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A Friend In Need




Trinity Medical Center

5:13am

****************** MULDER'S POV ******************



"Agent Mulder!"  

Don't even think about stopping me, Skinner.

"Where're you going?"

"ICU." I push past Skinner and his agents-in-tow.

"You move pretty well for a dead man."

"I'm only half dead."

"You got a lot to answer for, Agent Mulder!"

I push the door to the ICU open, Skinner's words trailing
after me.

Beeping monitors and hissing oxygen valves vaguely connect
with my consciousness as I make my way past the nurses'
station.

Then I turn, and see Scully.

For a second I'm transported back in time. To another ICU,
in another hospital nearly 3 years ago. And the same feeling
of fear and loss that struck me then, assaults me now with
equal ferocity.

My lungs refuse to draw air. Nausea floods my stomach. I
bend over and rest my hands on my knees, mind racing while I
try to grapple with the image of my partner's pale, drawn
face. Her body dwarfed by the vast quantity of life-support
equipment surrounding her bed.

I sense someone approach from behind and pull myself up,
forcing uncooperative lungs to inflate around the ache in my
chest.

Skinner stands beside me.

"What happened to her?" I ask, my voice sounding like a
stranger's.

"She went into hypovolemic shock. She's lost a lot of
blood."

"Due to what?" My question comes out tight and painful.

Skinner doesn't answer me. I tear my eyes away from Scully.
"Due to *what*?!"

"She's dying."

No.

Skinner touches my arm. "Let's go."

"Let go of me." I move towards Scully.

"There's nothing you can do."

The hell there isn't. I take another step and Skinner grabs
me, pulling.

I hit his arm away. "Get the hell off of me."  

Two meaty hands grip my jacket, holding tight. Skinner hauls
me back. I wrestle with him, but even with adrenaline
driving my every move, I'm no match for his strength. He
shoves me towards the hall and I'm 'escorted' out of the
door by a couple of guys who look as if they're just itching
for me to try something stupid. On any other day I might be
tempted to take them on. God knows, I'd like nothing better
than to slug someone good and hard, and the thought curls my
fingers instinctively into tight fists. But I catch another
glimpse of Scully.

Small and still. A machine helping her breathe. Another
monitoring her heart. And my anger doesn't matter anymore.
It drains away in a sudden rush, leaving me numb and light-
headed. I stagger along the corridor, past some guy
examining X-rays lit up on the wall, and out into the
general ward.

Were they Scully's X Rays? Is he looking inside her body,
seeing the disease that is killing her? The disease given to
her to make me believe.

Oh God.

Scully is dying.

Reality sends me reeling, and for the first time since her
cancer was diagnosed I contemplate the possibility that she
might not beat it.

I swing around and face Skinner who is walking a couple of
paces behind me. "Where's her mother?"

"She's on her way."

"I'm staying until she gets here." I say quietly.

"Agent Mulder..."

"I'm staying." And I turn back towards ICU.

I don't know if it's the excuse they are waiting for or if
there's a nod from Skinner, but the two agents lurking in
the background step forward and pin me against the wall.

I glare at Skinner. "You arresting me?"

"Do I need to?"

"My partner is DYING!" I try and shake my arms loose, but
they are held tight.

"And you're a suspect in a murder investigation!" Skinner
matches my glare, and then abruptly drops his gaze. He
shuffles his feet, lifts his head and softens his tone.
"Agent Scully is receiving the best possible medical care.
There's nothing for you to do here."

On a signal from Skinner, my arms are released.

"I can be there when she wakes up." I say, massaging my
biceps.

Skinner addresses the two agents still standing beside me.
"Bring the car around front. We'll meet you there."

"Yes sir." And they disappear, their footsteps squeaking on
the polished linoleum.

Still leaning against the wall, in my mind I can see only
one thing: Scully, lying in that bed.

Alone.

And I hate that I allowed myself to be dragged away.

Skinner sucks in a deep breath. His jaw works furiously as
if in need of a warm-up before speech is possible. He fixes
his gaze at a spot just behind my right shoulder.

