After watching the door to his room swing closed, Mulder turned his head and stared back up at the millions of small holes that dotted the grimy ceiling tiles that were so common in places like this. They'd been all he'd been able to look at during the hours that he'd waited for Scully to come get him. Get him the hell out of this place. After a moment, a noise in hallway caused him to look hopefully over at the door again.

The same door that Scully has exited through just minutes ago.

But the door remained shut and he returned to staring up at the dots. They're kind of like reverse stars, he thought suddenly, with dark points instead of light. They're ceiling tiles, another part of his brain corrected sharply. Get a grip, Mulder.

Great, now I'm hearing voices, he thought as he listened to the conflicts in his mind. He turned his eyes and glanced back over at the door for the tenth time in as many minutes.

Stop that, moron. She's gone. She's not coming back; she's left you behind here.

He closed his eyes a moment. Oh God, he didn't want to believe that. It was too painful to believe that. He looked back up at the dirty, water-stained ceiling, struggling to hold on to what little was apparently left of his sanity as the voices argued in his head, and the desolation of this hellhole bore down on him.

Jesus Christ, how did they expect anyone to ever get well in a place like this?

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

The voices in his head had gotten an early start as he'd waited anxiously for Scully all morning, sure that she would arrive any minute to get him out of this place. However, as the hours wore on, another part of his head started nagging at him. The pride-dominated part of his brain hadn't wanted his partner, just about the only person whose opinion he gave a shit about, to see him like this. He really didn't think he was up to having Scully see him committed by Skinner for dangerous and psychotic behavior, restrained like an animal and unable to move, scratch or even take a piss without permission or help. She'd see his sanity questioned, his freedom taken from him, his career most likely over, his pride and dignity in complete ruins. It was going to be one of the worst moments in his life and he just didn't know if he was ready to look her in the eyes as it was surely going to be another low moment in life seemingly filled with them.

He'd spent the better part of the morning lying to himself, trying to convince his ego that it wouldn't be so bad, that he'd been through worse periods and gotten through them, so surely he could get past this thing too. But that mind-game had proved to be a big mistake on his part because as he hauled up memories to make comparisons, his already troubled thoughts kept wandering into his dark places that he preferred not to go near as a rule.

If pressed to name the worst periods of his life, Mulder had a lot to choose from. As a boy, he certainly would have said his failure to remember what happened during his sister's abduction was the worst moment of his life. However, as his mind moved forward in time, many other worthy contenders for worst moment honors stepped forth.

There were his parent's vicious battles and the inevitable divorce. Then they became strangers as they both turned away from him. He'd escaped to Oxford only to feel even more the outsider there before being emotionally crushed by the Phoebe Greene steamroller. There'd been a temporary respite in his early years at the FBI and then he managed to get Steve Wallenberg killed simply by following the rules. Then there was his hypnotic regression which restored the memories of his sister's disappearance, when it became apparent that he'd failed to save her.

It would have seemed hard to top the suffocating grief he'd felt upon his return to his vandalized apartment after Scully's life support had been turned off, when he'd felt so helpless and sure that he'd failed to reach her. But soon afterwards, he'd seen his father murdered only moments after he'd received the first hug and approving words from the man in almost twenty years. He still carried the sorrow he'd felt at his failure to save Lucy Householder from the demons that chased her; he knew too well how isolated she'd felt. Just in the last year, he'd had some serious new lows. Scully looked him in the eyes and told him that she been given cancer to make him believe the lies and the night he'd realized he'd willingly played the fool as he chased his elusive absolution. Then there was that night, not so long ago, when he'd knelt at his partner's bedside in the darkness; heartbroken for what they both might lose.

Mulder didn't often indulge in the luxury of self-pity. Indeed, his ability to turn away from those memories, even as they colored his life, was instrumental to his well-being. As long as he kept moving forward, those memories stayed behind him. Except now. They'd caught up with him because he was strapped down like some fucking lunatic with nothing to do but stare at the ceiling dots, think about things that he didn't want to think about, and wait for Scully to come get him.

He glanced over at the door yet again. Come on, Scully. Where the hell are you? Get me the hell out of here. And suddenly, as though in response to his thoughts, the door to his room pushed open. His partner stood there in the doorway bearing silent witness to his perfect humiliation and failure as she met his eyes. He felt his heart pound. Oh God, he'd been a fool to think it wouldn't be so bad. It was even worse than he feared and he wanted to crawl into a dark hole and hide from her penetrating gaze. For a moment, he wished that he really had lost his mind because maybe then he wouldn't have cared about what he saw when he looked up into her eyes.

Slowly, Scully walked to his bedside and slipped her fingers into his as best she could with his hand being tied down with the restraints and all. He tried to rise above his mortification by making a feeble joke that she didn't laugh at. Of course, that wasn't so different, she never laughed at his jokes, and for a brief minute, he felt hopeful when she talked of the evidence in the case.

But then, as he looked up into her face, he realized that she was giving him the same look she would have given a dog that had to be put to sleep. Then after a moment more, it began to dawn on him that she wasn't talking about the arrangements she'd made for getting him out of here. When she began to talk of her hope for his recovery, he finally began to understand that Scully hadn't come to take him home.

He felt her fingers tighten upon his but her touch, which usually soothed any hurt, physical or mental, gave him no comfort this time. As she gazed down at him, he could see the distress in her eyes, the pity. Did she think him wrongly accused or did she look that way because she believed that he really should be here? He wasn't sure. He wondered if she believed that he was lost to her; not to the conspiracies and everything else that strived to separate them, but to a demon in his own mind.

Mulder began to panic as the situation began to spin wildly the wrong way. This was not happening. There was just no damn way this was happening. He'd never even considered this turn of events and he tried to get his jumbled and medicated mind to get things back on course. He'd always been able to reach her. What was he doing wrong?

He looked up into her face and in desperation, he begged her to be willing to see. He begged her to listen to him even if he was strapped to a bed in a psych ward. He pleaded with her, as he never had before. Telling her the truth, as he never had before. She held his gaze a long time and then with a single shake of her head, she looked away.

And Mulder's hope died in his chest right there. Dear God, she was going to leave him here.

He closed his eyes to hide from what he was seeing and turned his head away with the realization that he'd finally found the outer limit of Scully's faith in him. He always suspected that he would push it too far some day and apparently, he finally had for this time it seemed that her allegiance would fall to her science that told her that a creature such as he described simply couldn't exist outside his mind. As he lay there, somewhere in the back of his head, he heard the loud crash and felt the pain of hitting a completely new rock bottom of his life.

After a few moments, he felt Scully slowly ease her fingers from his hand. He felt her slip away from him, leaving him alone in this place as her footsteps moved towards the door. He heard her call his name and unable to resist, he looked over to meet her eyes.

"Mulder, I promise..." Scully trailed off as though she was unsure of what she could promise him or if she could even promise him anything at all.

Mulder felt oddly disconnected with what was happening, almost as though he was watching it from outside. He didn't know if it was the medication or the shock, but he was amazed at how calm he felt. Shouldn't he be kicking and screaming? He’d never been one to go gentle into that good night. Perhaps some last remaining shred of pride had kicked in. One of the voices in his head told him not to make this parting bitter because there was a dark foreboding to it. He took a deep breath. "It's OK, Scully," he lied softly, absurdly proud of how strong he was able to make his voice sound, when he really wanted to beg her to stay, when he wanted to scream in anger. "Really. It's OK."

Scully gripped the edge of the door slightly. "No, it's not, Mulder," she responded. Then, turning quickly, she was gone. The door swung shut behind her and he was alone again.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

So now all Mulder could do was lie back and stare up at the ceiling tile dots again. They wavered and danced in front on his eyes now and he closed his eyes as a bitter laugh snickered out. Perfect. This was just frigging perfect. Mulder had always had a keen appreciation of irony and this was just almost priceless. All morning he'd lay here thinking about all the rotten moments in his life, worried that having Scully see him humiliated would be right up there. And it had been.

Yet within ten minutes of that moment, he'd discovered that there was apparently no end to the depths to which he could sink. It only goes to show that you never know where the day might take you, he thought with dark bemusement. No matter how bad a situation seems there is always the opportunity for it to get even worse.

