Shred of Doubt (6/9)
Jo-Ann Lassiter and
Vickie Moseley  

University of San Diego Medical Center

7:47 p.m.

Hospital Lounge 

She loved Mulder. She did. But, God, he made it so difficult sometimes. Huh. Lots of times. This latest stunt, much too soon after the scare with the tobacco beetles, had brought her that much closer to calling it all off with him. Making a clean break before he broke her heart. Not the usual way -- oh, no, not her Mulder. He'd do it by getting himself killed, making her a widow without benefit of being married. 

If she left him now, she had a good chance of retaining what little sanity she had left. When the inevitable happened, it wouldn't hurt as much if he was no longer a part of her life, if she didn't care about him anymore. 

Oh, who was she kidding? If she never saw him again, news of his death would leave her just as devastated as if she'd just spent the night making love to him. What she told Kresge was the truth: she couldn't leave Mulder. But not for the reason Kresge assumed. Kresge believed Mulder thought only of himself and never of her. What would the detective think if she told him that the exact opposite was true? 

A cough startled her, and she looked toward the source. God, was he still here? She'd never met a man less able to take a hint. Did she have to spell it out for him? 

"John…" 

Immediately straightening up, he regarded her eagerly. "Yes, Dana?" 

"Shouldn't you be getting back to the station?" 

He checked his watch, then shook his head. "As of forty-seven minutes ago, I'm officially off-duty." His smile made her cringe. "I can stay for as long as you need me." 

She sighed. "I appreciate that…" His smile grew wider, and she wanted more than anything for him to leave on his own. But she knew that that wasn't likely to happen. "…but I'd really like to be alone." 

He deflated like Mulder's manhood at the mention of Bill's name. "Oh. All right." A hopeful look came into his eyes. "Will I see you tomorrow?" 

"I -- " She stopped herself from answering in the negative just because it was what she wanted. "Maybe." She ran a hand through her hair, too tired to worry about what she was doing to her appearance. "I have to see what time Mulder is released and get him settled in at my brother's. I don't know when I'll be able to get free." 

The detective gazed at her critically. "You need to rest," he scolded. 

She nodded. "I will." 

He stood up and held out his hand to her. "Come on. I'll drive you to your hotel." 

Ignoring his hand, she stared up at him. "I'm not going back to the hotel." 

He blinked. "Are you going to stay at your brother's?" 

She considered lying to him, but couldn't be bothered. "I'm staying here." 

His eyes flitted around the inside of the lounge. "Here?" 

She tilted her head in the direction of the corridor. "With Mulder." 

Kresge looked at like she'd lost her marbles. "You're gonna spend the night on a chair in his room?" 

"That's right." 

"After what we just talked about." It was not a question. 

In no mood to set him straight, she said, "Even after that." 

Scowling, he shook his head. "I'm afraid I just don't understand you, Dana." 

She chuckled. That was the first thing he said that made any sense. Taking his still-outstretched hand, she rose to her feet. Giving him a gentle shove to the door, she waited until he was gone before she made her way into Mulder's room. 

Watching the rise and fall of her partner's chest, she marveled that she could be so angry and so in love with him at the same time. Mulder had his faults -- plenty of them, to be sure -- but where it mattered most, he'd never let her down. To Mulder, she wasn't merely a woman -- she was a person. Something Detective Kresge didn't seem to be able to grasp. 

"You may make my hair turn gray before its time, Mulder," she told him softly, "but you're never patronizing, you're never boring, and you understand me." She grinned. "Well… sometimes." She leaned down and dropped a light kiss on his lips. 

"You ought to thank Detective Kresge for reminding me just why it is I love you in spite of all the stupid things you do." She settled into the chair beside his bed. "I'm still gonna kick your ass when you're better, though." 

** 

University of San Diego Medical Center

Room 563

9:45 pm 

Mulder had been drifting in and out of sleep, but had no idea for how long. It was frustrating beyond belief -- and just a little frightening -- to be without sight. He was used to pain, he was even used to the foggy way drugs made him feel, but not being able to see was not only driving him up the wall, it was scaring the hell out of him. 

What if he never got his sight back? 

Oh, sure, Scully had reassured him repeatedly that his blindness was only temporary. And he fully understood, as much as his groggy mind could fathom, that the patches on his eyes were a precaution more than anything else. But there was always the chance that something could go wrong, that he might fall victim to some complication listed in small print in some medical textbook and then the absolute worst would happen -- he would never see Scully again. 