"You have a hearing at 7:15 this morning. Blevins knows you
faked your death and he wants answers--"

"*He* wants answers? I want some damn answers too! I want to
know why I was being spied on!"

Naked shock blazes across Skinners face. Not the reaction I
expected.

He shifts his weight from one foot to the other and leans in
close, his voice a harsh whisper. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that *someone*..." Skinner's face begins to fade in
front of me. I blink, trying to bring him back into focus,
but instead the hospital corridor, the nurses station, the
pink fluorescent lights, blend into a single mass of swaying
colours. I breathe quickly, trying to still the rolling in
my stomach.

"Agent Mulder?"  Skinner's voice floats past me, sounding
like an echo in a tunnel.  There's a throb behind my eyes.
My fingers are numb and tingling. I try to make my mouth
form words but my tongue feels heavy and awkward. Skinner
must be having the same problem, I see his mouth move but
there's no sound.

Darkness sweeps over me and I feel myself sink to the floor.



***************

SKINNER'S POV ***************



"Mulder! NURSE! I NEED HELP HERE!"

I should have guessed. Should have seen this coming. I ease
Mulder's limp body to the ground.

"What happened here?" Two nurses and a doctor arrive at my
side.

"I don't know, he...he collapsed, fainted." I say, rising to
my feet to make way for the doctor.

They roll Mulder onto his side, checking his pulse, his
breathing. The doctor lifts an eyelid, peering intently.

"Is he on any medication?"

"I don't think so."

"Suffered a recent head injury?"

"I...I don't know."

"Has he been drinking? Using drugs?"

"No. He's a federal agent."

A look passes between the doctor and one of the nurses."

"He's clean." I re-emphasize through clenched teeth. On a
night when very little is making sense, that's one truth I
feel certain of.

Another man arrives pulling a gurney and Mulder is lifted on
board.

Standing to the side, feeling useless and ineffective I
watch in silence as the medical staff continue to give
Mulder the once over. Loosening his tie, rechecking his
pulse.

"Let's move him to the ER."  

I tag along behind, wondering how the hell we got in this
situation. What circumstances led to Mulder staging his own
death, convincing Scully to lie?

Inside the Emergency room they move Mulder to an exam table,
the overhead light revealing what I should have noticed long
before now. Skin pale and gaunt, dark purpling shadows
beneath his eyes. What has this man been doing for the past
24 hours?

"What's his name?"

"Mulder, Agent Fox Mulder."

The doctor shines a penlight into one of his eyes. "Agent
Mulder, can you hear me?" Then the other. "Pupils equal and
reactive."

Mulder mumbles unintelligibly.

"BP 100/70"

They strip off his jacket.

"Resps 40, pulse 100."

A nurse walks towards me carrying a clipboard. "Sir, I just
need to get some details from you."

She runs through a list of questions. Name, date of birth,
medical insurance. "Next of kin?"

My stomach plummets towards my toes. "His partner. She's in
the ICU, seriously ill." I pause then inform her, "I'm
Assistant Director Skinner, Agent Mulder's boss. If
necessary I can arrange to have Agent Mulder's medical
records sent over."

The nurse nods and makes a note.

I watch as they begin to remove more of Mulder's clothing.
His shoes, tie...

"Mr. Skinner?" A doctor approaches.

"Yes?"

"I'm Doctor Perelli. Can you give me a brief rundown of what
happened here."?

I clench my teeth, buying some time. "We were talking, the
next minute he kind of zoned out and collapsed."

"Has he been ill?"

"No. But...he's been under some personal stress in recent
weeks."

The doctor nods. "Is he allergic to any drugs?"

"I...I couldn't say for sure." I run my hand along my jaw
wishing I'd taken more notice of Scully's reports regarding
Mulder's medical treatment. But I honestly can't remember
anything specific.

"Okay, Mr. Skinner, we're going to run a few tests and see
if we can pinpoint what's going on with your boy. Why don't
you take a seat outside while we check him over?"

I give Mulder a long look, and out of some strange sense of
loyalty to Scully, debate whether I should leave him or not.
In the end I decide I'd be better-employed rescheduling
Mulder's hearing for a later time and organizing for the
agents waiting down stairs to return to the bureau.