He felt a painful lump in his throat and his eyes burned with hurt, but he shoved that useless emotion back down roughly by concentrating on his rising hot anger, feeding it instead of the pain as he twisted against the straps holding him down. Anger would serve him better in his battle against the rising fear and feeling of helplessness.

He felt so alone in this dismal place filled with frightening sights and smells and sounds. Chicago was a mere two hours flight from DC, but it seemed on the dark side of the moon in his isolation. How had he reached this place? Why him? Why hadn't he just kept his damn mouth shut? What events in his life caused him to see that demon? What was so screwed up in his own brain that he was made to see things that no one else could see? Things that no one else believed in. God, maybe....

No--he wasn't crazy. It was real. It was. Wasn't it? Foolishly, he moved his gaze back to the door again, staring at it as though if he concentrated hard enough Scully would come back for him. After a moment, he shook his head at his folly. Scully wasn't coming back, he was stuck here. Suddenly he realized that he might never see her again. At least, not in any human state.

The new thought that ate at him was that he would die here tonight because whatever the hell Pincus was, that thing knew Mulder had seen it. Pincus would bring him into that ungodly fold of the walking dead and all Mulder could do was lie here and wait for it, just as he'd waited for Scully all morning like a goddamned puppy waiting for its master. Helpless against what was coming for him.

As he had at least a hundred times, he pulled against the restraining straps, feeling them dig into his wrists, chest, and ankles. Shit. Shit. Shit! He'd never been claustrophobic, but this was as close as he'd ever come to that kind of panic. Mulder felt the hurt and depression rise and again, he focused his mind on his anger to deflect it. There was no rage that burned like injustice and he became consumed by it. The holes in the ceiling began to pulsate as he stared at them.

Jesus Christ--how could Scully have left him in this hellhole? How could she? He would never have left her alone in a place like this, helpless and tied down like a fucking lunatic. No matter what he believed--or didn't believe--he wouldn't have left her behind. But even as he seethed, his other more rational voice asked him logical questions.

What the hell was she supposed to do Mulder? Take you out at gunpoint? That's your kind of behavior, not hers. Your kind of behavior is what landed you here in the first place. What the hell is it you expected her to do? Ruin her life and career for you?

No. I just wanted her to listen. No, that's not true. I wanted her to consider the possibility. She was supposed to consider the possibility. That's all I wanted. That's all. She'd always been willing to do that in the past. What had changed between them that she couldn't do so now?

Oh God, maybe he really was losing his mind. All his voices made sense to him. He couldn't stand the turmoil going on in his head, coupled with the fear of what he knew was coming. Mulder felt the human instinctual need to put his hands to his face and curl up into a tight fetal ball to protect himself as his emotions pulled him inward. But even that small, pitiful, physical comfort was denied to him. His hands and feet were tied to the bed. He was strapped flat on his back and only able to stare at the ceiling, defenseless and vulnerable as an abandoned newborn kitten.

He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself, tried to divert his mind. But there was no diversion to be had; all he could do was deliberate why Scully had turned away from him since the beginning of this case. He'd joked to her earlier that she must have seen this coming, but now he wondered if that was actually a bitter truth. He wondered if this moment was something she'd always believed would come about as their lives became ever more intertwined.

Just days ago, he'd ratcheted up all his courage and told Scully what he'd seen. He'd asked her if that made him disturbed, if that made him demented. The shock in her face had been evident and she'd immediately discounted his entire theory, which by itself, was not unusual. But what was unusual was that she wouldn't even consider the possibility of looking for more evidence. Instead, she'd dismissed him.

Frustrated, he'd resorted to sarcasm. He told her that if this was all in his mind as she believed, he would be grateful if she would assist him in proving that--hoping that the challenge would needle her into helping him. However, she'd refused to be goaded this time. In fact, she'd just flat out refused to help and he'd been left to pursue his suspicions alone at a time when he needed her help, needed her scientific validation of the evidence they had.

But why had she chosen this time to walk away when, God knows, she'd had so many other reasons and opportunities to the same in past? He couldn't figure it out. He wished now that he hadn't let his pride get in the way and he'd just asked her while she was here. Not that he would have gotten an answer.

Mulder laid his head back into the pillow as he shifted uncomfortably against the restraining strap that dug into his rib cage. He looked at the tiny holes again and wondered how many he could count before he died tonight. Maybe that would help fill the time.

Suddenly he began to laugh out loud as a kind of hysteria set in. He didn't care. Fuck, let them all think he was crazy--he was in the right place for this. After all, there was really no point to the struggle to remain sane anymore was there?

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

As the day wore on, Mulder discovered something interesting: If time flies when you're having fun, apparently the earth can actually stop rotating when you're not.

He lost sense of real time; his watch had been taken along with everything else. He'd been given a meal, which he had no interest in and allowed to use the bathroom which he'd had a great deal of interest in, although that privilege was difficult to enjoy as a large and surly male attendant stood by watching him. He was hauled back to the bed and the nurse restrained him again to keep him from getting up--to keep him from getting out. He was given a shot of something that made his mind fuzzy and he forgot to ask what time it was. He did ask repeatedly when the Doctor would get there and he was told that it would be soon. Soon, of course, turned out to be never.

Late morning faded to afternoon, then evening, and then night. He marked the passage of time as best he could by the shifting light through the window in front of him as it filtered through the trees outside. Mulder, with his incredible ability to compartmentalize, had finally managed to not think about Scully anymore and instead thought about monsters and all their forms, real and imagined. This was mostly because the irregular dots over his head had now turned into faces as he stared up at them, a little side benefit of the medication.

As early darkness began to fall, the wavering shadows through the curtains in particular brought recollections of the abject terror of the shadow monsters that had lived in his closet when he was a very little boy. He would wake in the late, dark night and see the monsters lurking, waiting to strike. He remembered screaming hysterically in a child's panic, even yelling loud enough to wake the baby in the next room who then cried in sympathy with her brother, already in tune with him and his feelings.

Oddly enough, it'd been his father who'd come to his rescue back then. Mulder would sit in his bed, clutching the blankets about him and watching carefully as his daddy turned on the lights, searched the closets, looked under the bed, and generally chased the monsters away. Then he'd sit next to him on the bed, ruffle his hair, and assure him they were all gone now, he was safe, but he'd stay with him anyway until he fell asleep again.

His father had also taught him a trick. He'd turn out the light, tell Mulder to close his eyes and count to twenty very slowly. When he opened his eyes again, the darkness the room would seem much lighter. Of course, Mulder realized later that it simply gave his eyes a chance to adjust to the darkness, but as a very small boy he believed that his daddy had the power to make darkness go away a little bit. Then his father would sit with him and tell him stories only half-remembered now because Mulder always fell asleep before they were done. His father had been his protector when he was little; he'd even seemed to like doing so. That was the kind man that Mulder remembered now, not the alcoholic, embittered stranger his father later became. That was the man he missed so much all those later years, even long before his father's death. He thought about his father a lot as he waited for the monsters to come tonight.

But this was a monster that wasn't going to go away, no matter how much he closed his eyes and counted. He had no shelter from the monsters now. His childhood protector was long gone and the person who'd helped him chase them away as an adult was now gone too.

Mulder shook his head impatiently. Shit, he didn't need to go there. The night nurse came in and gave him another shot of something that almost immediately made his mind, which had started to clear, a bit foggy again. And for a second he thought it might be nice to just go to sleep and wake up dead. Or would that be undead? Mulder almost laughed at his own black joke as the nurse shut off the light and left the room

Within moments though, the thing he'd waited for all day came and all humor left him as he gasped at the sight of the familiar shadow outside the window. He began screaming for the night nurse who appeared within a few moments. One look into her now cold eyes and Mulder knew that she was only there to aid in his demise. She made it easy for the monster to get in and left the room again.

It was simply his time to die now.

The sound came again before he saw it. The evil trill announced the thing's arrival before Mulder even saw its shadow. Fully aware that it was useless, Mulder screamed again, further straining his voice already hoarse from past efforts. He couldn't take his eyes off the ominous creature as it continued its slow, murderous approach, still making the ugly noise that sent shudders though every limb of his body as he struggled in futility to get away. At the hideous quavering sound, he called out again for help, knowing that it wasn't coming and that no one heard or cared. He was alone and at the will of this monster.

