Subject:"Laid Bare" by Ten
Date: Sat, 17 Oct 1998

TITLE: "Laid Bare" (1/3)
BY: Ten
E-MAIL ADDRESS: kristena@ocean.com.au

CATEGORY: MSR, MT, S, A, H
RATING: R for adult situations and some naked flesh
SUMMARY: Let us NOT slow pan up up and away from that
crater hug...
TIMESPAN/SPOILER WARNING: Moviefic. Mentions "Detours".

ARCHIVE INFO: It goes to Gossamer through the xff list.
Can be archived anywhere as long as my name, addy and
disclaimer stay intact.
FEEDBACK: Love it.

THANKS: To Ngaire for going willingly to the movie
instead of being dragged, then cheerfully accepting my
interrogation about the spaceship's effect on
seismographs! And to everyone else who looked at it for
me - especially Gerry and Suzanne.

DEDICATION: To Jaime; thanks for your stories, your
friendship, and those e-mails!

'One' was written by Harry Nilsson; Unichappell Music
Inc. (BMI). 'Walking After You' was written by Dave
Grohl; M.J.-Twelve Music (admin. by EMI Virgin Songs,
Inc.) (BMI). 'Joy to the World' is copyright Three Dog
Night.

DISCLAIMER: The X-Files and the characters of Mulder and
Scully belong to Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions
and Fox Broadcasting, and are used without permission. No
copyright infringement is intended, no profit will be
gained.

The X-Files: "Laid Bare"
by Ten, August-October 1998

Running.

Dropping.

Landing.

Sliding.

Falling.

Landing.

Lying.

"Scully! Scully, you gotta see this!"

Not now, Mulder, I've got a headache... Where did the sun
go? It was so white and bright and Mulder was making me
run. Oh, I'm face down in snow. That explains it.

"Scully..."

Mulder, I would if I could...

The only thing I can move is my eyeball. It finds Mulder.
He's gazing at something...something in the sky. Big.
Dark. Ouch! There's the sun again... I drop my head back
down - and find no escape. The reflection from the snow
and ice robs me of shadows. I close my eyes, seeking
blessed, undemanding blackness...but get a world of pink
from my eyelids... I open them.

Now Mulder is gazing at me again. He's got a look on his
face. Boyish, amazed, delighted. I nearly laugh. His hand
grips mine tightly.

Then, within seconds, everything fades from his
expression. The joy.

The life.

His fingers go limp. His eyes close, and his head comes
to rest a few inches from mine in the snow. Like he's
fallen asleep. Permanently. Only a faint hint of frosted
breath proves otherwise.

I try to speak his name, but nothing comes out. Heat is
suffusing me, waking me up. But he looks so exhausted and
cold... I squeeze his hand, then grab his wrist, shaking
his whole arm. Nothing. Desperate, I pull myself up on my
knees and gather my partner to me, turning him over into
my lap, cradling him, wrapping my arms around his neck to
ward off the cold.

But what about the rest of him? Those gloriously long
legs? That swimmer's torso? Can I wind him around myself
to keep him warm?

Let's not go there...

I kiss his hair, rubbing my face in it as I rock him,
feeling the texture against my lips. My lips find their
way down to his forehead and cheek, pressing desperately,
lovingly. Why does one of us always have to be
unconscious for this to happen? His stubble creates
friction under my lips and fingertips, fingers I should
be losing sensation in, but am not.

Then I see the long, ugly mark on his forehead and gasp.
A bad graze. A BULLET graze...

And I remember the bee stinging me, the paramedics
coming, the gurney moving, how it was hard to breathe,
Mulder's voice... "I want to go with her! ...What
hospital are you taking her to?" A gunshot. So close I
would have jumped if I could. Then no Mulder hovering
over me. Just faceless men. Where was he? Then nothing.

"Oh God..." I hold him closer as I struggle to absorb
this. While I watch him breathe, I'm aware that my head
aches, my throat is scraped and sore, my stomach...

Frantically I look around for help.

We're surrounded by ice and snow and a massive crater. I
can't think about the latter now. About the nightmare
world I woke up in and that Mulder dragged me through.

I'm wearing only thick socks, ski pants and a fur lined
parka. But I'm incredibly HOT. And alert - when I should
be succumbing like you are. This must be one hell of a
coat, Mulder... Oh God, and you're stripped down to your
undershirt and jeans... You're drenched. What you robbed
from yourself to clothe me in is the waterproof gear.
Neither of us is wearing gloves.

It hits me. I was naked. You've seen me naked. If I
wasn't already hot, that thought would stir some heat.
Embarrassment, arousal...whatever.

All this air rushing past us to fill the crater is
beginning to die down. What was in that crater? Dark
shape in the sky... Don't think of that now. Just be glad
there is no more wind and it won't be as cold.

We have to get out of here. Dying together is fine by me,
but not until we're in our hundreds in bed in a nice home
for the elderly. Together! Not until we've at least had a
decent kiss, dammit.

"Mulder?" My voice is raw, but I manage to make the right
sounds. I shake him. "Mulder!" Nothing.

This calls for more drastic measures, but first I check
his face to make sure there is no frostbite to aggravate.
Clear. I slap his face. Once. Twice. Hard. "Mulder, come
on! I've had more than enough of nursing you through
hypothermia!"

