Date: Mon, 17 Aug 1998

Title: Fragile Fortress
Author: Kronos
E-Mail Address: clb@eng.buffalo.edu
Rating: R
Category: SA
Spoilers: Takes place after Grotesque
Keywords: Mulder/Scully UST, Mulder/Scully/Skinner Friendship

Summary: Scully and Skinner watch helplessly as Mulder fights the
perceived darkness within himself, following the events of Patterson's
capture. They strive to lead him from the darkness, even as he attempts
to sink deeper within it.

Disclaimer: The X-Files characters herein belong to 1013 Productions
and Fox Broadcasting. Usage is made without authorization but with
utmost respect.

Archive: Please archive at Gossamer. Anywhere else appropriate with
notice to author and name left attached.

Author Notes: This was written as something of an experiment in POV.
It is also the first short story I've ever written, as my first three
fanfic efforts ('The Abyss Looks Back', 'And Then There Was One' and
'And Chaos Shall Reign') were all novel length. I would appreciate
hearing from you as to whether I should ever try another one!
Feedback is greatly appreciated and avidly anticipated.

Acknowledgements: A big thanks to Julie for beta reading on a very
tight schedule!

*******************************************
Fragile Fortress
by Kronos
(clb@eng.buffalo.edu)
*******************************************

He lay there on the wet concrete. Injured. Perhaps dying. But inside
he was already dead and consigned to a Hell of his own making -- the
monster he chased, turning into that which he could not escape,
claiming the soul he could not protect. Could not shelter from evil's
grasping claws. So that the battle waged against the dark fears and
imaginings of his self-consciousness, destroyed him.

This she knew. This Scully understood.

She applied pressure to the wound in Patterson's chest, even as her
thoughts flew to her partner. So alike to this man under her hand was
he. And so very different, as well. For Patterson had no one but
himself to turn to in the dark hours of night when the demons
demanded their due. But Mulder was not alone, staring into the abyss.
Had no need to face the shadows reaching ever closer by himself. She
was there to help keep back the fear. To ward off the evil that
attempted to overtake him. She was there, and she needed to make
sure he knew it.

The man under her hands was still now, unconscious, felled by a bullet
from Mulder's own weapon. And by God's grace, Patterson would
survive, but only to live in that Hell on earth called 'insanity.' She
turned her gaze away from the former ISU chief, even while her hands
remained to provide the pressure so necessary to staunch the flow of
blood, and looked towards the man who now sat slumped against the
wall. Withdrawn, aloof. A solitary figure whose very image
suggested defeat.

She yearned to go to him. To wrap her arms around the slumped
shoulders so that he might know by touch that which she feared to tell
him with words. That he could always trust her, even when he might
not trust himself. That she would never hurt him or allow him to be
hurt. That she was there to bring light to the dark place in which he
was lost. The dark place in which he now inhabited. She yearned to
tell him she was there.

But Patterson's blood flowed still without slowing and she could not
withdraw, even though the man beneath her hands was already dead to
her, while the one sitting mute ten feet away required a rebirth of
faith that she could possibly help provide.

Her voice shook as she called his name softly in the still night,
"Mulder." But the darkness that had claimed Patterson in the end was
toying with her partner even now, unwilling to let go its voracious
grip. Insinuating itself in his thoughts and dreams. He sat unmoving.

"Mulder. Please say something. Talk to me."

And still he sat, back against the wall, legs bent and pulled almost to
his chest, but splayed so that the arms rested on them loosely, with
hands hanging down between. His head was dropped so low that she
couldn't see his face. Couldn't even tell if he was awake. Whether he
was aware. Of either his surroundings or of her.

She swallowed the fear that clenched at her, tearing at her confidence
and risking her sanity. It wasn't Patterson for whom she felt such
apprehension. It was her partner. And she was terrified that he would
be lost to her if she could not reach him soon.

She glanced once more at the man lying unconscious next to her and
considered leaving him to his God and the fates. But she'd taken an
oath and it seared her very soul. She was a doctor first. She couldn't
leave him. But her gaze turned again to the man by the wall who sat
still as stone. Unmoving. Quiet as death. And she cringed internally
as that thought took root. Latched on to her psyche and wouldn't let
go. Why wasn't he moving? Why wouldn't he answer? Could he
have been injured in the struggle?

And her voice was even more anxious as she repeated the word that
had always reached him in the past. The single name spoken now with
trembling voice and increasing alarm. Spoken in a barely audible
whisper. "Mulder."