God, this just couldn't be happening. He'd seen this thing, believed in its existence, but facing it now in the dark shadows of his room, he just couldn't get his mind to accept that this was real. This just couldn't be happening to him now. Mulder cowered away from the approaching dark menace, pushing away with his feet, trying to scramble out of harm's way as he pulled desperately against the retraining straps that held him securely in place for the demon's taking. In his blinding terror, he ignored the searing pain shooting from his hands up to his shoulders as he continued his vain struggle for escape. He didn't even feel the strap cutting deeply into his rib cage. The demon had traversed the ceiling and started to move down the wall next to him, still making that crackling noise as it prepared to take another victim.

Suddenly, Mulder heard the door to his room slam open, the curtain next to his bed was shoved violently aside and he saw the last person he'd expected to see tonight. Scully.

Her gun was already drawn as she met his eyes for just a flash even as her gaze was pulled upward to the movement of the demon above his head. He saw her eyes widen even as she drew down on it without hesitation and fired just as the monster moved on him. She fired again and the demon had turned, abandoning its prey, heading back the way it came for escape, crashing through the half-open window. Mulder watched as she fired her weapon again as she followed it to the window.

It was gone. Scully had chased it away.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Scully looked down to the street below. Sweet Jesus, where was that thing? She looked up and down, but there was no evidence that she'd injured or killed it. She looked for bloodstains until she realized that she was assuming that the thing even had blood. It was nowhere to be found. There was no proof beyond what she'd seen and only that.

Bewildered, she turned back at Mulder to make sure he was all right and he nodded to show her that he was unhurt. Scully looked back out the window to make sure it wasn't still lurking and waiting to strike the moment her back was turned. God, what the hell was that thing? She shook her head, having trouble reconciling what she'd just seen out at the nurse's station and here in Mulder's room, with reality as she knew it. Or used to know it. God, what had made her see that thing when she hadn't before? The hot rush of response chemicals began to fade from her blood, leaving her feeling just a little shaky, both emotionally and physically. Scully gripped the windowsill, breathing deep, still looking below for the demon.

"Did you kill it, Scully?" Mulder's quiet, but hopeful voice reached her from behind.

Scully turned back from the window as their eyes met again. "No," she shaking her head as she stared at him a moment. He was pale and there was a sheen of sweat on his face.

"But it's gone?" Mulder's voice was shaky, his apprehension still evident.

"It's gone, " she assured him as she moved quickly back across the room towards his bed.

As she approached, Mulder instinctively reached out to her, forgetting that he was still tightly restrained and his gesture was abruptly halted. Enraged, he made a noise of frustration as he struggled against the straps before he looked up to meet her eyes, silently asking for help, before he looked away again. He was still humiliated that she would see him this way, still angry with her, still scared to death. He drew ragged breath as he tried to force his mind to push past the medication, adrenaline, and fear into clarity.

Scully laid her gun down and sat on edge of the bed facing him. She saw that his hands were shaking in the confines of the tethers and her heart pulled apart in little pieces at his ordeal and her own self-recrimination. She quickly undid the strap across his chest, then reached across his body to release first one hand, then the other and then reached down to undo his feet.

Mulder was finally able to move freely and he sat up as he pulled free of the tethers. He crossed his arms over his chest as he tried to catch his breath and racing heart. He felt light-headed and put one hand up to cover his face, ducking his head down, pulling in as though trying to make himself as small as possible. His entire body began to tremble as the jolting rush of fear-induced adrenaline left his blood and he felt chilled to his bones. He took deep breaths, trying to force himself to calmness.

As Scully watched him fight this losing battle, she put her hand on his shoulder and he flinched away from her unexpected touch. Scully knew what he was feeling. Knew it well. This was the very stuff of every nightmare. Unable to protect yourself, unable to hide or even run as your darkest imaginations came to get you. Of course, Mulder didn't have any idea how well she knew that because she'd never told him. She leaned into his body and took him in her arms, but Mulder was non-responsive. He held himself separate from her; his arms still crossed between them and his face turned away. But Scully held on, physically willing him to let go of the emotion he was holding onto so tightly, hoping that he would take her solace even if he was angry. She knew what he needed to hear.

"I saw it, Mulder," she whispered in his ear, her breath sending an involuntary shiver of a different kind through him, compounding the chaos in his head. "It was real."

At her admission, Mulder's last tenuous reserve finally crumbled. Scully felt him uncross his arms and reach for her, not only accepting her comfort but seeking it as his arms encircled her waist, pulling her against him as he buried his face against her neck. She held on to him tightly. "Jesus, Scully," he said softly. "Jesus." The slight catch in his voice and his tremble told her that he fought back the tears of survivor's relief; that emotional response that so often came after a terrifying situation had been dealt with and the build-up of the body's chemical fight or flight response fades away. But within just a few minutes, the worst of it had passed, the moment gone as suddenly as it had arrived.

"You really saw it?" he asked as though he needed further confirmation although his voice was stronger now.

"Mulder," she said, stroking his back, "that was one girlie-scream sized bug."

As her words sank in, the complete and utter insanity of what all had just transpired struck Mulder hard. He began to laugh at the absurdity as he entered the next normal phase of the relief mechanism and giddiness overtook him. After a moment, his breathing became even again and his mind was coming around to some semblance of its usual order. She'd come back for him after all. He could hardly believe it. She'd saved his life and for the moment, his relief and his gratitude were so strong that they temporarily obliterated all his other questions and animosity. "Thank you, Scully," he told her softly.

His words ground into her heart and Scully felt her own tears well, then slip silently, for she rarely allowed herself the luxurious release of outright crying. What the hell was he thanking her for? He'd asked her for her help, even angrily begged her for it. She knew Mulder didn't understand why she hadn't been able to help him, why she couldn't help him. Moreover, she didn't know how she could ever begin to explain.

But right now, there wasn't time to try. Right now, she had to get him the hell out of this place. It still wasn't safe for him here, that thing was still out there. Even so, she held on to him a bit longer, so grateful that she wasn't crying over the dead body of her partner because she'd been afraid to believe, because she'd been angry with him for seeing a demon and then telling her about it. Mulder exhaled a long sigh and she could tell he was feeling better. He raised his head, drawing back slightly from her and she reached up to push his hair back out of his eyes to see his face, but really, it was just an excuse to touch him, to assure herself that he was alive.

It was then that Mulder saw the remnants of her own tears and was puzzled by them. "Scully, what the hell are you crying for?" he asked.

"I don't know," she answered with a shake of her head. "I guess because you were." That set off another round of gentle laughter between them as she reached up to wipe her tears away, but Mulder beat her to the gesture, brushing his fingertips gently. "I'm sorry," she whispered as her fingers gripped his arms. "Mulder, I'm so sorry."

Mulder heard the remorse in her voice as he looked at her. He still had so many questions to ask, but for right now, she'd come back for him. He was alive when not ten minutes ago he'd been certain that he would die. It was enough for that moment; they'd get to the rest later. "Don't cry anymore Scully," he told her, calm now, back in control as he pulled her back against him, giving her the comfort now.

"Are we going to be OK?" she asked.

He drew back to look at her and started to say something, but he lost the words as he met her troubled gaze. The emotional, healing kiss that followed so naturally instead didn't seem strange in the slightest. It was a soft, warm, slow moment that they both got willingly lost in, lingering in their indulgence a bit before turning and finding their way back to their good senses.

As they drew apart, each looked down and away as self-conscious awkwardness set in. They were silent as they each decided if they were going to simply chalk this moment up to stress and fear.

It was Scully who looked back first, her decision made. "I'm going to go find out where the hell everyone is," she said, returning to business, moving gently out of his arms. "Get dressed Mulder, one way or another, we're getting you out of here tonight." He looked up and nodded mutely. She picked her gun up off the bed and handed it to him. "Keep this with you until I get back." And with that, she hurriedly left the room in a swirl of long black coat as he watched her go.

Carefully avoiding the broken glass on the floor in his bare feet, Mulder got up, walked to the window and looked out, wishing that he would see the creature lying dead in the street below. Hard actual evidence. However, as usual in his life, there was nothing. Nothing except a broken window and bullet holes in the wall. And Scully. He took some comfort in that now he had Scully's admission that she too, had seen such a creature.

