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It was that it looked out of place, that's what
drew her eye. Casually skimming the lawns
of grass and bush doted as they were with
the skeletons of cast iron benches in
silhouette against the ever increasing
pink-grey of dawn, this lump was an odd
interuption. An unexpected mound resting between
lilac bushes not yet ready to bloom.

It sent an odd feeling through her. That
weird shiver that told you that what you
were seeing was an illusion; that it couldn't be
what you thought it was; that your eyes were
playing tricks on you and if you just blinked,
it would be gone.

But as Scully approached, it didn't go away.

When the indistinct lump took on the proportions
of a human being, "Oh, my god.", and when the
colors of Caucasian skin, brunette hair, grey
jogging clothes, "Oh my god, oh my god..."-

Scully dropped down beside him, immedietly seeing
the blood soaking his clothes. Immediately putting
into play instinctive medical training and checking
the wounds, their type, their number, their placement.

Right away, she remembered she had no phone with her.
No vehicle nearby.

Scully looked around, the park was empty. But
remembered the old man and dog.

"Mulder?" She had no flashlight either, and it
was difficult to see his pupils in the early
light.

He was clammy and cold but with one ear to his
chest she heard a heartbeat. With two fingers
to the pulse at his throat, she felt it.

She should run and find a phone booth. She could
run and wave down a car at the winding two lane
road that seemed..

...too far. Looking that way, Too far.

Looking down at Mulder, too much blood.

Scully removed her sweater and her t-shirt.
Shivering in the morning damp, nipples hard
against the cold, she tried to tear the
cotton into strips.

"Dammit!" It wasn't giving easily.

Digging in Mulder's pockets, she came up with
nothing but a glint of metal on the ground
beside his knee caught her eye. It was his
small pocket knife.

She opened the blade, using it to tear through
the fabric.

He was injured. Seriously. One wound was abdominal,
the lower right quadrant.

Quickly replacing her sweater (it wouldn't do
to become hypothermic), she wadded part of the
torn shirt and then, tilting his hips one way
and then the other in order to work the cloth
around him, she tied it snug to the wound with
another strip, pulling it tight to make a knot.

He had a graze to his upper arm, and another that
had gone through about an inch of the flesh of
his forearm and out the other side.

Scully quickly tied strips around those. It slowed
the bleeding at least and would allow for clotting.

She removed his sweater to check for other marks
and could find none. His jogging pants, however,
were soaked with blood.

Scully carefully pulled them down to just above
his hips.

Just a few short hours before, she had been
looking at Mulder, nude and beautiful, full
of blood and life.

Now, he was laid out, naked and dying on
wet grass, life blood draining away from
deep wounds. There was a lot of blood from
this wound too, but it wasn't spurting. A
good sign the artery had been missed.

She used his pocket knife to cut away the
sleeves of her sweater, bunching one up
as a pressure bandage, and the other to
tie it in place.

He groaned.

"Hey, partner. You still with me?" Keep
him alert, she thought. Don't let him fall
asleep yet. Scully knew she had to leave him
long enough to locate a phone or help.

But at the moment, she was afraid to leave him.
He was icy cold now, shivering. The sun had
risen another few degrees but not enough to
warm his skin. It did reveal, however, how
white his face was.

"Hey, Mulder." Scully lay down beside him,
wrapping as much of herself around him s she
could, draping one leg over his thighs, being
careful not to disturb the bandage on his hip
or put too much pressure on the wound on his
stomach.

"You still owe me breakfast, you know. This
little mugging won't get you out of that one,
pal."

"Cold." He whispered.

"Hey. Still here, huh?" She said a silent prayer,
"Good show."

The minutes ticked away, each a knife, striking
that many seconds off his life.

Should she leave Mulder and go find help? should
she wait for someone to come by? Surely, other
people were up by then and out in the park?

Scully tried yelling for help, hoping maybe the old
man walking his dog might hear her. Maybe he was deaf?
But even if he heard, would he want to get involved?

No, she couldn't leave him yet, she decided. It
was a risk either way.

She should have invited him in. Should have kept
the promise that she'd made to herself and, silently,
to Mulder.

Why did it have to take something like this to
wake her up?