She knew the word had been transported across the distance by the
gentle breeze when the slumped form moved. Moved without a word,
raised his arms, elbows still propped on knees, and covered his face
with his hands. The message was clear. Leave me alone. I am alone.

The emergency vehicles could be heard down below -- thin, wavering
sirens echoing through the quiet. Soon, now. They would be here and
she could go to him. Except she knew he didn't want her. Didn't
want anyone. She turned her head back towards the way they'd come,
filled with relief when the door burst open. Police officers were
rushing through the open door, taking up positions until the area was
determined to be secure.

The emergency personnel were being waved through now and then she
recognized a familiar figure amidst the mass of rushing bodies. It was
Skinner, striding towards them, tall and confident. But as he got
closer, the worry on his face was clear. The tension apparent.

The paramedics had pushed her away and she stood now, unsure of
where to go, what to do. Her hands were covered in blood. She held
them in front of her, palms up, the blood appearing black in the dark of
night. And she couldn't stop imagining whose blood it so easily could
have been. And just then, the rain started to fall once more and the
drops struck at her angrily. Even nature conspired against them
tonight.

She dropped her hands finally, so that they hung loosely at her side.
They felt disconnected, as if they weren't even a part of her. And the
water ran down her face. Ran down her hands so that rivulets of blood
fell from her fingers to the pebbled surface of the roof.

She pulled her eyes up again and saw that her boss had stopped in front
of her. She watched as he glanced down at Patterson's sprawled form,
almost hidden now behind the huddle of paramedics, and then saw his
gaze slide past her. She knew what he was seeing. The image was
ingrained in her mind's eye. He turned to her then, full on, and his
stare was piercing. He wanted answers. Wanted a reassurance that
she couldn't give.

"Agent Scully, I know you're both tired and want to get home, but
could you give me a brief report, please?"

She swallowed past the tightness that gripped her throat and attempted
to reclaim the professionalism that was her security. She nodded to
him and replied, "Yes, sir. Agent Nemhauser had left a message on
my home machine asking that I call him at his cell number. When I
called the number, Agent Mulder answered. Agent Mulder had come to
the warehouse to ... check on something for which he had an
unresolved question."

She glanced back at the still frozen form and swallowed again, feeling
uneasy, even though her words were not truly a lie. The rain was
falling much harder now and she pulled her coat close in an attempt to
keep the water out and whatever warmth she still had in. She was
cold, but feared it was a coldness that she'd be unable to shed. And
she caught sight of her hands again, saw the blood on her hands, and
wiped them against her coat. She needed to get the blood off her
hands.

She looked up at her boss once again to find him waiting for her.
Patient. Understanding. But, worried. And she had to fight the tears
that threatened to spill. She stood straighter and gripped her hands in
front of her and then proceeded in her summary as if she had not even
paused.

"Evidently when he heard the ringing, he found a suit jacket with the
cell phone. He didn't know at the time who it belonged to. I left to
meet him at the warehouse. When I arrived, I found Agent Mulder
holding his weapon on Chief Patterson. I ..."

Her voice almost failed her so that she had to pause and find the
strength to admit to her own actions. She pulled her arms tight around
her chest before continuing. "I drew my weapon and demanded that
Agent Mulder drop his. And when he did, Patterson ran, clearly
seeking to evade us. Agent Mulder and I pursued him to the roof. We
went in opposite directions. I heard a shot ..."

And again her voice cracked as she remembered the shot. Remembered
turning and seeing only a body falling over the very wall against which
her partner now sat. She'd thought it was him. She'd thought he was
dead. But then he was there, weapon in hand, leaning over the wall to
ensure Patterson was down and would stay down.

Once again, she'd almost forgotten that Skinner stood there, expecting
the rest of her report. His words cut through her recollections, and
she
realized then that she'd turned away from him and was facing the wall.
Facing her partner.

"Agent Scully. Scully."

She turned back to him. Released the strangled hold she had on her
own ribs, and raised one hand to push the wet hair out of her face.
"I'm sorry, sir. I heard a shot and saw a body fall down from the
upper level there. It was Patterson. He'd attacked Agent Mulder, who
was forced to defend himself."

She once again raised her head, chin jutting out stiffly, daring him to
question or attempt to contradict her words. But he merely nodded,
then leaned to the right so he could look at his other agent more
closely.
She could see the concern there, as well as a hint of fear. And she
realized that he did understand after all. Understood what the case had
done to her partner, and to her.

His voice was soft and low when he spoke, as if afraid they would be
carried across the distance to the man slumped in dejection some ten
feet away. "Scully, how's Mulder doing?"

