NO MORE WORDS - PART 1

by Leyla Harrison



 This story is rated R for language and violence.  It is a relationship

story, although not so much romantic as I had originally intended.  But

there is romance and UST, but nothing major.  Dana Scully and Fox Mulder

are the property of Chris Carter and 1013, etc.  All other characters and

situations are mine.

*******

"Fuck you," the man growled as he swung the adjustable arm of the lamp at

Scully suddenly.  There was no time for her to get out of the way or duck.

 The edge of the metal that was around the bulb hit her squarely in the

cheek and jaw, and she stumbled backward, crying out wordlessly in pain.

The man took advantage of the moment and let go of the lamp, bringing his

hand down onto the back of her neck.  She cried out again, and fell

forward this time, to the floor, unconscious.  She had fallen on her side,

one arm outstretched.  There was blood staining her face from where the

lamp had hit her.  Her gun had been knocked from her hand and halfway

across the small hotel room.  The man bent down, breathing heavily, and

picked it up.  He studied the auburn haired FBI agent for a moment. 

"Fucking bitch," he muttered.  He pointed Scully's gun at her head and

without hesitation, he pulled the trigger.  The bullet hit her in the side

of the head.   Blood began to ooze from the entry point down her neck and

began to soak into the carpet.   The man who shot her was silent for a

moment.  With handcuffs still dangling from his left wrist, he hurried

from the small hotel room, closing the door behind him.

*****

Mulder paced back and forth across the same patch of floor in the police

captain's office for the fiftieth time in the last few minutes.  Suddenly,

the door opened and a young officer came in.  He eyed Mulder nervously,

having not yet forgotten Mulder snapping at him for not having tracked

Scully's location earlier.  "Captain," he said, "I think we've found her."

Mulder stopped still and waited.  "Where?" he asked.

"A 911 emergency call came in from the manager at the Starlight Motel over

on 8th and Grant Street.  She was in the hotel room."  The officer wasn't

any older than 23 or 24.  He was a rookie.  Mulder fixed a hard stare on

him.

"Where is she?" Mulder finally asked impatiently.  The officer hung his

head.  Even he had liked Agent Scully.  She hadn't done anything in

particular to impress him earlier that week at the station except to be

herself.  He had thought that she was the most beautiful, intelligent, and

meticulous woman he had ever seen in law enforcement. "Where?" Mulder

asked again.  The officer looked Mulder straight in the eye.

"She was shot," the office finally managed to get out.  He watched

Mulder's face go white.  "They took her to the hospital."

Mulder didn't wait to hear the rest.  He turned and bolted from the room. 

He had to get to the hospital.  He had to see Scully immediately.

She couldn't have been shot, Mulder thought to himself as he headed for

the car.  It was another medium dark colored sedan, the same as every

other car they had rented for other cases.  Mulder got into the car and

put the key in the ignition, but didn't turn it.  He stared straight

ahead.

<If there's an iced tea in that bag, it could be love.>

Oh, shit, he thought.  I have to tell her.  She has to know. The thought

of having her die without her knowing...no, she won't die, she won't die. 

He turned the key and gunned the motor.  Tires squealing, he sped to the

local hospital. They had been there the day before, Mulder sitting in as

Scully performed an autopsy on one of their latest victims. He knew how to

get there.

He pulled into the parking lot and left the car in front of the emergency

room entrance.  He hurried into the emergency room, flashing his badge at

the first hospital empoyee he saw.  "I'm looking for Agent Scully.  She

was brought in with a gunshot wound."  The clerk looked at him blankly.

Mulder tried a nurse who had apparently just finished up with a patient.

"She's already in intensive care," the nurse answered wearily.  "They

brought her up there about 20 minutes ago."

"Where?" Mulder asked, and she pointed to an elevator down the hall.

"Third floor."

Mulder took the stairs.  In his mind, he could still see the blood all

over the front of the woman's scrubs.  Not Scully's, he told himself.  No.

Bursting through the doors of the intensive care unit, Mulder was struck

with a strange sense of deja vu.  He had been in this place before.  Not

the hospital, but the situation.  He scanned the beds for Scully.  He

didn't see her.  Usually he could pick her red hair out in any crowd. Stay

calm, he told himself.  Don't blow up, not like the last time.