He would hear her voice, smell her perfume, maybe, oh God, please, maybe taste her lips and run his hands over her body again and again -- but he would never look into her eyes and know in the depth of his soul that she really did love him. 

He wondered if crying would hurt his eyes. He tried, unsuccessfully, to stop the tears, but apparently his eyes weren't listening to his commands. 

Then he heard the door snick open and was grateful for the gauze pads that were soaking up the better part of his tears. A quick run of his arm under his nose and he was back to normal -- at least he hoped he looked that way. 

"Scully," he rasped. He was more than tired of his voice, which seemed to be out more than in lately. Was there any part of him not in open rebellion? Best not to consider that too closely. 

"Mulder, we need to talk," Scully said and he felt the bed rail lower and the mattress dip where she sat next to his leg. 

Oh God, this was it. She was going to tell him they'd just discovered something they hadn't noticed before and he was going to be permanently blind. Or maybe she was just finally going to let him have it for 'running off on her' again and going after Kocin. To make matters worse, once again she had to save his ass. Yeah, it was time for the big goodbye -- 'I'm going to stay in San Diego with Kresge but I'll always remember you fondly' speech . . . 

" . . . Tara and Bill's. I know you and Bill aren't the best of friends -- " 

He swallowed and shook his head. He'd zoned out thinking the impossible and had missed what she was saying. "Scully, sorry, I'm a little slow on the uptake right now. What are you saying?" 

She chuckled a little, but it wasn't her happy chuckle. It was her 'what am I going to do with you -- and can I get away with using my handcuffs' chuckle. "No doubt because you don't like what I'm saying," she replied. "Mulder, the doctor is concerned about you traveling back home, not just because you'd be stumbling around without your eyes at the airport but because of the cabin pressure and how that might affect you. He thinks you need to stay here, at least until the bandages come off. I can't take you home myself because I can't leave the case with the suspect still at large, so that puts us in a bind. Now, I've talked it over with Mom and she suggested that you stay at Bill and Tara's." 

His immediate thought was 'no friggin' way!' He must have shown it on his face -- at least the exposed parts, because he felt her hand on his chest.  

"Mulder, I want you to listen and I want you to listen good: I know you think you can just spring out of this hospital bed like Superman and use your Spidey Senses to get you around -- " 

"You're mixing Super Heroes, Scully," he interjected hoarsely. 

"And I really don't care," she shot back. "Now, the alternatives are to find you a rehabilitation facility here in California -- " 

"A nursing home?" he croaked in disgust. 

"Or attempt a medical evac to DC -- which the Bureau insurance would surely balk at -- " 

"Insurance, hell! I'd balk at that, Scully," he retorted. 

"So that leaves us with only one option -- for you to graciously accept Mom's and Tara's hospitality and stay at their home until we can both go back to DC when this case is finished. Since you're on medical leave -- complete, total, no-wiggle-room-allowed, medical leave now, you can just consider it a vacation." She was using that voice -- that 'Sister Mary Dana' voice that he really hated. 

"What does Bill say about all this?" Mulder asked quietly, hoping she didn't see how pissed he was. Yes, it was the only decision possible but that didn't make him like it. 

"Mom and Tara have to handle Bill. All I have to worry about is you," she said with just a touch of defiance in her voice that made him wonder just what happened when they were discussing the new living arrangements. 

"Will you be there, too?" he asked and was shocked at the whine in his own voice. Damned tobacco beetles -- they made him sound like a four-year old. 

"Of course," she said, her voice taking on that tender sound that he loved so much when it was directed his way. To prove her point, she untucked a strand of his hair from the bandage that encircled his head and stroked his temple for a minute. "Look, try to sleep now. The nurses won't be in to bother you as much now that you're getting the eye meds only twice a day. Use this time to rest because you're going to a house with a very active toddler in residence." 

He was asleep in minutes. 

** 

Enroute to Tara and Bill Scully's Residence

May 4, 2000

3:30 pm 

Once he'd fallen asleep, he'd slept straight through the night, waking only when the nurse dropped his breakfast tray on his side table. Scully was there, as he'd come to rely on, to help him fumble his way through his watery oatmeal, rubbery cold toast and lukewarm coffee. Since television was less amusing without vision, he slept the rest of the morning, ate his lunch and then grumbled through the afternoon until his release. But finally, they were on their way. 

