomfortable silence for a moment, then she shifted in her seat, getting ready to leave.


“Well, I’ll see you later,” she said as she rose to her feet.


“Wait, where are you . . . “ Damn he felt awkward.


The eyebrow, double damn.


“I have some paperwork I need to finish and submit,” she said coolly.


“Oh, yeah.  Listen, why don’t you use the desk?  I have an errand to run anyway, so you could . . . “ The desk, he’d said ‘the’ desk, not his desk.  Did she catch that?


“Thanks, I appreciate it,” she said with a shade more warmth, maybe.


“Okay, well, I’ll be back later.”  He moved around the desk, heading out.  He needed some air and to get his thoughts together.  He didn’t look back as he exited the room, though he heard her take a seat in the chair.


He took the stairs up to the first floor and exited the building through  the front door, heading south for no good reason.  “But it’s my . . .” what had he been about to say?  His life too.  It was, she was. 




God, the sound of what was happening to her over the damn phone!  And he was too far away to do anything.  Danny had come through the quickest ever with tracing the call and getting him the address.  He had demanded action from 911, browbeating them with his badge and his ‘officer down’ line.


He had stayed on the line, refusing to break the connection until they had her.  Until he knew she was safe.


“Where are you calling from, sir?  The number - "


“The FBI building in DC.”


“The, in DC?  How did you - ?”


“She’s my partner.  She called me, to let me know she was in trouble.  He caught her, but fortunately the connection wasn’t broken.  Are they there yet?”


“Yes, the police are at the building.”


“Do they have her!”


“Sir, please try to remain calm.”


He took a deep breath; on one level the dispatcher was right.  It just didn’t help to know that.  Then she was talking to someone else.  He forced himself to wait, what the dispatcher was doing was more important.  At least she hadn’t put him on hold, which he was sure was not an oversight.  She was allowing him to hear what he could.


“Dispatch special burn unit,” she said into whatever microphone she was using and his already tense shoulders threatened to crack.


“Burn?  Who’s burnt?  Who’s burnt!” he screamed into the phone now.


“Sir, I don’t have that information.  They have two victims, one male, one female.  Ambulances are on the way.”


“Where will they be transported?”


“Hahnemann University trauma unit.”


He broke the connection then.  They had her.  Now he had to get there.  “Come on Scully, you can do it.”  Thank goodness he had come back from his ‘vacation’ early.  If he hadn’t been here to take the call, to . . . No, not now.  He was racing up the stairs to the motor pool desk. 


He’d already made the decision to drive.   He could make it in a couple of hours.  Between waiting for a flight, then the flight time itself, he’d lose his mind waiting.  He scared the woman in the motor pool into giving him the first available car, only because he needed that FBI tag.  He was out of the building in four minutes.


He slipped the blue light onto the seat beside him.  He’d save it in case he needed it. 


He pulled the car into the emergency entrance of the hospital and jerked to a stop in a dubious parking space.  He could move it later.  He tossed the FBI sign into the window and ran inside.  He already had his badge in his hand when he approached the nurses’ station.


“Agent Scully, is she here?”


The nurse looked up and her eyes involuntarily checked him out.  “Excuse me?”


“You had two people brought in by ambulance, one to the burn unit.  I need to know Agent Dana Scully’s status.”


“And you are?”


He shook his badge at her.  “I’m Special Agent Fox Mulder.  I’m Agent Scully’s partner.  Where is she?”


The nurse finally looked over at the computer screen.  “Uh, yes.  Ms. Scully is being treated now.”




“Mr, Agent Mulder, if you’ll have a seat - “


“Where is she!”  He lost all patience then and when she didn’t respond immediately, he moved past her and down the hall.  Let her call security, he outranked them and where the hell was she?  He looked in each cubicle he approached trying not to disturb the other patients.


“Agent Mulder, you need - “


Then he spotted her, as she stuck her head out of a cubicle farther down the hall.  “Mulder?”


He was at her side instantly, taking in the bandage on her forehead, the black eye, the blood on the collar of her blouse and her general disheveled-ness.   “Are you okay?”


The nurse retreated when the patient nodded to her and allowed the man into her cubicle.


“What are you doing here?  How did you - “


“Are you okay?” he interrupted.


“I’m fine, Mulder.   How did you find out . . . You!  You’re the one who called 911.  How?”


“You, you called me.  When he attacked you the phone didn’t get disconnected.  Danny was able to run a trace and I called for help.”


“I had hung up.  I had decided not to bother you.”


“Bother me?” She ignored the interruption.


“ - and I remembered you were supposed to be on vacation.”


“You’re not burnt?” he asked anxiously.