Mulder headed to the desk.  "I'm looking for Dana Scully," he said,

showing his badge again.

"She's in surgery," one nurse said.  "She'll come back here when they're

done."

"I want to talk to someone who knows what happened to her."

"I'm her doctor," a young man approached Mulder.  "Dr. Spaulding."

"Agent Mulder, FBI.  What happened?"

"Are you investigating this, Agent Mulder?" the doctor asked.

"She's my partner," Mulder answered.  "I want to know what happened to

her."



"She was shot in the head.  Point blank range."  Mulder felt his knees

weaken.  "After stabilizing her in the emergency department, they brought

her up here.  But the pressure of the bullet against her brain was too

much.  We had to try to get the bullet out.  The surgical team took her

just a few minutes ago."

Mulder forced himself to breathe.  Inhale, exhale, he reminded himself. 

"Was she awake at all?" he asked.

The young doctor shook his head.  "She hasn't been conscious since she was

brought in.  Listen, there's a waiting room down the hall.  Why don't you

go have a cup of coffee?  It could be a while."

<I don't want a fucking cup of coffee, I want to know that Scully is OK.> 

"Thanks," he said, heading down the hall and pulling his cel phone from

his coat pocket.  He dialed a number that he knew from memory.  "Mrs.

Scully?" he said into the phone, feeling dread at what he was going to

have to tell her.  "It's Fox Mulder."

*****

Seven hours later, Mulder sat in the waiting room of the surgical

intensive care unit.  Margaret Scully was getting on a plane that would

bring her all the way to the outskirts of Portland, Oregon, where Scully

was, at the hospital in Hillsboro.  He had pulled all the strings he was

able to pull to have her on the next flight out from Washington. But for

at least another eight hours or so, he wasgoing to be alone.  His back was

stiff from the plastic chair he was sitting on, and he stretched his long

limbs, trying to get some of the feeling back.  Dr. Spaulding appreared in

the waiting room, forcing Mulder to his feet.  "How's Scully?" he asked.

"The surgery was a success.  They were able to remove the bullet without

doing any additional damage to the brain. But she's still in some danger. 

We're trying to keep her stabilized."

"When can I see her?"

"She's still in recovery, but when she comes back here, you can see her. 

Agent Mulder, she's not conscious at all," the doctor told him.

"What are her chances?"

"Fair, at this point.  She may have some damage done to the brain from the

shooting.  The human skull is designed to protect the brain, but it isn't

prepared to take a bullet."

"Her mother is on her way here now from Washington.  Can you speak to her

when she gets here?  I'll be back later."

"Certainly," Dr. Spaulding said.

Mulder left the hospital in a haze, noting idly that it was now dark

outside.  Day had turned to night and he hadn't even been aware of it.  He

got into the car and held onto the steering wheel tightly, remembering the

last time he had seen Scully.  It had been over 24 hours ago, and she had

gone after the killer they were trying to catch, alone,

without his help.  She had been following a tip that she had received. 

"I'll go check out the car," she had told him, referring to the killer's

car being parked outside a motel, "and you check the bar again."  He had

agreed, and she left, nothing unusual about that.  She called him to tell

him that when she got there, the car was gone, and she thought it was at

another motel, but she hadn't mentioned any names, but that she was going

to check it out.  She didn't sound stressed out or nervous or upset, and

she hung up with him with the unspoken understanding that she would call

him when she got to her destination.  Nothing unusual about that, either. 

Except she didn't call.  Hours had gone by.  When he tried calling her,

there was no answer on her cel phone. That was unusual.  Very unusual.

And now she was in the hospital, in critical condition, with a bullet from

her own gun having just been removed from her skull, unconscious, and

there was nothing he could do about it or for her.  He hated it.  He hated

himself for not having gone with her.  Even though the whole situation was

routine, he should have gone with her.

<I'm fine,> he could hear her always saying to him.  She was always

telling him she was fine.  Damn it, Scully, you're not fine, he thought

angrily as he put his head down on the steering wheel and cried.