Scully had been mostly quiet during the afternoon. Part of that was undoubtedly because Mulder had been rather brusque with the nurse who had come in to change his bandages. Scully usually got after him when he was 'mean' to medical personnel and it surprised him when she hadn't said a word. But after a few minutes he realized what was happening -- the silent treatment. Since he couldn't see her seething at him from across the room that meant he was completely cut off from any form of communication. He'd suffered in silence until the nurse came back with a wheelchair. He hated that Scully was angry, but he was too grumpy to make amends. 

He felt the car slow down, make a right and slowly pull into a driveway. When it stopped, he heard Scully sigh before she turned off the ignition. 

"I'm sorry," he said in a near whisper. 

"Excuse me?" She sounded confused. Maybe she hadn't heard him. 

"I said I'm sorry I was mean to that nurse. I know she was just doing what the doctor told her to do, but she caught my ear and -- " 

"Mulder, I'm not mad at you," Scully said in clipped tones. "Well, I'm not real happy with you," she amended. "I wish you had called me about Kocin and the warehouse, but you didn't and I shouldn't be surprised."

"You never told me -- did they ID the body?" he asked, feeling that another 'I'm sorry' probably wouldn't get him in any better favor with her at that moment. 

"There wasn't a body, Mulder. It was a mannequin, a store dummy." He could hear the disappointment -- at him -- in her voice as plain as day. 

"But the blood," he objected. 

"Paint. Copious amounts of red paint. Dried. The last I heard this morning the sheriff was thinking about a type match, if only because it looked like the place had once been used as a chop shop -- stolen cars, repainted. But it was not, and apparently never had been, a murder scene."  

"So why did Kocin toss magnesium in my face?" Mulder mused. 

"Well, we are trying to contact Mr. Kocin. Although not as high on their priority list right now, he did attack a federal officer -- you did identify yourself, didn't you, Mulder?" 

Oh crap. It was that Sister Mary Dana voice. Trouble was, he had to think back and much of his memory was in a chemical blur. He did identify himself as a federal agent, didn't he? 

"Mulder, I asked you a question -- " 

"Scully, I swear, I . . . I thought . . . I'm pretty sure . . ." 

"Oh shit," she sighed. "Well, if you didn't, that lets Mr. Kocin off the hook." 

He wanted to say something, anything, that would make it better, but he was stumped. There wasn't a body? He was positive -- but then the lighting had been horrible through the grimy windows and Kocin was standing in front of the box and the body . . . Oh, hell.  

But Kocin was the killer! Mulder was positive about that. Just as he'd been suspicious of Darryl Weaver and look where that got him. 

"Are you coming in or not?" He hadn't even heard or felt the door open right next to him. Scully took his elbow and helped him to his feet. "About ten feet to the stairs, two steps up and then the door," she told him as they walked slowly up to the house. 

"You're sure they're OK with this," Mulder repeated. 

"Mom and Tara are definitely OK with this," Scully said, as if that was sufficient an answer. 

It wasn't, at least as far as Mulder was concerned. "And your brother?" 

"There's always the Officer's Quarters on base," she said casually, ringing the doorbell. 

** 

Bill and Tara's House

4:00 pm 

Tara was in the kitchen trying to get Bill to see reason when Maggie heard the doorbell. Drawing a deep breath, she plastered a smile on her face and hurried to answer the door before it woke Matty, still down for his nap. 

The sight of her daughter always brought a smile to her lips, but the image of Fox Mulder, his face wrapped in gauze and looking like a strong breeze would topple him caused her concern. "Dana, oh my God, Fox!" she exclaimed, reaching up to touch his cheek with motherly distress. 

"Hi Mom, is the den set up?" Dana asked and Maggie had to shake herself to answer. 

"Yes, yes. Tara pulled the sofa out into a sleeper; we thought Fox might need to lie down. And I made Bill move all the furniture out of the way to the door that leads to the half bathroom." 

Fox muttered something that sounded like 'bet he loved that', but Maggie wisely chose to ignore the comment. She was used to having two bickering boys in the house, but back in those days, she could always get after both of them with a good long handled wooden spoon! 

"Does he need to take any medication now?" Maggie asked. 

"I'm right here, Mrs. Scully," Fox rasped with impatience. 

"Oh, dear, and his voice isn't any better, is it?" 

"No, Mom, it's not. But at least his lungs checked out. If he'd stop using his voice, maybe it would have a chance to rest up." 

