Thu Jan 16 1997

Hey, guys- I'm a newbie at posting this stuff, so give me a chance to
introduce myself a little before commencing on this short little
story. I'm 18, go to Randolph-Macon College in VA, and live in
GA. I fell in love with the X-Files about half-way into the first
season- would've been sooner if not for Marching band. I've been
sort of lurking around for the past couple of years- reading lots of
fanfic and becoming a serious X-Phile. Of course, I am now
absolutely in _love_ with David Duchovny. I've always been a
writer- writing mostly crime and mystery, sometimes fantasy and
sci-fi. I have one other X-Files story I have finished and one in the
works. I think that this one is probably my best by far, so I'll post it
and see what kind of reaction I get. It took a lot of time to get this
thing out due to a stupid computer which decided to encrypt the file
every time I left. This lead to frantic searches on 3 computers, two
recalls from the "sent" file on my e-mail, and an eventual trashing
and total retyping of the story. So--- be grateful and don't flame me
too badly. Okay?
Criticisms and remarks are welcome, of course. I give my
permission to post on archives, distribute freely as long as my
name, Carrie Plunkett, remains in tact.
DISCLAIMER: Let's see.... Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Walter
Skinner, Samantha, Mr. X.... they're not mine. They belong to the
almighty X-Gods-Chris Carter, Fox, and Ten-Thirteen. They made
them. I'm not making money off of them. No infringement intended
and I thank the X-Gods for letting me borrow the characters and
situations for just a little while. "E-Bow the Letter" is a song title
property of R.E.M. I also thank them for letting me borrow the
title.... And, once again, no copyright infringement intended.
SPOILERS: Rampant spoilers through season 4.
SUMMERY: Mulder's receiving of a file and the knowledge of a
hit leads him to writing a letter to Scully.
RATING: PG-13 or R for a few words and some blood...
whatever. I'm not a huge romantic relationshipper or anything, but
this story might lead you to believe I am. I AM, however, into
UST.
But I really don't know how to rate this story... some angst, some
tension, some X-File... etc. I dunno... just something I felt like
writing... okay? And if you really read this far down this stupid
intro- well- that's pretty darn stupid! So let's get started.

January 11, 1997
E-Bow the Letter
Carrie Plunkett...direct comments to: .tscv20d@prodigy.com _or_
cplunket@rmc.edu

On with the story....
******************************************************
**************************

January 13, 1997
9:00 am
Office of Fox Mulder, X-Files Division

"Mulder?" Agent Dana Scully called as she knocked on the
door. "Mulder, we've got a new case..." She opened the door to
darkness. No one was there. After being held up in Skinner's office
for the past hour, she had expected to come down to find him
fuming over her whereabouts. But he simply wasn't there. And he
hadn't called in sick; she would have heard about it from Skinner if
Mulder hadn't called her himself- which he usually did if he wasn't
going to show.
Scully flipped on the lights, making a cool observation
about the office. Messy as always. Papers and files laying all over
the desks and chairs- some on the floor. Posters and other
memorabilia littered the walls. She smiled up at the "I Want to
Believe" UFO poster that hung over her partner's desk. She looked
down to the desk, searching for any evidence that he had perhaps
showed up and left. But there was only a cold, stale cup of coffee,
left there from Friday, on the desk. There were also sunflower seed
shells scattered on the floor with more actually in the trash can.
The empty package was still on the desk.
"All right, Mulder," Scully muttered under her breath.
"Where the hell are you?"
Mulder was notorious for running off on his own during
cases. Usually, he would come back battered and scarred, knowing
not much more about the cases he investigated. One that stood out
foremost was when he had thought he had found his long-lost sister
Samantha. However, she had been killed later on during a hostage
negotiation to free Scully. Samantha for Scully. That had been the
deal and Mulder had let it happen. She knew he had blamed himself
for the incident, and was disappointed to learn two days later that
Mulder had ventured to the arctic circle in search of what he
thought was an alien bounty hunter, hoping he would find where his
sister _really_ was. She had had to resort to extreme measures to
find him. And when she had, she had to literally shock him back
into life. It had not been a pleasant experience- seeing him there
with dark rings around his eyes and hearing that all-telling flat-line
of the heart monitor. The days afterwards had been tough-
treatment after treatment until he finally woke up, weakened, but
alive. She knew that he had come close one other time and was still
unsure as to exactly how he survived the burning boxcar in the
desert. That incident had been her fault- she had selfishly allowed
him to search for answers to her own problems even though he was
far from able. He had been drugged and shot, unconscious for 2
days, and she had let him out to search for her answers. And then
there was Russia- God, she had felt so relieved when he had
stepped into that courtroom. Of course, her relief soon turned to
immediate horror as Mulder merely hinted at what had happened to
him at the Russian prison camp. But the fact that he had survived
through it all had almost brought her to tears of joy. She didn't
know what would happen if he disappeared one day and _didn't_
come back. The sad thing was, she felt that it was inevitable.
Scully hesitantly picked up the phone. She wouldn't alarm
anyone just yet. Just a simple call to Mulder. To see what he was
doing. It rang twice. "This is Fox Mulder. Leave a message."
"Dammit," she said loudly, and then left him a message.
What harm could it do?