Five minutes later, Agents Peterson and Jacobs are updated
and on their way back to the office and I've managed to buy
Mulder an extra 2 hours before he has to appear before
Blevins. I remove my glasses and pinch the bridge of my
nose, trying with very little success to force back the
growing ache behind my eyes. Shaking my head, I wonder how
the hell Mulder plans to talk his way out of this mess.
Without Scully, I wonder if he even cares.

Twenty-four hours of Blevins breathing down my neck is
starting to take its toll. My body is screaming for caffeine
and there's not a vending machine in sight.    

So, resigned to the fact that I'm going to have rely on my
own resilience to get through this, I head back towards
Mulder's cubicle. When he does wake up, I have a feeling the
medical staff will need back up to make him stay put.

Inside, Mulder still seems to be pretty out of it. He's been
stripped of his shoes, shirt and tie. There's an IV in one
arm and a blood pressure cuff around the other.

I clear my throat and catch the nurses' attention. "How's he
doing?"

The same nurse I dealt with earlier comes over to me, this
time I check out her name tag. 'Mary.'

"He's slightly dehydrated, nothing too serious but to be on
the safe side we're getting some fluids into him
intravenously. The doctor's a little concerned that he
hasn't regained consciousness yet, so we've drawn some blood
to run a few tests and to check his sugar level as a
precaution. Do you know when Mr. Mulder last ate or drank?"

I shove my hands in my pockets and shuffle my feet, feeling
totally inadequate. "I don't know. He's been out in the
field." I dart a quick look at Mulder before continuing.
"Knowing how Agent Mulder works, it's very possible he
hasn't slept or eaten a lot in the past couple of days."

God, knowing Mulder it could be more like a week.

Mary smiles kindly at me, "Well, that could be why he hasn't
woken up yet. On the positive side, he's reacting to
external stimuli, his reflexes are good, pulse is almost
back to normal. Why don't you make yourself comfortable
until we get the results of the blood tests back? You can
sit in here if you like." She points to a plastic chair in
the corner.

"Thanks. I--"

"NO!! No, Scully!"

Mulder's screams cut me off and a flare of activity erupts
around the exam table. He is struggling to push himself up,
his flailing hands threatening to knock over the IV stand.

"Get the doctor!" One of the nurses calls out.

Jeezus, can't this man do anything the easy way? I make my
way over to the commotion; see if maybe I can help calm him
down. But it's not necessary. He slumps back down and goes
relatively limp, mumbling quietly to himself. A few seconds
later the doctor is by his side.



************************************************




*************** MULDER ***************

5:30AM

"Mr. Mulder, do you know where you are?"

There's only one place I know of where people start a
conversation with that line. So the question is: why am I in
the hospital this time?

Reluctantly, I open my eyes and prepare to face the world.
Bright light blasts through my head, and I wonder for a
moment if I really want to know why I'm here. I reach up and
massage my eyes with one hand.

"Agent Mulder?"

Skinner. What's he doing here?

I lick my lips and test my voice. "Where's Scu...?" But my
throat closes around the word as it all comes hurtling back
at me. Oh God. I push myself up to swing my legs over the
side of the gurney, and the ER fades to a vague pinpoint of
light.

"Agent Mulder!" Skinner's voice pierces the buzzing in my
ears.

"Easy does it, Mr. Mulder." Someone lowers me back against
the gurney.

When the spinning stops, I see a nurse in the process of
filling a syringe. It's then that I notice I've been
tethered down with an IV.

"What are you doing?" I ask, eyeing her suspiciously.

"We're just going to give you something to settle you down
until we find out what the problem is."

"There *is* no problem." I try to sit, but the ER starts to
tilt again. With my eyes closed against the dizziness, I
take some long slow breaths.

"Relax, Mr. Mulder, we just want to find out what's causing
these dizzy spells."

"No. Let me up." My feeble attempts at rising are met with
solid resistance. When I open my eyes this time, I find
Skinner's face hovering above me.

"Sir, I can't...stay here. Scully. Sir? I...she needs me.
She's alone."