He groans. I slap again.

"Sc...?"

"Mulder -"

His eyes flicker open, then shut to slits. "Run!" he
gasps, pushing weakly at me. "Run! Go..."

I hold a hand up to keep the glare out of his eyes,
keeping one arm around him for reassurance and support.
"Mulder, how did you get here? How do we get out of here?
Please!"

"Run!"

"Mulder, there's nowhere to run to! Tell me how you got
here! And while we're at it, where the hell are we -
Alaska?"

"Antarctica..."

I gape. He came all this way. Injured. For me.

"Snowcat... Over ridge..." he continues, flopping a hand
in the direction of a ridge of rock half covered with
snow that we are very close to, and now I think I can see
a line of footprints there. Not sure. Hard to make out in
this glare. Good - we can get over that within a minute
or so. The longer he's in damp clothes, the faster he'll
freeze, so every minute counts... "But...screwed
up...nearly out of fuel...I'm sorry..."

"Nearly or completely?"

"Nearly..."

"Then we can start the heater. Will someone come looking
for you?"

"Told base where I was going... Told 'em to come looking
if I wasn't back in..." He trails off.

Rescue - thank God. But WHEN? "How long?"

He grimaces, straining to remember, then shakes his head.
Then something occurs to him. "Radio in cat..."

Thank GOD. "We can contact them. Come on, get up - I
can't carry you."

"Go." He is passive in my arms. This is not my Mulder of
the thousand hospital beds, where even when lying down
his every thought and desire was on getting up and out.

"I'm not leaving you. Get up!"

"Can't... Ordering...you... Go."

I seize him by his bright red collar and stare into his
startled eyes. "Don't you DARE pull rank on me! We're
equals. We are either equally alive or equally dead."
Something occurs to me. "Besides, Skinner has my
resignation, so officially you CAN'T order me around. But
I want to get back to D.C. and set fire to that letter."
No response. Time to play dirty. "I am NOT leaving
without you. If you can't get up, then we are going to be
stuck here. I'll die. Do you hear that Mulder? I'LL DIE
if you don't get up off your butt."

He stares, panicked.

"After all this effort to save me, Mulder, at least go
the distance!" I WILL make up for this yelling and abuse,
I promise, but for now I'm doing whatever it takes to get
him to safety. This heat I'm feeling is beginning to
ebb...is it because of this liquid I'm coated in? When I
awoke to Mulder pulling that THING out of my throat, I
was freezing. But once I was made to move, I really began
to heat up. I felt toasty, gradually got more and more
alert. Is this substance acting like insulation,
amplifying temperature - the cold of the thing I was kept
in...then the heat I produced straining through the
tunnels? Don't look a gift horse in the slush, go with
it. I definitely have to keep moving then.

With my help, he sits up. Then we manage to stand,
supporting each other every inch of the way. And we move
off like entrants in a three-legged race. I've found his
gloves in the pockets of this coat, and put them on him.
He weakly protests until I reassure him that I can tuck
my hands up in the long sleeves.

And I've squeezed some of the goo out of my hair and
smeared it over his exposed cheeks, ears, etc. It's worth
a shot.

I'd give him his coat back, but he'd fight to the death
and I'd be topless. Nope. I'm hoping all this unresolved
sexual tension we generate together will keep us warm. I
have to get him to the snowcat quickly and out of those
drenched clothes.

No speaking. Just like when he was making me climb that
wall. The glare is bad - could lead to snowblindness, so
I tell him to close his eyes and I'll guide, I'll just
keep this hood over my face to cut it down. And he has to
remember to lift his feet.

Tromp tromp tromp tromp up the ridge and over.

There's the snowcat down below. Thank God. But something
looks... Uh oh. There are a second lot of cat tracks in
the snow leading to and away from it. And one of the
treads is listing very noticeably. Sabotage. Well, we
weren't planning on driving it on low fuel anyway. But
hopefully they left the engine and radio alone.

Then, like a chainsawed tree, Mulder goes down, dragging
me with him.

I'm practically in his face. "Get up!"

He raises one hand to touch my cheek. I can see how much
of an effort that is. He is staring at me with such love
that I'm awed, then his eyes flicker closed.

Terror electrifies me. I can practically read his
thoughts: /Scully is safe, now I can die./ He must have
used up every single bit of adrenalin his body could
manufacture for the next ten years.

I kiss him. That gets the eyes open. I kiss him again
and, sure enough, he responds. I knew he wasn't THAT far
gone.

"Okay, here's the deal. Every few feet you manage, you
rack up another kiss, to be delivered when we're settled
in the snowcat. Reaching the snowcat will give you the
bonus prize of some heavy necking, and a guarantee that
when we get home, you'll get much, much more."

He blinks and gapes. I guess I don't look my sexiest at
the moment, but my voice is damn husky.

"So, that warmed you up enough?"

We make it to the snowcat. Now I know how to keep him
from ditching me in the future... I should have worked
out long ago that incentives are much more effective than
threats...

The radio is dead. Smashed beyond repair.

But the fuel tank was left alone. Guess they thought
there wasn't enough left to make a difference, or that
we'd die back there. The tank is on the last mark before
empty. Better than I'd been braced for... I get the keys
out of the coat. Now if the engine will just defy odds
and start... Thank you, God. I turn the heaters on full
blast to start with. Mulder is slumped against the
passenger side door. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." he slurs.