"This is Fox Mulder. Leave a message."
"Mulder, it's me. It's... uh... it's after 9:00 and you're not
here." A groan from the floor. " I had a meeting with Skinner-
new case." A bloody hand, reaching for the phone. Slowly coming
in contact with the edge. "You haven't called in and I'm wondering
if hell has frozen over and you have overslept. If you get this,
um.... Give me a call on my cell phone. Otherwise, I'm on my way
over. " Dial tone. The hand slumped back down to the floor. "No.
Please don't go. Dammit," he whispered. But at least he could
seek comfort in that she was on the way.
Fox Mulder didn't think he had experienced more pain in his
entire life. His experiences within the realm of pain were
numerous: bullet wounds, alien viruses, more concussions than he
could remember, smoke inhalation, and more bumps and bruises
than he could count. But right now surpassed them all. He would
have guessed that every bone, muscle, tendon, and ligament was
shattered to pieces if it hadn't been for the simple fact that he could
still move a few of them- and he was still alive- somehow.
However, he was now blessed with yet two more bullet wounds in
his body. One through his right hand and the other in his right
chest. He was afraid that he wouldn't hold out much longer.
It had all started Friday night when he had left the office for
the weekend. He had gathered up his things and gone down to the
garage towards his car. He heard the footsteps before he heard the
voice. Turning, Mulder saw someone he had never expected to see
again, Mr. X. Mr. X had been killed outside Mulder's apartment
while Mulder had been grieving beside his mother's hospital bed.
His body had been found after Scully had driven Mulder back to his
apartment later that night. It had been determined that the
notorious information giving Mr. X had died of a simple gunshot
wound to the upper left torso two hours before his body was
actually found.
"I'll be damned, back from the grave," Mulder said sullenly,
remembering the clones he had seen in the past couple of years.
"Or maybe you just came from the "Clones 'R Us Superstore? How
about those test tubes?" Mulder continued to his car, ignoring the
significance of a dead man standing in front of him.
"Mr. Mulder," the voice said gravely, "I have some
information for you."
"Which would be?" Mulder asked, stopping and turned.
Mr. X looked around, always cautious, paranoid. "It
regards your personal welfare and I suggest that you stop your
rambunctious diatribe before they do it for you."
Mulder shook his head. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about an assassination order put on your head-
much like your father's.
"Why? I thought it had been established that I was too
high-profile. That I had made too many connections in Congress."
"You underestimate them, Mr. Mulder. Nothing matters to
them anymore. Things are starting to happen and soon your
knowledge will mean nothing. Therefore, your death sentence has
finally arrived."
"If my knowledge doesn't matter, why would they kill me?"
Mr. X looked away and produced a file from his coat. "To
get you out of their way, Agent Mulder. They've been planning this
for years."
"What is this?" Mulder asked as he took the file.
"Some answers. So you'll know the truth." Mr. X sighed.
"I can't know exactly when they'll be coming, but I've heard....."
"Heard what?"
"Sunday night, ten twenty-three." Mulder looked down at
the file in his hands. When he looked up, Mr. X was gone.

Mulder coughed and tasted blood. He wiped his mouth
where some of the blood had spilled down the side of his mouth.
God, he was coughing blood. He hadn't believed Mr. X at first.
Even though his father had never gotten around to telling him the
secrets, Mulder suspected that his father had some sort of
connection that was important in keeping Mulder alive. As much
as he liked to think that he made his own connections in Congress,
he knew that his father had helped- even if only by namesake. But
his father was dead now.
*Please, Scully. Get here soon.* Not that he really cared if
he lived anymore. He knew the truth about too many things now.
If only Scully would get here- to be with him while he took his last
pained breath, to hold his hand as he left this world. Of course, if
she didn't, he had left her the letter.

