Dreamcatcher 24
Ally

St Mary's Hospital. Cleveland, Ohio May 8th, 1999 6:03a.m.

Skinner frowned as he rounded the corridor that led to Scully's room. It had been a long night. Both the emotional and the physical costs had been enormous for them all. Not ten minutes ago he had finally managed to reach Margaret Scully on the telephone after trying to track her down for the better part of yesterday and last night.

She had been out of town and apparently not picking up her messages from where ever she was. Finally though, his cel phone had trilled and the FBI dispatcher had patched her through.

It has been hard. To break this kind of news to someone face to face was difficult enough. To have to do it long distance was practically impossible. But break the news he had, listening to the labored breathing on the other end of the line as his words had finally sunk in; the sound of Scully's mother as she desperately attempted to hold on to her composure long enough for him to furnish her with the details.

He wished with all his heart that he could have downplayed the gravity of the situation in some way. That he could have offered her some thread of hope to cling to as she made the journey here.

But much as he wished it might be so, he knew that it was a futile hope.

Scully had surprised them all that night as she clung onto life tenaciously. But her vital signs weren't promising. In fact, only an hour previously one of the ICU team had quietly pulled Skinner to one side and gravely informed him that it wouldn't be long. That whatever precarious hold she currently had on life was slipping away. Slowly but surely Scully was dying by degrees.

She was now on full life support. Kept alive by machinery until such a time as the medical personnel were directed to cease in their efforts to keep her alive. Without the equipment surrounding her she would die almost immediately. That had been spelled out plainly for Skinner as he attempted to find something, some crumb of hope that she might come out of this.

In fact, he was having a hard time reconciling the fact that she was even there at all. He couldn't deny what he had witnessed in Scully's motel room. But neither could he explain it. He couldn't explain how she suddenly appeared before him. He had been questioned at length by the medical personnel, unable to furnish them with the answers they needed. It had been patently obvious that they didn't believe him.

He couldn't blame them. He hardly believed it himself.

But he had *seen* it and no matter how much he tried to deny it to himself, he knew what he had seen to be true.

In the blink of an eye, Scully had just been *there*. Just like that, and truthfully, in the following minutes when she was returned, Skinner hadn't had time to really question it, so intent had he been in bringing her back to them.

It had been maybe five minutes from the time he placed the call to the emergency services to the time they barreled through the motel room door and swept him out the way. Five minutes that had seemed like years as he breathed for Scully. Five minutes that stretched into eternity. Five minutes of switching to autopilot as he performed chest compressions, muttering encouragement to her through clenched teeth. Five minutes in his life that he had no doubt would return to haunt him for years to come.

But their efforts had, in some small way at least, been rewarded. They had spent almost an hour attempting to stabilize her before loading her into the depths of the ambulance along with an unconscious Mulder. They had been rewarded by the faintest, flickering pulse that fluttered feebly beneath their fingertips like a dying butterfly. The tiniest spark of life. Of hope.

Skinner had insisted on riding in the ambulance with them. The harried EMTs hadn't argued. Time was of the essence and they hadn't wanted to waste any by engaging in fruitless discussion with this man. All of their energies were focused on Scully. On keeping her alive until they could get her to the hospital.

Twice they had almost lost her.

Twice they had brought her back.

And all the while, Mulder lay not two feet away from her, deeply unconscious and oblivious to the drama that was being played out beside him.

For that at least, Skinner was thankful.

He was thankful that the man had been spared the horror of watching his partner slipping away from him. Of watching an undignified death in that tiny cramped space as the EMTs did their work. Detached, professional, devoid of emotion, they viewed Scully as just another victim. A victim it was their job to save. Nothing more, nothing less. But they had performed their roles admirably and wheeled her into the ER, screaming instructions at the group of white-coated medical personnel who were hovering around the entrance in response to their earlier call.

They had brought her back to life. A strange version of life, true. But life nonetheless. Their job done, they had departed silently. Skinner hadn't even had time to thank them.

Since then, each hour that passed had seemed to merge and meld into the other. He had divided his time as best he could between staring numbly down at Scully as she lay, naked beneath a single sheet in the ICU, and sitting by Mulder's bedside staring equally numbly as he wondered how the hell he was going to tell him about his partner's condition.

But that had been hours ago.

Mulder had awoken and the second the realization had sunk in, he had done exactly as Skinner had expected him to. Despite the protests of the medical staff, the younger man had heaved himself from his bed, ripping out the canular as he did so, ignoring the blood that dripped from his hand in a steady stream of red droplets, and demanded to be reunited with his clothes.

The doctor had been summoned to try to talk some sense into him and had been rewarded by the charming profile of Mulder's clenched jaw as he completely ignored him. It was, Skinner noted, like trying to hold back the wind itself. Because regardless of how it may endanger his own health, there was nothing, *nothing* on this earth that would keep Mulder from his partner.

Eventually they had all realized the futility of their efforts and with much shrugging of shoulders had left him alone with Skinner to sign the necessary disclaimers and get dressed.