******

 Scully opened her eyes groggily.  Her head felt like it was stuffed with

cotton and her mouth was dry.  Her vision was blurred and she struggled to

regain her bearings.  A hospital room.  Well, she thought, that would make

sense since the last thing I remember was getting the shit kicked out of

me.

Her mother was by her bedside, as was Mulder.  She tried to open her mouth

to speak, but no words came out.  In fact, her mouth didn't even open. 

She blinked her eyes rapidly, in shock.  She couldn't speak.

Mulder looked over at her and realized that her eyes were open. He touched

Mrs. Scully's arm and gestured.  Margaret Scully got up from her chair and

hurried to her daughter's side.  "Oh, Dana, honey," she said, overcome

with words.  She held Scully's hands, trying to keep her tears back.

Her mother looked terrible, she thought to herself, and then she realized

that Mulder looked just as bad.  How long had she been here?  She couldn't

ask.  What the hell's wrong with my voice? She struggled to move her foot,

her hand, anything to know that she wasn't paralyzed.  She squeezed her

mother's hand and wiggled her toes.  She could move.  So why couldn't she

speak?

There was no intubation tube in her throat, but her airway was scratchy

and dry, so she knew that she had been intubated at some point.  Her

mother let go of her hand, and Mulder took her place. She was able to get

a better look at him.  He looked exhausted, and his hair was straggled and

he hadn't shaved in days.  He took her hand and sqeezed it gently. 

"You're going to be OK, Scully," he said, emotion choking his voice.

<Damn it, why can't I say anything?> She looked at him, her eyes pleading

with him for an answer.

"Scully?" he asked, waiting for her response.  There was none. His brow

furrowed.  "Can you hear me?"  She nodded her head as much as she was able

to.  One entire side of it was completely numb.

Margaret Scully knew something was wrong with her daughter. "I'll get Dr.

Spaulding," she said, heading for the door.

<No, Mom, don't go!>

Mulder stroked the side of Scully's face.  "Do you remember what happened

to you?"

Of course she remembered.  She went to the motel, saw the suspect's car,

and went in to check out his room.  She placed him under arrest when he

gave her an informal statement about the murder, and then, as she was

cuffing him, he spun around and hit her, catching her off guard.  Then he

hit me with a lamp, and then I passed out, she thought.  The rest was

fuzzy.

"You were shot in the head," Mulder said, and Scully's eyes widened. 

Mulder continued to stroke her face.  "It's OK.  The man who shot you is

dead."  Scully looked at him with questioning

eyes.  "He was killed accidentally while I was trying to apprehend him.  A

week ago."  She gave Mulder the same questioning look.  "You've been here

for three weeks."

<Three weeks?>

"Scully, can you talk to me?" Mulder asked, and she strained, trying to

speak.  Her mouth opened and nothing came out.

<Mulder, something's wrong.  I can't talk.>

Silent tears of frustration slipped down her cheeks.  "Shhh," he comforted

her.  "You're going to be OK," he said soothingly.

Dr. Spaulding came in, followed by Margaret Scully.  Scully tried to hide

her tears. "Hi, Dana," he greeted her, his tone friendly. Scully had no

recollection of ever meeting him before.  He quickly checked her

neuorlogical funtions and her vital signs. "Dana, are you able to speak?"

Scully shook her head miserably.  Her arms and legs were stiff but she

lifted one hand to indicate that she could write.  Mulder pulled at her

chart and handed her a pen.  Scully held it for a moment, as if debating

on what to write, then scribbled furiously.

Mulder read it aloud.  "I know what I want to say but when I try to speak,

nothing happens."

Dr. Spaulding smiled at her reasssuringly.  "It's pretty much what we were

expecting.  The bullet entered your skull and caused some trauma to what's

called Broca's area, the area of your brain that turns your thoughts into

words.  It's probably only temporary."

How long, Scully scribbled.

"I'm not sure.  You'll have to be patient," Dr. Spaulding answered her.

I may not ever speak again?  she wrote.