Scully grabbed the keys from her desk, picked up her
briefcase, and headed out the door. She waited patiently for the
elevator and was surprised when Agent Birch almost ran into her.
"Agent Scully, A.D. Skinner wants to see you in his office
right away."
Scully sighed. "I just came from his office. What does he
want now?"
"I don't know, Agent Scully. But it sounded pretty
serious."
She sighed again. "All right," she said stepping into the
elevator. "Let's go see A.D. Skinner."

After reading the files, Mulder had sat back on his couch
and flipped on the television. The information really wasn't that
surprising. Dooming, maybe. Surprising, no. According to these
files, the aliens had given the governments of the world a prophecy
of world destruction and chaos occurring during the latter half of
the 1990's. They gave each government a choice. Reveal the
presence of aliens and they would save everyone in danger. If not-
the remaining world would turn into anarchy and would eventually
self-destruct. Included in the file was the statement of all
international agencies claiming that they had no knowledge of
extraterrestrial beings on Earth. After that, a document readily
titled MJ-769543G: No government shall reveal the knowledge of
extraterrestrial life. No blackmail, payment, or retribution will be
accepted by any government from extraterrestrial sources in order
to reveal that knowledge.
Mulder had been right- the government was full of pompous
assholes. They thought that they alone could predict the future.
They alone could save the human race. They didn't need nay help.
As for the clones- ah, the clones were to be introduced into society
by the year 2000, destruction or not. They would thrive happily
anywhere on Earth, yet the Consortium would not allow it. Instead
they claimed that overuse of resources and overpopulation already
threatened the Earth without further invasion. Instead, Mulder
guessed, after humans had "self-destructed" themselves out of
existence, the clones and their alien creators would re-populate the
Earth. Mulder knew that the Consortium had been wrong in their
decision. The clones were more than likely to be super-humans.
Probably by-passing normal human intelligence and physical ability.
Therefore, they would be able to populate regions on Earth that
humans had avoided for eons. They would probably start in the
desert, expand to the poles, the ocean; they would build things,
make things right on the planet. Hell, Mulder had thought, they
might even clear up the smog. They knew so much, and the
Consortium knew so little. Pompous assholes.
Of course, Mulder now saw the truth behind Mr. X's fateful
words. But he soon realized that he had been set up for an
assassination. He had not known this much about aliens- not about
their proposal. Now that he knew, he was more than likely to be
eliminated before he could spread the word.
So, he had sat on his couch for hours into the night on
Friday, into Saturday morning, afternoon, night. He sobbed with
the truth of it all. The files had also contained truths about his
family. His father- a proponent of stealing information from the
aliens; his sister- captured in revenge and never returned, yet still
alive; Scully- taken not by aliens, but for use by the Consortium.
They experimented on her using the alien technology his father had
helped to acquire. And now- him. A death certificate signed. His
grave was already dug.
It was 3:56 am Sunday morning when he decided to sit
down an write to Scully. He had debated on calling her, but
refused to have her put in any danger. He knew she would want to
come over- to help him get out as fast as he could. But he knew
there was no escape. So he had sat in the darkness of his bedroom
that had no windows with his gun at the ready beside him,
handwriting a letter to his partner outlining what he wanted to
occur at his funeral and who was to be there. Mulder told her
things he never told in life, things that he had kept to himself for the
most part. He included a will, of course, leaving most things to her
and his mother- and some to Samantha if she ever came home.