I stroke his face. "Not your fault. They'll come looking
for you soon. You rest. It's my turn to take care of
you." I'm tired, but full of a determined energy that
always carries me along when I'm in full SaveMulder!
mode.

I search the snowcat cabin. Under the seats I find some
blankets and supplies. Medicine kit. Food. I send up
plenty more prayers of thanks. I peel the sopping socks
off and check my feet. A lot of goo is caught between my
toes and all feels warm, but I dry and wrap them up to
make sure.

Now we can hold each other close under some blankets and
wait for rescue.

I unzip his down vest. Damp. The cold and our inadequate
clothes have prevented us from building up enough body
heat to sweat, but we're still wet from the melting snow
in that shaft and everything. Some of it has frozen on
our trek, but the heater will just rethaw it. I have to
get him undressed and dry. Check for signs of hypothermia
and frostbite. And with chance of frostbite, anything
that could be constricting has to be removed. Frostbitten
flesh is extremely sensitive and can be traumatised
easily. Could lead to gangrene.

At least that's my medical excuse to strip him.

Now, realistically, the cabin should be stinking to high
hell...but there's nothing. I can't really smell
anything. I don't know if it's the cold or whether the
goo is acting like some odour neutraliser...gee, we
should bottle it, Mulder, and make a fortune...

I begin to carefully peel the few layers of clothes off
him and drop them on the floor. I'll spread them out
properly later to dry. He stares at me in bewilderment.
"I thought...the 'get lucky' part...was when...we get
back home...?"

I explain around a bemused grin. He nods and doesn't
resist.

I use one blanket as a towel and dry him carefully.
Examine him from top to toe. Can't see any beginning
signs of the very white flesh of frostbite. Though I can
see a myriad of bruises.

"My God, Mulder...what the hell did you do to your back?
Slide all the way to the bottom of the world on it?"

He chuckles. "It WAS a long slippery dip..."

I'm the one who gasps as I finger a spectacular bruise on
his shoulder.

"Fell down the shaft hole." He's too exhausted and cold
to feel sore.

I start to wrap him in blankets, wanting to warm him
gradually so not to rush it and make things worse if he
is getting hypothermic. The bullet wound and all he must
have gone through as well as his previous bouts of
hypothermia have made him more susceptible. "Fell down
the hole? Lucky you didn't get killed."

"No - I was more lucky that the vaccine vial didn't
break... Bones didn't matter..."

Once upon a time he told me that his sister was the only
thing that mattered.

He is mute and dozing now. Suddenly I am scared. "Hey,
partner, stay awake for me, okay?"

"Tired."

"I know, but I want you to stay awake to keep me
company."

"...'k..."

I keep the tremor out of my voice. I have seen the
bruises on his head and am terrified that one of them may
have aggravated his bullet graze - started him bleeding
between his brain and skull. And I NEED him awake. If
these are our last moments on earth...

I check his pupils as best I can in this light. They're
equal. They react to light. I make him follow my finger.
Check his orientation by asking questions. He's a bit
fuzzy on the date. "September...middish...1998."

"Okay, where are we?"

"Bottom of the world, Ma! Ice Capades." He grins. That's
my boy.

"Who's the President?"

"Hillary Clinton."

Can't fault him on that one.

"What's happening around us?"

"Lots of white. You're safe. Yadda yadda..."

I know he wants to sleep, but I'm not finished. "Squeeze
my hand." I compare his left and right grips to make sure
he isn't getting weak on one side. Both hands have
reassuring strength. His response to my voice and touch
is: "I don't wanna arm wrestle. I'll lose... Are you
gonna do this every hour?"

"Yep."

"Oh, joy..."

Might as well be thorough. I manage to shuffle around to
find and unwrap one of his feet and run my finger up the
bottom of it to see if his toes flex. Those reflexes are
fine.

He is swathed in the blankets. I hold him closely to me
for a long moment - I'm still in the ice-stained coat. I
press kisses onto his forehead, a shadow of what I
promised.

Then I finally notice - he's hot. And not just from the
warming up. Fever. Damn.

It's not a symptom of subdural hematoma or bleeding,
concussion or fracture, but worrying enough on its own...

I'm getting cold. Despite the heater, the goo is still
insulating me, and since I'm not moving around or
exerting myself, it's generating cold. It's making the
inside of the coat all damp. I'm going to have to strip
and dry myself.

Then join Mulder in a naked hug in a cocoon of blankets.
Dana does Antarctica... When the rescue party comes, I
pray they don't have a camera. Then again, I don't care
if they bring Steven Spielberg's entourage, as long as
they COME and come SOON.

END PART ONE OF THREE

============================================

TITLE: "Laid Bare" (2/3)
BY: Ten
E-MAIL ADDRESS: kristena@ocean.com.au

XxX

I am now naked under the blankets and against Mulder's
skin too. Not that he's noticed in his condition. I have
gotten him to drink and eat a little and will keep trying
at regular intervals. I've tended to us as best I can
with the med kit. Not enough time has passed for another
Neuro check, but I keep rousing him. ("Quit poking
me...") He needs to sleep. I need him to be awake. I've
fashioned myself 'slippers' out of bits of blanket, and I
can move all my toes. Same with my fingers, miraculously.
We seem to have avoided hypothermia and frostbite by the
skin of our teeth...