"Dana, the chances that this damage may be permanent are unlikely, but

they are a possibility.  We have to wait and see. You have to remember

that you are only three weeks into the recovery process.  Having a gunshot

wound to the head takes a long time to heal.  Your body needs time to

recuperate, both mentally and physically."

Scully wrote again, this time pushing the notebook at Mulder to read. 

Accidentally?  she had written.  He knew what she was referring to.

He nodded at her.

Scully breathed deeply and set the chart down.  "I'll get you a notebook

so that you can write whatever you want," Dr. Spaulding said to her. 

"Now, we should let Dana get some rest."

<No, Mulder, don't go!>

But the paper was already out of her reach, and so she pointed at him in

protest.  "What's wrong?" he asked.  She gestured for him to stay.  "Let

me go talk to your mom and the doctor," he said. "I'll be right back, I

promise."

Scully nodded her head, and they left her alone.  Her mind was racing. 

<Why is this happening to me?>

*****

Three weeks had gone by.  Scully still hadn't regained the use of her

voice, although she had been transferred back to a hospital in Washington

D.C. and onto a regular surgical floor.  She had started physical therapy

to help her regain her strength and mobility, and she was also starting

speech training, in order to help try to help her brain to remember how to

speak.

She was sick of the hospital.  She was sick of being treated like she was

some kind of infant just because she couldn't speak.  She was getting

frustrated and wanted to go home.  Mulder came to see her every day,

talking to her and bringing her flowers and news from the Bureau.  He was

the only one who she didn't get annoyed at.  He treated her like he always

did: a little teasing, a little humor, and always his thoughts, sharp as

ever.

"So I may have to go to Iowa," he told her.  She rolled her eyes at him. 

"I know, cows and corn, but there might be case there." He didn't tell her

that since they had transferred her back home he hadn't left the

Washington area at all.  He had requested that Skinner temporarily assign

him to the Violent Crimes Division so that he would be assured that his

presence wouldn't be needed farther than 50 miles from the hospital Scully

was in.

Scully wrote on her pad.  What kind of case?

"Murder, your basic garden style variety," he answered.

Not an X-File?  she wrote.

Mulder felt his heart rate quicken.  He would have to tell her the truth

at some point.  He also hadn't told Scully about the new partner he had

been temporarily assigned to.  He has insisted to Skinner that he would

only work alone.  He didn't want to work without Scully, and after the

Krycek incident, he didn't want to take any chances with some rookie.

Skinner had insisted to the contrary, however, and had assigned a young

rookie agent named Leigh Stone to work with him.  Leigh had been one of

Scully's students at Quantico.  Mulder knew it would upset Scully, and so

he hadn't mentioned it to her.

Scully noticed his pause, and took the opportunity to write more. New

partner?

How did she know?  He nodded.  "It's only temporary, Scully, until you

come back," he told her as consolation.

<I'm not coming back.  How could I come back to the FBI if I can't talk? 

What kind of agent would I be?>

I may not be back for a while, Scully wrote.  So tell me about your

partner.

"Leigh Stone," Mulder answered her.

Scully thought this over for a few moments.  Leigh Stone had been one of

the brightest students she had taught over at Quantico. Definitely not

someone Mulder would have been attracted to, not his type, and strangely

enough, she knew somehow that Leigh would never have been interested in

the X-Files.  She started writing again.  Skinner assigned her to the

X-Files?

"No," Mulder said.  "Violent Crimes."  Scully arched an eyebrow at him. 

Mulder smiled to himself.  Even speechless, she still hadn't lost her

trademark facial expressions.  "I'm working there temporarily.  Until you

come back."  He thought this over for a moment, and then before she could

write anything more, added, "It was my choice, Scully, and I don't want to

discuss it."

She scowled at him.  He studied her face.  The side of her head that had

been shaved for surgery was growing in nicely, and although he still

wasn't used to her new hairstyle, it suited her.  She had insisted on

cutting it all after she saw how much had been shaved off.  She was still

beautiful.  He missed hearing her voice.  It made him ache.