**Scully,
I know you're going to be angry with me if you ever get this
letter. You'll probably damn me to hell for not telling you what was
going on. I may be heading that way anyway.
If you get this letter, you'll know that I have died. It was
probably violent- a shooting, a stabbing. Maybe it was made to
look like a break-in. Maybe they stole some things. I don't really
know.
Anyway, I'm writing you to tell you what to do with me and
my things after I am gone- just so you and my mom won't be so
overwhelmed with all of my possessions. (I can imagine your
wisecrack right about now. 'Yeah, Mulder. What am I going to do
with these videos?') And I have to make a few things clear to you.
But anyway, I'll start off with what's happened this weekend.
I was heading home Friday when I ran into an old friend of
ours and he gave me the initial warning of my impending death. I
didn't believe him until I read something he gave me and realized
that he had set me up for knowing too much. The taking of that file
was a mistake that led to my despise, Scully. So I won't disclose
that information to you. I won't let you put your life in any more
danger than it already is. I'll let you know though- nothing really
matters anymore. Not the past, the present, the future. It's
worthless. Maybe my death is a blessing. But if you're looking for
that file right now- I burned it. Not even the ashes remain.
The assassination was rumored to take place around 10:30
on Sunday night. I guess I won't be in for work. I'll go ahead and
apologize for that. I really didn't mean to leave you alone in there.
I know we probably got a new case or something. But I know that
you can handle it alone if you want.
God, Scully. I really never thought it would come down to
this. I mean- there were attempts before. But none of them were
so bluntly issued. This- it's like my father's assassination and I have
to wonder if he knew what was coming to him. I feel, now, that he
did. That's why he called me that night. But he never expected it
so soon. Like father, like son, I guess. I hope not. But I think
hope is pointless now.
Scully, I know that I've given you absolute hell over the past
few years. I've probably ruined any chance of advancement within
your career. I'm so sorry you had to work with me. Don't get me
wrong- you were the best thing that has ever happened to me. But
to put you in that position, Scully. To make you decide, to make
you turn against me or turn against the Bureau- it wasn't fair on
_their_ part. I should have dismissed you and thrown you back into
the lake so you could grow a little while you had the chance. But
after those first few cases with you, I couldn't let go. I'm sorry for
that, too. Every case you've been on with me- you've helped me so
much. Even though our opinions differed in almost every aspect, I
could always trust you to speak what was on your mind. Of
course, you hid behind your scientific facade forever, but I needed
that science to balance my extreme thoughts. Trust- just to clear
that one up. Scully, you are the _only_ one I ever really trusted.
Through everything- yeah I know I said otherwise a few times, but
believe me- that was my hatred- my father's temper speaking. Not
the real me. I trusted you from the moment you came into my hotel
room that night wearing only your robe. You thought you had
been affected by those little marks we saw on those Oregon kids.
And you just threw off your robe (I really thought you were going
to seduce me at that point. That your duties were to distract me
and get my mind off the case). But you turned and showed me
your back. And they were just mosquito bites. You were so
relieved at that point that you turned around and you hugged me- at
which point I kind of wanted to seduce you since you appeared so
vulnerable. Just kidding. But from that point on, I knew that I
could trust you. Not to believe all of my theories, not to go along
on every wild goose chase I led you on, but to just be there when I
needed you. To hear me out and to offer your unbiased opinion on
the cases we investigated. Well- unbiased by the government,
biased by science, of course. Anyway, I just had to let you know
where our relationship really stood with me. And to tell you that I
really love you. I love you for the partner and friend you've
become. If given the opportunity, I could love you further. But I
know the Bureau's policies and you....
The funeral- nothing special okay? Just whatever my mom
feels like she needs to do. But I don't want an FBI funeral, Scully.
Don't let them do that to me. Simple- friends, a few co-workers
maybe. Give me a showing. Invite Skinner- tell him "thanks" for
putting up with me all these years. Play whatever songs you and
my mom want. Put fresh roses in my casket. Put my cell phone in
there so I can call you up sometime. And after it's over, visit me. I
don't care how often or when. Just come, so I won't be alone
during those first 60 years or so.
On to Fox Mulder's will, if you will. Ha, got ya. Anyway-
to answer your question about those videos and everything.
Frohike has been waiting for this moment for years. Tell him to
enjoy them. Anything else like that- same guy. If there's anything
laying around that you want, you can have it. I know there's
probably not much, but please take something. Please. My watch,
my clothes, whatever- just so I can have something to be near you.
So you won't forget me. So I know that you're still thinking of me
even when I'm gone. Take something, as I have taken from you
your trust in science, your career, your life. Take from me, because
I'm giving it all up. Let my mom into the apartment. Call her up.
Her number is listed. Tell her what I told you- that _they_ got to
me. It wasn't an accident, a suicide, an everyday crime in D.C.
She can have whatever she wants, too. But Scully- you'll probably
get first pick. Don't be humble about it- don't wait for mom. Do
me a favor though- if a woman ever appears- maybe with brown
hair, looks like me, with the name Samantha, give her that picture
of us as kids on the beach. Hell, Scully, give her the X-Files. Tell
her about me. Tell her.... Tell her I looked for her for so long.
That I never gave up on her, even after mom and dad did. And
then, if you want, conjure me up by seance so I can meet her for
once. Yes, Scully, I was kidding. And you give her a copy of this
letter, too. Everything else that belongs to me- you can let the
gunmen have, you can call up everyone in my little black book, you
can sell it.... Whatever. But just don't give anything to Phoebe,
okay? I don't think she'd care anyway. You can tell her I said that,
too. I'll be laughing at her- wherever I go. I know we can both
laugh at that one.
Please laugh, Scully. Laugh at the absurdity of all this- all
that we've been through together. Laugh because you're free from
me- free from having to worry about the X-Files. Free from having
to worry about your family because of me. Free. Laugh, Scully.
Because at last, I am free from the burden of this society.
Remember Lucy Householder? Remember my words then? My
death is my release. I will be happy there, even though I will be
without you for what I hope will be a very long time. I'll be happy
because you'll be happy. Don't make this hard for yourself. There's
nothing you could've done. Laugh at me- for not telling you
anything. Laugh because you can be so angry at a dead guy.
Laugh, Scully, because I love you. And I have always loved
you....**