"Scully."

He was more alert. Surprising. "Shh, don't talk,
Mulder. Don't waste your strength."

"I...took a taxi to your place, I...wanted to
..see you."

Scully bit her lip. It was double the pain
to hear that he had chosen the braver path, had
taken even that step, been more courageous than
she had ever been. All she could do was hold
him in an apology.

She knew he had taken a cab. Loved him for telling
her, for his courage.

"Anytime, Mulder. You know my door is always open."

Lame! Cheap answer, Scully, she chided herself.
It's not worthy of him! She cried inside at her
weakness. "Mulder..."

"Couldn't sleep...I just needed..."

"What?" She should be drawn and quartered for making
him say the words she was too afraid to say.

He was exhausted, his voice fading away, the words
becoming whispers. "I...just...want..."

Scully hugged him fiercely. He was unconscious now
and she was drowning in guilt.

Kissing his cheek, "I know...I want that too."

But Mulder didn't hear.

Morning had arrived and almost ten minutes had
gone by, but no ambulance.

Scully cried for several minutes. She felt his
heartbeat thinning, his breath shallowing.

"Mulder...Mulder?...I'm sorry."

*

For all my wishful thinking and pipe dreams better
suited to a woman born of higher station and career
aspirations, I never really believed I'd see him
again.

Yeah. It's me, the post-secondary school girl and
second rate thief.

And the "him" I was referring to?

Well, that's the hot, I-want-him-in-my-pants FBI
guy whose apartment I'd knocked over not two hours
ago.

He's the guy who knocked me over too, in a way.

Good looking as they make 'em. Smart too. Sexy.
We've been through this. What else do you want?

I know he doesn't live around here and I doubt
very much he jogged all the way here either.
Probably cabbed it. Maybe the very same cabbie
I took to come here to this neighborhood in order
to case a few places.

Weird. Life is weird.

He comes here to see his girlfriend, (I'm assuming
that's who she is). I come here to get the hell
out of his district (cause if you hit enough places
in the same area, you are bound to be caught sooner
than later), and here he is anyway with the lady
he'd called but hung up on while I was hiding in
his bedroom, eyeing him up and down and wishing
he were mine.

I'm only meters away but my sneakered feet are quiet
on the grass and she doesn't see me coming. I recognized
him immedietly. Great profile, he has, from top to
bottom.

She probably lives around here and they decided to go
out for some fun in the park.

'Cause, see, that's what I think I'm seeing; a little
grunt n' tumble in Mother Nature before the rest of
them wake up to join the living. That has to be the
reason he's half naked with her all over him, I'm
thinking.

But then I get closer and see the blood on him
and the fear in her eyes because it's his blood.

Self-consciously I glance down to see my own bloodless
hands, to make sure that this wasn't the aftermath
of some terrible thing I had committed.

But somebody did this. Some bastard I wish was right
there in front of me so I could open up a few of his
veins and see how _he_ liked it. And at the same time
I'm beginning to feel pretty shitty about that hundred
dollars I stolen off FBI honey, lying there in his blood.

I can't help wondering how many other times he'd bled
earning his paycheck.

I used to flip burgers. It was pathetic work and
didn't pay much but it was a hell of a lot easier
on the conscience than flipping the finger to the
Law, in other words, Breaking And Entering and Petty
Theft.

Add to that Peeping Tommery, Invasion of Privacy
and Intent to Sexual Molestation and - what a
charming creature I've become!

Fuck.

Perhaps I did one semi-decent thing at least. I
took a hundred dollars and left him alone. Whoever
cut him took, I'm guessing, maybe five or ten
bucks and then left him to die.

Rotten prick! Son-of-a-bitching-scum-bag-fucking-
prick!

She's noticed me in those few seconds I was staring,
in shock at seeing him again. Seeing him, not sweetly
eatable and sleeping in his bed, but instead lying in
a park, bloody and barely breathing...even I can
hear the tiny wheeze and gurgle...

"Call and ambulance. Get help!"

She's yelling at me and I all but fall over in my
haste to whip out my cellular and do as she says,
nodding so she'll know I'm hurrying and that I
don't want to see him die either.