Skinner stares back at me, his teeth digging into his bottom
lip. For a second he breaks eye contact, letting his gaze
wander around the room before returning to me. When he
answers, his voice is husky, earnest.  "I'm sorry, Agent.
Section Chief Blevins is expecting to meet with us. If you
don't show up he'll issue a warrant for your arrest." He
pauses, obviously choosing his words. "Agent Mulder, what
good will you be to Agent Scully in a jail cell? Let's get
this mess cleared up."

I scrub at my eyes with the heels of both hands. Defeat
coiled tight in my chest, I nod. This time I push myself
carefully to a sitting position. No one tries to stop me.

The nurse has recapped the syringe, but still hovers within
striking distance. "Mr. Mulder, we'll be done with the blood
tests shortly, if you'll--"

"NO. No tests. I know the procedure, if you'll just get me
the paperwork, I'll sign myself out of here."

The doctor approaches me. Frowning. "You want to leave
without knowing what caused you to collapse."

"I'm fine."

The man stares long and hard at me, then shifts his gaze to
Skinner. I don't see Skinner's reaction, but it must have
been favorable because the doctor nods and gives the nurse
permission to remove the IV.

The needle is taken out and replaced with a gauze pad and
sticking plaster. As soon as she finishes I ease my feet to
the floor and straighten up. The ER tilts nauseatingly to
the side and my knees tremble in response. Skinner takes my
arm, anchoring me to consciousness.

"Are you sure about this, Mulder?"

I ignore him and concentrate on getting myself under
control.

Skinner releases me when it becomes clear I'm no longer
about to do a header onto the ER floor.

Shakily, I push away from the security of the gurney. The
nursing staff fall back to clear a path.

"Where are my clothes?"

Someone hands me a plastic bag with my shoes, shirt, tie and
jacket inside. It takes me two attempts to get my shoes on.
I can feel Skinner hovering like a nursemaid and it pisses
me off. I pull on my shirt without buttoning it and then my
jacket. My tie hangs loose around my neck.

A nurse shoves a clipboard in my hand, and I sign my ticket
to freedom.

With Skinner close on my heels, I make my way to the
hallway. After a quick glance to either side, my decision is
made. I follow the signs back to the ICU and Scully.

"Agent Mulder!" Iron fingers clamp onto my shoulder,
spinning me around. "Where the hell do you think you're
going?"

Skinner. Eyes blazing and jaw thrust forward.

"I'm going to check on Scully."

"Jeezus Christ, agent, I just got through telling you, we
have a meeting with--"

"I know that, Sir, and I'll be there, but I've gotta see
Agent Scully. I can't just walk away without talking to
her."

"Mulder, she's unconscious, she won't even know you're
there."

"*I'll* know."

We lock eyes for a second, and then he nods. A small, almost
indiscernible shift of his head, eyes darting to the side.

I need no more encouragement.

The sight of Scully is no less shocking the second time
around. Up close, she looks worse. I trail a finger across
her brow, her skin warm, despite the porcelain-like pallor.
There's a faint smudge of blood just above her top lip, a
crusty layer dried around her left nostril. I snag a tissue
from the nightstand, dampen it with some water from the
pitcher and clean her face. She doesn't stir.

Skinner waits outside her cubicle.

"Scully. I..." My voice is low, the words meant only for
her. Carefully I move the IV to one side and sit on the bed.
"Scully, I'm sorry I wasn't here. I...I didn't know...didn't
think. I guess...I never believed the cancer would really
get you. That it would come to this." I pause wondering what
to say next. "Remember...remember what you told me, Scully?
About the things you had to prove to yourself, to your
family? We've still got work to do. The truth is out there,
Scully. It's just not the truth we thought it was." I swipe
at my eyes. "Scully...I..."

She doesn't move. I grasp her hand in both of mine, leaning
down to whisper the words against her pale cheek. "Scully,
don't give up. Don't let them beat you."

"Agent Mulder. Time to go."

*********************

Skinner

6am ********


In three hours, he'll be meeting with Blevins, and Mulder is
teetering on the edge of total meltdown. I've got to get him
out of here and let him catch a few z's... or dose him up
with caffeine. Whatever might help him stay on his feet and
keep his wits about him.