And he had signed it with a simple Fox "Spooky" Mulder. He
knew she would at least give a little smile at that. Of course, he
considered the possibility that she would find the letter even if he
didn't die. So, in case _they_ decided not to come, he had plans to
put the letter in a lock box and give her a key with instructions not
to open it until his death. Great, Mulder- now you've sparked her
curiosity. But that was one good thing about Scully: he could trust
her not to open that box before the right time.
The letter was now sitting in plain view on the desk beside
the phone. It was plainly marked "DANA SCULLY" on the
outside. She would see it, for sure. Mulder wondered what he
would do if he didn't die. There were things in that letter he didn't
exactly want to have into the open with her. There were things in
there that should not have been said in life, that he could only
manage in death. He guessed that if he lived, she would probably
just forget about the whole thing in her worry over his injuries.
Hopefully.

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

"Sir, you wanted to see me?" Scully asked, entering the office.
"Yes, Agent Scully. Have a seat."
"Is it something about this case? Something you forgot?"
"Actually, it's about Mulder. He hasn't reported in this
morning and I received some news about some events that might
have taken place."
Scully sat up a little straighter, her chin a little higher,
preparing to give her best "no knowledge, whatsoever, " look.
Skinner sighed and sat up also. "Scully, someone told me....
Someone said that maybe Mulder's time was up."
Scully started to stand, preparing to bolt out the door and
into Mulder's apartment. "Wait, Scully. Scully," he called. "I don't
know for sure. It was just a rumor. Something that got passed
along. Just....just go check it out, okay? Make sure everything's all
right?"
Scully nodded. "I was heading over there when you called,
sir." And then she was gone.

Mulder didn't really know why or how he could be alive. It
wasn't the injuries that he had that kept him wondering; it was the
mere fact that his injuries weren't immediately fatal. By all
accounts, the men that came should have killed him. They didn't
make mistakes like they had. That was an impossibility. They were
the best at their job- their superiors would not accept less. Come
on- shooting him in the _right_ chest, yeah that did a whole lot of
good. Gave him bloody coughs, a hard time breathing, a sore
chest. And his hand- whatever. That had happened when he had
attempted to pick up his gun to fire at the intruders. NO such luck
on hitting them as a burst of pain had flooded his hand and blood
made his grip slippery. He doubted that he could've even pulled the
trigger. But a swift bullet to the brain would've cleared up
everything. Would've spared them the trouble. But instead, after
shooting him twice, they had pummeled him with their feet and
hands while he could not fight back. Then they had pummeled his
apartment. He noticed when they stole his computer, hi stereo, his
TV. Robbery... whatever. Very funny... He was glad he wrote
that letter.... And the neighbors had heard _none_ of it. The
intruders had used silencers and had been very quiet considering.
Then again, Mulder thought, the neighbors were pretty used to
having their neighborly FBI agent make all sorts of racket while he
was cleaning up. Usually cleaning up meant a thorough bug search-
resulting in shattered lights, overturned tables, you name it. Who
knew that it was actually an assassin this time?