Mulder found his clothes in a closet across the room and began to dress as he tried to force his mind to concentrate on the simple thing he was doing. It was proving to be damn difficult to do.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

As Scully approached the nurse's station, she was not at all surprised to see the night nurse was now gone. Finding no one else of authority about, she picked up the phone and dialed the security desk on the first floor. A bored, male voice responded to her angry questions with the explanation that hearing screams all night long from the psych ward was not in the least unusual and that they only responded when one of the nurses called for assistance. He claimed to have not heard the gunshots or breaking glass, but he would call the police.

Scully slammed down the phone and then found the number of the hospital's physician on call and rousted him from a deep sleep. She bluntly informed him the hospital had serious security problems and as a Federal Agent and medical doctor, she was taking Mulder out for his safety. Now. The physician questioned her about the intruder and Scully hesitated. The I-saw-a-big-fucking-bug answer wasn't going to get Mulder released tonight. In spite of her bluster, technically, the physician could still block Mulder's release and if he thought her nuts too, it wasn't going to help matters. There was just no way they could tell these people what they'd both seen.

So she lied. She told him that she'd seen an intruder in Mulder's room and that she believed it to be Pincus who attacked Mulder and then escaped through the window. The physician quite naturally made the assumption she was talking about a human, not a demon and in the face of that story, Scully's tone and authority, the fact that she was willing to take full and complete responsibility for the patient, the physician agreed to sign the release orders. All the less work for him in the long run and one less nut for him to deal with in his jurisdiction. My tax dollars at work, Scully thought. At least his complacency was to her advantage.

Having started the lie, she would have to continue it for the police. She looked back down the hall towards Mulder's room, dreading the thought of having to ask him to lie. However, the police would be here shortly and it was the only way to get him out of here tonight. But after all he'd been through, she didn't think he would be of a mind to be reasonable about this. Not that she blamed him a bit. In spite of what had just passed between them, she knew that deep down, he was angry with her about the last few days. They were not yet back on their usual level playing ground and she was possibly about to make it a hell of a lot worse. She took a deep breath and walked down the hall.

She gave a knock on the door and then gently pushed it open. Mulder was sitting on the bed, just finishing buttoning his shirt, but not bothering to tuck it into his pants. He looked up at her expectantly. "You're being released to my custody," she told him. "The doctor is on the way up to sign the papers. The police will be here in a few minutes, we'll have to make a report for them."

Mulder nodded and started rolling up the sleeves of his shirt a bit rather than buttoning them. As he did so, Scully took in the raw, red marks on his wrists from where he'd pulled at the restraints and she was sure he had some painful bruising on his rib cage too. Scully crossed back across the room to look out the window again. She was hesitating and Mulder seemed to sense her disquiet. "What is it Scully?" he finally asked.

She turned back. "Mulder, I...I think it would be better if we just told them there was an intruder and that it was Pincus. I don't think they need to know anything more than that."

His response was evenly measured as his eyes bore into hers. "You mean tell them it was human."

She heard the accusation in his voice. "Mulder, this is not the place for this. Telling them what you saw--what we saw--won't get you out of here. They won't understand it."

"But you saw it too, Scully."

She came close to him and looked down into his eyes. "Yes, I did Mulder. But what I saw won't matter to these people and we need to get you out of here tonight. It's not safe. When we get back to DC, we can make a complete report to Skinner of everything. This is an FBI matter. Getting you out of here tonight is more important than anything else right at this moment."

Mulder stood up, brushed past her, and walked back to the window, the glass crunching under his shoes. He looked out to the street below and struggled with the decision a moment. Shit. In his mind, he knew that Scully was right--this was not the place. However, pretending that he hadn't seen what he'd seen just infuriated him. He took a deep weary breath and sighed. God, he felt drained, physically and emotionally. He was tired of everything he did or said being called into question. Tired of fighting for every shred of legitimacy. Tired of his own word never being enough.

On the other hand, he knew he couldn't let pride cloud his reasoning either. Scully would back him to Skinner. If she stood with him in this, if two people could say they saw it, it wasn't just Spooky Mulder. He turned back and he slowly nodded his acquiescence with her plan. "Let's just go home, Scully."

Scully almost sighed in relief. But now that this temporary accord had been reached, for the first time in her life, she felt awkward in his presence. A silence stretched out between them.

Mulder felt their uneasiness and hated it. No, he couldn't deny that on some levels he was still angry with her. Yes, he knew that she felt guilty about his being here in the first place and in the face of that, he certainly knew that coming back in here and asking him to lie had been difficult for her. And God knows, the kiss that they apparently weren't going to acknowledge was going to hang embarrassingly between them for a while too. They had a lot to explain and heal between them. But they needed to do that when they were both thinking clearly and he didn't know about her, but he was exhausted.

"I'm going to go see what's taking so damn long," she told him as she headed towards the door

"Scully," he called to her softly and she turned back and met his eyes. "It's going to be OK," he said although he wasn't sure quite just how or when. A small smile briefly graced her lovely face as she nodded before she passed through the door and it swished closed behind her.

Mulder sighed. He wasn't dead; he should be feeling really good about that. Instead, all he felt was a tired confusion. Maybe things would look better when they got back to DC.

It took over an hour to get Mulder checked out by both the hospital and police. The police dutifully took the report, asked a few questions, then concluded that Pincus had crawled up the drainpipe near the window and sent some officers off to his residence. Scully knew that was probably a futile effort, Pincus and his followers were likely long gone. The book closed as far as they were concerned, Chicago's finest shuffled off to get some donuts and coffee. The staff physician then questioned Mulder briefly and he gave all the right answers. The doctor finally signed the release papers; Mulder picked up the personal belongings taken from him and walked out of the mental ward at 2am, a free man.

He stood on the steps of the hospital a moment. Although weary, he actually began to feel a little better, the depression was lifting, the medications were dissipating, and the crisp night air smelled cold and beautiful after the sour hospital atmosphere. He was emotionally drained, but he was alive and he felt strangely hopeful as he looked up at the moon and stars. He felt Scully touch his hand, and he turned to her.

"Mulder, it's very late--what do you want to do? Get some sleep at a hotel or head to the airport?"

"I want to go home, Scully. I can sleep on the plane."

Scully called a cab and as they rode to the airport, she called ahead to find any airline that had a flight that would that would take them back to DC at that time of night. She finally found one that would be leaving in about an hour. They got to the airport, checked in, and then sank down on to the benches to wait. Not a hell of lot of people were flying to DC at this time night, and terminal was fairly deserted and quiet.

Scully looked over at Mulder, who sat slumped uncomfortably on the bench next to her. His eyes were closed, his hair was falling in his eyes, and the exhaustion lines were etched deeply in his unshaven face. He'd said little since getting in the cab and she knew he was physically and emotionally depleted. She touched his shoulder and he raised his head and looked blearily over at her.

"Come on and put your head down, you need sleep." She folded her soft wool coat on to her lap and without argument, Mulder gratefully laid his head down on the makeshift pillow, stretching his long legs down the bench.

"Wake me when the plane comes," he requested softly as he nestled in against her.

"Don't worry Mulder, I won't leave you behind," she told him as she smoothed his hair back from his face.

Mulder's mouth twitched in what may have been a smile and he was out instantly.

Scully gently ran her thumb over his bruised wrist as she watched her partner sleep and she wondered what she was going to do about this all.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Washington D.C.

FBI Headquarters

Mulder paced nervously by the elevator, waiting for Scully to emerge from Skinner's office. They'd arrived back in DC that morning and he'd slept the entire flight. They'd each gone home, changed, and returned to the office for a meeting later that day with Skinner.

Skinner hadn't wanted to talk with him though. He'd dismissed him from the office while he talked with Scully instead. Mulder knew the questions that were being asked. He paced some more and finally, the door opened down the hall and Scully stepped out. Mulder watched as she walked slowly down the hall towards him, almost as though she didn't want to reach her destination, never once lifting her eyes from the floor. Mulder's heart ground to a stop as he observed the body language he knew as well as he knew the color of her eyes.

Unable to look at her any longer, he turned and punched the elevator call button hard, hearing her footsteps approach behind him. He steeled himself, tried to quell his suspicions; He might be wrong, that he might have misread her. He turned and lifted his eyes to her. "What did you tell him?" he asked.

"I told him the truth." Scully never lifted her eyes. "As well as I understand it," she hedged.

He wasn't going to leave the qualifier alone. "Which is?" he pressed. He was going to make her say it to his face. He almost leaned down to her eye level.