"Is that a hint, Scully?" Fox shot back and Maggie had to suppress a grin. At least he seemed to be feeling better than he looked. 

" . . . goddamned hospital where he belongs! Or the looney bin!" 

Maggie sighed and cast a quick glance over to Fox. He'd heard every word, probably more than she'd just heard. Wasn't it said that if you lost one sense, the other senses became enhanced to make up the loss? It was going to be a long few days. 

"The den is right through there, Dana; you know the way. I'll go see if we have some juice or something. Fox, I know you must be thirsty." She didn't give him a chance to object -- she needed some reason to bust into the kitchen and turn her oldest son over her knee.  

Bill had his hands on his hips and was the perfect mirror image of his father on a rant. Tara was beet red in the face and looked as if one more word would invoke a murderous rage. Time for some mother-intervention. 

"Tara, Fox and Dana are here. I had Dana take Fox to the den -- " She watched in horror as Tara started laughing. It began as a giggle but quickly turned into a full belly laugh.  

"Mom -- we put Fox in the den," Tara chortled. 

"Oh Geez, now you've lost it," Bill said, rolling his eyes.  

"Bill, I want you to lower your voice," Maggie directed. "Tara, honey, uh, maybe you better see about some extra blankets -- didn't you say there were in the pantry?" 

"Sure, Mom," Tara said, still giggling. "Fox in the den -- why didn't I realize that before," she muttered as she left. 

"Now Bill -- " Maggie intoned, as soon as Tara was out of range. 

"Mom, I know what you're gonna say. We have a duty as good Christians to take care of the sick. I know that. But you're asking me to aide and abet the enemy and that goes against everything -- " 

"Fox is NOT the enemy, William and you had better figure that out!" Maggie interrupted, raising her voice. Immediately regretting her loss of control, she forced herself to calm down. "Fox is Dana's partner, but I think there is more going on now." 

"Oh Christ, she's fucking him!" Bill howled. 

"William Scully Jr, this may be your house, but I am STILL your mother and you will not use such language around me!" 

"Sorry, Mom, but good grief, you aren't going to tell me they're shacking up, are you? I thought Dana was smarter than that!" 

"Dana can shack up with whomever she wishes!" Maggie shot back, just as she noticed her daughter standing in the doorway to the kitchen with a shocked expression on her face. 

"I just came to get that juice, it seemed to be taking a long time," Dana said evenly. 

Maggie dropped her head in embarrassment. "Sure, sweetheart. I'm sorry. Bill was just showing me where the, uh, can opener -- " 

By this time, Bill had opened the refrigerator and pulled out a small bottle of apple juice. "Here. For your boyfriend." 

Maggie could see Dana pulling herself up to her full height and squaring her shoulders for an extended round of fisticuffs. "Bill, I've had just about enough -- " 

A tinkling bell sounded. Maggie put her hand on Dana's arm. "That must be Fox. He must need you. I put that bell next to the sofa because I didn't think his voice could travel very far." 

Dana looked over at her mother and then glared briefly at her brother. "I know, I saw it and instructed him where it was." As she turned to leave, she shot one more dagger-filled glance at her brother. "This isn't over, not by a long shot." 

The bell sounded again and Dana hurried toward the den. Bill stormed out the back door. Maggie slumped down in a kitchen chair and sighed. "End of round one." 

** 

Bill and Tara's House

4:09 p.m. 

Mulder shook the bell a second time, almost frantically. Even though two rooms away, he couldn't help but overhear the argument taking place in the kitchen. About him. Oh, yeah, great idea, Scully, he thought. A stress-free environment, the doctor had said. Yup, Bill's house sure fit the bill. 

He snorted at the double-Bill he'd just used, then snorted again at yet another one. He thought it was too bad that Bill's name wasn't Dick -- he could think of a lot more appropriate uses for *that* name. 

The slamming of a door brought him back to his current predicament: he would be left alone in Bill's house without Scully to protect him. Would she, though? he wondered. He couldn't help but reflect on what she'd said to him in the hospital. *"Mulder, I just… I just don't know how much more of this I can take."* 

Was this it? Had she reached her limit? Was making him stay at Bill's the first step in her master plan to drive him out of her life? It was, he had to admit, a damned good start. Never did he feel so unwanted, so… unloved… as when he was at Bill's. No amount of love, not even Scully's, could counteract the overwhelming hostility that emanated from Scully's eldest sibling. 