"Agent Mulder. Time to go."

His shoulders tense, the only outward sign that he's heard
me.

"Mulder." I walk over to where he's sitting on Scully's bed;
lay a hand on his shoulder. Still he ignores me, all
attention focused on his partner.

I stand silently by feeling like a voyeur, watching as he
lifts her hand to his lips and holds it there.

"Come on, let's get out of here," I tell him quietly.

Abruptly, he stands up and spins on his heel. He makes it
about three steps past me before he stumbles and falls
against the door, knees buckling under him.

Jeezus! Not again.

He clambers against the doorframe, struggling to get his
feet under him.

"I've got you, Mulder." I pull his right arm around my
shoulder and help him all the way to his feet. He tries to
shake me off. Damn pigheaded son of a bitch.

"Cut it out, Mulder. It's not too late to sign those papers
and have you admitted." I take a calming breath. "Give
yourself a break. There's nothing you can do here."

He glares at me but says nothing. Then again, he doesn't
have to. For just a second his guard is down, and I see it
all. His pain, his desperation. His loss. And there's not a
damn thing I can do to fix it.

"Can you stand?" I let him go. He draws a deep breath,
scrubs at his face and drags his hands slowly down his face.

When he answers me, his voice is husky, raw with emotion and
exhaustion. "Let's go."

I let him lead the way out.

"Where are we going?" he finally asks.

"Parking garage. I sent Peterson and Jacobs back in one car.
The other is here."

He nods. "I was wondering where the goons were."

We make our way to the car in silence, Mulder occasionally
stumbling, but righting himself before I need to take
action. He walks around to the passenger side and leans his
arms on the roof, head resting on his forearms.

I unlock the doors and wait for him to get in. He doesn't
move. "Agent Mulder?"

Slowly he lifts his head and looks at me, eyes bleary and
red-rimmed.


************************


Mulder.

6.30am *************


"Agent Mulder?"

I lift my head and stare at Skinner. He wants me to get in
the car. He wants me to leave the hospital and my partner.
Just walk away when her life is hanging in the balance.

"Where's Scully's mother? Why isn't she here?" I ask.

"I told you, she's on her way."

"On her way from *where*? What the hell's taking her so
long?"

"She was visiting with her son Bill. They're traveling down
together."

I nod slowly.

"Now come on, Mulder. Get in the car."

I push myself up straight and take a long look around the
parking garage. Skinner is watching me intently, eyes
narrowed, jaw tense. I wrench the car door open and climb
inside.

How could I let this happen? Scully lying in the hospital,
fighting for her life. And why? To perpetuate a lie that was
formulated to manipulate me, my beliefs, my whole goddamned
life.  

Skinner gets in beside me and starts the engine.

"Where are we going?" I ask, bringing my hands up to massage
the thud behind my eyes.

"I'm taking you to get something to eat."

"I'm not hungry."

"Maybe not, but you're going to eat anyway."

I snort quietly. "Who the hell appointed you my nursemaid?"

Skinner glances at me as he steers for the exit. "You look
like shit, Mulder."

I shrug. Does it matter?

The man is giving his jaw a work-out. "Mulder, what the hell
happened?"

I turn and stare out the window. "I wish I knew."

***********************



********* SKINNER *********

Mulder's answer is barely audible. In his current state, I
decide to let it go. First thing I want to do is get him
functional. I've seen the man survive on very little sleep
time and time again. But that was with Scully by his side,
keeping him grounded and laying down the law when it got to
the point where he was little more than a walking zombie.
Well, Scully isn't here, so I'm all he's got. And whatever
else might have changed in the past 24 hours, I'm still his
boss, and hopefully, that will be enough to make him comply.

Six blocks from the hospital, the motion of the car achieves
what I could not. Mulder's head is tipped back against the
seat, angled towards the passenger side window. Sound
asleep. I ease my foot off the gas. There's no hurry to get
back to the FBI building, and even a few minutes' rest is
better than nothing.

On the way to the Bureau I stop at a McDonald's drive-thru
and order breakfast. Mulder remains oblivious to it all.