The world is white and blue around us. And I thought the
desert was barren... I read once that Antarctica was so
vast and lonely that eons of the world's silence had
stacked up here. It swallows time too. We haven't been in
the cabin long, according to the clock on the dash, but
it seems like an eternity.

"Sing something." This time I am the one to say it.

Mulder's eyes flicker open. "What?"

"Sing something so I know you're awake."

He's together enough to show irony. "I can't sing."

"I don't care."

Silence. A long pause. He starts to sing - whisper -
'One'. 'The loneliest number. It's just no good anymore
since you went away.'

I'm sure you wouldn't be singing this now if you weren't
feverish. And I wish it had a few more varied lines to
it...

But, yeah, it is a damn lonely number. We are two though.
We may not have entered the world as two joined, but
we're either going to die that way or live that way. I
will never be one again. And I'll make sure you aren't
either.

I stare out at the snow while my every other sense is
focused on his breathing and heartbeat. The feel of our
bare skin. I've given up on keeping him awake, just
nudging him every so often to get him to mumble something
or other to prove that he hasn't slipped into a coma.
Well, the fevered talk I'm getting shows me he's half in
dreamland anyway... He tells me that the President is an
alien. Not much time passes before he stirs restlessly in
my arms. "Cross..." he mumbles, "Cross... Scully..."

"Shhhh, Mulder, I'm not cross at you. I know I slapped
you and yelled, but I didn't mean it. That was just to
get you moving. I'm sorry. I'm not angry. Thank you so
much for saving me."

"Don't leave me, please..."

"I won't, I promise. Now get some rest. Sorry I can't
find anything decent on the radio." I begin humming 'Joy
to the World' to work my way up to singing.

He stirs against my breast, then opens his eyes. He's
more lucid because his eyes nearly pop out when he
realises he's in my naked embrace.

Mulder pulls back slightly, looks around, then directly
into my face - no lower - and fumbles for words. "Um, I
must have been great, because I can't remember it..." His
voice has an uncertain 'is she going to kill me' quality
to it.

"You said it yourself once - best way to get warm is to
crawl naked into a sleeping bag with someone who's
already naked. Had to make do with blankets, but when we
get back to D.C., you will get lucky, G-man." I stroke
the hair off his forehead. The bullet wound is the most
colourful thing in the cabin.

"Your cross!" He pulls away from me and I automatically
go to clutch the blanket to my revealed breasts.

"No, I'm not cross -"

He's rummaging through our drying clothes on the floor,
not listening to me. Some of his blankets ride down and I
get a glimpse of some flesh I can't help noticing is
pale, bruised, and tight...

"Mulder, you can't put those clothes on, they're still
wet! I'm not embarrassed to hold you. I like it. Please,
you've got a temperature, you have to keep -"

"No, YOUR cross!"

I realise I misheard him as he produces my necklace and
cross pendant. Oh God - how did he ever find - ?

"I don't want the rescue team to leave it or dump it in
the trash," he says, face flushed from fever and panic.

I smile. I miss the feel of his skin on mine already.
"Come back here and put it on me."

He can't though - his fingers fumble and I end up doing
it. But then he is in my embrace again. Three important
things have been restored to me. My faith, Mulder and my
life. For everything that has been taken away from me, I
am a whole person at this moment.

I wake up as the heater begins to die down. I wondered
for how much longer we'd have the pleasure of a semi-warm
snowcat. He's hotter. Damn, where's our rescue?

My gaze is drawn to the bullet graze again. He was very
lucky it was just a graze and that he doesn't have a
fractured skull or a subdural hematoma. At least, I hope
not. I can't see any stitches that would indicate the
latter. I stroke the damaged skin gently, checking it.
How the hell could he get this far - or out of hospital -
if he'd been shot in the head? Then again, even if he'd
been beheaded, he would have staggered out of the morgue
to come after me.

All this way. All this effort. For both of us to die.

I kiss his forehead to take his temperature and reassure
the both of us. But he wriggles frantically. "No! N-n-no!
Don't... Don't touch me! You get hurt. You always get
hurt. I'm poison... I shouldn't have tried to kiss you!"
He suddenly buckles against me, dry heaving. I hold him
until it passes, telling him over and over that it's
okay.

"My head...hurts... Dizzy." Then he suddenly becomes a
bit clearer. "They here yet?"

"No. Not yet."

"Should have brought more fuel. But...getting antidote to
you was more important than getting back. Didn't think it
was so far. Thought I could radio..."

"They sabotaged the treads, Mulder. We're going to get
out of this." I swear it on a hot Mulder. Which is very
damn distracting...under the right conditions.

I don't remember much of the rescue. Just that they came.
In time. The noises. Voices:

"It's the FBI guy! And some chick!!!"

"Shit! Where did SHE come from?"

"Where'd all that ice and snow GO?"

I didn't want to let Mulder out of my arms, but I knew
they'd never be able to move or treat him if I didn't. So
I loosened my hold and he was taken from me. I kept my
radar on alert though, using as much strength as I could
muster, so that I would be up and running if we were
separated by more than a few metres of distance.

