From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org
Date: 6 Aug 2006 15:44:50 -0000
Subject: NEW:  Fevers of the Mind (1 of 2)  by Vickie Moseley
Source: direct

Reply To: vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com


Title:  Fevers of the Mind
Author:  Vickie Moseley
Summary:  Between 'you . . . help . . . me' and 
Scully coming to Mulder's door in Amor Fati -- a 
whole lot happened.
Rating:  Warning, some sexual content (though 
fleeting and limited descriptions)
Category:  MT, MA, SA
archive:  yes
Notes:  Thanks to everyone at Mulder's Refuge for 
keeping me sane.
comments to me:  vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com

Fevers of the Mind
by Vickie Moseley
November 17, 1999
Georgetown Memorial Hospital
Imaging Department
2:45 pm

Scully drew in a breath and watched her partner's 
body slide slowly into the computerized 
tomography machine.  She glanced at her watch and 
wondered if it read AM or PM.  It had been a long 
day.

The screen in front of the technician was showing 
the path of the contrasting dye as it worked its way 
through the regions of Mulder's brain.  So far, so 
good.  An EEG performed just an hour earlier had 
shown that the frenetic brain activity that had been 
killing Mulder slowly was now at a stand still.  His 
brain was once more exhibiting normal alpha and 
beta waves, without the spikes for prolonged 
periods that had been showing.  

For that, Scully had almost relaxed.  But during the 
EEG it was found that there was some slowing of 
the brain and that worried her.  To her relief, 
Mulder's neurologist had suggested the CT scan, 
along with a full battery of blood tests.

"We're looking good," the technician spoke from 
the chair beside her.  Of course, he was merely 
referring to the fact that the dye was not causing the 
patient any problems, but Scully again let out a 
small sigh of release.  She still had no idea what had 
happened, but at least whatever had been done, 
Mulder wasn't too much the worse for wear.

"I got the blood work back, Dr. Scully," Dr. 
Harriman said, holding out a metal chart for her.  
"Along with the medications he was receiving while 
in our care to increase flow of blood to the brain 
and control his seizures, it's apparent he was given a 
fairly large dosage of midazolam, IV I would 
suspect."

"Versed?" Scully asked.  "So they sedated him to 
perform the surgery," she said and Harriman 
nodded in agreement.  "But what procedure did they 
perform while they were in there?"

"All done," the tech said helpfully.  "The dye is in 
there.  You should have a pretty good picture.  Do 
you want me to send these to your office, Dr. 
Harriman?"

"Do you mind if we take a look here?" Harriman 
asked and the tech shook his head and got up out of 
his chair in front of the computer.  Harriman took 
his place with Scully looking over his shoulder.

"I don't see -- " Scully started and then stopped.

"There.  I believe something was done there," 
Harriman said, circling an area with his finger.  
"But to be honest, the brain looks fine.  There is 
some swelling, but that's to be expected.  I can't see 
where any tissue or growth was removed."

"Or added," Scully said quietly, which earned her a 
sharp look from the other doctor.  They looked 
through the images for a few minutes and finally 
Harriman got up, motioning for Scully to follow 
into the hall.  

"I think we'll keep him here under observation for 
the next 48 hours.  The amount of sedative in his 
bloodstream and the fact that he has undergone 
some sort of surgery on the Dura matter would 
make it irresponsible of me to send him home any 
earlier.  There are still complications that can arise 
with this sort of surgery and we have no idea of the 
conditions -- "

"The place looked sterile, but I wouldn't put 
anything past them."  Scully had to stop herself 
again.  As much as she wanted to rage against the 
forces that would kidnap a seriously ill man from 
his hospital bed, she didn't want to take up 
Harriman's time on a futile effort.   

Harriman flashed her a smile.  "Well, we'll take 
good care of him now," he assured her.  "I've put 
you on his chart as the only person with Agent 
Mulder's medical power of attorney.  I think our 
lawyers will back me up if his mother comes in 
again."

"No, I really doubt we'll be seeing her now that he's 
back.  But thank you." 

Harriman turned to leave but reached back and 
touched Scully's sleeve.  "You need to get some 
rest, too, Dr. Scully.  I know it's been hard these last 
few weeks, but the crisis seems to be over.  Take 
some time to regroup."

"I'm fine," Scully replied with a forced smile.  "I'll 
be in his room upstairs if you need me."

Neurology, Seventh Floor
Room 713
5:15 pm

Scully startled awake when she felt a hand on her 
shoulder.  "Sorry," the nurse said, speaking softly.  
"I just wanted to let you know you have a phone 
call at the desk."

"Oh, thank you," Scully said, wiping the moisture 
from the corner of her mouth.  She'd fallen asleep in 
the chair next to Mulder's bed.  The last time she'd 
looked at her watch it had been a little after 3.  
She'd been asleep just two hours and felt like she'd 
been run over by a truck.  It was all starting to hit 
her, Mulder's illness, his disappearance, the last four 
days frantically trying to find him and not knowing 
how to cure him.  She stood up and stretched 
exhausted muscles.  "I'll be outside."

The nurse nodded to her and smiled, keeping her 
attention focused on her patient.  As the woman 
checked Mulder's vitals, Scully went out to take her 
call.

It was Harriman again.  He'd had his partner, a 
neurosurgeon, take a look at Mulder's CT scans.  
The other doctor had come to the same conclusion -
- a procedure had been performed but for 
indeterminate cause and with no apparent damage 
to the brain.  Scully thanked Harriman and looked 
over at the agent stationed on a chair outside 
Mulder's door.

"Agent Howard, I'm going downstairs for a bite to 
eat and a decent cup of coffee.  Would you like 
one?"  Howard was the agent Skinner had sent over 
when Scully had called to tell the Assistant Director 
that she'd found Mulder.  He was a five-year 
veteran of Violent Crimes who had worked with 
Mulder and Scully briefly on a case when he'd first 
joined the DC office.  He was professional and 
dedicated and Scully felt she could trust him at least 
as far as making sure no one without authorization 
entered Mulder's room.  

"No thanks, Agent Scully.  The nurses are keeping 
me supplied with the stuff the doctor's drink, so I'm 
good."  Howard looked over to the door behind him.  
"How's Agent Mulder doing?"

"He's still asleep.  His tests have gone well.  We'll 
know more when he wakes up," she answered with 
a smile.  "I'll just be a few minutes."  She started 
toward the elevator but the nurse exiting Mulder's 
room called her back.

"Dr. Harriman left orders to notify you if there was 
any change, Dr. Scully.  I think you need to take a 
look."  The woman handed over Mulder's chart.

Scully read it over quickly and frowned.  "His temp 
is elevated.  What was it when we came in?"  She 
really didn't expect an answer, she was speaking to 
herself.  She flipped through the pages of the chart 
and found the earlier notation.  "It was 99.5 on 
admission, now it's 100.6.  It's up a full degree."  

"Dr. Harriman wanted to be alerted to any changes, 
I'll call him now," the nurse said as Scully handed 
back the chart.

"Yes, I think you should," Scully responded, all 
thoughts of her hunger now out the window.  "I'll be 
in Agent Mulder's room," she said over her 
shoulder.