When the voices in the kitchen rose several octaves, and her brother began in on Mulder's and Scully's personal relationship, Mulder couldn't take it any longer. The last thing he wanted, besides being an unwelcome guest, was for Maggie and Bill to engage in battle over his and Scully's love life. Christ! If the first five minutes was this bad, how was he going to endure days of living in Bill's house? 

"What is it, Mulder? What do you need?" Scully's exasperated voice startled him, and he gasped, practically leaping up off the bed. 

Heart pounding, he tried to ward off the coughing spell by patting down his pockets in a frenetic search for his inhaler.  

"Oh, I'm sorry. Here." In one swift move, she injected a shot of the inhaler into his mouth. "You'll be okay in a minute." Though she'd tried for soothing, it came across more as frustrated than sympathetic. Swell. She wasn't already pissed off enough at him for getting himself blinded; now he wasn't even able to take care of administering his own meds. No wonder she was annoyed. 

Holding his breath as long as he could, he tried not to cough when he let it all back out. Although his eyes were tearing -- as though the patches weren't already nasty enough -- and his throat was burning, he refused to show any more weakness. He didn't want to just hand her over to Kresge without at least trying to put up a fight. 

After what, an hour, a few minutes -- he had no idea -- the horrid sensation eased up enough for him to take awareness of his surroundings. Expecting Scully's comforting hand to be rubbing his back, he was relieved -- and upset -- to feel no sense of her presence. Triumphant that he'd come across as perfectly fine even though he wasn't, he was a little saddened that she didn't see through his ruse. 

What was he supposed to do now? He was too terrified to get up from where she'd sat him down on the sofa bed. Who knew what traps Bill had set for him, now that he was, basically, easy prey. 

A loud 'whump!' behind him scared him out of his wits. Again. Where the hell had his super-hearing (Superman has super-hearing, not spidey sense, he silently told Scully) gone? 

"That's my stuff," he heard Scully say. "I'll be right back with yours." 

Mulder's ears perked up. Her stuff? In here? With him? Hm. Maybe having her family aware that they were 'shacking up' wouldn't be as bad as he'd thought. He felt along the bed until he encountered something solid. Using both hands, he pulled it closer and clutched it to his chest, feeling the contours of the suitcase. Yup, it was hers all right.  

"You don't have to hold my suitcase hostage, Mulder. It's not going anywhere, and neither am I." Even though surprised by her sudden appearance (damn rugs) for the umpteenth time, her words only warmed him. 

"You're staying in here?" Just to be clear about this. 

"Yup." 

"With me?" Just to be *crystal* clear. 

He heard her chuckle. "Yup." 

Although thrilled, he was a tad apprehensive. "What about… well, everyone? But especially Bill." Just asking the question felt like he'd shot himself in the foot, but he wanted it on record that it wasn't his idea. At least not one he'd realistically ever expected to come to fruition. 

"You let me worry about everyone. And Bill." 

He frowned. That was all well and good while she was there, but what about when she went back to work? He wasn't sure that the crap he'd have to put with from her brother was worth the price of sleeping next to his partner. 

A mental whap bonked his brain. Was he nuts? He knew he must be when he *still* questioned the intelligence of sleeping with a man's sister in that man's own house. 

Then there was her mother. Devout Catholic. Offended by swearing, drinking and pre-marital sex. His caretaker in Scully's absence. He probably wouldn't endear himself to her by sleeping with her daughter right under her nose, so to speak. 

"Uh, Scully… don't take this the wrong way, but… I don't think you should sleep here." 

There was such a dearth of sound that he began to question whether she was still in the room. "Scully?" 

"When did you come to that decision?" she asked in a voice that was so cold it made him shiver. 

"It's one I really would rather *not* have made," he answered truthfully. "Scully…" God, he wished he could see her! "Your brother dislikes me enough as it is. Your sleeping with me -- in blatant disregard to his wishes, I'll wager -- will only add fuel to the fire. And…" He ducked his head, embarrassed by what he was about to say next. "And I don't want to 'shack up' with you in front of your mother." 

Not knowing what to expect, he was disheartened to hear her defeated sigh instead of a chuckle. Damn. She wasn't taking it as well as he'd hoped. 

"Fine, Mulder." She pulled her suitcase out of his grasp. "Bill assigned a room to me upstairs. I guess I'll make use of it." 

"You don't have to leave right now," he nearly begged. 

"I want to unpack. I'll see you later." 