The feeling comes of being bundled up more, and then
being quickly and efficiently transferred from the cat to
the copter/plane/whatever.

"Scully...?"

I tug my hand free and feel out for him. I hear his voice
again, getting panicky. A man is leaning over Mulder,
trying to reassure him. Then he sees my hand flailing and
hesitates. If this stranger tries to tuck it back in and
strap me down, he'll get a black eye. I communicate this
with a look. He is fortunately a wise man. He takes my
hand and guides it to Mulder's. My partner stops his weak
thrashing.

"Keep some of the goo...on our clothes...for analysis," I
tell the man. He nods uncertainly.

I zone in and out a little. So tired. I wake up when my
hand is removed from Mulder's.

"It's okay," another man tells me. "He's right here.
We've just arrived at base. We're getting you both into
the hospital."

Awake again.

A nurse leans over me and begins to cheerily tell me in
an Australian accent that I'm okay. My look tells her
that I don't care if I've lost all my toes and fingers,
but if one of Mulder's fingernails is so much as broken,
I'll have them up for malpractice.

"Is he okay?"

"Yes, just a bit feverish. You both need rest. You're
safe. We've been in contact with your boss - is there
anyone else you want us to contact?"

I shake my head; Skinner will be handling that. Poor Mom.
I look around. The room is as blank and bare as the
icescape. "Where's Mulder?"

"Just a few rooms down. He's fine. Now sleep. There's
plenty of time later on to tell us what happened."

"I want him in here with me. Now."

"Ma'am..." She looks at me like I've asked for the suite
with the queen-sized vibrator bed. "He's just down the
hallway, asleep. I assure you he's fine. I'll have the
Doctor come in and tell you himself. After more of a rest
you can get in a wheelchair and pop down to check him
out."

I don't have time for this. "You don't understand - he
came from D.C. to Antarctica to find me. He moved
continents to reach me. I will move this whole blasted
hospital around to ensure that our beds are in the same
room. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

She backs away, startled and flustered. Guess she didn't
think such a noise could come from such a small source.
"Um, I'll get the doctor."

He comes. Hears my request. Okay, my demand. "Are you
husband and wife?"

"He's..." How do I put it? Our partnership cannot be
programmed, categorized or easily referenced. "He's my
partner. We've been through quite an ordeal, and it would
be best if we were kept together."

The doctor is giving me a patronising expression. He's
saying no, oh-so-reasonably outlining rules and regs and
reassurances.

I'm tired and I'm getting angry - I've had enough of
people trying to keep us apart. No more. I cut him off.
"I was abducted from the US and brought here." I pray
they don't press for details. "It took a bullet to my
partner's head to stop him from coming after me right
away. Then I'm pretty damn sure he got out of the
hospital against medical advice - if he wakes up and I'm
not in the room, then he'll panic. He'll try to come
looking for me. I'm just saving you the trouble." The
Doctor is staring at me like I'm delusional. Okay - the
big guns then. "Look, I'll call my boss - he's an
Assistant Director at the FBI if you recall... Or I'll
get out of bed the moment your back is turned and go
looking."

Mulder is transferred into my room. He is still feverish
and hasn't woken properly, but his temperature is
dropping. He's catching up on about a week's worth of
sleep. Neither of us got a decent night's rest since the
bomb blew up in Dallas.

Now that the world is again arranged to my satisfaction,
I finally focus on what the doctor has to say. I'm on
soft, non-hot food until my throat gets better.
Jello...ice cream... Ah well. I have some mild frostbite
on my face. I think that's where it scraped against the
snow when I was heavily face down. Removed the goo,
injured the skin. Because Mulder's face is fine apart
from the bullet wound and some bruises. I ask the doctor
to run CAT and MRI scans on Mulder to make sure he
doesn't have any brain injury, but they don't have that
equipment here - Dr Gesner says they've kept him under
observation for the usual period just in case, and he
seems okay. I try to make noise about transferring him
somewhere that has the best care, like another continent,
asap, but Gesner is fed up with accommodating me and
walks out.

And I'm so tired that it's all I can do to get out of my
bed and into my partner's. But that is more than enough.

"Doctor Gesner?"

"Yes?"

"Um...our FBI guests..."

"What is it this time?"

"Um, they're sleeping together."

"Yes, that's right - we transferred him into her room to
avoid World War III."

"No - I mean, yes, that's correct, I know. But...they're
SLEEPING together."

"It isn't half obvious! That's why she kicked up such a
stink. They practically have 'lovers' branded on their
foreheads."

"Doctor...I mean, SHE is currently in HIS bed. In this
hospital. While he's in it!"

"Ah. Right... Well, I doubt we'll be able to prise her
away. Sleep together is probably all they'll do. I doubt
they're capable of getting up to anything else. If they
do, good on him!"

"Yes, Doctor..."

"Just tell the nurses to knock before they go in."

I wake up in bed in Fox Mulder's arms. Life is good. His
temperature is better. My touch wakes him up.

I smile. "Hey."

"Hey." He blinks, takes in our position and location. "I
still can't remember getting lucky..."

"Good, 'cause neither do I! It's something I'd like to
remember. Guess we'll have to wait until we're back in
D.C." I give him some water and burrow back against his
side, managing not to tangle any lines or tubes. "We're
at the research base, Mulder. Safe."