He looked the same, still asleep.  Quietly she 
walked over to the bed and took his hand in hers.  
His fingers felt warm.  She pressed the palm of her 
other hand against his forehead and then his cheek.  
Too warm.  "Mulder, would you cut this out?" she 
pleaded.  She almost jerked her hand back when he 
groaned and moved his head.

"Mulder?  Mulder, can you hear me?" she asked, 
dragging the chair over with one hand, never letting 
go of his fingers entwined with hers.  "Mulder, it's 
me, Scully.  Wake up, please."

"Hmmmm," he groaned again, moving his head 
slowly back and forth.  "ssccu-lll," he tried.  She 
could see him working his eyelids, trying to get 
them open. 

"Keep trying," she encouraged.  Finally, she was 
rewarded with two slits of hazel through the lashes, 
but he immediately slammed his lids shut and 
groaned aloud.  

"Mulder, what is it?" she asked worriedly.

"light," he rasped out and grimaced as just speaking 
caused him more pain.

"The light?  The light hurts your head?" she 
inquired.  He nodded cautiously, already in great 
pain and not wanting to increase his own 
discomfort.

"I'll shut the blinds and turn off the overheads," she 
told him.  She hurried around the room, gradually 
casting it in darkness with her actions.  "Better?"

He lifted his lids slowly, anticipating the pain.  "A 
little," he whispered hoarsely.  "Still hurts, though."

"I'm sorry.  I was going to ask how you're feeling, 
but I guess you already answered that.  Mulder, do 
you know where you are?"

He frowned in concentration, his eyes still closed.  
"No.  Hospital?" he offered.

"Yes.  You're in Georgetown Memorial.  I don't 
want to tax your system by telling you everything 
you've been through, but you've been through a 
rough time."  She picked up his hand again, stroking 
the long fingers.

"Pains to prove it," he quipped back but winced 
again just after saying a few words.  "Tired."

"I know you're tired.  You should rest," she told 
him.  He nodded solemnly and soon his fingers 
were slack in her hand.  She took another moment 
to feel the heat from his forehead before going back 
out to the nurses' station to look over his chart once 
more.

Harriman was coming off the elevator as she made 
her way to the desk.  "I had them draw blood at 3, 
those results should be back by now," he said 
without greeting.

"Are you suspecting an infection?" Scully asked, 
biting her lip.

"I was hoping against it, but given the unusual 
nature of this case from day one, I wasn't prepared 
to bet against him getting one, either," Harriman 
told her.  He walked around to one of the cubicles 
left open for doctors and grabbed the phone.  "I'll 
call the lab, see if I can speed things up a bit."

Scully paced the floor while she waited.  She heard 
her name again, this time a familiar voice and 
looked up.  John Byers stepped off the elevator and 
hurried over to her.  "Agent Scully, how's he 
doing?"

"Byers, what are you doing here?" she asked, 
looking up and down the hall.  Agent Howard 
stood, noticing her concern, but she waved him 
back into his seat.  "Where are the other two?" she 
hissed.

"Back at the office," Byers told her sotto voce, 
walking her down the hall.  "We got some 
information and we thought you'd want to know."

"Information?  What information?"

"Agent Diana Fowley didn't show up for work 
today," Byers said simply.

"She's taken off.  Why am I not surprised," Scully 
intoned sarcastically.  

"I wouldn't be so sure, Agent Scully.  Her 
whereabouts are unknown.  We didn't want to 
intrude but -- "

"You tried to locate her?  Why?" Scully growled.  

Byers found his shoes very interesting.  "We just . . 
. we thought she might go after Mulder . . ."  He 
looked up at Scully again.  "It doesn't matter, she's 
fallen off the face of the planet from what we can 
tell."

"I can't say I'm all that sorry to hear that," Scully 
shot back.  At his contrite expression she softened 
her tone.  "Look, thank you for helping me get him 
here, but we've got a guard and I'm not leaving this 
place, so he's safe -- for now.  Just go back home 
and I'll call you with any news about Mulder's 
condition, OK?"  She turned and almost ran into 
Harriman.  

"Dr. Scully, I'm afraid we have a problem."

Mulder's Apartment
nightfall

He woke up from a deep sleep, hearing a noise at 
the door.  Groggily he walked over and flipped the 
lock while looking through the keyhole.  When he 
saw the visitor, he opened the door and ushered her 
in.

"Diana.  What do you want?"

"Fox, you have to come with me.  Now.  Get your 
shoes."

He regarded her for a moment.  She looked anxious; 
she kept glancing out into the hallway.  "Why?  
Why should I go with you?"  

As quick as the blink of an eye, her expression 
changed.  She smiled seductively and traipsed over 
to him, putting her arms around his neck.  "Fox, 
there was a time I didn't need to ask twice," she 
purred into his ear.

"Mulder."  He turned as best as he could to see 
Scully standing in the doorway.  "Mulder, we have 
a case.  Are you coming?"

"He's coming with me," Diana said, tightening her 
grip around his neck.  "Aren't you, Fox?  You don't 
need her anymore.  I'm here now.  I'll take care of 
you."

"Mulder, we have to go.  The evidence is being 
removed as we speak," Scully repeated, ignoring 
Diana's groping.

Diana took the opportunity of his distraction to cup 
his cheek and bring him to her mouth for a 
blistering kiss.  "Fox.  You can have it all.  You can 
have me again.  Remember how it was when we 
were together, how we had everything we needed, 
you needed.  We could have it all again."

"Mulder, are you just going to stand there?" Scully 
demanded.  "What about Samantha?  What about 
the truth?  We have to find out what was done to me 
when I was abducted.  Are you just going to forget 
about the last seven years?  Are you going to quit 
now?"

"Diana, I have to go," Mulder said, pulling away 
from her, but not before returning one more kiss.  
"Scully needs me."

"She doesn't need you, Fox.  She never did.  She 
was sent to spy on you.  Can't you see that?" Diana 
pleaded, tugging on his neck.  

Gently he tried to remove her arms from his neck.  
When he looked to the doorway, Scully was gone 
but he could still hear her heels tapping on the floor.  
"Scully, wait!" he cried out.  He finally extracted 
himself from Diana's clutches, but by the time he 
was in the hall, the elevator doors were closing.  
"Scully!  Wait!"     

Georgetown Memorial
9:05 pm

Scully stood outside Mulder's room, looking 
through the window.  Unconsciously she'd begun to 
bite her lower lip, almost drawing blood.  How 
could they have allowed this to happen?

Inside the room, Dr. Harriman and two male nurses 
were carefully extracting spinal fluid from Mulder's 
back.  Mulder, was lying on his side, curled in a 
fetal position.  He was sedated, as much as they 
dared given his condition.  He'd been combative 
while they prepped him for the lumbar puncture.  
The two male nurses had been forced to restrain 
him while the mild sedative took effect.  With a 
temperature hitting 103, he was delirious and weak, 
but strong enough to put up one heck of a fight.  
And through it all he kept calling out to Scully, 
begging her to come back.