"Scully…" His hail fell on deaf ears as her footsteps faded away. He took in a breath and let it out slowly. Great. He'd alienated the only friend he had. 

"Well, you have more brains than I gave you credit for." Bill's tone, although as acerbic as ever, held a hint of approval. 

Having heard the creak that warned him someone had entered the room, Mulder merely nodded. "Every so often I make a decision that's both right and wrong," he said in his hoarse voice. 

"Believe me, Mr. Mulder. It was the right one." After a beat, Bill said, "It was the only one." 

"Yeah," Mulder said, sighing. He wondered if Scully would ever see it that way. He wondered if she could forgive him for pushing her away when she'd only wanted to be close to him. He wondered if he'd pushed her away for good. 

** 

Dinner was a quiet affair, polite only because Tara and Maggie made a point of keeping the conversation going. Matty made a complete mess of his chicken casserole, some of it managing to fall on Mulder's arm. But then, Mulder managed to get some of his food on his lap while trying to figure out how to eat with his eyes closed. He discovered, much to his dismay, that it WAS possible to miss your mouth, even one as big as his. 

Scully hadn't said two words to him since she'd left the family room in a huff. But, on the bright side, Bill had seen fit not to say anything to Mulder, either -- the proverbial silver lining in an otherwise very dark cloud. He'd hoped he and Scully could talk after dinner, but she had claimed exhaustion, pointing out that while _he_ had slept the last couple of days away, _she_ had been wide awake and conferring with his doctors. Without so much as a squeeze of his shoulder, she left for the bedroom upstairs.  

Which meant he was going to have to get to the family room himself, or so he thought. He started to get up and felt a hand at his elbow.  

"I've got you, Fox. Let me help you get settled." It was Maggie, and he was so happy to hear her voice he almost cried. 

They made their way to the den and she helped him find the bathroom. "Dana tells me you can't shower yet, but would you like me to help you wash up?" she asked. 

He was instantly mortified. "Um, no, I'm fine. They, uh, the nurse, uh . . . " 

"Ah, yes. The ever popular 'sponge bath'," Maggie said with a chuckle. "Well, then how about if I get out your pajamas. That is, if you wear pajamas to bed," she added too hastily for his comfort. 

"Yes, I have pajamas. Well, pajama bottoms. They're yellow. I usually just wear a tee shirt with them," he hastened to explain. God, to think that she thought that he slept in the -- NO, he was absolutely not going to go there! 

He felt soft cotton being pushed in his hands. "I'll just wait out here. Unless you think you'll need help. I could call Bill -- " 

"NO!" he said, a little too forcefully. "Sorry, um, no, I'll be fine. Thanks." He felt his way to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. It took him a minute or two of fumbling, but wasn't that much different from his college days when he had to dress in Phoebe's bedroom closet to avoid her maid. In minutes, he opened the door. He heard Maggie's crystal clear laughter and the sounds of someone else's voice in the background.  

"Fox, here, I've made up the bed, come get settled in. Are you tired?" she asked, helping him into bed. 

"Not really," he answered truthfully. "What are you watching?" 

"Oh, I just love this comic on Comedy Central. Her name is Kathleen Madigan. I can change the channel if you like, see if there's a game or something." 

"No, this is fine. You, uh, you want to stay and watch this?" he asked. Damn, could he sound any more needy? "I mean, if you want to, or if you don't have something else -- " 

"I'd love to stay and listen with you," she said, and he heard rustling and the squeak of a reclining chair leaning back. They listened together for several minutes, Mulder finding himself drawn into the humor of the comic. He was surprised when his own laughter joined Maggie's. The time passed quickly and before long, he let out a jaw-cracking yawn. 

"Dana put your prescriptions in the kitchen. I'll get them and a glass of water. Would you like anything else, some milk or some juice?" Maggie asked. 

"No, water is fine." He had to admit not talking at dinner had helped his throat. He almost sounded normal. 

"Here's the water," Maggie said when she returned. "Hold out your hand and I'll give you your pills." He felt the pills drop into the palm of his hand. He tossed them in his mouth and sipped the water, washing them down. Maggie took the glass from his hands. 

"I know it sounds a little childish, but this really works. I put one of Matty's sippy cup lids on the glass of water and I'm putting it on the table here next to the bed. If you get thirsty in the night, you can get a drink without being worried you might spill all over yourself." 

"That's good thinking, Mrs. Scully. You sound like you've done this before."  

When he didn't hear her immediate response, he was afraid he'd said something to offend her.  