"Scully, they're talking about sending you home soon, and I was thinking

that maybe you would think more about coming to stay with me."  She shook

her head.  "Scully, you can't stay alone. It's not safe.  If you need

something--"  She cut him off with a dismissive wave of her hand.  "Damn

it, Scully, I know you're trying to prove something, but there's no need

to."  Scully ached to yell at him, to scream, to explain to him that she

didn't want to be voiceless anymore.  She wanted to be in her own house,

with her own things.  As if he could read her mind, he continued on, "If

you don't want to stay with me, let me come stay with you.  I just don't

think you should be alone."  He thought about his words, and then spoke

again.  "I don't want you to be alone."

Scully capped her pen, her signal that she was done talking to him.  

Mulder sighed heavily.  <I wish I could just explain it all to you. 

There's so much in my head, and I don't know how to write it down.  I just

wish I could tell you.  I wish I could talk.>

Mulder got up from the edge of her bed where he was sitting. "I'm going to

go for now," he said defeatedly.  "We can talk more about this tomorrow,

if you want," he offered, and she shrugged her shoulders.  He leaned over

and kissed her forehead, which surprised her.  It also sent an unfamiliar

tingle down her back. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said, and left.

She sat alone, letting the silence envelop her.  <Mulder's acting like I'm

coming back to the Bureau.  I can't be an FBI agent anymore.  I can't live

alone.  I can't do anything.>  She straightened out on her bed, breathing

deeply as she had been taught in her therapy to reduce her stress.

<He doesn't want me to be alone?>  She knew suddenly why.  But her

rational mind rebelled.  <He doesn't want me like this, not as a mute.>

Her tears began to fall, for the first time since she had woken up in the

intensive care unit.


*****

 Scully looked eagerly out the window as Mulder drove her home. She hadn't

been outside in almost two months, and the fresh air was doing wonders for

her mood.  <No wonder I've been such a bitch.  If I could have just gotten

out more I would have been fine.>  She had her window rolled down partway

even though it wasn't more that 50 degrees out.  If Mulder was cold, he

hadn't said anything about it.  She stared at the trees and the buildings

they passed with wide eyes, as if she had never seen them before.

Mulder watched her out of the corner of his eye as he drove.  He could see

that her spirits had lifted considerably since they had left the hospital.

 She had her notebook on her lap, but hadn't written anything so far along

on the ride.  He hadn't said much, either; instead, letting her control

the conversation.  Her doctor had advised him that she might re-learn how

to use her voice more quickly if she felt compelled to speak more.  In

other words, get her annoyed, get her excited, get her angry, anything to

make her talk.  Her doctor was convinced that she had already re-learned

how to talk, but that she was unconsciously blocking herself from it

because she was blocking her feelings.

They pulled up in front of Scully's building and Mulder helped her out of

the car and upstairs.  She entered her apartment and her eyes took in

everything around her.  The first thing she noticed was that the apartment

was spotless, just how she liked it.  There was no dust, and everything

looked as if she had just left.  She knew instantly that her mother had

been there and had cleaned her apartment for her.  The simple act touched

Scully, and she wished her mother was here to welcome her home.  But

Scully herseflf had insisted that her homecoming be a quiet event.  There

would be time for family and friends to visit later.

Scully had finally given in and agreed to let Mulder stay with her for a

few weeks while she got used to being home again.  She wasn't thrilled

about the idea, but the more she thought about being home alone with no

voice, the more fear began to build inside her.  She never thought that

she would have to depend on someone else like this.  It made her angry,

because she was used to being able to function very well on her own,

without anyone's help.  Since the shooting, however, she had been

transformed into a small, delicate, fearful woman.  She hated it.  But

there was nothing she could do about it.  She still suffered blindingly

painful headaches as a result of the shooting, and the thought of not

being able to communicate to tell anyone about the pain was terrifying. 

She had them at the hospital and once hit the call button to summon the

nurse, but she couldn't speak to tell them thought the intercom what was

the matter.  By the time a nurse came in with her medication, fifteen

excruciating minutes had passed.  It would take Mulder even longer than

that to get to her house in case she needed him, if she had not decided to

let him stay with her.