She couldn't take it anymore.  She had tried 
repeatedly to make him aware of her presence but to 
no avail.  Harriman tried to persuade her that 
Mulder was dreaming that she wasn't there, but 
Scully was convinced that he was reminding her of 
his kidnapping, that she hadn't been there to stop it.  
Fortunately for her, the mask and gown had hidden 
most of the tears that fell on her cheeks and she left 
the room so that the doctor and nurses couldn't hear 
her choked sobs.

She watched Harriman hold up the needle, 
examining it in the light.  His guarded expression 
was obvious even from this distance and when all 
she could see were his eyes.  He handed the syringe 
with the cerebral spinal fluid to the nurse at his 
elbow and stripped off his gloves.  The other nurse 
was busy placing a gauze pad and adhesive strips on 
Mulder's back to protect the puncture wound.  
Carefully, both nurses moved Mulder back into a 
supine position, no pillow, absolutely flat.  They 
checked the oxygen cannula under his nose to 
ensure that it was providing the necessary element, 
covered him gently and pulled up the rail on the 
side of the bed.

Harriman was taking off his mask as he joined her 
in the hall.  "There was some cloudiness.  We'll 
send it down to the lab and should have an initial 
assessment within a few hours.  Of course, it will be 
days before the culture comes back -- "

"But by then we'll know pretty much what we're 
dealing with," Scully interjected dully.  "What are 
you thinking?  Initially, of course."

"I refuse to bet my Titlist golf clubs on it, but I'd 
say meningitis," Harriman spoke thoughtfully.  
"Let's go down to one of the offices where we can 
sort this out."

Soon they were seated in a comfortable, if generic, 
office.  Harriman sat behind the desk, in easy reach 
of the computer, but he had the monitor turned so 
that Scully could read it as well.  "As you probably 
remember, we had him on Phenobarbital, after the 
unfortunate incident with the Phenytoin.  But, of 
course, that treatment ended when Agent Mulder, 
um, left our care."

Scully drew in a deep breath.  It aggravated her to 
no end that Harriman was still tap dancing around 
Mulder's kidnapping.  She understood the 'medical 
code' and the desire to speak no ill of a colleague, 
but the men who had taken Mulder and operated on 
him were more criminal than collegial.  "Yes, I 
understand," she prodded.

"Well, we're putting him back on the Phenobarbital 
for seizures.  To fight the bacterium, I would like to 
put him on Ceftriaxone.  If the culture shows that 
we're dealing with e. coli, we can change that to 
Gentamicin sulfate."

"What about the swelling?  His brain has been 
through so much already, I don't know how much 
more he can take," Scully fretted.

"Nor do I, quite frankly," Harriman admitted.  "In 
light of everything else he's been through, I'm going 
with Dexamethasone.  I know from his chart that 
he's done well with Mannitol in the past, but given 
the high chance of disability . . ."

"No, I think you're right.  I did some reading on the 
subject recently."  She remembered the 22-hour 
flight from the Ivory Coast to Washington and the 
medical journal she'd read cover to cover.

"Well, we have him on oxygen, we'll be taking 
blood gases at least twice a day for now.  I think we 
might have found the 'golden hour' on our side, 
Agent Scully.  But I do want to caution you -- "

"I know.  We might do everything right and he still 
might not make it," she said dully.

Harriman reached over the desk and patted her 
hand.  "He's a fighter.  He's proven that over and 
over again.  I wouldn't bet against him."

"Not even for a new set of clubs?" Scully quipped, 
heartened by the doctor's sincere words.

"No, not even for that," Harriman said with a wink 
of his eye.  "Now, can I please convince you to at 
least get something to eat down in the cafeteria?  It's 
almost time for the evening lunch hour and if you 
don't go now, all the good entrees will be gone."

Scully nodded with a tired smile.  She stood up and 
walked to the door, Harriman close on her heels.  
"I'll be staying tonight in his room, you know," she 
said before taking her leave.

"I never thought you'd be anywhere else," Harriman 
said with a shrug.  "I'll be by first thing in the 
morning.  If anything arises during the night -- "

"I'll have the nurse call you.  Thank you, Doctor."

"My pleasure, Dr. Scully.  We'll get him through 
this.  I'm sure of it."   

Warehouse
night

Mulder fought his way to consciousness with a 
growl.  His head was killing him and he could feel 
the knot already formed at the back of his skull.  
Whatever he'd been hit with, it was hard and heavy.  
He looked around and saw that he was alone.

With effort, he rose to his feet, swaying with 
dizziness.  The black dots faded from his vision and 
he squared his shoulders.  There was a light outside 
and he headed toward it.

Diana pulled up in a car.  She reached over and 
opened the door, waving him inside.  "Fox, quick, 
we need to get out of here."

"What's going on, Diana?" he asked.  He could see 
the light now.  It was far away and up in the sky but 
it was headed right toward them.

"Get in the car," she demanded.  "Fox, we don't 
have time!"

"No.  What's that light?" he asked, now shielding 
his eyes from the brightness.

"Mulder!  Mulder, where are you?"  He turned to 
hear Scully shouting.  She was running along the 
side of the warehouse, but from her vantage point 
she couldn't see him where he was standing by 
Diana's car.

"Scully!  I'm over here."

"Mulder, they're coming!  Get out here now!" 
Scully called again, but her voice was fading as she 
ran around the back of the warehouse.

"I have to go," Mulder said, looking in at Diana.

"But Fox, what about them?"  Diana indicated the 
backseat of the car and Mulder hesitated before 
looking there.  In the seat were two small children, a 
boy and a girl.  "They need a father, Fox."

Mulder shook his head and looked again.  The 
children had grown but they both looked like Emily 
Sim now, the boy could have been Emily's twin 
brother.  "Daddy?" said the little girl.  "Aren't you 
coming with us?"

"Mulder!  I see them!  Hurry!"  Scully's voice was 
brought to him on a gust of wind.  He spun around, 
searching for her location. 

"Scully!  I'm coming!" he yelled.  He started out in 
the direction he'd last seen her, but every time he 
got close, Diana would pull the car in front of him.  

"Get out of my way, Diana!" he shouted at her 
angrily.

"Fox, you have to stop this foolishness!  Get in the 
car!" Diana hissed.

He'd had enough.  He dodged her this time, coming 
out ahead of her.  He ran as fast as he could, 
breaking into an open parking lot.  The light was 
there; it was coming from the underbelly of a 
massive flying ship.  Scully was on the ground, 
looking up at the structure with an awed expression.  

"Scully!  Get away from it!" he yelled with all his 
might.  She turned to look at him, gave him a smile 
and suddenly a beam of light from the ship flashed 
down and engulfed her.  As he ran toward her, she 
was lifted up into the ship.  He tired to reach for her, 
but she was too high up.  He yelled and shouted but 
she couldn't hear him.  Then she was gone, the light 
was gone and he was alone.  

He sank to his knees sobbing for his loss. 

Georgetown Memorial Hospital
Neuro ICU
4:15 am

Mulder's condition worsened as the night 
progressed.  By midnight, Harriman ordered him 
moved to a bed in the ICU.  Scully was somewhat 
relieved that they didn't put him in the same room 
from which he'd been abducted, but it was only a 
momentary respite.  His fever spiked and they 
worked on him for hours trying to bring down his 
dangerously high temperature.  They'd added a 
cooling blanket just after 1:30 and his temp had 
hovered at just under 102 ever since.  High, but not 
brain-frying high, they hoped.