“Burnt?  Oh, no that was Ed.”


Ed?  “Are you, can you leave?”


“No, I’m waiting for the results of the tox screen.”


“The tox screen?  You were drugged?”


“I’m fine, Mulder.”


“Who drugged you?”


“Uh, no one.  It was unintentional, but Ed and I - ”


Okay, that was twice, he could ask now.  “Ed?” 


“Ed Jerse.  I met him here,” she evaded.


“Did he, did he . . . hurt you?  What kind of drug?”


“They’re checking into that,” she said dryly, obviously wishing she hadn’t brought it up.


“He was part of the case?”




There was a long silence while he tried to form his next question.  Unfortunately not quite long enough.  “You picked up a guy and he tried to kill you?”


He was saved from her reply by the doctor entering the cubicle.  He wasn’t looking up, reading as he entered.  “Dr. Scully, I’ve got the tox screen here.”  He flipped through the chart in his hand.  “There isn’t enough of the ergot alkaloid from the tattoo to account for the hallucinations - “ He looked up then spotting Mulder, who was staring at Scully.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize . . . “


Scully only rolled her eyes.  “Thank you, Dr. Tilly.  I’d like a copy of the records for my own investigation.”


“Of course.  I’ll leave a copy at the nurses’ station.”


“May I leave now?”


“Yes.  Just take it easy for a couple of days.  Watch those ribs.”


“Ribs?”  Mulder asked.


“Thank you, Doctor,” again Scully ignored him and shook the doctor’s hand.


She buttoned up her jacket, attempting to hide the blood on her blouse.  She headed toward the waiting room to pick up her paperwork and Mulder trailed behind her.  What was he supposed to think?  She’d picked up a man, she’d gotten a tattoo, and the guy had nearly killed her.  What was he supposed to say?


After Scully had her paperwork she turned to him.  “Can you give me a ride?”


“Uh, sure.  Back to DC?”


“No, to my car.  Then I’ll head back to the hotel.”


Oh yeah, she had a car.  “Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you home?  I mean, if you were having hallucinations or a cracked rib - "


“I’m fine, Mulder.  If you could please take me to my car I’d appreciate it.”


“And then?”


“I have to stay overnight to finish up this case.  You can go on back to DC and I’ll drive in tomorrow.”


“I could stay, drive you tomor - “


“I have my car, Mulder, but thank you.”


And that had pretty much put an end to the conversation.




He sank down onto a bench, the one where they met in secret years before.  That same distance he’d felt in the hospital and the damn quiet ride to her car was still there.  In the intervening time he’d tried hard to convince himself it was the desk thing, but she’d shot that down instantly.  “Not everything is about you, Mulder.  This is my life.”


She was only half right.  Maybe everything wasn’t about him, but it was their life.  If she didn’t realize that, it was a place to start.


She wasn’t there when he returned, but she had left a note saying that she was following doctor’s orders and working from home the rest of the day and tomorrow.  She’d see him on Monday.


He slumped down in the chair, missing her.  Missing the fact they were on the outs more than anything else.  And he still didn’t know what he’d done to set her off.


His eyes fell on that area of the office that he had vaguely thought of as hers.  It was a mess, with more of his things than hers.  He could at least straighten that part up.  He moved in that direction.


He didn’t allow himself to get caught up in any of the files; this was a clean up mission, not a search for an X-File.  Most things went into the files but he found he could actually throw some things away, the duplicates anyway.  Making good progress he continued after five, even finding a broom and cleaning the floor.


You know, there really was room for two desks if he got a smaller one for himself.  Two smaller desks would work in this space and he could clean up that other area.  Yeah, that would work.


He broke into the store room.  Hell, he was down here every day and no one ever came to use it so maybe they already thought it was part of the X-Files office.  He located two desks, then drafted Danny to help him move them.  There was the requisite griping but tickets always worked with Danny and this wasn’t a time to go cheap. 


After the two desks were in place, Mulder reloaded his desk and again made a valiant effort to actually toss some of the unnecessary stuff he had accumulated.  The rose petal wasn’t yet unnecessary and he tucked it in the back of the top drawer.  Now her stuff . . .




He was waiting when she came in Monday morning.  He’d gotten here extra early just to greet her, and see her face.  She opened the door and stopped dead still.  Her desk was mostly clean, a nameplate and small arrangement of cut flowers the only things on it.


Finally she turned to look at him, a puzzled but pleased expression on her face.  “You did this?”


“It’s my life too, Scully, and you’re in it.”


She gave him the barest of nods, then moved to investigate her new space.




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Mulder, Scully, the Lone Gunman and Skinner all belong to Chris Carter, 10-13 and Fox. No infringement intended.