Genesis
Ally

Chapter 17

The first tangible thought that filtered in to Mulder's conscious mind was that his throat hurt. It wasn't the kind of hurt that came from being too long asleep, or even from a virus of some kind, but more a gritty discomfort that no amount of swallowing would ease. It almost felt like his throat was scratched or bruised in some unfathomable way but he could think of no reason why this should be so.

He was aware of sounds around him, an incessant bleeping which cut through his escalating headache like a scythe. He fought against the need to sink back down in to the sweet oblivion of sleep in order to block it out, answering instead to the small voice inside of him that demanded he wake up fully. He had been mindful of the voice for a considerable length of time, and he had struggled to obey it's commands, willing his eyes to open and throw off the bounds that held them closed. Something inside of him told him over and over that he was needed, that to sink back in to the abyss would be disastrous for all concerned, especially himself, and it was this all encompassing need that forced him finally to come back in to a state of full awareness.

Slowly, painfully, Fox Mulder opened his eyes.

He was more than a little surprised to find himself focusing on the stark brightness of a fluorescent light and for a few seconds he felt an overwhelming sense of fear as he realised he was in alien surroundings.

As his mind cleared, however, he was able to identify the slightly antiseptic scents that assailed him and put two and two together. He was in a hospital. The how and why would follow shortly, and for the present time they didn't really concern him. Instead he focused on the light above him, willing and able to wait until he felt more together before asking himself questions he couldn't answer.

The sound of a door being opened somewhere to the left of him prompted him to attempt to lift up his head, but the slight movement caused a wave of dizziness to wash over him as his equilibrium struggled to cope with the sudden rush of blood. A hand on his chest ceased his efforts, and beyond the roaring sound in his ears a familiar voice reached him.

"Take it easy, Mulder."

The damage though had already been done, and Mulder's last waking thought before lapsing back in to brief unconsciousness was surprisingly lucid. -- Why was Skinner in San Diego? -- and the answer came right alongside it, that whatever the reason was it was bad . . . very bad.

********************

"So how are you feeling now?"

The man had earlier identified himself as being called O'Brien, and from what Mulder could gather, he had been overseeing all of his treatments over the past twenty four hours, and was now continuing along that same vein.

Mulder's earlier lapse in to unconsciousness had been brief and he had awakened once again to find Skinner gone and this man in his place.

He had allowed himself to be thoroughly checked over, and had attempted to furnish the doctor with some kind of explanation for his recent illness. He also knew by the man's guarded statement that he was still at a complete loss as to how to give any kind of definitive reason for Mulder's condition.

Mulder too was unable to piece together anything that could be of much use. He remembered hazy details of his being in San Diego and the reasons for it, but beyond the vaguest of recollections, his mind was a complete blank. The headache was still there, pounding away in his skull and, despite the pain relief the medical staff had administered, was not abating at all.

Mulder forced himself to rise above the pain in order to arrange his thoughts in to some kind of distinct pattern that would enable him to make sense of why exactly he was here, and more importantly why Skinner had chosen to fly half way across the country to be here too. His instincts told him it wasn't simply out of concern for his health.

He eyed O'Brien as the doctor jotted some more notes on to the chart that hung at the bottom of the bed and voiced the question which had been buzzing uncomfortably around his head since his awakening.

"Is my partner here?"

His tone was casual, but the words hung in the air as O'Brien busied himself with his writings. The seconds ticked by as Mulder waited patiently for a response, and when it became obvious that he was not going to answered he tried again.

"Agent Dana Scully. Is she here?"

O'Brien raised his head, and although he attempted to keep his statement neutral, something about the way he shifted his eyes away caused momentary panic to surge through Mulder.

"Dr. O'Brien?"

"Um . . . no. She's not here." He replaced the chart in to it's slot and turned away, abruptly ending a conversation he did not feel equipped to handle. Mulder's unease edged up another notch, and he struggled to remain calm.

"I think you should talk to Mr. Skinner, Agent Mulder, that is if you feel up to it."

Mulder nodded numbly, not trusting himself to speak as the doctor raised his eyebrows in an unspoken query, wondering just exactly he was about to hear from his superior, but knowing that what ever it was it was unlikely to be good news.

O'Brien pivoted quickly and Mulder, from his prone position on the bed, heard rather than saw his exit from the room, just as he was aware of Skinner's sudden presence before he actually saw him appear above him, the concern on his face was unmistakable.

"How are you feeling, Agent Mulder?"

