I am having a lot of fun with these and I would REALLY appreciate
feedback. You can e-mail me at YRLD43A@PRODIGY.COM

I hope you enjoy this.

Summary:
This is loosely based on a short story by Dean R. Koontz "Ollie's
Hands" - Mulder was shot in an alley and a mysterious woman heals him.

Spoilers:
Just obscure references to second and third seasons.
No MSR. Some violence.

Disclaimer:
The characters and situations of the television program "The X-Files"
are the creations and property of Chris Carter, Fox Broadcasting,
and Ten Thirteen Productions, and have been used without permission.
Koontz is my favorite author. His work has inspired a great deal of
imagination in me. Imitation is the best form of flattery. No
copyright infringements are intended. This work is not to be
forwarded or distributed to any newsgroup, FTP, or WWW site without
the permission of the author.

I do give permission for it to be put on atxc.

HEALING HANDS
By Patty Hayes
September 3, 1996

********************
Things had been building up for Fox Mulder. He was close to the
breaking point, in fact he had passed it. It was the anniversary of
his sister Samantha's abduction and his nightmares the past few
nights had taken their toll on him. He was twelve when his sister
disappeared, she was eight. He hadn't known any details about it
until well over ten years later. They thought he had blocked out all
of it. After going through regression hypnosis, he discovered that
perhaps he didn't block it out, but that it was blocked out for him
by some unknown force. He recalled a bright light and a presence in
the room, and a voice inside his head that told him everything would
be all right, that she would be returned unharmed. But everything
was not all right and she had not been returned as yet. He has spent
every moment of his life since her disappearance trying to understand
why she was taken, trying to find her and trying to get her back.

The nightmares were of the disappearance, but also of several things
that had happened to him over the past few years. His partner, Dana
Scully, joined him over three years ago and since then her life had
been turned to shambles. He had grown to care deeply for her and she
was the only person he trusted. He didn't even trust himself, so it
was a significant step for him to trust her. She was 'taken' from
him a couple of years ago, missing for a period of over three months.
He didn't know where or why, it was Samantha all over again. Once
again someone he cared for needed him and he had failed them. Scully
was returned, however and he vowed it would not happen again. It
seemed that when anyone got close to him, they would suffer some sort
of loss or end up dead themselves. Scully lost three months of her
life to who knows what, things done to her that she will never know.
Her sister had been killed by the same people that took her, the same
people Mulder suspected was involved with his sister's dis
ppearance. The same people that killed his father and tried to kill
him. They've been shot at, beaten, chased and in the end they remain
defeated. Justice never forthcoming, never getting the answers they
deserve, the answers they needed, always searching for the elusive
truth.

So the nightmares come every night, Mulder getting maybe a couple of
hours of rest each night. He dreams of Samantha calling his name,
begging him to help her and he not being able to move. Not being
able to just reach out and take her hand, stopping them from taking
her. Dreams of horrible tests they are doing on her. Are they
hurting her? Does she know where she is, does she know he's looking
for her?

He dreams of hearing Scully's voice on his answering machine, calling
his name, begging him to help her and not being able to get to her in
time. Seeing the blood in her apartment, the blood in the empty
trunk of her car and finally seeing her lay near death in a hospital
bed.

He dreams of seeing his father laying on the bathroom floor with a
bullet in his head. The blood on the floor, his father's voice
asking him for forgiveness. The feeling of helplessness throughout
his entire life. Mulder had felt alone all of his life and now he
was feeling more alone than ever. So here he sat, in a bar somewhere
in Washington, DC, alone. Drinking himself into oblivion. He didn't
want to talk, he didn't want to think and most of all he didn't want
to sleep. He wanted to be alone.

But he was not alone. THEY were watching him. This was their chance.
They could kill him in this neighborhood and no one would suspect
anything other than some punk or gang killing some drunk passed out
in the alleyway for either fun or money. It was perfect.

It was getting late and the bar wanted to close, so Mulder paid the
bill, left a large tip for the waitress and stumbled out of the bar.
He was disoriented, he had drank entirely too much and now was having
trouble finding his way home. He had left the bar and started
walking, not realizing his car was back at the bar. He couldn't have
driven anyway. He had walked a couple of blocks when two men in
black jumped out from the alley and pulled him into the alleyway.
They beat on him enough so that it would look realistic and then took
his wallet and watch so that it would look like a robbery. They then
pulled out his gun and shot him in the chest. Their aim was a little
off and actually hit him in the lower right shoulder, he would bleed
to death anyway and they didn't want it to look like an execution.