He moves slightly, then winces and stops. "We're rescued.
Safe. And you're still in bed with me...?"

"Yeah."

"Too bad we never get hospitals back home that are THIS
relaxed. Now I know what continent to get hurt on from
now on. Or is there a bed shortage?

"You were too far away for my liking. How are you
feeling?"

"Sore."

"I'm no lightweight to cart around." Lying here against
his side isn't doing him any favours either. I should
move. I really should.

His eyes tell me exactly who he thinks the burden is.
"I'm feeling okay," he amends, regretting his slip. "Are
you okay?"

"Yeah, fingers and toes all accounted for. Same with
yours. We only had mild hypothermia. This base doesn't
exactly have high tech equipment for scans, but you've
shown no signs of severe head or spinal trauma, and I
appear to be all right." He pulls me closer, and I stroke
his back gently. "The scientists here picked up
seismograph readings - 4.5 on the Richter scale. Surface
waves. Pretty astonishing for such a stable continent.
They realised it was in the area the crazy FBI agent had
headed into..."

"- so came and fished us out. The ship... You saw it,
Scully?"

"I saw something..." I remember running through
whiteness, then everything going dark. It could be just
that I blacked out, but the darkness seemed to be a
shadow... Yet I know from the time spent hauling Mulder
to the snowcat that the reflection from the ice and snow
meant there were NO shadows... We didn't have any. So
something above us had temporarily blocked the sun...
"And they're going to analyse the goo."

"Now you know why the Ice Capades traumatised me so
much..." Suddenly he looks VERY traumatised. "Oh, Scully
- your face..."

"Mild frostbite. That's all. And what about YOUR face?" I
touch his forehead just under the bullet wound. "Don't
you know how much that scared me?"

He gives a look that is a shrug, sleepy again. Then his
hand comes up to check my neck and he is relieved it
encounters the cross.

I close my hand over his. "Thank you for coming after
me."

His eyelids are drooping. "Had to. You're my...one in
five billion..."

We sleep some more, hold some more, and wait for one of
the nurses to order me back into my own bed. We've been
allowed quite a few hours of this luxury - necessity - as
far as we can tell...

"Maybe every time they've come in, we're asleep and they
haven't wanted to disturb us." Mulder's theory is
whispered right into my ear, sending out shockwaves no
Richter scale can record. And is disproven five minutes
later when a nurse comes in. She simply checks us both in
turn and records our vitals on our charts, asks if we
need anything, then leaves as if nothing is amiss.

"Okay, maybe that nurse is a romantic, or she's waiting
for the doctor to give you your marching orders."

An hour later Dr. Gesner comes in. "Agent Scully, would
you be mind getting up for a little so I can examine
Agent Mulder? Then I'll do you and you can both get back
to it. Though a word of advice - shift around a bit.
Don't lie in the same clutch all the time. Try a few
different positions, or your arms will get all stiff and
achy! Spoon, reverse spoon, that sort of thing. I'm sure
you can adapt some positions... Just as long as you don't
pull out anything you shouldn't, tube-wise." He ignores
our stares. "Agent Mulder, I'll get a nurse to give you a
painkiller."

Mulder doesn't object. In fact he's trying to cover up
relief. Damn - he was in more pain than I thought. MUCH
more. I shouldn't have...but he didn't complain! I make
sure that the painkiller isn't an NSAID like ibuprofen or
aspirin. I don't want his bruising made any worse.

"Don't worry, Agent Scully." Gesner looks amused. "Oh,
Roger is coming at 2 to get your reports on what the hell
you were doing out there. We saved some of that gloop
that was all over you and are trying to analyse it. Looks
like it's breaking down though. We'll do our best. Oh,
we're keeping A.D. Skinner updated. We'll send him
Roger's report."

Mulder groans. "Maybe we should just stay here."

We are checked. Mulder gets the painkiller. We are alone
again. But do I get back into his bed? He watches me.

"Why didn't you say something?" I try to keep anger out
of my voice. Anger at the both of us.

He manages to shrug because the medication is taking
hold. "They would have moved you. You would have moved
yourself." He looks away. His voice becomes so faint I
can barely hear it. "And that's gonna happen soon
enough."

In his apartment hallway when I was leaving, he used
words to stop me. Here he used silence.

"C'mon, Scully. I'm dosed up. Let's reverse spoon." His
eyes twinkle.

"And work out what the hell to tell Roger and Skinner!" I
mutter as I ease back in.

But we don't talk. We just cling together as if it's the
last chance we'll ever get.

END PART TWO OF THREE

=============================================

TITLE: "Laid Bare" (3/3)
BY: Ten
E-MAIL ADDRESS: kristena@ocean.com.au

XxX

On the journey home, Mulder and I hold hands. Then after
changing planes, he thinks I've fallen asleep and gently
gathers me into his embrace. I snuggle, already missing
our long hours of possessive, reassuring holding in bed.
A long time later I can hear him humming. Or rather, feel
it vibrating through into my skin. I think I can
recognise the tune. Then I hear slipped snatches of words
and it clicks into place.

'If you walk out on me
I'm walking after you.'