She couldn't answer. What could she say? Her partner was lost in a
sea of self-doubt and pain. Anything she might say would cast doubt
on his ability to function as a Field Agent. She couldn't allow such
comments to appear in his jacket.

And then her boss added, "Off the record."

Her entire body trembled now, matching the waver in her voice. She
decided to trust him. To tell him the truth. "Sir, I don't know. He
won't speak to me. He hasn't moved since ..."

She couldn't go on. Couldn't finish the thought that refused to leave
her. '... since he shot his old mentor and boss.' Mulder might not
have liked Patterson. Might have hated the man even. But he'd
learned from him and respected his ability. She looked up at Skinner,
hoping that perhaps he would know what to do. He reached his left
hand out and gripped her shoulder briefly. Leaned down slightly and
said, "Let me see if he'll talk to me. I think it's time you were both
out of the rain."

He walked past her then and knelt down by the man slumped against
the wall. She could see that he spoke to her partner. Spoke for a good
minute at least. Then he raised a hand to Mulder's own. Pulled her
partner's left hand away from his face. But Mulder's head was still
dropped down and she couldn't see him. Couldn't tell whether he was
aware of his boss kneeling next to him, speaking softly.

Skinner turned to her then, evidently not even aware that he still
gripped his agent's hand in his, and gestured her over, silently. She
moved to her partner's other side and sank down, oblivious of the
puddles at her knees. And even now, she couldn't tell whether her
partner knew she was there. Whether he knew Skinner was there.

She felt helpless, unequal to the challenge. And she was tired. So
very tired. The rain had slackened but still fell persistently, and it
chilled her. She wanted to be home, in bed. She wanted to be warm
and dry. She wanted her partner back. Wanted him to look at her and
tell her everything was all right. But still he sat, allowing no one to
breach his walls.

And the tears that slipped down her cheeks mixed with the rain that fell
from the sky. She dragged her gaze back to her boss to see him
watching her, the concern evident. She could tell that his fear had
grown as well.

Her boss' voice was low and intent as he said, "Scully, I think we need
to get him somewhere warm and dry."

She nodded and for the first time, risked touching her partner. She put
her right hand up to his face and took hold of his hand. The hand he'd
attempted to hide behind when Skinner had taken the other. She pulled
it away, trying her best to ignore the resistance her partner offered,
even as she whispered once again, "Mulder." And he said nothing, but
closed his eyes even tighter. She allowed herself to reach her left
hand to his forehead then, with the pretext of checking for a temperature.
She'd wanted only to reassure him. To let him know that she was
there. But she was shocked at the coolness. The clamminess. And
realized finally that he was in shock, his body rebelling against the
exhaustion, the deprivation, the trauma of the past hour and days. She
allowed the gesture to turn into a caress, then smoothed the hair back
away from his forehead. She turned to her boss and said, as if it
would explain her own actions, "He's in shock."

And as she once more looked back to her partner, she became
consumed with anger over the events that had brought them down this
path. That had forced him to shoot the man he'd worked with for three
long years. Cursed Patterson for not being strong enough to resist the
madness that had descended upon him. She leaned close to her partner
and whispered gently, "I'm here, Mulder. You're not alone." And
once more ran her hand over his forehead, then allowed it to linger
briefly on his head, before dropping it to rest on his shoulder.

She didn't care if Skinner heard. Didn't care who might hear. She
only cared that her partner heard. But still, he made no reply. No
acknowledgment of her presence. And the rain continued to fall.

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

The night is dark and the journey has been long. A journey into evil
that could not be shared, for fear that the monster without would
tarnish the innocence of those I wish to hold within a cocoon of
protection. The journey started not mere days ago, but years. It
started the day I first sought to understand the monsters by thinking as they
did. It began the day I joined the ISU and did not end when I left. It
has continued, even as I have continued on a path in which justice is
sought for victims of the evil. But achieving that justice must often
be paid for in the coin called sanity.

The burden has been heavy. Too heavy for Patterson. Will it prove to
be too heavy for me? And if I falter in carrying this burden, will I
endanger those very ones whom I wished to protect?

I have looked into the face of madness and it was my own. It is within
me, as it was within Patterson. But will it consume me as it did him?
Do I have control over this monster that seeks to twist my will to its
bidding? That seeks even now to tear away from the few restraints I
can yet apply.

Scully, I am afraid. I'm afraid that the abyss has beckoned and the
monster within has harkened to the call. Has crept out of the shadows
to which it had been consigned to wreak havoc. And I am powerless to
stop it.