Even with the stop and taking it slow, I only manage to kill
45 minutes before we pull into the FBI parking garage.
Mulder doesn't stir when the engine is cut. It takes a not-
so-gentle shake to coax his eyes open. His movements are
slow, lethargic, and he scrubs at his face with both hands
before turning to look at me. "What now?"

"Breakfast."

"I told you, I'm not hungry."

"And I said I'm not taking 'no' for an answer."

He gives me a 'go to hell' glare.

"Let's go to my office. We've got some time before the
meeting, and you can eat." I hold up my hand to ward off the
protest I see on his lips. "Save your breath. You're coming
with me, and you're going to eat."

Mulder clamps his mouth shut and shoulders the door open. He
climbs slowly to his feet with all the alacrity of a ninety-
year-old man.

I grab the breakfast sacks and large juice from the back
seat and walk around to join him. He's clinging to the door
like it's the only thing keeping him on his feet. Which it
probably is.

"Agent Mulder, are you all right?"

"Fucking fantastic." He answers without lifting his head
from where he has it buried in the crook of one arm.

"Do you need some help?"

This time he lifts his head and locks his gaze with mine.
"No. I'm *fine*." He slams the car door and strides stiffly
towards the elevator.



Office of AD Skinner **********************

7:30am


"Take a seat, Mulder." I point him in the direction of my
couch. He slumps down and rests his head against the back,
eyes fixed on the ceiling.

"Mulder?"

He lifts his head.

"Here." I toss him a bacon and egg McMuffin. To his credit
he catches it easily, turns it over in his hand then looks
up at me. Without breaking eye contact, he places the burger
on the coffee table then pushes it away.

"Eat it, Mulder."

"Is that an order, *Sir*?"

I draw a deep breath and let it out slowly, my teeth
clenched together. "I'm not the enemy here, Agent Mulder.
And it might serve you well to remember that."

"Yeah?" He jumps to his feet. "Well who is it, then, Sir?
Who is the enemy? Because I'm tired of trying to figure out
the players in this game."

"What the hell are you talking about, Mulder?"

He walks around the coffee table and meets me face to face,
his chest heaving. I wait for the dam to break, but it
doesn't happen. He simply stands before me, hands clenched
into tight fists; breathing in short, angry pants. Then,
something seems to wither and die inside of him. His
shoulders slump, his hands uncoil and he staggers backwards,
just missing the table.

"Why her?" He asks, voice raw.

I don't have the answer. I'm not sure he expects one. "Sit
down, Mulder."

"I don't want to sit down!" He starts pacing, quick,
agitated steps.

"Mulder..."

"No!" He swings around, index finger raised, the other hand
resting on his hip. "No."

I move a couple of steps towards him. "Agent Mulder. Stop."
He resumes his pacing. Frantic and disjointed like a caged
animal. I take hold of his shoulder. "Stop." He glares at
me, nostrils flaring, sweat breaking out across his brow.
There's a fire burning in his eyes, dark and intense.

In one fluid movement he shakes me loose, draws back his
right arm and prepares to take a swing at me. I block him
easily and twist his arm behind his back, but he keeps
fighting. Struggling against my hold. We stagger against the
coffee table, almost fall, but I manage to keep my feet and
push him towards the couch. He stumbles into the armrest and
lands sprawled on his back across the cushioned seat. For a
second our eyes lock, and I wonder what the hell is going
through his head.


**************************


MULDER

7:45AM



Skinner stands over me, breathing hard. I close my eyes, no
longer able to look at him. Is he the one? The mole within
the FBI. The man behind Scully's cancer? I sit up and drop
my head into my hands.

"You're out of line, Agent Mulder."

"Am I?" Slowly I lift my head. "And what about you?"

"What are you talking about?" Skinner straightens his tie,
adjusts his jacket so it sits square across his shoulders.

How much do I want to reveal to him before the meeting? If
Skinner's in on the lie, then there's still time for him to
go to Blevins.

"Nothing. It doesn't matter."

"Where were you, Agent Mulder? What have you been doing for
the past 24 hours?"

"I've been on a hunting trip."