Scully swerved around the car in front of her, yelling
obscenities as the car had braked for a yellow light. She was
speeding, she knew. She would be lucky if the D.C. traffic cops
didn't throw her in jail for the way she was driving. But it couldn't
be helped. She had to get to Mulder now. Just five more lights and
two turns, she thought. A mere seven minutes if she was good
through traffic. *Come on, Mulder. Be alive.* Another yellow,
cars slowing, the light turning red. She swerved again, racing
through the light. And then, blue lights behind her.
"Dammit!" she yelled. "Dammit to hell!" She swiftly pulled
over and jumped out of her car, badge in hand. The police car
swerved over also, already beginning to call in the license plate
number. Scully knocked on his window, flashing her badge. The
police officer got out of the car, excusing himself to the woman on
the radio.
"Ma'am, that badge does not do any good when you just
went 85 through a red light."
"Sir, I'm on official business here. If you don't let me go, a
man could die."
"Ma'am, if you'll just calm down, I'm going to have to run
your badge number."
"No!" Scully said. "I can't fucking CALM DOWN. My
partner may be dying!"
"Ma'am," the officer said, picking up the radio. "Two
minutes. That's all. Two minutes and if what you're saying is true,
I'll give you a ride myself. Calm down."
Scully's rationality came back to her at that moment and she
sighed and went back to her car. She picked up her cell phone and
dialed Mulder's number. *Please answer. Please.* One ring, two.
"This is Fox Mulder..." Scully hung up this time. Maybe he was in
the hall, getting his mail. Maybe the shower. She waited a minute
and redialed the number. One... and then silence.
"Mulder?" she asked into the phone. "Mulder are you
there?"
"Scully," she heard the weakened voice mumble. "Scully."
She looked up to see the police officer staring at her and nodding.
And then he waved her over.
"Come on! Where are you headed?" he was asking as she
clambered into the front seat and buckled her seat belt.
"Mulder, talk to me. What happened?" She turned to the
officer and mumbled out the name of Mulder's apartment complex.
Amazingly, he knew where to go.
"Scully," he mumbled again. "Hurry, please hurry." Silence
again.
"Mulder, I'm on my way. Just hold on." No reply this time.
"Mulder?"
"Still here. Not going anywhere, Scully."
"This is unit 54 en route, we need an ambulance and
additional units to the Timberline Apartments on 8th street," the
officer muttered into the radio. "That is correct. Yes- I'm with an
Agent Dana Scully. It's her partner.... Yes. Thank you." Scully
looked over and said a silent "thank you" with her eyes.
"Mulder," she said. "What happened to you?"
"Some guys- they came over. We had lots of fun, Scully.
But the place is really trashed."
"Who?"
"They didn't tell me their names, Scully."
"What did they do to you, Mulder?"
"I'm not dead yet, but you'd better hurry, Scully."
"We'll be there in less than a minute, Mulder. I can see your
apartment now. I'm going to let you go. All right? Hang in there,
Mulder. I'll be there soon."
The officer pulled up onto the curb and Scully leapt out of
the car, rushing into the building and up to Mulder's apartment.
Sprinting madly, she nearly overran an old couple in the hallway.
Finally, she reached the door, realizing it was still locked from the
inside. She dug in her purse. Keys, keys.... Dammit! Where were
the keys? To hell with it- she kicked the door in.
Mulder had been right. Scully didn't think that she had ever
seen Mulder's apartment in more of a mess. And then she saw him-
still cradling the phone. He was laying on the floor in what
appeared to be a puddle of blood. She could tell that he had been
beaten pretty badly. And she noticed that his shirt was bloody.
Mulder felt her cool touch on his burning face and he
flinched as she had hit on a bruise.
"Mulder..." he heard her whisper. He slowly rolled over,
groaning.
"Scully," he managed. "Glad you could make it." He
coughed- the metallic taste of blood on his tongue.
She laid a hand on her partner's chest, soothing him.
"Shh... everything's going to be all right. Just lie still."
He passed out, finally at rest. Scully's eyes went wide as her
partner succumbed to the darkness. She quickly put two fingers on
his neck- still alive. Weak, yet alive. She hurriedly laid him flat out
on the floor, covering him with the nearest blanket she could find
and putting his feet up on a pillow for the shock. Then she went to
work at finding his injuries. She quickly discarded the bloody shirt,
finding his torso covered with blood. As she wiped it away with
the torn shirt, several paramedics came rushing into the room,
preceded by the police officer who had taken Scully to the
apartment. She stood back, letting them do their job. Instead of
watching, criticizing their work, and insisting on taking part in
Mulder's treatment, she look around the apartment. She easily
found the two bullet holes in the wall. After some searching, she
even found Mulder's gun, unfired, beneath a pile of books.
"Agent Scully?" a voice sounded, bringing her back into the
room and away from her investigative thinking process.
"Yes?" she said, turning. The police officer was standing
over the desk which held the phone.
"This looks like it's for you." Scully looked curiously at the
envelope clearly marked with her name. She took it and placed it
into her purse. No time to read the contents now. The medics
were moving Mulder out of the room. She had to follow.