Connie left the bar a couple of hours later. She had to stay to
clean up and get the bar ready for the next night. She was a
waitress at the bar and her feet were tired, she just wanted to get
home. She was a loner, had no friends, didn't want any. She just
wanted to get through this life. Her car was just a couple of blocks
down. She didn't worry about the local crime element, they seemed to
know not to bother her. As she passed the alleyway, Connie heard a
moan. She didn't want to get involved but she knew she had to, that
was her purpose for being here.

She saw Mulder laying on the ground bleeding from the shoulder.
Connie ran to get her car and drove back to the alley. She was able
to get Mulder into her car without using her special powers. She
never used her powers in front of anyone, ever. She lived in a small
one room shabby apartment near the bar, it was clean and being a
corner unit was quiet. She managed to get Mulder in and placed him
on her bed.

He was half conscious and muttering something about a Samantha. He
was trying to move around too much, trying to get up. She placed her
hand on his forehead and he fell back on the bed asleep. She
undressed him and cleaned the wound, it was a clean shot, the bullet
exiting in the back. But he was feverish and he had lost a lot of
blood. She would wait to see, she wouldn't use her powers to help
unless she was forced to. Afterward she showered and changed and
settled herself in a chair next to the bed and went to sleep.

The next morning when she checked on Mulder she found his condition
had worsened. His fever was even higher and an infection was
beginning to form around the exit wound. She called the bar and told
her boss that she was ill and would not be coming in for a couple of
days, doctor's orders. That's how long it would take for her to heal
after healing the man. Then she went to work on Mulder.

She started with the bullet wounds. Mulder was half conscious as
Connie placed her hands lightly over the entrance wound and began
moving them in small tight circles, barely touching the skin. He
could feel the wound closing and thought he was dreaming or
hallucinating, out of his mind from the fever. The wound began to
heal and at the same time a similar wound began to form on her right
shoulder. She winced in great pain but continued the movement. The
last thing he saw was Connie grimacing in pain, tears falling down
her face. When the entrance wound was completely healed she had to
stop. The pain was too great for her to continue and she needed to
rest and heal before she went further. She lay in the bed next to
him and slept.

His movement woke her several hours later. She was feeling better,
the wound in her shoulder almost healed. She got up and got water
for both of them. She helped Mulder take a few sips, he was still
only half conscious, the fever making him delirious. She turned him
over on his stomach and lowered the sheet to reach the exit wound.
He was again aware of her movements on his back. He wondered if he
had died and this was some place his soul was sent to. Not even
receiving peace in death, after all it's what he deserved, wasn't it?
This wound was more severe, it would take longer to heal. Connie
wasn't sure she was up to it. Once again she lay her hands lightly
over the wound, moving in small circles. Halfway through she felt
dizzy and faint and had to stop.

It was daylight outside and she had trouble keeping it dark inside.
Before she lay down again, Connie took time to close the drapes even
tighter. She needed to sleep, the wound forming on her back was
painful. She lay down again and slept.

It was dark when she awoke again. Mulder was better, his fever had
come down somewhat, but he still was not conscious. She helped him
drink more water, she had to keep liquids in him. Her wounds were
still present but not as painful, she finished the treatment on the
exit wound. When she was done he had only scars on the entrance and
exit wounds on his shoulder. She needed him to continue to sleep
until she was well enough to make sure he was ready to leave. So she
placed her hand on his forehead again and he slept peacefully for the
first time in a long time.

Connie got up a while later and fixed something to eat. They both
would need to eat if they were to keep up their strength. Her right
arm was in a sling, keeping it still until it healed completely in a
few hours. It was getting close to morning again and she would have
to wake him. She was tempted to look through his jacket to find out
who he was, but thought better of it. She really didn't want to know,
he would be gone in a day or two if not sooner. She couldn't get
close anyway.

She went over to check on him and he no longer had a fever. She
place her hand on his forehead and he opened his eyes.

Mulder opened his eyes and saw a vision. Or at least he thought it
was. He was looking into a beautiful face with a glow surrounding it.
He had thought he had died and had to shake his head to clear away
the cobwebs. "Where am I?" His speech was broken and a little
slurred.