Skinner hadn't bothered to offer him any advice. He knew Mulder well enough to know that it would be neither appreciated nor acted upon.

He had followed Mulder to the ICU and been there to offer a steadying hand as Mulder caught the first glimpse of his partner. Even Skinner had to admit that it was a shocking sight. Scully lay there with what seemed like a hundred tubes attached to her body, unmoving, unresponsive. They hadn't even bothered to dim the lights around her bed, and the harsh glare had made her appear even more pale than she actually was.

In fact, if Skinner were honest with himself, she looked like she was dead already. A corpse beneath that plain, blue cotton sheet. Kept alive until someone came along and pulled the plug.

He had watched as Mulder sucked in his breath at the sight of her. Stepped forward to offer his assistance as the younger man folded before him in a manner that suggested someone had just sucker punched him in the gut. Stepped away again as Mulder angrily shrugged his hand away.

There was nothing he could say, nothing he could offer as Mulder stumbled away from him and crossed the small space that separated him from his partner. Skinner watched silently as he extended a shaking hand towards her, his fingers gently brushing away a strand of hair that had fallen over her pallid face. And time seemed to stand still.

Long moments passed that would become lost in his memory before Mulder finally lowered his body to the single chair that sat like a sentry beside the bed.

Long moments as he stood there watching the younger man slip his fingers beneath Scully's hand, wishing he could offer him something. Anything to ease his pain.

But Mulder was oblivious to everything. His every fiber was concentrated on the woman lying before him, and Skinner doubted he would have even heard any words of comfort he may have been able to muster. So he had simply turned on his heel and left them together.

But now he had returned only to find Mulder still in that same position. If he had moved at all, Skinner could see no evidence of it. He felt like an interloper, as on some level he always had where these two agents were concerned. Oftentimes he had caught himself wondering about the relationship they shared, wondering just how deep their commitment to each other actually went.

One thing he was certain of - they had ceased being merely professional people thrown together in the course of their work a long time ago. What they shared went so much deeper. It was as though each only existed as a part of the other. And most times he envied them.

But not now. Right now he thanked God that he wasn't in Mulder's shoes.

Being in his own was bad enough.

"How is she?" The question was redundant. He already knew what the answer would be.

But he needed something to draw Mulder's attention away from her. he needed to look into his face. He needed to understand how Mulder was feeling right now.

He immediately wished he hadn't. He wished he hadn't needed to affirm what he already suspected. Mulder's eyes, when they met his, were shockingly blank. Vacant even. All the light that habitually shone from them was extinguished by the long hours he had sat here.

His voice when it finally came matched his demeanor perfectly. "The same."

Skinner nodded. "Her mother's on the way here."

Mulder glanced at Scully then closed his eyes briefly. Skinner would never have believed it possible unless he had actually witnessed it, but it seemed like Mulder's face drained of even more color. He hadn't shaved and the stubble was like a black rash against his skin. As he watched him, Skinner immediately understood.

Guilt.

It was practically palpable.

"Mulder..."

He stopped, though, as Mulder once again turned tortured eyes toward him, locking gazes with his superior as he uttered a silent plea. But Skinner heard him. Even without words he heard him.

<What am I going to tell her?>

And for once in his life, Skinner just didn't know the answer. He doubted anyone did.

**********

Dreamcatcher. May 8th. Time unknown.

The first thing Scully saw when she opened her eyes was a face. A small, elfin face framed with a halo of dark hair.

It was peering down shyly at her, green eyes questioning even as the tiny, rosebud lips offered the most tremulous of smiles.

"I thought you weren't ever going to wake up."

She frowned as the child's words reached through the fog that had descended all around her. There was something about the child that was familiar. That face. Those lips. Somewhere in her memory she had seen her before.

But where?

Scully fought against the tiredness, willing herself into full wakefulness as she gradually became more aware of her surroundings.

She was lying on a mattress of fleece. So soft it almost seemed as though it were made of spun silk, cushioning her against the uneven surface of the ground beneath it. A similar, much thinner blanket covered her almost to her chin, and a sudden memory of another time danced fleetingly into her mind only to be gone seconds later.

<Mulder.>

He always covered her with blankets when she was sleeping. She had lost count of the amount of times she had awoken with the soft warmth tucked around her. She wasn't sure when it had started. Possibly back in the days when she still had cancer and Mulder had wanted to do anything to keep her well.

But Mulder wasn't here.

He had been inexplicably replaced by this child. A little girl who seemed almost ethereal in her beauty. A child Scully had seen somewhere before.

She closed her eyes, forcing her mind back.

<Rich, ebony hair spread across a pillow of ivory silk...>

And then it came to her. Like a bolt of lightening the realization slammed into her brain, throwing off all vestiges of sleep as she opened her eyes, scrambling upright she grasped the child's arm. To confirm to herself that she was real. That the child before her was really who she thought it to be.

"Gina?"

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