The elevator arrived just then and they stepped on. Scully still refused to look at him. She just turned and faced front as his stare bored through her. "Folie a deux," she finally answered cryptically. "A madness shared by two."

What the hell did she mean by that? Mulder grimaced and punched the button that would take the agents down to their basement domain. There was only one explanation in his mind--she'd denied him to Skinner. If she hadn't, she wouldn't be acting so inscrutable - she would have simply reported that she'd told Skinner about the demon and be done with it. She denied what she saw or found an excuse for it.

He was nearly blinded by the hurt and the depth of his fury was startling to him. He'd thought he'd been angry in the hospital but that paled to this moment. They reached their floor and began the long walk down their hallway as the tension built. Mulder was seething as he tried to work it through in his mind, tried to come up with an explanation for her seeming betrayal, something that wouldn't make him feel the way he felt about her at this moment. He unlocked the office door and stepped inside as Scully followed.

Mulder slammed the door shut even as he knew there was no such thing as privacy here. He waited a moment for her to explain or elaborate. He waited for her to tell him her reasoning. However, Scully moved past him to her work area where she began to shuffle through the files on her desk as though looking for something. By all appearances, it was all over as far as she was concerned and she was moving on to her next case.

Mulder stood by his desk, hands on hips, amazed at her behavior. "So was that was your answer to Skinner?" he finally asked, his voice low and tight. "That what you saw was a hallucination transferred from me to you? That you're now just seeing things too because of your unfortunate close proximity to your nutcase partner?" She didn't respond and he stepped forward. "Scully, did you or did you not tell Skinner that what you saw was not human?"

She didn't look up and she didn't speak, but she finally shook her head slowly.

"Why Scully?" he finally asked, his voice low and angry. "You know what you saw. Why did you do that me?"

Scully spoke finally. "I did it for you Mulder."

He gave a dark, bitter laugh at her absurd assertion. "That is such bullshit." He stayed on his side of the room, needing to keep distance. "This isn't about protecting me. Isn't it really that you're scared that everyone will look at you the way they look at me? Isn't it because you can't have anyone think that you're like me? FBI Monster boy? Do you think I haven't noticed during the last five years that you squirm with embarrassment whenever I tell people what I know to be true?"

She looked up at him for the first time. "Is that what you think? That this is about my pride?" Scully's voice took on a more angry tone.

"I don't know what to think! That's been the problem with this whole damn case." He threw his hands out wide as he approached her. "Give me another explanation, Scully. That's all I want, because all I know now is that since the beginning you wouldn't help me. I got locked away, shot full of drugs and tied down like animal and you didn't seem to give a damn."

"Mulder, I had no idea you would end up there. Seeing that happen to you was one of the worst moments in my life. How can you think I didn't care?"

"Because you had the power to prevent the whole damn thing in the first place and you did nothing." His voice was shaking with fury. "Two days ago, I asked you--in fact, I just about begged you for your help. What was your response Scully? WHAT WAS YOUR FUCKING RESPONSE?"

Scully's voice rose to match his. "I wasn't going to help you PROVE that you were insane, Mulder. I wasn't going to assist in your destruction, even if you begged me to!"

He rolled his eyes. "Oh please, that makes a nice story after the fact Scully, but the truth is you'd already dismissed me even before we reached that point. You made the decision without one shred of investigation that I was wrong. You refused to even consider what I said I'd seen. Then you did a half-assed autopsy on the only bit of evidence I did have. You could have had some hard evidence two days ago. Two days ago! Now in spite of what you know to be the truth, you just lied to Skinner--you didn't see a damn thing, or maybe it just a hallucination passed on to you by your whacked-out partner." Mulder now stood before her, shaking his head slowly. "You're the perfect federal agent Scully," he taunted her angrily. "Deny everything."

Mulder suddenly broke off, turned, and walked away from her as his long-simmering hurt burned into white-hot anger. God help him, he almost hated her at this moment and it scared him. He would never have believed such a thing was possible. He stood with his hands on his hips; breathing deep and knowing he had to calm down to continue this. His eyes settled on his poster that proclaimed, "I want to believe." The irony not lost on him.

God, was this it? Was it possible that they'd finally come to the end of this strange journey together; that they'd finally reached a breach they couldn't cross? He turned back and looked at her to find her staring at him with hostile eyes. Did she even care that this was all falling apart? It sure as hell didn't seem so.

He was silent for long moments before he finally spoke, his voice despondent. "I said this to you once before, Scully--you're either working with me or against me in this. That's your decision to make. But maybe you need to consider doing something else with your life. Maybe you need to find something where you can be in total control, where all your days make perfect sense and demons don't inconveniently appear to ruin your view of the world."

Scully stared at him and her eyes widened. "Are you saying that you don't want to work with me anymore?"

He quite literally felt sick to his stomach and the pain in his head was pounding along with his heart. "No, I'm saying it's pretty damn clear that *you* don't want to work with me. It's the only explanation I have. You won't give me anything else."

He sat on the edge of his desk, drained and cold. "How many times have we gone down this road, Scully? How many times has your denial of what you've seen or what you feel caused dissention between us? Yeah, occasionally you get generous and you'll clue me in, but usually after the fact. Only after it doesn't even matter anymore."

Before she could answer, he began to tick off examples. "You never told me the feelings you were having during the Pfaster case. Did you tell me what Leonard Betts said to you? No. And how about Philadelphia? Instead of telling me what was going on in your head about the job, I nearly lost you to some lunatic, tattooed stranger. You spent months pretending that you were fine after you'd been diagnosed with cancer. You didn't tell me until afterwards that you were seeing visions of all those dead girls. You didn't tell me about the phone calls you were getting when you first found Emily in San Diego. You didn't tell me you were feeling drawn to Ruskin Dam by the implant in your neck."

Scully looked away, unable to contradict his assertions. "I told you I saw Emily after she died," she said finally, quietly. "You didn't believe me." She paused a moment, then looked up at him. "I needed you to believe me and you didn't."

Usually that injured tone from Scully never failed to soften Mulder's heart. But not today--he'd been too wounded himself. He bent down to her level and looked her in the eye, his voice cold and sarcastic. "Yeah? Well, welcome to my world, Scully. How's it feel?"

With that, he turned and strode out of the office, slamming the door so hard behind him that it rattled the desk she was leaning against.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Fox Mulder didn't return to work that day. He didn't return the next day either. Or the next. Skinner accepted his story that he needed a few days off with no question. He had no clue if Scully was in the office or not. He didn't care. He didn't care if he ever saw her again. He didn't care about one Goddamn thing in his life. He spent the days in his apartment in one of darkest moods he'd ever experienced. Feeling as alone as he ever had in his life. He was hiding. This just couldn't be happening, it couldn't all be falling apart like it was. He was the one in denial now and it was hideous. God, how did Scully stand living this way?

By 3pm on Saturday, Mulder knew he had to see her. He'd walked out because he'd reached the point where he could no longer be rational, where he'd thrown aside everything he knew as a Psychologist about communication and resolving conflicts. Not that any of that shit had ever helped him in learning to deal with Scully anyway. But he couldn't live in this purgatory. He had to finish this between them or he really was going to go insane. He didn't know what he was going to say, he wouldn't know until he saw her. But it had to be resolved.

A half-hour later, he stood outside Scully's door staring at it as though it was going to do something. He purposely hadn't called beforehand and now he just stood there like an idiot. He'd already walked away twice and come back. Finally, he raised his hand and gave two sharp raps on the door. He heard footsteps approach on the other side. The door opened and in front of him stood Scully's mother, Margaret.

Ah shit, he thought. Wrong Scully.

"Hello Fox, come in." She smiled warmly, genuinely pleased to see him. Apparently, Scully hadn't filled her in on their problems. Big surprise there, he thought sarcastically. After all, she hadn't even told her mother she was sick, she'd asked him to do it.

Mulder continued to stand in the doorway even as Mrs. Scully stepped back to let him enter. He didn't want to have the words he was planning to have with Scully in front of her mother. "Is Dana here?" he asked cautiously.

Mrs. Scully shook her head. "No, but she's on her way I'm sure. I'm a little early."

"Early?"

"We're going to Mass together and then out to dinner."

"Mass?" Mulder blinked in surprise.