Through it all, Scully hadn't gotten a wink of sleep.  
She sat by his bedside, stroking his hand, his arm, 
the patch of forehead not encircled with gauze, any 
part of him she could reach.  He seemed to calm 
somewhat when she was touching him.  On those 
rare moments when she had to stretch her back and 
had to walk the small floor, he would be restless, 
tossing his head back and forth, calling out for her.  

The sedative had worn off long ago and Harriman 
had been reluctant to give him any more.  If she 
could keep him calm without the medication, she 
would do it.  So she stood by his bed, stroking his 
cheek, talking to him quietly.  She told him stories 
of her days in medical school, some of the crazy 
doctors she'd had for teachers.  She told him of the 
head of neurology she studied under and the small 
red pick up truck he drove to the hospital with the 
sign on the side stating 'Brain Surgery and Light 
Hauling'.  Sometimes, she could almost make 
herself believe that Mulder was actually listening to 
her, could understand what she was telling him.

But in reality, he was so very far away.  The 
swelling in his brain, brought on by the infection 
and the fever, was reaching the point of becoming 
fatal.  As she continued to try and make him 
comfortable she couldn't help remembering her 
vigil at her sister Melissa's bedside and how Missy 
had finally just slipped away.  It was everything she 
could do not to break down in tears.

After hours of standing, she made a decision.  
Mulder was quieter when she was close, then she'd 
just get closer.  She slowly lowered the bedrail and 
hopped up to perch on the side of the bed.  The 
cooling blanket chilled her hip to the bone, but she 
was able to lean over and rest her head on Mulder's 
shoulder.  He let out a quiet sigh and relaxed against 
her.  She couldn't remember her last conscious 
thought but she understood the emotion.  It was 
relief.

Mulder's apartment
night

He poised over her, looking down.  God, she was 
beautiful.  In the faint light of a half moon she 
looked luminescent, radiant, alive with all the fire 
and passion the universe had ever seen.  And she 
was his, his alone.  His Scully.  She moaned, the 
seductive temptress between his legs, and stroked 
him hilt to tip.  "Oh, God, Scully if you keep that up 
this won't last long," he growled. 

"Then we'll just have to regroup and try again," she 
purred and he felt the chuckle bubble up from his 
very toes.  

"Oh, God, I love you," he moaned into her mouth as 
he captured her lips once again in a bruising kiss.

"You don't believe in God, Mulder," she teased, still 
stroking him, bringing him closer to insanity.

"I do now," he answered, breathless as he lowered 
himself to join with her.

The door slammed open and the harsh yellow-
brown light from the hallway invaded their private 
retreat.

"Fox, I'm back," Diana announced, striding into the 
bedroom as if she were on a military campaign.

"What is she doing here?" both Scully and Diana 
asked in unison, but there was nothing humorous 
about their tone of voice.

"Diana, please, get out," Mulder pleaded, jumping 
off the bed.  In his haste, he'd left Scully uncovered 
and immediately regretted his actions.  He reached 
out to cover her with the sheet, but Scully was 
already on her feet on the other side of the bed, 
grabbing clothes.

"Fine, Mulder, fine.  If that's how it's going to be, 
fine!  I can play second fiddle to the Truth, I can 
play Sancho to your Don Quixote, but I'll be 
damned if I'm going to play 'sloppy seconds'!" 
Scully seethed from the corner of the bed as she 
pulled on jeans and a sweater.

"Scully, no, you don't understand!  It's not like 
that," he implored.

She stopped, regarding the other woman in the 
room as if she were a snake about to strike.  "Well 
then tell me.  What is it like?" she asked angrily.

"I'm not . . . I don't . . . I  . . . I didn't . . . "  As hard 
as he tried, Mulder could not come up with the 
words to resolve this crisis.

Scully's eyes narrowed to slits and she'd never 
looked so cold and heartless to him.  "That's exactly 
what I thought," she said evenly and left the room.  
When he heard the front door of the apartment slam 
closed, it sounded like his death knell.

He dropped to the bed, face in his hands, hot tears 
streaming down his cheeks.

"Fox, forget about her," Diana urged, pulling at his 
hands to uncover his tortured face.  "I'm here now.  
I'll make it all better."

"I don't . . . I d-d-don't . . . " he stammered.

Diana pulled his head toward her shoulder and 
wrapped her arms around him.  "You don't need her 
now, I've told you that.  I understand that you didn't 
mean to cheat on me -- "

He pushed her back and looked hard at her.  "'Cheat 
on you'?  What are you talking about?  I never 
'cheated' on you!  There was nothing between us to 
'cheat' on!  You left me, remember?"

She pulled on his shoulders to bring him closer.  
When he refused and held fast, she caressed his 
cheek.  "Poor baby, so confused.  Don't you 
remember?  I left to go make a life for us in Europe.  
I did just as you asked, Fox.  I found us a wonderful 
little apartment in Berlin; you could see the river 
from our balcony.  It was perfect.  But you never 
came to me.  You sent me away, telling me you 
would follow, but you never came."  

Mulder stared at her in total disbelief.  "Diana, 
you're crazy!  You told me I had to make a choice -- 
make a commitment to you or you would leave me.  
I told you I wasn't ready for commitment, that I'd 
been married once before when I was quite young 
and it was a mistake.  So you took the first 
assignment you could get out of Washington and it 
just happened to be in Europe.  There was no 'life 
for us in Europe'!  There was only you, you and 
your demands, demands that I couldn't live up to.  
I'm the one who is sorry, Diana, if you were led to 
believe anything else."  Gently, he pulled away 
from her hands again.  He stood and drew in a 
breath.  "Now, please go.  I have to find Scully."  
He tossed on his clothes and left her sitting on the 
bed.

She stood up, crossed her arms and followed him 
down the hall.  "You won't find her, Fox.  She's 
gone."

He was pulling on his shoes as he searched his 
pockets one-handed for his keys.

"They have her now."

He stopped dead in his tracks.  His eyes widened 
and he turned to look at his former partner and long 
ago one-night-stand.  "What did you say?" he 
hissed.

"They have her.  Just like before.  But this time, 
they won't bring her back."  Diana glared at him, 
then smiled evilly.  "You honestly thought you 
could ever love anyone, Fox?  That the minute you 
found happiness it wouldn't be snatched away from 
you like a child's lollipop gets stolen?  What a fool 
you are, Fox Mulder!  What an unmitigated fool!"

"No!  No, Diana, don't -- "  He realized it was 
useless to plead his case with her, so he ran.  Out of 
the apartment, out into the night.  On the distant 
horizon he could see a bright spot move in a 
perfectly straight line up into the heavens where it 
was engulfed in a thundercloud.  He was left, 
searching the sky, calling out her name.

end of part one


Fevers of the Mind (2/2)
by Vickie Moseley
vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com

Georgetown Memorial
8:15 am

"sccc-u-u-ull-lleeee," he rasped again, tossing his 
head from one side to the next.