I have looked into the face of madness and it was my own.

You pull at my hands. You speak in your kind voices. You try to
make me let down my defenses, but I can not, for the demons crash
even now against the fortress of my mind, yearning to break free of my
tenuous hold. I must keep the demons at bay, even as I must keep you
away. You do not understand. Scully, you don't understand. I am
alone. I must be alone, for I have looked into the face of madness and
it was my own.

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

Skinner was frightened. He'd seen Scully scared for her partner
before. Had seen her worried about his health during various injuries.
Had seen her angry over what she perceived to be her partner ditching
her. But he'd never seen her like this. And having learned more about
the details of this case and Mulder's own history with the ISU over the
last several days, he could fully understand why. Damn Patterson
anyway for convincing him to bring Mulder in without telling the man
who requested him. He never would have allowed the assignment if he
had better appreciated the manipulation of which Patterson was
capable. But now it was too late and he was frightened for his agent.
For both of them.

Right now, though, it was obvious that Mulder needed to be dry and
warm. He looked at Scully, hoping to catch her attention, which had
been focused solely on her partner. "Scully, let's get him up and out
of here."

He saw her jerk, as if surprised to find he was there, and then nodded
to him quickly. He leaned close to Mulder once more and spoke softly,
gently, as if to a small child, "Mulder, you need to get up off the
ground now. We're done here and we can leave. Come on and help
us." He nodded to Scully and they each pulled at Mulder's arms. He
was relieved that the man seemed to rouse enough to help them,
pushing with his legs so that they eventually got him upright.

But still his agent's eyes remained tightly closed and now the shivering
under his hand became apparent. Mulder's entire body shook, as did
even the trembling breaths that puffed into the night air. And he grew
even more concerned for the man.

"That's good, Mulder. Come on now. Walk with us. We'll get you
out of here." And it seemed that the younger man tried, but started to
sag after only a couple steps. He quickly grabbed his agent around the
waist with his own right arm and pulled Mulder's left arm over his
shoulder. With Scully on her partner's other side and Mulder assisting
somewhat, they were able to make it across the roof and into the access
stairwell.

He wasn't at all convinced that his agent shouldn't be in a hospital
right now, but knew that Scully would have been insisting on it, had it been
warranted. He'd trust her for now. Trust that she knew what was best
for her partner.

He looked over at the man again, his glance brief since navigating the
tight stairwell was awkward, and swallowed hard. He'd never seen
Mulder so ... fragile. Weak. Unsure. And he was frightened by it.

He spoke again to the younger man, somewhat surprised by Scully's
silence. "That's it, Mulder. We're almost there. I know that was
tiring, but we're almost to the elevator now. Then it'll be a bit
easier."

He was tired himself, and could only begin to imagine the exhaustion
his agents must be feeling. Especially Mulder. If all reports he'd
gotten were true, the younger man had not slept the entire case. Had
probably not even eaten. Had been pushing himself to solve the case,
not only for the sake of justice, but also because he'd been
challenged.
By Patterson. Jesus Christ, if he had only understood the dynamics of
that relationship a little better, he'd never have allowed the
assignment.
He was partly responsible for this mess. He knew it.

The opening doors of the elevator came none too soon. The entire trip
down, he stared at his agent's face, even as Scully was doing now.
Mulder seemed to be engaged in an internal battle that caused his
features to twist, as if in pain or fear. And the trembling he'd felt
under his arm had not stopped. If anything, despite being out of the rain
finally, it had grown worse. "Okay, Mulder, my car's right out here.
Let's get you in it and you'll be dry and warm soon."

Scully didn't object to his suggestion -- merely continued to support
her partner the best she could. But he could tell she gripped Mulder
tightly, letting him know in her own way that she was there for him.

Skinner sighed in relief when they made it to the car. He had to
maneuver the younger man around slightly so he could free his right
hand and retrieve his keys from his pocket. He opened the back
driver's side door and helped get Mulder settled, even as Scully slipped
in next to her partner from the other side.

He closed the door carefully, making sure that Mulder was clear, then
paused with his hands still on the door. He could see his agent through
the window and even as he watched, Mulder turned his body and head
towards the side window, away from his partner. Wrapped his arms
around his body and twisted around even more. Then disengaged his
right arm and moved his hand to cover his face. The message was
clear. Leave me alone. I am alone.