Skinner jerks his head to the side, teeth clenched. He talks
to the wall behind me. "You might find this amusing, Mulder,
but let me assure you, Blevins would like nothing better
than to land your ass behind bars. If--"

"Amusing!? You think *I* find this funny!?" I struggle to my
feet, knees trembling with the effort. "Scully is in the
hospital. Dying."

"And if you don't come clean with what you know--"

"I've got nothing to say." Skinner's office sways to the
right, my shins crash into the coffee table and I stagger
sideways.

"What about this man Osselhoff? What's his connection to
you?" Skinner persists with his questions.

I blink my eyes and Skinners shimmering face comes back into
focus. "Why don't you tell me?"

"Agent Mulder, this answering questions with more questions
is not going to get you anywhere."

I scrub at my eyes with both hands. My head is aching and
there's a roaring in my ears I can't seem to shake.

"That man...in my apartment...was *spying* on me."

"Spying on you? How?"

Skinner's office stretches and shrinks.

"Agent Mulder?"

Flailing blindly with my left hand, I search around for the
couch, something to steady me. But my balance is shot to
pieces and my knees crash to the ground.

Somewhere, from a long way off I hear Skinner's voice.

"Easy does it Mulder, I've got you." He lifts me onto the
couch and I have no energy, no desire to resist. Instead I
give in to the firm leather cushions beneath my body, close
my eyes against the dizziness in my head and let the
darkness take me.


*************************


SKINNER

9.06 AM

Stretched out along the length of my couch, Mulder hasn't
moved a muscle since he collapsed. And I've made no attempt
to rouse him. Instead I sit slouched back in my chair and
swallow the last dregs of my second cup of coffee while
flipping through the pages of the pathology and forensic
reports. I've spent the last hour going over them, reading
and rereading, wondering if I've misinterpreted the
findings. But no matter which way I look at it, the evidence
speaks for itself. Mulder's weapon fired the shot that
killed Scott Osselhoff.  The same man Mulder accused of
spying on him. But why?

I take off my glasses and scrub at my eyes. Should I have
seen this coming? No matter how much I search my memory for
some kind of clue that could have alerted me, I keep coming
up blank. By his standards, Mulder's behavior has been
normal. What is it that has driven him to create such a
monumental hoax? Risk both his and Scully's careers. And how
did he convince her to go along with him?

All this to prove the existence of Aliens? It's got to be
more than that.

There's a sharp rap on my door. I shove the file back in the
drawer. "Come in."

"Sir?" Agent Peterson allows himself a quick glance in
Mulder's direction.

"What is it, Agent?"

"The Section chief is ready to see you now."

I nod. "We'll be right there."

"Sir." He leaves, closing the door behind him.

I bury the reports under some papers in the drawer, locking
it and pocketing the key. Time to face the music, Mulder.
Stretching my arms above my head, I rise to my feet, and
roll my head first to the left, then the right, tension
cracking a path along the vertebrae in my neck.

The first time I shake him he doesn't stir. "Mulder." He
swats ineffectually at my hand. "Agent Mulder, wake up."

He opens his eyes and stares at me blankly.

"Agent Mulder."

Recognition shows in his eyes and he pushes himself up. "How
long have I been out?" His hand shakes when he rubs at his
eyes.

"Just over an hour. Juice?" I reach for the McDonald's cup
still resting on the corner of my desk.

"No." He looks up at me and as an after thought adds, "Thank
you."

"Blevins is waiting."

Mulder stands up, sways slightly but gets himself under
control then makes a half-hearted attempt at fixing his tie.


I walk to the door and open it, waiting for Mulder to pass.
He hesitates, takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. We
lock eyes for a second, his expression is unreadable.

He takes another long breath, juts out his chin and strides
past me.

I look back at my desk, at the paper sack containing the
remnants of Mulder's uneaten breakfast, the coffee table
still slightly askew where we fell against it. Last, I let
my gaze fall to the drawer with the forensics report inside,
then reach into my pocket and finger the key.

"You coming, Sir."

I turn to find Mulder standing just out side the door,
watching me closely.

I nod, pull the door closed and lock it. "Let's go."

Mulder falls in beside me and we make our way to the
meeting.


*****************************************************


The end.

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