"I'm here, Mulder.  I'm right here," she crooned, but 
just as they had for the last half hour, her words fell 
on deaf ears.  He wouldn't listen, or more 
frightening to her, he couldn't listen.  Deafness was 
a very real possibility when the brain swelled and 
the fever grew to such heights.  She stroked his face 
with the damp cloth in her hand.  "Please, Mulder.  
Open your eyes.  You'll see I'm right here."

She'd managed to sleep about three hours before his 
fever spiked again and dropped him into this state 
of restless movement.  The nurse taking his vitals 
had put in another call to Harriman, but the doctor 
decided to wait before changing medications.  So 
Scully had asked for a bowl and a face cloth and 
began the ritual her mother had performed on her 
and her siblings when they had fevers.

"scully?"  The whisper was so soft she thought it 
was a moan.   When she looked at his face, the 
hazel showing through the slits of his eyelids 
conveyed a spark of coherence.  

"Mulder," she said with a smile.  "Hey, good 
morning."

He blinked and moved his shoulders.  "hot," he said.  
"neck hurts," he added.

"I know, I'm sorry.  We're waiting for the good stuff 
to kick in.  Can you hold on for me a little longer?"

He moved his head up and down cautiously; it 
obviously hurt to move his head much at all.  
"water?" he asked.

"Sure," she replied and brought a cup up to his lips, 
moving the straw so he didn't have to lean forward 
to reach it.  He took a few sips and then released the 
straw.  

"thank you."

"You're welcome.  Why don't you try to go back to 
sleep now," she encouraged.

"you're tired, too" he accused, his face taking on a 
stubborn expression.

"I'm fine.  I slept while you were sleeping.  But you 
need to rest and let your body and the medicine do 
their jobs."

He had no answer to that, so he closed his eyes with 
a defeated sigh.

Harriman came by at 9 and announced that he was 
adding ampicillin to the current antibiotic in the 
hopes of getting a handle on the infection.  Scully 
was relieved that the doctor was making a change.  
She told him about the few moments when Mulder 
seemed to be awake and aware.

"He'll be in and out for a while, even after we get 
the fever under control.  It's the long-term effects 
that pose the greatest risks right now.  If we can 
avoid the usual complications of this disease, 
hearing loss, blindness, we'll all count ourselves 
lucky.  At least we haven't had to contend with 
seizures yet."

Scully prayed that seizures wouldn't be a problem.  
She knew more than anyone what that would mean 
for Mulder.  Field agent status regulations were 
explicit on such matters -- no agent with a history of 
seizures was allowed in the field.  They'd had to tap 
dance around his ketamine incident, basically 
saying his seizures then were injury related and in 
no way a lasting condition.  She didn't want to deal 
with the ramifications of a full medical evaluation 
when this crisis was over.

She took his hand once again.  "Mulder, please, 
hang on."

Jefferson Memorial
night

He'd always loved looking at the lights of the city 
reflected in the cool depths of the reflecting pool.  
The headlights of the cars on Independence Avenue 
made a string of pearls in the distance.  He was 
alone, but his mind was at peace.  

He felt her presence before he actually saw her sit 
down next to him.  "Is this seat taken?"

He smiled at the old joke.  "It is now," he said with 
a smile in her direction but not really catching her 
eyes with his.  "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for somebody," she replied.

He tensed, waiting for the inevitable argument.  
That's all they'd been doing for days -- arguing.  
Ever since the OPR hearing, ever since she'd all but 
hung him out to dry before the powers that be, 
they'd barely said two civil words to each other.  
He'd come here to find some peace; he didn't want 
to start the war again.

"Scully -- "

"I'm looking for a friend of mine.  See, we've been 
having a bit of a rough patch and I've said some 
things and he's said some things and I think we're 
both really tired and we just want everything to be 
all right again.  You haven't seen anybody with a 
white flag running around here, have you?"

He couldn't keep the grin off his face.  He dug in his 
pocket and withdrew his cotton handkerchief.  "You 
mean this?" he asked, waving it in the air briefly 
before dropping to his lap.

She reached over and picked up the hankie, giving it 
a quick wave.  "Gee, it works," she said with a tilt 
to her head.  "Mulder, I wanted to say I'm sorry -- "

"Scully, as you pointed out, we both said some 
things."

She stared off in the distance for a moment.  "I 
guess I also wanted to ask you a question," she said 
timidly.

He chewed on his lip.  He had a feeling he knew 
what she was going to ask.  The bigger question 
was did he have an honest answer.  "You want to 
know about Diana," he countered.

She looked over at him and drew in a breath.  
"Yeah.  I need to know -- "

"I'm not in a relationship with her, Scully," he 
blurted out.

" -- why you trust her and not me?" Scully finished, 
right over his outburst.

He felt his heart tear right down the middle.

"It isn't like that," he insisted.

"Yes, Mulder.  Yes, it is exactly that.  You trust her, 
beyond the evidence, beyond all reason.  I want to 
know . . . I need to know why.  Is it something I've 
done to cause you to lose faith in me?"

He felt all the air leave his body.  It was almost as 
bad as if she'd punched him in the gut.  "Scully, I've 
never lost my faith in you," he whispered, barely 
able to get the words out because he was so 
surprised by her question.

"Then why, all the times it has come right down to 
the line, do you always believe her and not me?" 
she asked evenly, looking him square in the eye.

He had to look away first and he knew that was the 
wrong thing to do.  She would misunderstand; take 
it as a sign that she was right.  So her grabbed her 
hands firmly in both of his and swallowed.  Please, 
if I ever needed the right words, I need them now, 
he prayed.

"Scully, I never told you about Diana and me and 
I'm very sorry I didn't."

"It's not any of my business what you were in the 
past, Mulder," she interjected, he noted the tone of 
bitterness in her words.  "Whatever you had 
together it was before I came along.  I'm not foolish 
enough to think you had no friends before me," she 
said with a tilt of her head.  "But after all our years 
together, I have to wonder if maybe I was seeing 
too much into our relationship.  If maybe I was just 
. . . standing in for her.  I mean, when we were first 
partnered, my greatest fear was that I was a 
substitute for Samantha, but now I think -- "

"Scully, please, please listen to me.  This is hard to 
explain but believe me when I tell you that you 
were never a substitute for anyone.  Your place in 
my life is yours and yours alone and no one but you 
can take that place.  Now, please, can I say what I 
was going to say before?"

He could almost see the wheels and gears turning in 
her head.  She was trying to decide if she really 
wanted to give him another chance.  Finally, he 
knew the instant she found in his favor.  He relaxed 
a second and started to speak again.

"I met Diana when we were both working Violent 
Crimes.  We weren't partners, not officially, but we 
worked a couple of task forces together.  Her 
expertise is psychology and mine is, or rather was, 
psychology, so we figured out pretty fast that it 
made it easier to share the load rather than do the 
same work twice."

She leaned back in the seat, but allowed him to 
continue holding her hands.

"You've seen, at least a couple of times, the kind of 
reaction I got from most of the guys in VCU.  
Frankly, Tom Colton was tame compared to some 
of them.  So, it was nice to have someone to talk to, 
who understood a little of what I was going through 
-- who was going through it themselves.  Sort of 
like it's been for the last 7 years," he added with a 
raised eyebrow in her direction and a gentle squeeze 
of her hands.  She wasn't about to make this easier 
on him -- she stared right back at him without 
acknowledging his gestures.  He swallowed and 
started again.