I press nine-one-one and give the information to the
android-toned female at the other end, walking a bit
away from FBI and his girlfriend. I don't want her
to recognize my voice (I'd called her - stupid ass!).

But she's not noticing me at all.

There is a far more important person needing all of her
attention, and she holding his head in her hands and
talking to him very softly, her lips right by his ear.

I wonder what she does for a living? But mostly, I
wonder if she knows what she's got?

I mean he's got it all. A good job, smart as hell
(no doubt), sexy and gorgeous! But, more than that,
he's so alive.

Was so alive. He was _living_ and hot and breathing
and full of whatever the hell it is that makes some
people electric. God, I hope she knows what she's got.

I'm having a hard time looking at all that blood.

I was stealing so I could live, all right?! So I
could eat something besides macaroni dinners. So,
one day, I could pay my way through school and
put all this starving and broke crap behind me!

But now, I don't want to see the inside of any
more strangers apartments.

I don't want anything more to do with the shittier
side of getting ahead. I especially don't want to
see anymore of the insides of any person. I think
I'd rather bleed for my paychecks, or get dirty
in some other, more legitimate way.

She's shouting at me again.

"Stay with him. Can you do that?!"

I stammer and stutter to hide my voice, faking a
lower soprano as well as I can, and to hide my
fear, which is as real as it gets.

"Why? where are you going?"

"The ambulance is taking too long and he's ice-cold.
I've got to find something to cover him up."

I wish I had a thick, fuzzy jacket to offer.

"Where? what if-" I couldn't even finish the question.
My heart thudded against my chest.

"He's stable but he's going into deeper shock and I
have to get him warm somehow."

At my wider eyes, she clued me in.

"I'm a doctor, and he doesn't have much time."

"Okay."

And there she went running, off to the nearest
apartment building I guess, and there I was left
alone with him again.

So I did what I had wanted to do back in his
apartment. I touched him.

I held his hand and touched his face, stroking his
hair and rubbing a thumb along his forehead.

We didn't speak, there was nothing to say and he
was too weak anyway, but he looked up at me.

I wonder if he recognized me from his dreams?

When I saw her running back a few minutes later,
I stood up and backed away, giving her room.

She threw the blanket over him. Looks like she'd
had no luck at the apartment building and had finally
just dug something out of the local garbage. It
stunk like pee.

I had to know, "Is that your boyfriend?"

She answered in those tight, one word sentences
that people use when they're busy, when they've
used you and need you no more. That "Thanks-you've-
been-great-you-can-go-now" tone,

"My partner."

I nodded. "It just seemed like-"

She looked up now, waiting for me to finish,
and for some reason, wanting to hear the rest.

"-Like what?"

"Like it was more." I said.

She looked stricken. Stunned.

No, I decided. She really didn't know what she had.
Or if she did, she hadn't done a damn thing about
it yet.

Doctor, heal thyself, I wanted to say, but didn't.

I couldn't help what I did say, it just came out,

"Don't it always seem to go..."

We both heard the ambulance then, and I took that
as my cue. But I watched from the road as it took
both of them away.


*

A week after his admittance to emergency, Mulder
made swift progress.

Scully had made certain that he was well on his way
to  a complete recovery and now it was time.

Time to let him in on a long kept secret.

"Hey."

He was sitting up, flipping through Soap after Soap
channel and looking bored and lonely.

"Hey." He said, his face lighting up, welcoming the
diversion of his casually dressed partner. It was
a rare occurrence to see Scully in anything but tailored
suits or even her tailored pajamas. Always _in_ those
pajamas, never _out_.

"How are you feeling?"

"Okay. Itchy."

"Good, that means you're healing."

"Care to scratch?"

She smiled, allowing him to see the twinkle. "They
said you're going home on Saturday."

"Mm-huh. Any cases?"

"Mulder, even if there are, you're off duty for another
week. Skinner's orders."

He sighed heavily.

"Why does that bother you so much? You never take
vacations, you work every weekend if you can, you
go haunted house prowling on Christmas. Why can't
you take off and be free, see some mountains,
take in a movie or two or just stay home and enjoy
yourself for once?"