Skinner moved finally to the driver's door and opened it, but before
getting in, removed his coat. He got in then and turned back to Scully,
even as he pushed his coat over the seat towards her. "Scully?"

She took it, obviously grateful and he watched her drape it over the
shuddering man in the back, tucking it in gently around him. He saw
Mulder jerk as her hand brushed against him and the man seemed to
shrink away even further. He didn't understand what was happening
here and it frightened him. He turned to Scully again and saw that she
was looking at him. And his heart almost broke at her pain She didn't
understand either and it was tearing her apart.

He cleared his throat and asked, "Where to?"

She seemed to process several possibilities before saying in a quivering
voice, "My apartment's closest. Could you take us there, please?"

He merely nodded and turned back to the front, quickly starting the
car.
He turned the heat on full blast, made sure the road was clear, and took
off, but not before looking into the rearview mirror to check on his
agents one last time.

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

I have looked into the face of madness and it was my own. I am
almost paralyzed by fear. It has taken me in its grip and will not
release me. I am consumed with the knowledge that the evil that men seek to
destroy can devour them if they are not vigilant against its power. It
devoured Patterson and creeps even now towards me. I'm afraid,
Scully. For I know that if Patterson could be overcome by the dark
forces that destroy men's minds and souls, then no one is impervious.
No one is safe.

I feel your touch. I know that you and Skinner are worried. But I am
powerless to reassure you. You should be afraid of me, Scully. I hear
your soft voice. It is like a light in the darkness and I want more
than anything to go to it. Give myself in to it. But I can't. I hope that
you can understand, Scully. I must keep you away for I do not trust
myself. Can not. For I have looked into the face of madness and it
was my own.

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

She didn't know what to do. Whether to force her presence on him,
invading his carefully defined space, or leave him alone. The tears ran
down her face to drop on her hands. But the tears were not important.
Nothing was important except getting through to the man huddled in
the far corner of the seat. He needed to know he was not alone in the
darkness that was pursuing him. She was there.

She reached her left hand out to touch him, to touch his shoulder. But
he jerked away from her again, turned another degree towards the
window. The message was clear. Leave me alone. I am alone.

She allowed her hand to drop down to the seat, palm down. It rested
there, as if no longer a part of her body, having failed in its
mission.
She could do nothing. She was powerless to help him. He did not
want her to help. He did not want her.

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

God, Scully, I'm tired. I can't think clearly. Can't concentrate
anymore. I'm so tired. I don't know if I have the strength to open my
eyes, let alone battle against the monster that's calling to me. I know
its power. I understand its need, for I have felt it within me.

I'm cold, Scully. So very cold. Any warmth that might have been in
me has been stolen away, leaving me empty and shivering in its
absence. I fear I will never be warm again.

Scully, I hope you can understand. It is not you whose trust I doubt.
It is me. I know that I can not be trusted, for the monsters are
breaching the fortress even now. I have looked into the face of
madness and it was my own. Forgive me, Scully.

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

Skinner wiped at the sweat on his forehead, knowing implicitly that it
was there only partly as a result of the heat that blasted out the car's
vents. The relief was almost palpable as he pulled up in front of
Scully's apartment building and came to a stop. He turned to look back
at his agents and paused before speaking.

Scully had tears running down her cheeks and she didn't even seem to
be aware of it. She sat watching her partner, left hand on the seat,
stretched towards Mulder's leg but not quite touching him. He licked
his lips nervously and said, "Scully, we're there."

He turned back to the front and opened his door then. Dragged himself
out tiredly and moved to where Mulder sat. The man was partly
leaning against the door, but he had no other option but to open it. He
pulled it open slowly, relieved to see that his agent had moved back to
compensate. But still Mulder made no move to exit the car. And as far
as Skinner could tell, the man had not once opened his eyes.

He bent down and took off the coat that had been draped over his
agent. Threw it on the seat. Then took Mulder's left arm in his and
said, "Mulder, we're almost there now. Help me get you out of the car
and inside. Then you'll be warm. Come on, now."

It was apparent as his agent practically spilled out of the car that the
shaking had not abated. There was little he could do for the man right
now. They had to get him inside and out of the rain as quickly as
possible. Skinner was once more in the same position he had been, on
Mulder's left, gripping his agent firmly around the waist, while pulling
the limp arm around his own shoulders. He saw that Scully had closed
the doors and was once more on Mulder's other side. And he felt the
man tense as Scully took his arm.

He again felt the need to reassure his agent and spoke once more,
soothingly, soft and low. "You're doing good. We're close. We have
a few steps now, Mulder. Can you see them here?"