She helped him sit up and placed a tray in his lap with toast and
orange juice. "You're in my apartment." She wasn't volunteering
anything yet. "You need to eat something." She placed a glass of
water on the tray also. "Drink all of this, you need the fluids."

"How did I get here? I remember being shot."

"I'll tell you soon enough, right now you need to get your strength
back up. Eat, please."

Mulder picked up a piece of toast and took a bite as he watched her
walk to the window and open the drapes a little. She was average
height and weight, had short curly brown hair and a pale complexion.
Probably early thirties. She had deep green eyes, almost emerald.
Sad eyes. He remembered seeing her at the bar, she was the waitress.
And remembered thinking how attractive she was and how she didn't
belong in that place. 'What did I do?' He looked under the sheet
and noticed he was wearing only his boxers.

"You were mugged in the alley a couple of blocks from the bar." She
began. "I brought you here to heal."

"Why didn't you call an ambulance?"

"You wouldn't have made it."

"What happened to me? I feel fine."

"You were shot, you'll be fine in a little while."

"What happened to your arm?" Mulder noticed the sling she was
wearing.

He had a lot of questions for her, she wasn't sure he was ready for
the answers. She didn't answer the question.

He was checking himself for a bullet wound and found the scar on his
shoulder. "This scar looks months old. How long have I been here?"
He was beginning to panic.

"Only a day. Look, please, I'll tell you what you want to know, but
I can't right now, please." He started to get up and she placed her
hand on his forehead again and he fell back asleep. She needed to
sleep and heal. She was in pain again from the wound, but it was
something else also. This man had another pain and it was harder to
deal with.

When Connie got up this time the wounds in her shoulder had healed,
only scars remained. Her body was covered with scars, external and
internal. Her soul was covered in scars also. She hadn't healed
anyone in a long while, she didn't really know why she had stopped to
help this man. Something told her he was worth saving. She fixed a
somewhat homemade dinner of grilled chicken and rice with vegetables
for them. He would be hungry when he got up.

Mulder stirred and moaned and was whispering again the name Samantha,
then the name Scully. Connie covered her ears. She couldn't help
him, it would be too painful. She couldn't go through this again.
She couldn't take on everyone's pain. The screaming in her head got
louder and finally she walked over to Mulder and woke him up.

He lay there staring at her, trying to once again to figure out where
he was. When he remembered he closed his eyes for a moment, then
went to sit up. Connie helped him this time. He was almost ready to
leave. She helped him to the bathroom and then sat down at the table
and began to eat.

Mulder stood in the bathroom in front of the mirror. His face was
bruised and an area around his ribs was sore and bruised. He
remembered being kicked in the ribs. Then he looked at the scar on
his shoulder. He was beginning to understand. Somehow this woman
had healed him. He saw the exit wound and it, too was just a scar,
though the healing was not as far along as the entrance wound. How
could she have done this? He splashed cold water on his face and
rinsed his mouth with her mouthwash. There was an old terry cloth
robe on the back of the door and he slipped it on and went back into
the other room.

She was sitting at the table and motioned for him to sit and eat. He
couldn't believe how hungry he suddenly was and they sat and ate in
silence. As he finished she was standing at the sink washing the
dishes, her back to him. He walked up to her and pulled her blouse
down in the back to see the scar on her right shoulder. She jumped
and moved away from him quickly.

He saw fear in her eyes. "I'm sorry. I wouldn't hurt you. I needed
to see if it was true. That you took my wounds, my pain into
yourself. It's true, isn't it."

"I think you're strong enough to leave." She was backing up, fear
still in her eyes.

It wasn't fear of being hurt, he could see that, it was fear of being
discovered. "Please, I'm sorry. I won't hurt you. Don't make me
leave just yet." Mulder had the feeling that she was someone that
would be important in his life. He had to know why. "You saved my
life and I don't even know your name."

"It's Connie."

"Connie, I'm .... "

"I don't need to know."

"I want you to know." He saw the uncertainty in her mannerisms, her
face. "My name is Fox Mulder."

She closed her eyes, there was no turning back now, she had become
too involved.

"When did you first realize you could heal?" His voice was soft, he
wanted to make her feel safe.

"When I was nine." Her eyes everywhere but on him. "It started with
my dog. He had hurt his leg in hole in the ground. I touched it and
could feel my ankle turning, swelling. He got better instantly and I
limped for about an hour."