"Yes, Dana has been going with me more often recently." She noticed that he was still in the doorway. "Fox, come on in and wait. She'll be here in a bit."

He shook his head. "No, I'll come back--" Just then, the phone began to ring. Mrs. Scully gestured to indicate he should wait while she picked it up. After a moment, it became obvious that it was Scully on the phone and as Mulder listened to half of the conversation, it was clear that she was running late.

"Where are you sweetie?...You had to work on a Saturday? No, it's OK, I haven't been here long at all. Fox is keeping me company....Yes, he just got here...do you want to speak with him?" There was a long pause in the conversation and Mrs. Scully glanced his way before continuing. "No, that's OK...Why don't I just meet you at St. John's? We can have dinner after. No honey, it's not a problem." Another long pause and Mrs. Scully's voice became lower. "Dana, are you OK?... All right, I'll see you in about a hour. Bye-bye."

After the strange conversation with her daughter, Mrs. Scully turned and for the first time, really looked at Mulder who standing awkwardly in the doorway. He was hunched over, his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his jeans and the usually meticulous young man was disheveled, his hair a mess and he hadn't shaved in a couple days. He looked worn and bleary-eyed. Something was seriously amiss here. "That was Dana," she said unnecessarily. "She...she couldn't talk to you where she was."

Suddenly Mulder smiled a bit. "Come on, Mrs. Scully--you'll just have to confess that lie at Mass," he told her with no rancor.

Margaret Scully approached him. "Fox, what's wrong?" she asked. "The second Dana found out you were here, she suddenly decided she wasn't going to church. I had to tell her to meet me there. What's going on with you two?"

"Excuse me, Mrs. Scully, but I really don't think Dana would want me to talk with you about it."

"Oh Lord, no--she'd hate it. But from the looks of you, you're about to have a seizure over something."

"I'm fine." He stared to back out of the doorway, "I'm sorry, but I've really got to be going now."

Mrs. Scully looked irritated at him, as though she'd heard the words, "I'm fine" a few too many times in her life. He knew the feeling well. But her next words surprised him.

"Fox, I'd appreciate it if you would drop me off over at the church. We can talk on the way and Dana can bring me back."

Mulder was aware that she was using that tone that all mothers use to get wayward children to obey and as he could find no gracious way to refuse her, he nodded. He watched as she got her purse and coat, took his arm and directed him towards his car, even as he was wondering how hell he was getting bulldozed into driving Margaret Scully to Mass when he knew she had her own car there.

The church wasn't far from Scully's apartment and they made small talk on the way as Mulder carefully avoided anything having to do with the topic of her daughter. He pulled into the parking lot at St. John's and waited for Mrs. Scully to get out of the car. Instead she turned towards him.

"We're very early, come inside and sit with me for a bit, Fox. You've done a fine job of avoiding my questions and I still want to talk to you."

Mulder shook his head. "I don't think so, Mrs. Scully."

Margaret Scully just fixed him with a look. Three minutes later, he was sitting with some agitation in the very back pew of St. John's. They were virtually the only people there and Mulder looked about curiously. Mrs. Scully turned to him. "Have you ever been to Mass?"

Mulder laughed slightly. "No. I'm Jewish by birth, Mrs. Scully, but I don't practice that faith either."

"So you follow no faith?"

"Only my own," he replied quickly. Mrs. Scully just looked at him and Mulder became aware of just how arrogant that sounded. "I just meant--"

"I know what you meant, Fox. It just seems lonely."

Mulder was silent a moment as he thought about that, then he finally nodded. "It can be."

She gave him a moment before asking quietly, "What's wrong? What happened?"

Mulder rubbed his forehead. What happened indeed? How could he tell her the whole bloody story without seeming to criticize her own daughter, no mother was likely to take kindly to that. Taking a breath, he started in, telling about the case they'd been investigating that had appeared to be nothing at first glance. Then he told her of the demons he saw, Scully's refusal to help him investigate further, his spiral downwards and the hospital incarceration, the attack, Scully's denial of what she'd seen and even the ugly fight in their office. Margaret Scully sat through it all, her eyes delving into his, nodding occasionally, absorbing it all. Amazingly, she didn't even seem particularly nonplussed by the idea of the demon. And in the end, she only asked one question.

"So, why do you think Dana acted like she did?"

Damn, all this time he'd been hoping she could tell him. He knew that was why he'd allowed himself to be maneuvered here. He shook his head. "I just don't know Mrs. Scully. I can't reconcile it in my head. I can't get it straight. I don't want to feel this way about her, but I just feel so completely..." He trailed off, not even sure what word to apply.

"Abandoned?"

God yes, he thought. That was pretty much it. Abandoned. He nodded to Mrs. Scully.

"You know, my daughter is a still water that most definitely runs deep and she doesn't do anything without a reason, she thinks too much if that's possible. Her father was much the same. I took me years to learn my way around him so to speak." She smiled a bit, "I guess the Scullys tend to be esoteric."

"I know that Mrs. Scully. I want to understand, but she won't talk to me. I don’t know if it’s me or her or the work or what." He drew a long breath. "All I know is that if I can't get past this, I don't know how we can continue to work with each other anymore. But I don't know that I can do the work without her at this point. If I could only understand why...I just can't find the answer."

"I know you want your answers, but the only place you will find them is with Dana. So, you need to try again. After all, isn't that why you went to her house today?" Mulder had no answer to that and after a moment, Margaret asked him another question. "Fox, so much has conspired to separate the two of you over the years and yet you've both survived it all. Is this going to be the thing that finally does it?"

Wow, this woman had a way of slicing through to the heart. She asked the very question that he'd spent the last few days flipping over in his head until he was dizzy. "I don't know," he answered. Mulder shook his head and sighed deeply; what the hell was he doing here? He looked up and glanced around the church again. He was silent a long time; taking in the candles, the stained glass, and the strange sense of hope that always seemed to permeate every church he'd ever set foot in, no matter what the religion. He glanced over at Mrs. Scully and wondered how with all that had happened to her that she could still have faith in an ordered universe. "Do you find your answers here, Mrs. Scully?"

"Not always."

"Then why even come here? Why pray to your God and your saints?" There was no challenge in his voice, just real questioning.

"We don't pray to saints," she corrected gently. "We ask them to pray with us. When I pray for you, I ask St. Joseph to lend his voice to mine."

This new bit of information rocked Mulder completely. The idea that Margaret Scully included him in her prayers made him feel uncomfortable and he laughed a bit nervously. "I would have thought that St. Jude would be the appropriate Saint for me, Mrs. Scully," he said lightly to deflect the emotion.

"Because he champions lost causes?"

Mulder nodded.

"So you believe your causes to be lost ones?"

Suddenly the small joke had turned serious and Mulder looked away a moment before he answered. "There are times when I feel that way, yes."

"When do you not feel that way?"

That answer was sadly clear. "When Scully..." He left the rest of the sentence unspoken. They sat together in silence for some time and a young woman and her son walked past them, to the front of the church. She paused and lit a candle, crossing herself as her lips moved just slightly in silent prayer. As Mulder watched, his thoughts returned to something Mrs. Scully had said. "Why St. Joseph? What is he the patron saint of?"

"It's not about being a patron saint sometimes. We choose an individual that we think will best understand our problems or the needs of the people that we pray for. In life, Joseph was an ordinary man, a carpenter, who was told an unbelievable story by an angel of God. What he was told defied all logic; it was simply impossible. And yet, without concern for gossip, convention or personal safety, he listened to the angel and he followed what his heart believed to be true." Mrs. Scully looked at him. "I go to St. Joseph because I think he would understand you."

Mulder digested this information, a bit amazed by it all. He couldn't for the life of him figure out why this woman would pray for him. It seemed to him that from the time he'd crossed paths with the Scully clan only pain, death, and dissention between siblings followed. "Why do you pray for me, Mrs. Scully?" he asked so quietly, looking at his feet.

"Because you never gave up on my daughter, even when I had. Your faith was greater than mine." Mulder looked up and held her gaze, after a moment, she smiled with humor, "And because everyone needs help Fox, especially those that think they don't."

Slowly Mulder grinned and shook his head a bit, as he raised his eyes to meet hers. "Mrs. Scully, I'm just not sure what to make of all that, but it means a lot to me that you think I'm worth all the trouble." Margaret Scully looked over his shoulder as she stood up, then reached down and ruffled his hair fondly the way his father used to, the way Scully had done on rare occasion. It was amazing how comforting a simple human touch could be.