But the man merely clenched his eyes closed more tightly. He didn't
understand why Mulder refused to open them. Didn't know what was
going on inside the man's mind. But he knew enough to be frightened.

Scully was opening the apartment door then and they managed to guide
Mulder in. He could tell the man was ready to collapse, legs unable to
support him for much longer. His agent seemed to remain vertical now
by sheer force of will. Perhaps the younger man kept his eyes closed
so that every ounce of energy could be directed to the task of
standing.
But he knew that wasn't right either. He knew that his agent was
rather directing all his energy to the struggle within himself.

He looked to Scully, wondering what would be the best course of
action now that they were inside.

She seemed to know what he was thinking, and said, "Sir, let's get
him into the bathroom. He needs to get warm and dry."

And without even saying it, he understood what she meant. He
nodded and said, "I'll help him. Let's go."

They were practically dragging Mulder now, who managed only to
help with perhaps every other step. It was awkward maneuvering him
into the small bathroom, but Skinner knew that getting his agent out of
the wet clothes that continued to suck at his body heat was of
paramount importance right now. They lowered him to the closed toilet
seat and Skinner was relieved to see the man was able to sit on his
own. But Mulder once again dropped his head, wrapped his left arm
around his body and raised his right hand to cover his face.

The shaking of the hand served to remind him just how important it
was to get his agent warm and dry. He looked over to Scully, who had
moved back to the door. The tears still fell, more slowly now, but
constant in their persistence. She was shaking slightly as well, but he
knew it wasn't only from the cold. Still, he said, "Scully, I'll take
care of him. You go get changed. Maybe make something hot to drink?"

She nodded to him and said, "I'll get some clothes for him. I have
some sweats that should fit." And when she left, it seemed that she
was almost relieved.

He turned back to his agent once more and gently pulled the hand
away, then started removing the soaked coat. "Mulder, I need you to
help me, okay? We need to get you out of these things and into the
shower. You're freezing right now but I promise, this will help.
Come on, now."

He continued to speak softly, soothingly, knowing implicitly that his
agent needed more than to be warm in body. That he needed the
reassurance of people who cared for him. That he needed to know he
was not alone.

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

This journey can have but one ending. Patterson proved this to be
true.
And he knew always what I had denied to admit to myself. That he
and I were the same. We are the same. I can deny it no longer. Can
run from it no longer. He and I are the same and the monster that
claimed him will inevitably claim me as well. One can not run from
oneself. I have looked into the face of madness and it was my own.

You both persist in your kindness, in your gentleness. Telling me all
will be well. But I know better than either of you. I know that you
should not be so kind. So trusting. You should both leave me now.
Why won't you leave me alone? I can not afford to let you in. I have
to protect you. Leave me alone. I am alone.

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

Scully moved about the apartment, almost aimlessly, touching a
picture, straightening a pillow. She'd found some clothes for her
partner and had then changed quickly herself. She readied the guest
room, piling a couple more blankets on top of the already thick
comforter, then moved into the kitchen to start water for tea. But
these things only took a few minutes and she was left now with nothing to
occupy her hands. Nothing to keep her mind busy. Nothing to keep
her thoughts off her partner.

She kept seeing him, jerking away from her as if it her touch were
painful to him. She could hear the shower running still and prayed it
would help to warm him. Prayed that it was the shock that had taken
him so far away from her. But deep down she knew this wasn't the
case. That he'd consciously chosen to remove himself. To isolate
himself. But she was powerless to understand why.

She raised her right hand and wiped angrily at the tears there, but it
was as if she had no control over them. It was as if the tears themselves
knew that a partnership was ending. A friendship lost. But she
refused to accept that. This was her friend. Her best friend. She
knew him. And somewhere inside, she knew she had the power to
understand what was happening. To understand what he needed.

The kettle on the stove was calling to her and she moved quickly to fill
the teapot she'd prepared. Maybe he would drink some of it. Maybe it
would help to warm him. She put the kettle back on the stove and
stood at the counter, looking down at the mugs that sat there. Two
were touching, abutting each other in such a way that it appeared they
were one entity. And as if her breath was stolen in that moment, she
gasped, and fought for air. Fought to understand why two who had
always acted as one could so suddenly be ripped apart. Her eyes stung
and her heart pounded painfully. She turned away from the counter
abruptly to move back into the living area.