But now he was going to stay with her.  Since her shooting Mulder had

spent more time than ever with Scully at the hospital. Scully still had a

lot of questions for Mulder regarding the death of her assailant.  She

wanted to know how he died, and how

it was an accident.  Something about the way he had told her these details

made her think the death was more than a little suspicious.  She feared

the Mulder had caught the man and shot him in his fury over her shooting.

Scully went into her bedroom, unaware that Mulder a few steps behind her. 

He refused to let her out of his sight for a minute. After everything that

had happened to her, he had made a silent vow to himself to protect her

more than he ever had before.  He would never again let anything happen to

her.  He watched her as she looked out her bedroom window, a wistful look

on her face.

"Scully?" he finally asked after a few minutes.  He was hoping that she

hadn't lasped into one of her dissasociative states. They would happen

every once in a while, and she would blank out and stare off into space.  

When she came out of it, she was completely unaware that she had been

"gone" for sometimes three or four minutes.  Mulder didn't think she even

knew yet that she was having these attacks.  Scully's doctor had told

Mulder that she would continue to have them on and off, until her brain

continued to heal itself more and more.  But she turned to him as soon as

she heard her name, a questioning look on her face.  OK, so she's fine,

Mulder thought.   "Are you hungry?  I could fix some lunch," he offered. 

She arched an eyebrow at him suspiciously, then smiled.  Even without her

notebook, he knew exactly what she was going to say.   He was relieved

that her sense of humor wasn't gone.  "OK, so maybe I could help you fix

something."

Scully got her notebook and scribbled something.  I guess I picked the

wrong person to come stay with me, it said.  Mulder winced inwardly when

he read it, but didn't let it show.

"Well, like it or not, you're stuck with me," he said, the hurt in his

voice apparent even though he was trying to hide it.

Scully instantly realized her jab had been too harsh.  <I'm sorry, Mulder.

 I didn't mean it.>

She followed him into the kitchen and was surprised to see that her

refrigerator and cabinets were well stocked with food.  Mom, Scully

thought, what would I do without you?  She reminded herself to call and

say thank you, and then remembered that she couldn't.  She slammed the

cabinet door shut angrily.  Mulder turned and watched as she opened the

refrigerator, pulled out bread and lettuce and a few other sandwich

ingredients, then closed the refirgerator door.  She started making the

sandwiches, but each movement was angry.  Mulder saw the pain on her face.

Without knowing why she was so suddenly angry, he felt as if he had to do

something to let her know that he cared.  Impulsively he came up behind

her and wrapped his arms around her, enveloping her.

He knew that it might scare her, but it was the only thing he could think

of to do to comfort her.  Scully immediately relaxed in his arms.   "I

know how hard it is for you right now," he said quietly.

Scully's anger came back.  <You have no idea.>

"I know you must want to speak so badly," he continued.  "Scully, the

doctor said that you will regain the use of your voice."

<When?  When will I be normal again?>

Mulder leaned down and kissed the top of her head, her neck, the

spot behind her ear.  He was shaking from fear, because he had no idea why

he was doing this.  He had longed to do this for so long that he was

afraid that Scully might realize it, and whirl around in fury, slap him...

 She immediately pulled herself free of him, and his heart sank.  But she

wasn't doing it for the reasons he thought.  Her heart rate had quickened

as soon as she had felt his lips on her skin.  She turned around to face

him, an indescribable look on her face.  She went to go for her notebook,

but Mulder put his arms up, trapping her against the counter. "No,

Scully," he said.  She looked angry.  Good, he thought.  Let her get

angry.  "You want to know why I was kissing you," he said, and she nodded.

There was a long silence.  Scully stared at him.  <How can you do this to

me?  Why now, when I'm mute?>

Mulder himself didn't quite know why he was doing it.  God knew, he had

wanted to do it for a long time, to cross that unspoken line they had

drawn between business and personal, but not like this.  He had wanted her

for so long that he had spent so much time imagining how it would be, to

hear her sighing, saying his name.  And he wasn't completely sure that

this was what she wanted, but he had a strong gut feeling that it was. 

They had never discussed their feelings for each other.  Interestingly

enought, Mulder realized that right now might be the best time for them to

get it out in the open.  It might be a good way to get her emotions going,

maybe enough to start using her voice again.