"Well, actually, my Grandmother lost her sight as a young girl. I spent a lot of time on my grandparents' farm in the summers. She taught me many things, including how to make pie crust." 

"She cooked?" Mulder asked, then realized how condescending that sounded. 

"Oh, yes. She was a fabulous cook. But her pies -- Grandma's pies were prizewinners! She made a raisin pie that won ribbons at the county fair. I have the recipe; I'll make it for you sometime. Of course, it won't be as good as Grandma's." 

"I'm sure it will be delicious," Mulder said with a smile. 

He almost flinched when he felt her hand on his cheek. "Are you all right, Fox? You seemed a little quiet at dinner." 

How could he answer that? How could he tell Maggie that he pissed off her daughter by NOT sleeping with her under her brother's roof, when Maggie was just upstairs? "I'm fine. It's the blindness. Just takes some getting used to," he lied, but maybe it wasn't much of a lie. 

"Well, from what Dana tells me, you shouldn't get too used to it. It won't be long before the bandages will be off and things will be back to normal." 

"I hope so," he let slip out, realizing he meant more than just seeing again. 

"It will. I promise. Now, you get some sleep. I'm up pretty early in the morning, so I'll try to keep the noise down when I'm in the kitchen. But if you need anything -- " 

He fumbled for and finally picked up the little bell, ringing it.  

"Good," she said. He was settling down into the pillow when he felt a kiss on his cheek. "Good night, Fox. Sweet dreams." 

"Good night," he whispered, because he was trying to hold back his tears. 

** 

Bill's and Tara's House

May 5, 2000

8:03 a.m. 

Mulder's dream of he and Scully making love in his bed escalated to nightmare proportions when he discovered that, not only weren't they not alone, but Bill Scully and Detective John Kresge were doing a play-by-play. As soon as that realization hit him, he awakened with a gasp. At least he thought he was awake -- until Bill's and Kresge's voices continued talking. 

Momentarily panicked when he could hear but not see, it took the absorption of their words to bring him up to speed as to his whereabouts, his situation -- and the status of his and Scully's relationship.  

"A detective, huh? Are you working on a case with my sister?" Ah, there was the wary tone Bill had used upon his first meeting with Mulder. Nice to know it hadn't been reserved specifically for him. 

"I sure am, Captain Scully." Mulder almost groaned. Bill was sure to be impressed that Kresge knew his rank and had addressed him by it.  

"Why don't you come in, Detective?" Yup. Impressed. And pleased. 

"Thanks, Captain. It is a little moist out here." Mulder heard the chuckle in Kresge's voice, then the sound of the door closing. He marveled at how clearly he could hear everything, even though there was at least one door and a good-sized living room between him and the conversationalists. He wondered whether it was because of the early hour and a quiet house, or if that adage about one sense compensating for another was in play. Whichever it was, he prayed for noise or a return of his eyesight so his hearing would diminish. He didn't think he could take much more of listening to the male bonding taking place in the hallway. 

"Damn," he heard Bill say. "It wasn't supposed to rain today. Was it?" 

Kresge's muffled yawn reached Mulder's ears. "Sorry. Uh, I didn't hear the weather for today. I was up most of the night." 

"Is that why you need Dana? Something happen with the case?" Bill never sounded that eager when it was something he and Scully were working on, Mulder thought sourly. Only when *what* Bill was saying, not *how* he was saying it caught Mulder's attention did he realize how much Scully's silent treatment was affecting him. They were discussing the case, and he hadn't even realized it. 

"Yeah. I probably should have called her when they found the…" Kresge hesitated. "Well, I probably should have called her last night, but when I saw her at the hospital the other night she looked so tired, and I know she's been taking care of her partner -- " 

"Yeah." Bill sounded like he'd just stepped in something disgusting, a tone Mulder believed Bill reserved solely for him. "It's probably better that you didn't call. She needed sleep."  

"That's exactly what I thought!" Kresge seemed excited that someone finally agreed with him. "She works so hard, and it's important for a woman to get her beauty sleep." Oh, brother, Mulder thought. 

"Really? Well, it's good to meet someone in law enforcement who actually notices that my sister is a woman. And who is concerned for her health." 

Mulder could picture Kresge's head bobbing up and down. "Well, sure, why wouldn't I be? I don't expect her to work every minute, even if she thinks she has to." 