"Oh, you're trouble, Fox," she smiled down at him. "You are that." She nodded towards the door behind him. "Here comes Dana."

Mulder turned around to see Scully entering the church door. He almost cursed out loud before he remembered where he was. He'd planned on being out of there before she arrived. He stood up slowly, feeling trapped although his inner psychologist knew that somewhere he'd made the unconscious decision to stay until he saw Scully again. However, from the look on her face, he could see that she was completely disconcerted to see him here and she stopped up short looking like she might bolt herself before squaring her shoulders and continuing her approach. And Mulder had never thought there would ever be such a sad moment between them.

Mrs. Scully hugged her daughter. "Hi Sweetie, Fox was just keeping me company until you got here."

"So I see," Scully said softly.

Margaret turned back to Mulder, letting him go. "I appreciate you giving me a ride tonight, Fox. Thank you."

He nodded. "My pleasure. I enjoyed talking with you. Good night." Mulder finally met Scully's eyes and gave her nod as he brushed past her into the aisle, still looking at her but unable to think of anything to say. He finally moved his gaze away from hers and turned to leave. He'd only made it a few feet when he turned back abruptly. "Mrs. Scully?"

As she looked up at him, Mulder hesitated and she understood. She nodded, "I will, Fox."

He smiled his thanks and left the house of worship, heading to the sanctuary of his world, his apartment.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-==-=-===-=-=-==-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

It was after midnight when he heard the quiet knock at the door. He almost didn't hear it at all. He was in the kitchen, having suddenly realized that he hadn't eaten all day, splashing milk over a bowl of Fruitloops when he heard the small sound. He knew who it was; he'd been waiting for her all evening. Mulder set the milk carton on the sink board and walked to the entryway, where he stared at his front door for just a moment. The sound came again, a little stronger this time. He stepped forward and opened the door.

"I know it's late, I should have called but I took a chance you might be awake," Scully said softly. When Mulder made no move and no answer, she dropped her gaze to the floor a moment. "Can I come in?" Still no answer and she looked up at him. "Mulder, please. I need to talk to you; I need to explain. Please."

Mulder opened the door wider and gestured her in, closing it behind her and then leaning back against it. Seeing her in the church earlier had picked at his mind all night. It had only been three days and he'd missed her. He'd missed her. The realization of that feeling had confused him even more and having her here right this moment only added to that. How could he miss someone that he was so angry with? Scully was in the living room when she realized that Mulder hadn't followed her. She turned and looked at him, waiting. Mulder entered the living room, his arms crossed. He nodded to her.

"Mulder, I know you're angry at me. You have every reason to be. What I did was..." she trailed off as she searched for the words and only came up with one. "Wrong." She looked him directly in the eyes. "What I did was wrong and I betrayed your trust. It went against everything in my nature and the words, 'I'm sorry', aren't even close to conveying what I feel." Her eyes were filled with emotion. "I'm so ashamed, Mulder."

Mulder took a deep breath. Her apology appeared sincere, but then again, so had her promise to tell Skinner that she'd seen the same thing he had, and he was wary now. He stepped forward. "I still don't know why, Scully," he said, speaking for the first time.

Scully sat down on the edge of his couch. She bent forward and rested her elbows on her knees, her hands laced together. She stared at them a long time. "The truth is Mulder, you were right. I was afraid to tell Skinner what I saw. But not for the reasons you thought; not because of my pride."

She looked up at him. "When you told me about your suspicions about Pincus it scared the shit out of me. You told me you saw a demon and all I could think about was if such a creature exists how are we ever to know what is real and what is not? Pincus seemed to be such a benevolent soul and yet he was a demon." Scully pushed her hands through her hair and stared at a spot on the wall, speaking softly as though talking to herself. "How are we ever to know what's real, what story to believe? I don't know what's real anymore...I just don't know. I'm afraid I'm losing my mind sometimes. Nothing fits; nothing in my life makes sense...I don't know what's real."

Mulder wasn't sure where she was going with this; she was rambling and clearly upset. "Scully--"

"Mulder, I saw an angel," she whispered.

"What?"

She looked back, focusing on him now, her eyes bright and deadly serious. "I saw an angel. When we investigating the deaths of those four young girls, I saw it. Not a hallucination, not a dream. I saw an angel of God. Several times, in fact."

Mulder just stared at her, not sure what to say to that.

"I told Father McCue about it but he didn't believe me, in fact, he seemed to think I was disturbed. But was I disturbed because I saw the angel, or did I see the angel because I was disturbed? Sound familiar, Mulder? So I sought a second opinion, only my confessor didn't seem to buy into my story either." Suddenly, Scully began to laugh a little and she leaned forward and rested her forehead on her hands. "Two men of my church didn't believe I could see an angel. And you didn't believe me when I told you that I'd seen Emily. Except I saw Emily, Mulder, just as I saw the angel. I saw them Mulder, it was real. Except I convinced myself that it couldn't be because God's angels don't appear to people like me and ask them to do their bidding."

Mulder turned the chair around from his desk and sat down on it, looking intently at her bowed head as she continued speaking from the shelter of her hands.

"But somehow in my arrogance I became convinced that I was intended to save that girl from a demon. God, what was I thinking? That girl, that child, died because I believed I saw an angel, because I'd convinced myself that I was God's messenger. Like God needs my help..."

"Scully, that wasn't your fault--"

Her voice quavered as she interrupted him and the words tumbled out. "The only way I could live with it was to convince myself that I hadn't seen what I'd seen and I began living that lie. I began believing that lie. I didn't see and angel and I didn't see a demon and that girl died of unknown causes. I boxed it all up and put it away. But then you came to me with your story. You actually wanted me to help you prove that demons existed!"

Scully looked up at him again. "Oh God, Mulder, I didn't want you to be right. That's why I didn't help you--I didn't want it to be real. Your demon couldn't be real because that meant mine could be too. So, the answer that I wanted was that you'd imagined it all, just like I had. But I made a huge mistake. I should have known that you couldn't let it go, you can't put things away like I can. But I never imagined that it would go so far."

Mulder listened to her intently, trying to understand. "But you did finally look for the evidence. Why? What changed your mind?"

She looked up to meet his eyes. "Because of what you told me in the hospital. You said if I didn't believe in you, no one would. I knew what that desperation felt like Mulder. But then to get you out of there I had to lie about what I'd seen. God, it was so easy, Mulder. Nobody questioned the lie. They would only question the truth. Then when Skinner asked me about what I'd seen, it just seemed easier to continue the lie, like it hadn't really happened and then it would all be over and we could put it behind us." She shook her head, her eyes bright. "I lied because if I acknowledged your demon Mulder, how could I continue to deny the angel to myself? How could one be true and not the other? I was trying to make it all fit into the scenario I had devised in my head. The truth was that I wasn't thinking about how it would affect you, I was only thinking of me. But by the time I'd closed the door on Skinner's office I knew I couldn't live with it. Even before I saw the look on your face, I knew I couldn't live with that lie too."

"Scully, for God's sake, why didn't you just tell me any of this days ago?"

"I was afraid you wouldn't understand. You were already so angry and I was afraid it was too late, that I'd never be able to make you believe me or understand. I...I was..." she swallowed hard and she looked up at him, her eyes filled with tears now. "I was afraid…" She lowered her head into her hands, "I'm sorry Mulder, oh God, I'm so sorry. I know I hurt you. I know you don't think you can trust me and I don't blame you. But I couldn't stand it if you hated me, Mulder. I couldn't stand it."

Mulder had never seen her this upset. Hell, he'd only ever seen her cry a few times in five years and her obvious anguish cut at him. He knew that for her to confess this much uncertainty was a major admission for her. Everything she'd talked about for the last ten minutes jumbled around in his brain and he wasn't sure if any of the sightings of Emily and angels made any sense. But it made sense to Scully. Clearly, it made sense to her.

Just as his demon has made sense to him.

He crossed over and knelt down in front of her. He took one of her hands, pulling gently from her face, and held it in his. God, she felt so cold. This isn't what he wanted; it certainly didn't give him any pleasure to see her like this. He needed to tell her some things too. "Scully, I--"

"Mulder," she interrupted him, raising her head and looking into his face. "I came here tonight because I needed you to know what was happened had nothing to do with you, it was my problem and I dealt with it badly. And I know I can't make amends for it all, I know it's too late. But I still wanted to give you this." Releasing his hand, she reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, holding it out to him.