"Well, I was pretty much a total cad back then, as 
I'm sure you're heard.  I was sleeping my way 
through the support staff when Diana and I started 
working together.  I don't think I led anyone on, 
they were all 'one night stands' and no one sent me 
hate mail or anything, so I was pretty oblivious.   
We were working late one night, at her apartment 
and -- "
 
"Mulder, I really don't want to hear this," Scully 
said, pulling on her hands to break their connection.  
He held her all the tighter.

"Scully, please, it's important.  Please.  Trust me," 
he begged.  That earned him a glare, but she 
stopped tugging on her hands.

"OK, well, we slept together.  And the next 
morning, we agreed that it was the biggest mistake 
we ever could have made.   So we decided, 
mutually, to forget it ever happened and go back to 
being friends."

Scully sat up straight, shock on her face.  "Wait a 
minute.  Byers said . . . Frohike called her your 
'little chickadee' . . ."

"Scully, I don't tell the guys my exploits.  At least 
not with the people I care about.  They made 
assumptions, big assumptions.  And I didn't bother 
to dispel any of them because, frankly, it wasn't 
their business."

"Anyway, back to the story.  So we got a case, I was 
the profiler, Diana was helping me out.  It was . . . 
bad.  Women, they were all about the same age 
Samantha should have been -- and I was just 
starting my work with Dr. Weber.  Needless to say, 
it had a horrible effect on me.  One night I was in 
the conference room that we had set up for the case 
and it all just overwhelmed me.  I was alone when it 
happened -- "

"Mulder," she said, drawing in a breath.  "What 
happened?"

"I lost it.  Completely.  When Diana found me, I 
was, uh, my gun . . . "  He couldn't say the word.  
Not ever after all the years, he couldn't bring 
himself to say the word 'suicide'.  "I had cut myself 
pretty bad tearing up the room and one window and 
I was bleeding, I didn't even know it.  She got the 
gun away from me and uh, she got me out of there.  
She knew of a clinic in Northeast DC," he snorted at 
the memory.  "I was the only male on the premises, 
except for one other doctor.  Anyway, they stitched 
me up, gave me fluids.  From somewhere Diana got 
a prescription for some sedatives.  She took me 
back to her apartment and didn't leave me for the 
next 72 hours."

"She should have taken you to a hospital," Scully 
seethed.

"If she had, it would have ended my career," he said 
softly.  "So, anyway, I slept it off, basically.  I took 
the sedatives for a couple of weeks, they did help.  I 
finally got Weber to give me a prescription, my own 
prescription for them.  And I knew I had to get out 
of Violent Crimes.  Diana convinced me to call in 
some markers -- she knew that Sen. Matheson was a 
friend of my mother's from college.  I went to him 
and got reassigned to the X files."

She pulled one of her hands away, but only to wipe 
at her cheek.  He realized she was crying.  Then he 
realized, he was crying too.  "Diana was so 
supportive of me, she just wanted to help.  I needed 
a friend so bad back then . . . " He swallowed and 
cleared his throat.  "So I got to work.  Pretty soon, I 
came across some stuff I couldn't do by myself and 
Diana stepped in.  She wasn't assigned to the files; 
she could only help me after hours and on 
weekends.  We pretty much took up the whole 
weekend, every weekend, just sorting through what 
was in the file cabinets."

"So what happened?  Why did she leave?"

He shrugged.  "I guess she got a better offer?" he 
said, trying for the joke but it fell horribly flat.  
"Seriously, one day she came to me with the news 
that she'd been offered a chance to go to Europe, 
something she'd always dreamed of doing.  I think, 
well, it's probably just my ego, but I thought at the 
time that if I'd asked her to stay, she would have.  
But I was stronger, I'd grown stronger with her help.  
So I wished her the best, helped her sell her 
furniture and clean out her apartment and drove her 
to the airport.  That was that."

He looked down at their hands together.  "I have a 
very hard time thinking that the same woman who 
could have easily ended my career but didn't -- 
would do anything to hurt me," he said slowly.  "I 
have no evidence to support such a finding.  I know 
that Diana has done some things, and to be perfectly 
honest, if anyone should be jealous -- it should be 
Diana.  When she left, I think she figured she could 
always come back and pick up exactly where we 
left off.  But then she did come back and there you 
were and things were changed, very changed.  I 
think she felt threatened by that.  I think some of the 
animosity you have against her is a natural reaction 
to the animosity she has for you."

"You think this is just a silly quarrel of two girls 
over a boy in high school?" Scully growled, tugging 
her hands free.

"No, no, not at all!" he was quick to counter and 
took one of her hands back into his.  "I'm just 
saying the two of you were not going to be fast 
friends, no matter how you first met.  You didn't 
just read the files, Scully.  You _became_ the files.  
The truth we search for isn't just my truth about my 
sister; it's YOUR truth about what happened to you, 
what happened to Melissa, what happened to Emily.  
And I think, in a way, that's what has Diana so 
upset.  That not only did you step in and take her 
place in the files, you did so in such a way that she 
could never get them back, even if she tried.  It's not 
me that she's jealous over, Scully.  It's what we 
found in those files."

Scully pulled her hand away only for a moment, to 
lay it on his cheek.  "Mulder, you are a fool.  A 
sweet, innocent, totally oblivious fool and it's 
putting you in danger.  Diana doesn't want the files.  
She wants your soul.  And until you understand 
that, there isn't any reason for me to stay and watch 
your self-destruction."  She stood and laid the same 
hand on the top of his head.  "You have some 
thinking to do."

As she walked into the night, he dropped his face to 
his hands and sobbed.

Georgetown Memorial 
12:05 pm

Scully was exhausted.  Having spent close to 12 
hours bathing Mulder's face and chest, his 
temperature was finally showing some 
improvement.  She dropped to the chair near his bed 
and closed her eyes for just a second.  When a hand 
clasped her shoulder, she jumped a foot.

"Dana, sweetheart, I'm sorry!  I didn't mean to scare 
you," Maggie Scully apologized hurriedly.  "Dana, 
are you all right?"

"Mom, what are you doing here?" she asked, wiping 
sleep from her eyes.

"I haven't heard from you in weeks, Dana," Maggie 
said in exasperation.  "I left messages at your 
apartment -- "

"I was out of town for a while," Scully interjected, 
but her mother continued as if the younger woman 
hadn't said a thing.

"-- and finally I called your office.  I talked to your 
supervisor, Mr. Skinner.  He told me that Fox was 
in the hospital again and that you were probably 
still with him.  I came right away.  Dana, did you 
sleep here last night?"  The exasperation was 
quickly becoming concern.

"Mom, Mulder has meningitis.  I did stay here last 
night, but I didn't get much sleep.  He's been 
running a high temp and he's been very restless."

Maggie looked over at the man in the bed with a 
worried expression.  "Well, he seems to be resting 
now.  Why don't you come downstairs and get 
something to eat?"