"That's what I keep telling her," Bill agreed. "I mean, it'd be different if she was using her medical degree the way it's supposed to be used instead of wasting it at the F.B.I. And what the hell kind of woman becomes a medical examiner? I always thought she should be a pediatrician -- now *there's* a good field for a woman. After being around kids all day, maybe she'd want to have some of her own instead of chasing all over the country like some gypsy." 

"Well, I have to admit that I kind of wondered about that, too. She's so… petite. I'm always afraid she's going to get hurt, and I do my best to keep her out of harm's way, but she still tries to play with the big boys." Mulder had been taking a sip of water and nearly sprayed it all over his blankets.. He couldn't believe Kresge had just said that! "Maybe I can talk some sense into her, though. Put in a good word or two about that kid doctor thing." 

Bill snorted. "You'd have more luck talking to a tree stump. The only one she listens to is that partner of hers." 

There was a long silence, then Kresge said in a low voice so Mulder had to strain to hear, "How well do you know him?" 

"Me?" Bill sounded taken aback that the detective had asked such a question. "I don't know him at all. Which suits me just fine." Me, too, jerkface, Mulder rebutted silently. 

"Oh." Kresge's voice sounded like he wanted to say more. 

"What?" Bill pressed. "Do you know something about my sister and that nut?" Mulder stiffened at that. Though no stranger to name-calling, hearing it often didn't lessen the hurt any.

 "Well… not really. No." Kresge sounded uncomfortable, and Mulder thanked him for that, at least. 

"What then?" 

"I noticed it, too. That she does whatever he wants her to." Mulder almost choked on the spit in his mouth. What planet was Kresge on? Scully did whatever *Scully* wanted to do. "I just don't understand why. He makes remarks that bother her all the time; when she tells him something he doesn't like, he either ignores her or makes some flip remark. And God help her if she asks him how he's feeling! He just about bites her head off. Or pretends she doesn't exist. I just don't get why she sticks with the guy." 

Bill snorted. "You and me, both, pal. Hey, you want a cup of coffee while I get my sister?" 

"That'd be great. Thanks. I've been drinking jet fuel all night. A real cup of coffee'd be heaven." 

"Go on into the kitchen. Coffee's all made. Cups are in the cupboard near the fridge. I'll get Dana." 

Mulder lay frozen in bed. Was what Kresge said true? Was he really that awful to Scully? He knew he was kind of rude to her about the health thing, but he also thought that she understood that he was aggravated with himself, not her. But did she? Why *did* she stay with him? 

Voices coming from the kitchen broke into his thoughts. Kresge. And Scully's mother. In direct contrast to Bill, Maggie was speaking softly, and Kresge had toned it down as well. Mulder yearned to hear what they were talking about, wanted to know if Maggie and Kresge were hitting it off as well as Bill and Kresge had. He dearly hoped not. At the moment, Maggie was his only ally. He didn't think he could take it if she and Kresge became fast friends.  

About half a minute later, Bill came clomping down the stairs and into the kitchen. Maggie shushed him, but he didn't pay her any mind. It was one of the few times Mulder was glad Bill was such a loudmouth. "She's coming. She's not happy, but she's coming." 

Kresge sounded repentant. "I guess it is a little early…" 

"Nah," Bill said. "She went to bed early. She's probably just grumpy because her boyfr --" 

"Bill!" Maggie's cry was not hushed. "You mind your own business." 

Mulder felt the heat on his face, both from what Bill had been about to say and for Maggie's having to defend him. Or, more likely, defend her daughter. Whatever. Mulder didn't care so long as Kresge never got to hear it. 

There were several minutes of silence before he heard Scully's tread on the stairs, then quiet, then her heels on the kitchen tiles. "Hi, Mom… Detective." She greeted Kresge coolly and formally, to Mulder's relief. "Mulder?" He paid closer attention at the mention of his name. 

"Asleep," he heard Maggie say. 

"Good. Tell him… I'll call when I can get free." 

"Dana, don't you think -- " 

"I've gotta go, Mom. Take care of Mulder for me, okay?" 

Her words would have made him feel all warm and fuzzy, were it not for the utterly emotionless way she delivered them. For all the caring they reflected, he could have been her pet turtle. 

He told himself it was because Kresge was there, and she didn't want to give anything away to him. But as her "Ready, John?" reached his ears, and she left without even looking in on him, Mulder felt it. 

Scully was distancing herself from him. What he'd feared the entire time he'd known Scully had finally begun. 

She was leaving him. 

**end of part 6**