Scully ducked under his arm and grabbed her notebook.  She scribbled

something on it, then practically threw it at him.  He could see that

there were tears in her eyes, but before he could say anything to her, she

ran to the bedroom and slammed to the door.  He picked up the notebook

from the floor where it had landed and read, You're only doing this

because you're taking pity on me.

He dropped his head.  "No," he said quietly to himself, but the words were

aloud, "I'm doing it because I love you."


*****

 Scully lay face down on her bed, crying silently.  < I'm mute.  He thinks

I'm not normal.  He thinks...>  She didn't want to imagine anymore what

Mulder thought.  It was making her too upset.  She could faintly hear

Mulder knocking gently on her bedroom door. <Go away.>

"Scully?" he called through the door.  "Can I come in?"  He kicked himself

for asking her a question he knew she couldn't answer verbally.  He stood

outside her door, waiting.  He knocked again. "Scully?  I'm going to come

in," he said, and turned to doorknob, opening the door.

The sight of her on her bed crying made his throat tighten. Suddenly,

having said what he felt for her made him feel all the other feelings for

her that he had hidden for so long.  He wanted to take her in his arms,

hold her...  She sat up as he crossed the room and wiped her eyes,

embarrassed.  She gestured at him with her hands, then realizing her

didn't know what she wanted, she fumbled in a bedside drawer for some

paper and a pen.  She scribbled some hasty words on the paper, then thrust

it at him. Why are you doing this?

Mulder sat down on the edge of the bed.  "I don't know," he confessed,

hanging his head.  "I know that I care about you.  I know that I have

certain feelings for you...I have for a long time."  He looked up at her. 

She was shaking her head at him. Why is she shaking her head? he thought

frantically.  Scully started to cry again, frustrated at her inability to

speak. "Come on, let me get you into bed," he said.  "You need some rest."

Scully let him help her under the covers, where she curled up gratefully. 

She had to admit to herself that she was exhausted and that it felt good

to be in her own bed instead of the hospital bed.  Mulder stroked her

forehead and pulled the covers around her.  She smiled weakly at him and

he nodded, leaving her alone.

****

She knew she was dreaming, but Scully didn't let that bother her. She was

walking up the hallway to her apartment building, her arms full of

groceries.  She was planning a great dinner.  Granted, it was just going

to be her and Clyde, but if she was lucky enough to catch a good movie on

cable, then she would be happy.  She fumbled getting the key in lock, but

she managed to do it without dropping either bag.  She pushed open the

door and made her way into the apartment, kicking the door shut behind

her.  Suddenly, she saw the shadow of a woman standing less than five feet

from her, leaning against the couch.  "Missy?" she asked, and from the

shadows, a man jumped out from behind the door, gun drawn, and he shot the

woman before she had the chance to realize what was happening.

She could hear a voice.  "Dana...Dana."

"Missy, oh, God," Scully cried, but wasn't able to bend down to reach her

sister on the floor.  For some reaosn she was fumbling

for the lights, but the switch that was always there was eluding her

hands.  She finally gave up and fell to her knees, cradling her sister in

her arms.  Tears fell unbidden from her eyes.

"Dana...he loves you...I knew it from when you were in the hospital last

year.  I knew it.  You should have seen him, Dana, he was lost without

you."

Scully looked down at her sister, her eyes wide.  "Missy, what are you

saying?"

"I could see it in his eyes...could feel the love he had for you from five

feet away.  I could see his thoughts..."

Oh, Missy, cut the crap, she thought, but knew somehow, instinctively,

that her sister was telling the truth.

"You can't save me...you can't bring me back...but Dana, don't give up

your chance.  Don't let it slip away from you." Melissa's eyes closed.

*****

Mulder's head snapped to attention from the living room.  He thought he

heard something from Scully's bedroom, as if she was tossing and turning

in bed.  He waited for a moment, then heard it again.  And then her

piercing scream.  "Missy!"

He jumped up from the couch and raced into the bedroom.  Scully was

sitting bolt upright in bed, breathing heavily, trembling, her eyes wide. 

"Scully!" he exclaimed.  Scully stared at him, and one hand flew to cover

her mouth.  "You talked!"