"Mom, I don't -- "

"Dana, please.  We go through this every time Fox 
is in the hospital.  You can tell the nurses where 
you're going, we'll only stay down there a half an 
hour, tops.  You need to eat -- you're running 
yourself into the ground.  And then what good will 
you be to him when he's ready to go home?"

It was a hard decision, but Amy, the nurse assigned 
to Mulder's care, encouraged her to go.  So it was 
only a few minutes later that Scully found herself 
seated in the hospital cafeteria with a salad, 
meatloaf and mashed potatoes and an iced tea in 
front of her.

"Their meatloaf is really pretty good," Maggie 
confided.  "Not as good as Grandma Mulligan's 
recipe, but not that bad, either."

"When did you get to be an expert on Georgetown 
Memorial's meatloaf, Mom," Dana asked, taking a 
bite and finding her mother's assessment wasn't far 
from the mark.

Maggie dropped her eyes to her own plate.  "I've 
been here too many times to count," she said darkly.  
But the shadow passed quickly and she looked up 
and smiled at her daughter.  "Now, tell me, where 
have you been for the last two weeks?  Even your 
cell phone was off.  Another case?"

Scully drew in a breath and fought the tears that 
burned her eyes.  "Mom, I was in Africa.  The Ivory 
Coast, to be exact."

"Africa!  Good heaven's Dana!  What in heaven's 
name were you doing there?"

"Heaven wasn't really involved," Dana quipped 
bitterly.  She looked over at her mother's shocked 
expression.  "I'm sorry.  I'm just so tired right now . 
. ."

Maggie reached across the table and clutched 
Scully's hand.  "Sweetheart, I know you're worried 
about Fox, but I know these doctors and he's 
receiving -- "

"It's not that . . . well, it is, but it's not just that.  
Something happened in Africa -- I saw something 
and I need to understand -- Mom, if I could give 
you solid scientific proof that the God we know, the 
God they've taught us about all these years in 
religion class and in the Mass was just a fairy tale, 
that something altogether different happened 
millions of years ago, continues to happen today -- 
would you hate me for it?" she asked timidly.

Maggie's face underwent a thousand emotional 
changes until she settled on one -- understanding.  
"Dana, my faith isn't based in science.  And to be 
honest, science never provides all the answers.  
Every new discovery, every new piece of 'solid 
proof' just leads to more questions and more 
discoveries in the future.  Science is constantly 
being shaped by what just happened.  Faith, my 
darling daughter, isn't like that.  Faith is an absolute 
-- because faith doesn't rely on proof and evidence.  
Faith just is.  So, to answer your question, no, I 
could never hate you.  But to go even further, no 
matter what you showed me, it wouldn't change my 
faith at all.  My faith is stronger than that.  It's held 
fast through so many rough times.  It's seen me 
through so many dark periods of my life.  I believe 
in God, the way He's always been shown to me.  
How He came to exist, whatever He might be, He's 
still the same God to me.  That's all I need to 
know."

Scully was openly crying by then.  She nodded, and 
tried to control herself, but the tears just wouldn't 
cooperate.  Maggie sensed immediately what was 
needed.  "Dana, come with me.  There's somewhere 
we need to go."  They gathered up their trays and 
took them to the tray return.  Maggie grasped 
Scully's hand again, leading her through the 
hallways, up elevators, around corners until they 
stood in front of an ornate wooden door.  The small 
brass plaque proclaimed simply 'Chapel'.  Maggie 
smiled at her daughter and opened the door.  "I 
know what you've seen has shaken your faith, 
sweetheart.  But know one thing -- no matter where 
you go, it will be here, waiting for you to come 
home.  Now, let's go say a prayer for Fox, that he'll 
have the strength to see him through this illness."  
She reached up and cupped her daughter's cheek.  
"And that you'll have the strength to understand 
whatever it is you think you encountered."

Scully nodded, fighting more tears, and followed 
her mother into the chapel.

Hallway
night

This time he knew exactly where he was because he 
walked there himself.  Diana's apartment door stood 
in front of him.  He knew what he had to do, he just 
wondered if he had the guts to do it.  Finally, 
drawing in a deep breath, he knocked three times.

It took a few seconds for her to come to the door.  
He thought he heard voices, but it could have been 
the television.  When the door finally opened, she 
stood before him dressed in a simple v-neck sweater 
and slacks.  Her hair was down around her 
shoulders and she looked as pretty as she had the 
first day they'd met.

"Fox!  What a surprise.  Come in," she greeted him 
with a bright smile.  "I didn't expect to see you 
tonight."

"Diana, we have to talk," Mulder said by way of 
introduction and deftly avoided the kiss on the 
cheek Diana tried to give him.

"Sure," she said hesitantly.  "Come in and sit down.  
Would you like something to drink?  I have iced 
tea, or there might be a couple of beers -- it's been a 
while since I entertained," she said with a playful 
wink.

"Nothing, thank you.  Could we just sit down?" he 
asked.  His stomach was in knots and his head was 
hurting.  Tension, he knew it was all tension, but it 
didn't stop the pain.  "Please?"

"Certainly," she said and concern lit up her features.  
"Fox, are you all right?  You look pale."  She took 
his arm to escort him to the sofa, but he veered 
away from her and took a seat on a chair instead.  
"What is it?  What's wrong?"

"Diana, why did you come back from Europe?" he 
asked bluntly, his expression cool and steady.  Get 
the facts, just get the facts, he kept repeating in his 
head.

"Why, I told you, Fox.  There were things back 
home I needed to attend," she said cryptically and 
dropped her head so that her hair covered her face.  
She looked up at him through the shield of her hair.  
"Quite frankly, you were back here."

Mulder nodded, but looking at her, he saw 
everything clearly.  It wasn't the look of a lost love 
he was seeing.  For the first time, it was the look of 
deception.

"Really?" he asked, his voice taking an edge.  "Five 
years, not even a note, not a card at Christmas.  I'd 
pretty much figured you'd written us off years ago.  
But all of a sudden, when I come so close to finding 
the key to everything in the X files, you show up."

"The X files were once mine, too, Fox.  Don't forget 
that," she interjected.

"No, Diana, no.  I'll admit you were there for me 
when I first found them, but aside from 'helping' me 
on a few occasions, you made it abundantly clear 
that your interests were elsewhere."

"My interest was in you," she replied, reaching 
across the few feet of space that separated him to 
grasp his hand.  He allowed it, for a moment.

"We agreed -- "

"No, Fox.  You dictated.  That morning, after we'd 
spent the night together, you woke up in a panic.  I 
knew that if I didn't go along with you, I would lose 
you forever.  So you dictated and I acquiesced to 
your demands.  You said it was a mistake, and you 
were probably correct.  It was too early in the 
relationship for us to -- "

"Diana, you never loved me," he said, cutting her 
off.  

Her head shot up and her eyes took on a tortured 
grimace.  "How can you say that?" she asked, her 
voice cracking.

"Because it was a job.  Your job.  There was a time 
that I wouldn't have believed it, but I know a lot 
more now.  And I know that they were watching 
me, have watched me since I was a kid.  You were 
sent to make sure I stayed off the right path, that I 
was dangled just enough bait to satisfy their needs, 
but never enough to satisfy my own.  But you 
screwed up, you got 'too' involved with your work," 
he sneered.  "And they sent you away and found 
someone else, a harder nut to crack."