Back at Georgetown we undergo more stringent tests and
scans. We're fine. They had a room all ready and waiting
for us - even moved a patient to ensure two empty beds in
the same room. "Security," Skinner says. I swear the man
then winked. He also gave me back my resignation and
brings me a laptop to write my report on.

My partner and I stick to our own beds. Just as well,
because the Lone Gunmen come. They check the room for
bugs, then tell us that the bee is still safe with them.
That's a relief, because that goo broke down too far to
get anything out of it to use as evidence. Mulder tells
me all he was told about FEMA and the virus and what he
witnessed while rescuing me. How the aliens were moving
inside the host bodies. He says that I must have just
been in the 'prepping' stage when he found me, the virus
starting to ready my body for alien infestation.

I don't know what to say.

He's been distancing himself from me since we stepped off
the final plane. Not blatantly, but edging steadily away.
He doesn't want to lose me through me leaving. He doesn't
want me to stay and die because of him.

The closeness at the base and on the flights were his
last 'drink at the well' that he expects to last him
through the rest of his deserted life.

I see a pattern emerging here - one of us drops the wall
and bares his or her soul, but the other runs scared. We
have had so many incidents over the years that would have
sent any other couple either poles apart or right into
each other's arms. But our professionalism kept us at a
parallel distance through those times. Same direction.
Parallel paths. Though one is a skeptic and the other a
believer, it is the same journey. In sight of each other.
Never meeting. Will THIS time change us? So much else
hasn't. Perceptibly at least. Each time brings home just
how much I need and want him.

Here are two people prepared to chase tanker trucks
across the globe and infiltrate Government bases, but not
willing to set foot in this territory between those
lines. We're already way past the point of common sense -
do I push further?

We are released from Georgetown after overnight
observation. Mom wanted to pick us up, but I told her I
really needed this time alone with Mulder. She
understood. Dressed and ready to go, I make a quick
detour to the vending machine room before meeting my
partner out in the hospital hallway. I asked Doctor
Hainridge to write in the discharge orders that Mulder
and I can walk out under our own steam to the taxi, not
in his and hers wheelchairs. Since neither of us has any
broken bones, he agrees.

Mulder stares at the can of soft drink and the large
candy bar I'm offering him.

"It was my turn to buy, remember?" I say.

"Oh. As long as you didn't get any corn chips. I'm off
corn for good now." Usually he dives into junk food, but
despite my rare blessing, he just sits holding it.

I feel a reversal from our OPR corridor conversation just
after the bombing. "You have nothing to feel guilty
about, Mulder."

"I shouldn't have -"

We are both thinking about the hallway. About how my
stricken body suddenly plunged us into a grotesque Gothic
dance, stumbling our feet across the floorboards as I
collapsed against him.

"Mulder, if you hadn't come after me into the hallway,
that bee could have stung me when I was alone in my car.
It could have stung me...or not...at anytime. Better me
than some innocent. Better me than you."

He shakes his head. "I shouldn't have dragged you through
Texas."

"At least we know now what we're up against. That there
is a way to counter it." I know that what he's seen has
only made him more determined to send me far away. But
what these men are doing can't be outrun. I touch his
knee briefly. "Come on, you're coming home with me so we
can relax, watch old movies and talk before this OPR
hearing tomorrow." We're on suspension until further
notice.

"Thanks for the offer, Scully, but I'd better head for my
place and sort it out. Left everything in a hurry."

Okay, I'll begin our talk right here then. Dive right in.
"I heard you humming 'If you walk out on me'. And I'm not
going to."

"I don't want you to walk," he counters. "I want you to
run."

"You thought I was asleep. You meant what you said -
hummed. I'm not leaving."

"We... You don't -"

If he won't listen to me, will he listen to his own
words? "All I'm telling you is the truth. I owe it to you
after all you've done for me. We can't let them divide us
on this. This isn't about you or me. It's you AND me."

"There can't be a you and me," he says miserably. "You
don't owe me anything. Before Antarctica or now. I still
owe you everything, and you HAVE to leave me. To have a
life. I'm sick of taking that from you. I hate myself for
it."

"You're quitting? On us?"

"For us. Our sanity." His hands are fidgeting and I am
reminded of his nervous fumbling with the map of Texas.
We're on the verge. Close to something here.

THIS is the biggest decision of my life, and I make it.

You're not walking out on me, Mulder. Accept surrender.
Once I get this OPR hearing out of the way, I'll sort you
out.

The hearing is over. In the park I have reaffirmed my
faith and desire for our work together. Convinced him to
let me stay. Tonight I'm going to make sure Mulder
understands this is about us just as much - more - than
our work or a 'debt' of his rescue. So here I am at his
apartment, only to be nearly run over by him on his way
out.

"Oh - hi. Sorry..."

"Hi. Where are you going?"

"To see if Byers wants to come with me to pick out a new
suit and shirt for him in the late-open sales. Least I
can do for the trouble he went to."

"Mind delaying that? I'd really like to talk."

He hesitates, then escorts me through the doorway, hand
habitually on my back even though he's probably trying
not to touch me anymore. Once he's shut the door, I turn
and manage to kiss him on the cheek - don't have to raise
myself up far thanks to my heels. Why else would I keep
wearing them? Why else do I risk broken ankles each day?
He flinches even as he releases a sigh of longing.

"You're not poison, Mulder. Addictive, certainly, but not
poison."