Mulder took the document. "What is it?" he asked as he unfolded it.

"It's a copy of my revised report on the Chicago case. The original is sitting on Skinner's desk."

Mulder read it quickly. Scully had detailed everything she'd seen that night at the hospital, from the walking dead at the nurse's station right down to a detailed description of the monster that had attacked him and the noise it made. A full accounting in her usual clear, concise, professional manner. He refolded the document and looked up over at her, meeting her eyes. "Thank you, Scully," he nodded. "Thank you for doing this."

He stood and placed the report on his desk. He leaned against the wall next to his window, crossed his arms and looked out on the darkened street below. He raised his eyes and noticed absently that there was a full moon, golden and beautiful. He stood there and thought about all that Scully had just told him. Angels and demons and the mistakes that humans are subject to as they try to make sense of it all.

"Is it too little, too late Mulder?" she asked in a quiet voice behind him after a few moments.

Was it? It seemed to Mulder that he had two choices before him. One would satisfy his ego and one would satisfy his heart. He turned back and looked at her as she sat huddled on his couch and he knew that he had little interest in satisfying his ego. Three days ago, he would have thought that he would have taken immense pleasure in seeing her as miserable as he was.

But now all he wanted was to have his partner back. He needed the continuity and the sense of purpose that he found with her. He'd invested five years with her, probably the best five years of his life. And he knew that there was no way that he was going to turn away from that, or from her, so easily. Mrs. Scully had asked if this was the thing that would finally drive them apart. And suddenly the answer was clear.

"No." He shook his head. "No, of course it's not too late, Scully. I don't want it to be...and I don't think you do either." He looked over at her from where he stood. "I don't think we're going down so easily--without a fight. I don't think that really in either of our natures, do you?"

She slowly shook her head, "No, I don't," she answered, agreeing with his assessment of the two of them.

Mulder looked back out the window a moment, up at the stars, the moon, and the possibilities. "Did you know that your mother prays for me, Scully?" he asked softly, moving his eyes back to hers.

Scully shook her head. "No, she never told me that."

"I was thinking about that all evening. I know that you've chosen your own path in working with me, but it wouldn't be unnatural for her to resent my presence because ever since I crossed into your life, sadness has followed into hers. You were taken and she was forced to make decisions no mother should ever have to make. Melissa's death, which could have been yours. She watched you be put though months of physical pain and mental torture with your cancer. You and your brother hardly speak now because of me. She had a lot of reasons to doubt."

Mulder looked back out the window as he shook his head in disbelief. "But she believes that there are reasons for these things that we, as humans, just don't understand yet. She doesn't seem to hold me responsible. She forgives me. She prays to her God for me. She seems to think I have a soul worth watching over and she wishes me well."

Mulder gave a small, incredulous laugh. "I find it almost unbelievable that there are people who can live their lives with that kind of grace. It certainly doesn't run in my family. I certainly never had that from my own mother." He paused because his voice was wavering a bit and he took a breath. "But even though it's something I don't understand, I know it's real because I see it in her. And how can I possibly receive that kind of forgiveness unless I'm willing to give it too."

"Scully, all I ever wanted was to understand why. I knew it was out of character and I just couldn't figure out what I'd done wrong to cause you act that way." He looked back out the window at the moon and sighed a little. "Scully, you screwed up," he told her with no indictment. After a moment, he gave a small laugh. "And trust me, as someone with a long history of screw-ups behind him, I can recognize a really good one when I see it." He smiled just a little as he glanced back and for the first time, saw the smallest of smiles from her in return. "Screw-ups I can forgive," he said very quietly. "And God Scully, of course, I don't hate you. I might be tempted to from time to time, but I just don't think it's actually possible. I think I'd be lost for good if I tried...I don't ever want to be that lost..." He trailed off.

He turned around to face her now before continuing. "But the nature of this work we do isn't ever going to change either. I would never ask you to blindly believe or follow me--I'd have no respect for you if you did. And there isn't a person in the world I respect more than you," he added, needing her to know that. "Maybe that doesn't mean much--"

"It does Mulder. It does. Because I feel the same way about you...I think that's why this hurts so bad."

He nodded in understanding. That was true, if they didn't care, this wouldn't hurt either of them at all.

"Scully, in the past, I've discounted..." He stopped and then started again because he needed to return the honesty that he asked of her. "I've refused to consider a possibility because it seemed to be influenced by this God that you believe in despite your science. And it's true--had you told me of the angel, I probably wouldn't have believed it because it's an idea born of a faith and a God I don't understand. And I dismissed your sighting of Emily because it seemed so out of character for you." He sighed. "I can be arrogant about my beliefs Scully--almost as arrogant as you can be about yours," he said with another small smile, catching her eye and she nodded at this truth between them. "But God, Scully, even with my arrogance, who am I to say that the possibility of an angel is any less real than the possibility of demon simply because I didn't happen to see it myself--simply because angels don't fit into my scheme of the world?"

They were silent a long time before Mulder shrugged out of his introspection and came back to the current time and place. He moved from where he was standing and came back to Scully, sitting down on the coffee table facing her.

"We can't keep hurting each other like this, Scully. And you said earlier that you felt like you couldn't tell what was real anymore and you know I've felt that way too. But if we're going to get past this, you and I need to decide together what is real and what is not--we can't just make the decision for the other."

He reached out and took her hands back in his and she held on tightly. "If you can bring yourself share what you see and what you're feeling, I won't ever make you feel like you shouldn't have. I can't promise you that I'll believe it. I can't promise you that I won't question it. But I can promise you Scully, that I will never make you feel small about it. I can promise that I won't dismiss you. I promise that I'll help you figure out what is real." Mulder sat back a little. "But I'm going to ask for the same from you because I just don't think we can through this again, Scully. He paused a second. "I won't go through it again."

She drew a deep breath as she looked at him directly, "No, we won't, Mulder," returning the promise to him. her voice strong and clear.

Their accord reached, Scully started to withdraw her hands from his, but he held on to her for a moment and he smiled just a little. "Do you ever wonder, Scully, why you're seemingly doomed to see angels, but I'm doomed to only see demons? What do you suppose the deal is with that?"

She tilted her head slightly and smiled back at him. "Oh, I've seen demons, Mulder. So maybe someday you'll see an angel too." He nodded and he wondered at that possibility as he let her hands go. "I should go, it's late," she said standing slowly as though very weary.

Mulder nodded. "I'll walk you to your car."

"Just the elevator is fine."

Ah, his independent Scully.  Some things would never change, he thought affectionately with a smile. God, if you are there, please do bless this woman. Everyone needs help. Especially those that think they don't. They walked silently down the hallway to the elevator. He punched the down button and turned back to her as they waited.

She looked up at him. "Mulder, are we gonna be OK?"

He gave a mock frown as he ticked off the topics on his fingers. "Well, let's see, God, angels, demons, lies, truths, forgiveness, faith, the nature of friendship and the mysteries of the universe. Yeah--I think we just about covered everything."

"No wonder I'm tired," she interjected and they laughed together and God, that felt good.

Mulder looked down in her eyes, serious now. "We'll be OK, Scully," he promised softly.

Scully leaned in and gave him what was supposed to be a quick hug, but Mulder pulled her close into his arms as he drew it out. He stroked her hair as she laid her head against his chest and for that moment anyway, all was right again in their very strange world.

The world's slowest elevator finally arrived and as the door slid opened, she slipped out of his arms. "Good night, Mulder. I'll see you on Monday."

"Yes. Good night," he answered. He watched her go as she stepped on to the elevator and pressed the down button. He turned back to his apartment but had only made it two steps when he suddenly remembered the one thing they hadn't covered and he turned back to her. "Hey...Scully?"

She looked up into his eyes as the door began to slide close.

"About that kiss...."

Scully just smiled beautifully at him as the door closed shut.

Thank you for taking the time to read my story!

The feedback beast loves to be fed comments, questions, or criticisms at kimerikal@aol.com

My other XF fanfic can be found at http://chimericalpublications.com/chimerical/fanfic/fanfic.htm

Originally published, January 1999
Revised, November  2001