"Why are you so afraid?" He truly felt for her. Here was a woman
who could heal. It was amazing, the power she had. What had caused
her to become so guarded?

Now she looked directly into his eyes. "Because people don't
understand. Because people fear me. Because people don't know how
it affects me physically and emotionally. Because I don't know how
or why I can do this. My parents feared me. I've been shunned since
childhood. I was only nine." Her eyes were pleading. "I didn't
understand. No one helped me. I've been on my own since I was
fourteen. I've learned how to survive by myself. I just want to be
left alone." Her voice getting softer and softer with each word.

"Can you do more that heal?" He knew he was pushing it but he felt
that if he could get her to talk about it in a clinical manner it
would make it easier.

Connie was surprised at the persistence in this man. "Yes, but I
won't bore you with it, OK? Why don't lay back down and get some
rest, you'll be able to leave in the morning." She went back to the
kitchen area.

Mulder left it alone, for now, he had begun to feel dizzy. He went
back to the bed, took off the robe and crawled back under the covers.
He watched as she finish cleaning her kitchen. It was suddenly
important to him to help her, but he didn't know how.

Connie busied herself until he fell asleep, then she settled down in
the chair next to his bed again. She awoke with a start when he
started calling out in his sleep. He was tossing and turning, she
wondered what kind of pain this man had endured. She felt so sad for
him, she could hardly stand it. She sat on the side of the bed, next
to him. He was still but the expression on his face was one of
sadness and deep hurt. She closed her eyes and placed her hands over
his heart and began to see what he was seeing, feel what he was
feeling.

A little girl, floating towards a window in a beam of light, calling
out for help. A little boy with a feeling of total and complete
helplessness, wanting to reach out to her but not being able to move.
The pain and the uncertainty was familiar to her. Another feeling
of being unwanted. A man, the father, pointing his finger at the boy,
blaming him. Chastising him. Accusing him of not being strong
enough. The beatings. His mother, crying, turning in upon herself,
leaving him alone again. The same boy, older now, a man, searching
for something. A different woman, small, red hair. Smiling, helping,
suddenly being pulled away. She's calling to him. Help me. I need
you. Pain again. Frustration, injustice. He's crumbling, crying.
Pain. Pain.

Connie's hands were pushed away suddenly. Tears were streaming down
her face, she was trembling so badly the bed was shaking. Mulder's
eyes were open, watching her, knowing what she was seeing. Knowing
what she was trying to do, trying to absorb his pain. He couldn't
let her, it was his lot in life, his pain to live with, to deal with.
Not hers. "No!" He yelled to her and grabbed her wrists. After a
moment he pulled her to him and held her tightly. He shushed her,
stroked her, trying to calm her, to comfort her. He couldn't believe
this woman would do that for him. Take his pain for him, feel it all
so that he wouldn't have to. She was amazing. Who was she?

He held her in his arms till she fell asleep, then he also relaxed
and slept, this time without dreaming.

The next morning Connie had his clothes ready for him. They were
clean but she couldn't get the blood stains out completely and the
bullet holes where still there. He dressed without saying anything.
He knew he had to leave, she wasn't letting anyone in. He didn't
have a chance. She took his hand and they left. She drove him to
his car and she waited for him to get out.

He reached over and ran his hand down her face and looked into her
eyes. "There's still so much I don't know. I need to see you again.
Please, let me see you again."

She closed her eyes and pulled his hand away, then got out of the car.
She walked over to his car and opened the door. He stood there
before getting in and with his eyes pleaded with her again. She
reached up and kissed him deeply, placing her hand on his face,
moving it to the back of his head. And he began to forget.

His eyes were still closed as she moved away from him. When he
opened his eyes he was alone and he wondered where he was, how he had
gotten there, why he was there. As he drove home he thought about
Samantha, about the good times they had as children. Then he thought
about Scully, how she had always been there for him, how much he
enjoyed her company. He suddenly felt compelled to see her. All of
his thoughts were happy ones.

Later, at home, he called Scully and they made arrangements to have
dinner together. He never noticed the blood stained, bullet ridden
clothes as he tossed them into the trash bin. His bruises were gone
and his wounds had healed and he never even knew they were there. He
never questioned where he had been the past two days.

He somehow was no longer afraid to sleep at night. He no longer felt
the need to be alone. It was a beautiful day and he felt good.

THE END