She realized then that the shower had stopped and she waited for word
from her boss. Waited for him to call to her. And he did, only
moments later. They stood in the doorway of the bathroom and she
had eyes only for her partner. Jack's old sweat pants and sweat shirt
hung on his frame, making him seem lost inside -- almost frail. She
could see that the trembling had lessened, but hadn't left him
entirely.
The Penn State emblem wavered and undulated in rhythm to the
shaking of his body, making it appear dynamic, alive.

Her boss said, "Where to, Scully?" and she gestured quickly to the
guest bedroom down the hall. She stayed back, waiting to see if she
was needed. It seemed that her partner was moving more easily, even
though he still kept his eyes shut with head dropped to his chest. His
right hand dragged along the wall, as if he were sightless, and by such
touch he would know where he was and where he was going.

She watched as Skinner gently guided her partner down the hallway,
then said, "I'll get the tea." She knew her boss would be confused by
her abrupt departure but couldn't help it. She wanted nothing more
than to go to her partner, wrap her arms around him and tell him it
would be all right. Everything would be okay. But that was
impossible. He didn't want her there. And still, she didn't understand
why.

She poured the tea into the mugs and then reached out to take one. She
paused briefly, running her finger over the rims of the two that still
sat touching, then pulled one away. She turned and headed back in to the
living room, went down the hall, and paused for a moment at the door
to the bedroom.

Skinner had managed to get her partner to the bed and was now
pushing him down flat. Mulder offered no resistance and in fact,
seemed completely unaware of his surroundings. She could hear her
boss' voice speaking continuously in a gentle murmur and even though
she couldn't make out the words, knew they were kind and reassuring.
She moved into the room finally and set the cup down on the bedside
table. Skinner was pulling Mulder's legs up onto the bed and trying to
make her partner comfortable. Then he pulled the covers up, shook out
one of the extra blankets and draped that over her partner as well.

She heard him say, "Everything's going to be fine now, Mulder. Just
rest and you'll see. When you open your eyes in the morning,
everything will be better."

When her boss stood straight and turned to her, she could see his own
fear, stark on his face. He stared at her silently for a moment, then
reached out to her face and wiped away tears that she hadn't even
known were there. His hand cupped her cheek for a moment and she
felt the roughness of his palm. It offered her security as he
whispered, "It'll be all right. Sit with him, Scully. Talk to him for a few
minutes. He needs to know he's not alone. You can't let him be alone. "

He dropped his hand and she nodded to him, then watched as he left
the room slowly, shoulders somewhat stooped. But she realized that
perhaps Skinner understood better than she had thought. Perhaps even
better than she had.

She looked at her partner, lying there, so pale, lost under the mass of
covers. He'd rolled onto his side, knees pulled up slightly, hands by
his head, tucked close to his chin. And even as she watched, he moved
a hand up to cover his face.

She took a step closer to the bed and sank down on it, mere inches
from him, but not touching. Not yet. He once again jerked away from
her, but she didn't move. Didn't let him chase her off so easily.
Skinner's words were sinking in now, starting to make sense. 'You
can't let him be alone.' That's what her boss had said to her.

And in one epiphanous moment, she understood what had been
happening. What her partner had been doing. There was only one
reason that he'd pull away from her. Only one reason he'd insist on
being left alone. Only one reason. If he felt it was the best thing
for her. If he feared for her safety.

She took a deep breath and reached her hand out to his forehead,
brushing at the still damp hair there. Pushing it back. She ignored
the jerk now. Ignored the seeming rejection, for she understood now the
motivations behind it. Understood them for what they were.

"Mulder, I know you must be frightened. And confused. I know you
must be thinking that if it could happen to Patterson, it could happen
to you. Maybe, you're even thinking that it is happening to you."

She swallowed again and licked her lips nervously. He heard her. She
saw the jaw clench, the eyes scrunch even more tightly, as if he could
block her out as long as he never actually saw her. As if seeing her
would eat at his resolve and melt away his intentions. She reached
with her other hand and took hold of his -- the one that covered his
face. She pulled at it gently but persistently, even as she spoke.

"Mulder, you and Patterson are not the same. Patterson was an
arrogant, lonely man with no friends and no family. He had no one to
trust. No one to put his faith in when he became lost. Unsure. You
are nothing like him."

The tears were falling again, but she couldn't spare a hand to wipe at
them. She continued to hold his hand tightly with her own, even as her
other rested now on his head. She had to get through to him.

"Mulder, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for leaving you alone during this
case. I should have been there with you. I shouldn't have allowed you
to pursue the killer on your own. I understand that you were trying to
protect me from the evil, from the monster. But you can't protect me
that way. I'm so sorry. But Mulder, you need to understand now that
you are not alone. You never were."