"Are you drunk, Scully?" he jokes.

I raise an eyebrow. "What are you implying?"

He's wearing the panic face. Unsure of what to say, so
he's hiding behind old words - a nervous game. I can do
that too. I'll show him. I need to rework my previous
words, to reconfigure us. All is context.

"I just wanted to clarify something that I hope I got
across to you in the park. But we needed privacy for
this. My heart is in the work. We can make a difference.
And my heart is in this too." I stand very very close to
him and place my hands on his arms. "I was so scared when
you were in the vending room with the bomb and I couldn't
get to you. I'm sick of locked doors."

"I - I -" he says helplessly.

I can feel the goosebumps rising. I continue, "We have
two choices. Neither is wrong. We admit our feelings and
act on them, or admit them and continue as we have, but
without the walls. You were right about the bomb. You
were right about the kiss. How many times have we been
right here? So close? To go back to the beginning acting
as if nothing has happened... How many times can we deny
it and walk away? After the cancer...the fire...all those
cases we only just survived..." I'm choking up. "I don't
want to do this alone..."

"Neither do I..." he whispers, touched, and reaches out
to bring me into his embrace. It feels wonderful. I go to
move back slightly so I can speak, but he tightens his
hold. "I want a hug that lasts longer than a minute..."
He gets his wish.

Finally we pull apart enough to stare at each other. His
hand runs through my hair and rests on my neck.

"Can we defuse this?" Mulder asks.

I grin. He's not hiding now - this is a banter challenge,
and he's NOT going to beat me. "No. This is no random act
of unpredictability. This is inevitability."

"So, you mean that unconventional thinking ISN'T going to
get me into trouble now?"

"Mulder, don't be afraid to look for what IS there."

He grins at the duelling. His gaze flickers left, then
right, then his face comes straight ahead to mine. Our
path. Parallels merging.

/Parallels can't merge.../ my scientific side pipes up.

/Well these ones are! Shut up and let me concentrate!/

Cue meeting of minds, souls, lips and tongues. 'Kissing'
doesn't quite sum up the experience. Eventually he gets
back to the game: "What are we doing, Scully?" he says,
breathless, still stealing kisses between words. "It's
hotter than hell..."

"You complaining, Mulder?"

A shake of the head, lips sliding across mine with the
motion. "I think the sky is falling..."

The sky? Is that all? I feel like I've just climbed
twelve floors...but this time I know exactly what I'm
doing here. God, can this man kiss! And by his reactions,
I'm doing my bit too.

Mulder manages to extricate our lips for a few seconds to
ask: "Now what? I'm a bit rusty on protocol."

He's still frightened I'll leave. I see it in his eyes.
"I'm not going anywhere...except to bed."

"Why? You tired?" His cocky grin then slowly bleaches
away like his lifeforce on the ice as the intimacy hits
him. "Are you sure?"

I could tell him: "You gotta see this, Mulder..." and
remove my sweater, or tell him to lay his hands on what
he's looking for, but I want to use my own words...

"I want you to see me naked without any alien goo or
marks. I want to be undressed for you and see you take
your clothes off, without having to share them with me.
Time we shared each other." After all, we never see each
other at our naked best. Conspiracy.

He believes. "Then there's procedure to be followed. To
the bedroom!" He lifts me up with a slight grunt. "Gotta
train for this sort of heavy lifting." I mock slap him.
I'll soon get him back into shape.

I have laid my feelings bare at his feet. Now I lay my
body bare against his.

Oh yes...that hand that usually touches my back is
now...everywhere...

Our lovemaking cannot be programmed or categorized, but
I'd better be able to easily reference it again!

We make the Dallas explosion small in comparison, the
icequake a mere quiver in a teacup. I don't try to hold
him back or rein him in. Or myself.

This is great... This is fitting...

Mulder...

Ah, that name - again and again... I whisper it; chant
it; gasp it; I scream it. No need to ask who's
pounding...

We have. We did. It's done.

"Breathe, can you breathe?" he asks with a grin, face
coming back into focus two inches from mine.

"I - I...I can't really talk...right now..." I can't
recall straining for air being this much fun when Mulder
gave me CPR.

That's the smug face. I'll fix him. In a minute or two...

"Keep going," I insist. Ha, that gets the panic face now.
Serves him right.

"I can't..."

"Yes, you can... I did in Antarctica...near-dead...all
for you...because you wanted... Keep moving, Mulder..."

Just as I obeyed him, he finds enough energy to obey me.
"Scully!!" Again we collapse of exhaustion, side by side,
surrounded by white. I still gather him close with just
as much determination.

If I can get and give THAT every night from now on, I
don't think I'm going to get a decent night's sleep for
the rest of my life. Then again, I'll be so exhausted
that I'll sleep in and be late for work. Do I care? Not
at this moment.

Morning comes. Free day.

"Mulder... You know what I said out in the ice - about
how I was going to reward you for all the distance you
managed to cover? Well, I've been tallying up, and I
think I missed a few feet..."

"I think we have that covered," Mulder replies sexily,
waggling his toes as I pull the sheet up over our heads
and go exploring to much delight and laughter - not that
I get as far as his feet. Or his knees even.

Neither of us have quit. We have won.

THE END. (PART THREE OF THREE.)