Mulder did not answer immediately, waiting for Skinner to take a seat beside him, dismissing his question as being irrelevant.

"Where's Scully? Why isn't she here?"

Skinner closed his eyes briefly, knowing that he could not escape answering, but at the same time knowing that Mulder was in no shape to confront the realities of his partner's situation until he was stronger. He briefly considered lying, but dismissed it when he realised that weakened or not, Mulder would no doubt see right through him. He finally decided that optimistic honesty would be his best course of action for the time being.

"Agent Scully is missing."

"What?" Mulder's voice came out strong and clear as his natural defences for his partner's well being kicked in and Skinner held up his hand in an effort to calm him down and also to prevent him from struggling in to a sitting position too quickly.

Mulder though was having none of it, and despite Skinner's best efforts he raised himself up, closing his eyes as a wave of nausea overwhelmed him. He felt Skinner's hand on his shoulder and he opened his eyes.

"What do you mean missing?"

Skinner removed his hand.

"Agent Scully hasn't been seen or heard of since late last night. There was an incident at the motel you were staying at. A man was fatally wounded."

Mulder narrowed his eyes.

"And?" he prompted.

Skinner sighed as he realised that honest optimism had flown out the window. Only the truth remained, as elusive as ever.

"A witness has identified Scully as firing the shot, that it was an unprovoked attack. She hasn't been seen since driving from the motel."

"And you believe it?" Mulder's voice was heavy with cynicism, and Skinner eyed him levelly.

"Can you give me a good reason not to?"

The statement on Mulder's face made Skinner instantly wish the choice of words back in to his mouth, especially in light of his own deep misgivings regarding the case. But he did not have the luxury of reiteration. The words had been said. He couldn't take them back.

"You're kidding, right? This is Scully you're talking about here. Do you really believe she's capable?"

Skinner opened his mouth to speak, to be allowed to put things right but Mulder threw him one more disgusted look before pushing back the covers and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. The action pushed the words from Skinner's head as concern for the agent in front of him overrode that of the one in his thoughts.

"What are you doing, Mulder?" The question was irrelevant since he already knew the answer, and he wasn't surprised when Mulder did not respond.

He watched as the younger agent struggled to his feet, only moving when it was obvious that Mulder was in no state to be standing up. He grabbed his arm and applied just enough pressure to let Mulder know that he wasn't kidding, and Mulder in turn allowed himself to be pushed back in to a seated position.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?"

Mulder didn't flinch in the slightest.

"I'm checking out. I need to find her."

Skinner laughed, the sound hollow and totally without mirth.

"And how exactly do you propose to do that? E.S.P? Don't be an idiot, Mulder."

He allowed his voice to soften slightly as he regarded the stricken statement on the younger man's face, needing him to face facts.

"Take a look at yourself, Mulder. How long do you think you'd last before you wound up right back in here? You're in no shape to be going anywhere, and misplaced heroics aren't going to help Agent Scully."

"How are you helping her? You shouldn't be here, you should be out there finding her."

Skinner sighed.

"Mulder, I have half the San Diego Bureau trying to find her and the other half figuring out ways to *help* find her. Believe me, I've got it covered, and what I don't need is another of my Agents going missing, especially one who has no business walking around. It won't help you, it won't help me and it won't help Scully."

He waited a few seconds for his words to register, and it was with a certain amount of relief that he watched Mulder relax slightly, knowing that for the time being at least he was having a measure of success, before carrying on.

"What I need from you, Agent Mulder, is a narrative. Everything, anything you can remember that might help. I don't care how trivial it might seem, I need to hear it."

To his intense relief, Mulder nodded slightly.

"You're right. I'm sorry, I just . . . I don't know what to think any more. . ."

"It's OK."

Mulder closed his eyes, the weariness showing all too clearly in his face.

"I need some time."

Skinner observed the unhealthy pallor of his Agent, and was reminded sharply of how ill Mulder had been. The last thing he needed right now was to be pushed too hard, especially in light of everything that had happened, and Skinner was smart enough to realise that a couple more hours would hardly make any difference either way. He made the decision to leave quickly.

"Get some rest. I'll come back later."

He waited a few minutes until Mulder was sleeping, and then quietly left the room, taking the opportunity to grab some much needed food and a change of clothes.

He returned to the hospital ninety minutes later and headed straight up to Mulder's room. He was less than pleased, although not particularly surprised, to be confronted with realisation that his Agent had gone.

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