She removed her hand.  Her breathing was still erratic.  Mulder drew her

to him and held her protectively, feeling her racing heartbeat against his

chest.  "Mulder," she whispered, testing her voice.  He released her and

smiled broadly.

"That would be me," he answered, thrilled.

"Oh, Mulder," she cried, and at the sound of her own voice, she clutched

at him again, both excited and terrified.  Hearing the impending tears in

her voice, Mulder hugged her tighter.

He held her close, just as he had wanted to.  What had happened to her in

her sleep that had caused her voice to return?

She pulled from him, touching his face tenderly.  "I'm scared..." she

said.  "I've been scared for so long."  Her voice was hoarse from having

not used it for so long.

He swallowed hard.  "I know."

"Mulder, tell me...I need to know.  What happened to the man who shot me?"

 He looked down at the floor.  He didn't want to tell her.  She would be

angry.  "Mulder."

"We finally tracked him down about two weeks after you were shot. I went

with them when they were going to arrest him.  We got there and got into

the house where he was staying, and he confessed." That's right, he told

himself, keep it simple.  "He confessed to shooting you."

Mulder could remember what happened as vividly as if it was yesterday. 

The man had laughed when Mulder asked him how he could shoot Scully in

cold blood like that.  He had laughed long and

loud, saying that Scully was a "dumb bitch".  That had caused Mulder to

snap.  The last time he had been that angry was when he ad been atop

Skyland Mountain, questioning and almost killing Duane Barry.  He had lept

out at the man, and he was still laughing.

He had taken the first swing, though, and Mulder was grateful that the

other law enforcement officers were there to witness that.  It was almost

as if they had known that Mulder needed to get this man, and no one

intervened as the two men went to the floor, still swinging.  Scully's

attacker had grabbed a gun from his ankle, and Mulder had pulled his own

weapon faster than he thought he was capable of, and shot the man four

times.  When it was over, Mulder was breathing heavily and trying to keep

himself calm.  I didn't mean to do that, he thought, but it was done and

there were a dozen witnesses to say that it was self defense.

"He pulled a gun on me and I shot him," Mulder said, summing it up for

Scully quickly.  There was no need for her to know the details.  "It was

filed as an accidental shooting...self-defense. We hadn't gone in with the

intention of shooting him."

Scully nodded her head gravely.  "Why did you want to stay here with me?"

"Because you couldn't be here alone, Scully," he said, stunned that she

would even ask the question.

"My mother could have stayed here," she countered.

"I wanted to be here."  She couldn't read his expression.  "I needed to be

here for you, Scully."

She knew then why, and she remembered her sister's words to her in her

dream.  She took Mulder's hands in hers.  She had touched his hands only a

few times before the shooting, but they were warm and soft, just as she

remembered.  He looked up at her, his eyes pleading.  She felt a wave of

fear go through her.  What am I doing? she thought.  This is crazy.

"I love you," he said simply to her, and his voice was full of emotion.

"The Bureau..." she whispered, stunned yet somehow having expected it.

"I don't care.  I won't let it come between us.  Nothing can come between

us, Scully."  There was such determination in his voice that it made her

believe him.  He had a habit of having that effect on her.  "As long as I

know that you, well, Scully...Dana, do you love me?"

She almost laughed, but thought better of it.  She nodded her head.  "I

do," she said, knowing that it was true and had been for a long time.  "I

do love you, Fox Mulder."

He hugged her tightly, whispering into her ear.  "When I found out you

were shot, I thought I would never get the chance to say that to you."

"I'm not going anywhere," she whispered back.  "You can say it as many

times as you want now."

He let go of her and leaned in for their first kiss.  They were both

nervous, but they were both also ready for it.  Mulder watched her eyes

close when their lips touched, and he closed his

as well.  He could feel the softness of her lips against his.  How long

had they waited for this?

Scully wrapped her arms around him as they kissed.  She knew that she

would never want to be without him.  They could go through anything and as

long as they were together, their love would survive.  There was no need

for words.  They both knew that they had found what they had been looking

for - each other.  And together, they could find the truth.



END