He flipped the remote over and over in his hand,
blew a breath out of his mouth. "I..._hate_ my
apartment."

Scully stared at him. "Well, I admit, it could use
a little modern touch-"

"No. I _hate_ it. I _hate being there."

His meaning dawned on her, "You mean you hate
being there alone. We're all the same, Mulder."

He looked embarrassed. "No, no, it's just...I
don't have any new videos."

Scully took the remote from his hand, laying it
on the side table, taking his hand in hers.

She breathed in and out, giving instructions to
her brain and vocal chords. Now open, now say
the words. Say them!

"Come and stay with me then."

She counted off the seconds before he responded:
one, two, three, four, five, six...

"With...yo-...but...I mean..."

"I mean, Mulder, _stay_ with me. _In_ my apartment,
this is a very simple concept." She leaned in closer,
just a little, just enough to invade his space.

"But won't I get in the way?"

She kissed his cheek. "I hope so."

Scully could feel the rush of heat flooding his
cheeks. And her own.

"Mulder. I want you to stay with me at my home. At
my place. I want you to get in the way, and I want
to be in your way. What about that don't you under-
stand."

"Why now?"

"Why not now? Why not _ever_?" She kissed his mouth,
once softly. "Do I have to spell it out for you? I want
you, I care about you, for you. A lot. And I want you
to stay with me." Placing her other hand on his chest,
she heard his breath catch.

"I'd really like that."

She rubbed that hand in gentle circles, playing with
the little hairs between her fingers.

"You mean I get to stay with you, and I have to _rest_,
right? _Rest_. No _activities_, no _stress_, no fun of
any kind? You know how that sucks? It sucks, big fat,
hairy-"

"I get it." Scully kissed his mouth a bit longer, then
again a bit longer.

"No, Mulder, THIS....._sucks_." She kissed him again,
probing just enough so he would have no doubts left
in his mind.

"Just because you can't do anything, doesn't mean
I can't." She whispered it, right next to his ear.

"I love you."

It threw her, but he waited for her to respond.

She straightened up. But there would be no dismissal
from her this time, no irritated sigh. "Mulder. I
didn't... I _don't_ know how else to show you or say
it, so I figure the best way is all or nothing.
What do you want?"

That was as close as she could get, he knew, to
saying it aloud. She'd seen him almost die and
he did not want to force a confession from her
just because he was there, still alive.

He knew what he wanted as clear as the morning
that had come over him in that park. Mulder
wanted all of her or none, yet to also let her
know that it was okay if she was afraid.

Fear woke you up sometimes when you didn't even
know you were sleeping.

As those knives had met their mark and almost taken
the chance from him, they'd also given him a clarity
he'd never known before. Not even through all those
other life and death struggles. He wondered what the
reason was.

Perhaps because he'd started out this struggle
looking for something besides aliens or his
sister.

He'd been looking for something for himself.
Just this once, he'd been selfish.

Scully had saved his life. She had given him this
new opportunity to correct a terrible mistake almost
made in keeping silent.

Mulder would show her that he didn't mind being the
one to risk another kind of death as well. He would
voice the truth for both of them and save them both,
and she would not need to utter a word in response.


"Scully? I think I'd like the side nearest the
window."

**

I read in the paper the next day about the "brutal
mugging against the un-named Federal Agent and
his partner who had saved his life."

There was no mention of me. I didn't fault her for
that. When the person you love most is dying or hurt,
all others become invisible.

I'm glad he made it.


Me too. Burger grease 'aint so bad.


END



GenieVB
Official Creator of MULDER CENTRICITY, the webpage of The lovely, lovely Fox 
Mulder:

www.geocities.com/area51/comet/4051/index.html

Ordained Lascivious Mulder's Chest Licker of the Church of X/Church of 
X-OneList Junkie/Ardent MulderTorture Advocate/ PROUD XES List 
Mamma!/X-Rae's Vision Quester/SMUT & MSkslash-Honey & TER/MA-natoress!

* ""Did the chicken cross the road"?! You SAW it cross the road with your 
own eyes, Scully! How many more chickens have to cross before you'll believe 
it?"

"Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they're
not out to get you"--Fox Mulder