Her face was a mask of confusion.  "What are you 
talking about?  Who are you talking about?  Fox, 
there wasn't anyone.  We met -- don't you 
remember?  We met shortly after you got out of the 
Academy -- "

"Oh, yes, Diana.  And a very wise man once told 
me the best place to hide the truth is between two 
lies.  Yes, we met, but it wasn't entirely by accident.  
You came up to me in the cafeteria.  You asked me 
about a case you had.  It was all planned, from the 
very beginning.  You played me for a fool, Diana.  
Did you laugh about it later?  Did you congratulate 
yourself on how easy it was to sucker in the poor 
sex-starved sap?  I bet you really had a field day 
over my 'panic' -- as you call it.  You didn't falter 
one step.  You just waited until the hook was set to 
reel me in!"

The slap was a surprise, but a welcomed one.  It 
meant he was getting somewhere.

"How dare you come into my home and accuse me 
of those things!" she shouted.

He smiled.  She'd just echoed his mother's words.  
More words of deception.  She wasn't denying the 
accusations, she was just angry they had been made. 

He heard a noise in the back of the apartment.  
Someone was back there.  He stood up and she 
followed, tugging at his arm.

"Fox, please, let's talk about this.  I don't know 
where you got these crazy ideas.  You have to know 
I would never lie to you!  I love you, Fox, I have 
always loved you!  Can't you see that?  I want to 
help you -- I would be more helpful than she's been 
with her science and her logic."  Her voice had 
taken on a shrill quality that he found particularly 
annoying.

"Don't talk about Scully," he growled, but he didn't 
let her deter him from the closed door at the end of 
the hall.  Finally, he was there and he grasped the 
doorknob and opened it.

Light spilled into the darkened room, illuminating it 
just enough to reveal the bed.  Someone was lying 
on the bed and that person turned to face the two 
people standing in the doorway.

"Diana, you didn't tell me tonight was threesome 
night," a gleeful Smoking Man said from his 
position on the bed.  Only a sheet covered him to 
his bare chest.  "But I must warn you, I think this 
might constitute incest -- at least as far as Fox is 
concerned."

Mulder spun on his heel and stalked to the front 
door.  Diana grabbed at his arm, trying to pull him 
back.  He shook her off angrily.

"Fox, wait, it's not what you think," Diana begged, 
tears streaming down her face.

"Not this time, Diana.  I won't listen to your lies 
anymore," he said defiantly.

"Where are you going?  You're going back to her, 
aren't you?" Diana accused.

As he grasped the doorknob he stopped and looked 
at his former friend.  "That's the one thing you and 
Scully never understood.  I'm not going _back_ to 
her.  I never left her.  Nothing you did made me 
want to leave what I have with her.  It's about time 
you figured that out."  As he strode purposefully 
down the hall, he muttered to himself "and now it's 
time to make sure Scully understands that, too."

Georgetown Memorial
6:54 pm

Scully sat in the recliner, dosing lightly.  Maggie 
had come up and sat with Mulder long enough for 
Scully to grab a shower in the doctors' lounge and 
change into some scrubs.  When her mother left for 
home, she'd made Scully promise to eat again at 
dinnertime and to call if there was any change.

Mulder had slept through it all.  At least his 
temperature showed he was finally responding to 
the antibiotic cocktail.  It was down to a respectable 
100.  Scully had been thrilled at the news.  It gave 
her the peace of mind to allow her body to find rest.  
But even as she slept, she kept her hand on his arm, 
anchoring him to her.

The sound was soft, not more than a moan, but she 
could hear her name.  She pulled herself from her 
sleep and looked closely at her partner.  He was 
calling for her, but it wasn't as urgent or as frantic 
as it had been during the night.  This time it was 
almost as if he was just trying to catch her attention 
at the office or at a crime scene.  She smiled and sat 
forward, moving her hand from his arm to his 
forehead, stroking along the edge of the bandage 
that encircled his head.

"Mulder.  I'm right here.  Wake up.  See, I'm right 
here," she coaxed.

Slowly, he opened his eyes.  She'd anticipated his 
sensitivity to light and had turned down the 
overheads after the last vitals check.  He blinked 
sleepily and smiled at her, working his throat a time 
or two.  She saw that as his signal that he was 
thirsty and offered him a cup of water, holding the 
straw to his lips so he wouldn't have to move his 
neck too much.

"Thanks," he rasped hoarsely.  

"You're welcome," she replied with a smile.  
"How's your head?"

He thought a while, moving his hand to rub against 
the bandage.  "Sore.  Neck is still sore, but not as 
bad."

She nodded and smiled again.  "You've had quite a 
ride.  Maybe it's time to just get better now, huh?"

"Yeah, I think you're right," he agreed readily.  
"What day is it?"

"November 18th," she told him, watching his 
reaction.

"Professor Merkmillan was reported missing -- "

"November first.  Skinner called us in on November 
second," she reminded him.

"How long have I been here?" he asked tiredly.

"All total, just shy of two weeks."

He frowned shook his head slightly, wincing at the 
action.  "I missed the premiere of Saturday Night 
Live," he groused.

"I'm sure it will be repeated this summer, Mulder.  
If not on  
Comedy Central within a year.  You didn't miss 
much."

"I missed what you discovered," he said, taking her 
hand.  "I heard you, Scully.  Asking me to hang on.  
I wanted to let you know that I understood but -- "

She squeezed his fingers.  "I'm just glad you 
listened.  For once."

"I do listen, more than you know.  Scully, I need to 
clear something up that's been hanging between us 
now for too long.  Diana -- what you've tried to tell 
me -- "

"Mulder," she said, putting a finger to his lips.  
"Mulder please, I don't want to argue.  You aren't in 
any shape -- "

He moved her finger but didn't let go of her hand.  
"Scully, I believe you.  I believe what you were 
trying to tell me at the Gunmen's.  I know she's 
dirty.  She was . . . she is working with . . . him."

"Oh, Mulder," she sighed.  "We don't have to talk 
about this now -- you need to rest.  You're still quite 
sick and I don't want to risk a relapse -- "

"Scully, please, just listen to me and then I'll go 
back to sleep.  I can barely keep my eyes open but I 
want to tell you this."  He waited until she nodded 
to continue.  "Scully, all those times you thought I 
was taking Diana's side over yours -- I wasn't.  Not 
really.  I know it looked that way, but every time I 
did check on what you told me, I did look at the 
evidence.  I just . . . it just took me a long time to 
figure out that I had been fooled."

"Mulder, I'm sorry.  I knew you and Diana were 
close and to be perfectly honest, I was . . . I was 
jealous of what you had with her."

Mulder smiled and brought her hand to his lips 
where he gently placed a kiss on her knuckles.  
"Scully, you were the last person who should have 
felt jealous."  He closed his eyes and she thought he 
was drifting off to sleep but he tugged on her hand.  
"So tell me, what did you find in Africa?"

She smiled then, reaching up to stroke his forehead.  
"Mulder, I want to tell you everything.  But for 
now, we both need to sleep."

"OK, but when we wake up?"

"When we wake up, we'll talk.  I promise."

the end.