She gripped his hand with both of her own now, tightly, and pulled it
to her chest as if to hold even this small part of him closer to heart.
She swallowed hard and forced a breath against the tightness that gripped
her chest. He still hadn't moved. Hadn't shown any sign of
understanding.

"I know you're frightened. Confused. And you're thinking that the
monster is inside of you, ready to hurt those you ... care about. But
don't you see, Mulder? Don't you understand? Those of us who care
about you won't let that happen. You have to trust us as we trust you.
You have to trust me, Mulder. Please. You're not alone. I'm here,
with you. And I'm not leaving."

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

I have felt its hunger. Have felt its frozen breath against my neck. I
demanded that Mostow tell me how to find the monster and he said
only that it would find me. That perhaps it already had. And I feared
he was right. For I have seen the face of madness and it was my own.

I believed that just as the grotesque image found expression in so many
ways over the years, to haunt men through all eternity, so had the
monster found expression within me. This is what I believed. But
perhaps I saw not what was but what might be. One possible future if
I followed the path Patterson took. The solitary path.

I knew not what impulses moved Mostow and Patterson to kill, but
feared that where the monster lurked, so would the impulse follow.
But I know now that I was wrong. Perhaps the potential for evil is
born in each of us, crouching in the shadow of every human soul,
waiting to emerge. Waiting for its chance when the fragile fortresses
of our minds are shattered, so that the monster violates our bodies and
twists our wills to do its bidding. That it waits for our weakest
moments to exert its influence and rob us of our sanity.

And we are at our weakest when we are alone. Scully, forgive me. I
had thought to protect you. To protect Skinner. I had thought to
protect you from the dark force within me, but see that instead I had
allowed it the fertile ground in which to take root. Scully, I am
afraid.
I don't want to be alone, trying to fight the monster by myself. I want
you by me. I want to rejoice in your friendship and cherish the
strength of your convictions.

I want to see you but I'm afraid to open my eyes. I feel your touch and
it is an anchor. I hear your words and they are a lantern, guiding my
way through the darkness. I want to see you, Scully.

I breathe deeply and gather my tattered nerves. I have been too long in
the dark. It is time for me to rejoin you in the light, Scully.

My eyelids are heavy and I must concentrate to force them open. I am
so weary. I have been so long in the dark that the light is
overwhelming and I must close my eyes again. I hear your soft voice,
encouraging me. I feel your grip on my hand, coaxing me back. I
open my eyes once more and see you there, next to me. I am growing
more comfortable with the light now and I know it is where I belong.
Not in the shadows. Not in the dark. I belong with you in the light.

I know now that which you have tried to tell me all night. I know that
I am not alone. You are there to help ward off the monsters that seek to
overtake me. You won't allow it to happen. I know that now. And I
am filled with a hope and a reassurance that I thought I would never
know again. I want to thank you, Scully. Thank you, my friend.

I am so tired, Scully, and know that I'll sleep soon. But when I close
my eyes, it won't be the darkness I see. I'll keep this image of you in
my mind's eye to be my saving grace. But I want to let you know that
it's all right now. That I'll be all right.

My strength is sapped and I fear I can manage only a word. I hope
that it will be enough. I must force my eyes to stay open now, to
resist the pull of sleep's siren call. It beckons to me but I fear it no
longer.
Before I release myself into slumber's waiting arms, I must thank you.
I must tell you that you've saved me. I must tell you that you are ...
everything.

I find your eyes with mine and grip your hands as tightly as I can. I
feel so weak that I'm unsure how my voice will sound. Whether it
willeven carry to your ears. And I pray that everything I need to say
and everything I need for you to know will be clear.

My vision wavers now with unshed tears. My voice trembles and my
breath catches as I say, "Scully."

And I see by the expression on your face that you understand. It was
enough. I will close my eyes and sleep now. And tomorrow I will
open them and see your smile. I am not alone.

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

Excerpt -- Personal Notes of S. A. Fox Mulder on Case File X-252-
4389

We work in the dark.
We do what we can to battle the evil that would otherwise destroy us.
But if a man's character is his faith, this fight is not a choice but a
calling.
Yet, sometimes the weight of this burden causes us to falter,
breaching the fragile fortress of our mind.
Allowing the monsters without to turn within.
And we are left alone, staring into the abyss -- into the laughing face
of madness.

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

The End
(feedback will be gratefully accepted and acknowledged at
clb@eng.buffalo.edu)