11:21 a.m.
Georgetown Hospital

Scully paced back and forth across the waiting room.
Mulder had been in surgery for the past hour and a half. She knew
his chest wound was serious- he was lucky he wasn't already dead.
And he had lost so much blood. Dammit, if she hadn't been in that
meeting with Skinner, she might have gotten there sooner. Damn
Skinner. Damn Mulder.
Suddenly remembering the envelope that was left on the
desk for her, she ran back to her purse sitting on the chair and
searched for the letter. She stared at it for a moment before
carefully opening it. She unfolded the letter, surprised to see that it
was handwritten. She steamed for a few moments before breaking
into soft sobs, then turned to smiling- even laughing. The damn
bastard. He had known they were coming and he hadn't even told
her. Fox Mulder was crazy- but he wasn't dead yet. That made her
laugh even harder. Because now, she held his deepest secret in her
hands and he was still alive to deal with it.
People started to stare at the red-headed woman who was
trying to contain her laughter. Some smiled politely, having
witnessed her worrisome pacing for the past hour. Others frowned
at her rude annoyance in the peaceful darkness of the hospital
waiting room.
Skinner walked in to find his agent crouched down, head in
her hands. He thought she was crying- but he couldn't tell for sure.
"Agent Scully?" he whispered. She looked up and he as surprised
to find her grinning- yet he could see the tears that her eyes still
held, and the red streaks on her face were an indication that some
had already fallen. "How is he?"
"Um," Scully said, trying to straighten herself back up.
"Um..... he's in surgery. A..... a bullet perforated his right lung and
another shattered a few bones in his right hand. Otherwise, he's just
a little beat up. He lost a lot of blood and they're not sure if he'll
pull through."
Skinner sighed and sat down next to her. "I'm sorry,
Scully."
"What's to be sorry about? You couldn't have know."
"Who would?"
Scully grinned, standing again. "Well, evidently, _he_ did,"
she said quietly.
"What?"
Scully flipped the note out and flashed it in front of
Skinner's face. "He left me this- his WILL. He knew there was a
hit ordered. He knew exactly when it was coming. And yet, he
did nothing. Because he knew there was nothing he could do but
wait." Skinner remained silent while Scully built up her rage again.
"Bastard," Skinner heard her mutter- wondered if she was talking
about him or Mulder. Didn't really care. Didn't really matter.
"Agent Scully," a voice said behind her. She turned, facing
a doctor clad in his greens, still wearing a surgical cap. "Your
partner is out of surgery. We repaired the hole in his lung and
re-inflated it. He had to have 3 units of blood and he'll have to
undergo therapy for his hand. Barring infection and complications,
he should be okay. "
Scully felt herself letting go. He was alive this time. He
would stay alive. The doctor left. Scully turned back towards
Skinner, her pent up emotions letting loose as she collapsed into the
nearest chair and cried.

Two hours later found Scully sitting in a blue plastic chair
next to Mulder's bed in intensive care. He was hooked up to quite
a few tubes and machines, but he was alive. Skinner had left shortly
after seeing that two guards would be placed with Mulder at all
times. Scully had quietly pushed one of the guards out of the room
so she and Mulder could be alone.
Mulder was still unconscious and the doctors predicted that
he would remain that way for at least another day. Judging by the
extent of bruising she saw on his head and the knowledge that he
probably hadn't slept for the past 3 days, she thought that it might
be a little longer. So she just sat there for the rest of the day,
holding his arm- keeping him grounded for now.

January 15th
12:30 p.m.

Cool moisture flooding his nostrils. Warmness enveloping
his body. Heaven.... No- too many tubes. Tubes... in his nose,
mouth. IV's in his arm. He gagged. Coughed. Opened his eyes
and relaxed as he felt the tube in his mouth being pulled out. The
one carrying oxygen into his nasal passage remained. He looked up
at the nurse who had just relieved him of the tube. She looked to
the left, smiling, and then exited.
Mulder looked over to his left, careful not to move any
other part of his body. He, too, smiled. Scully.
"Hi," she said. "How do you feel?"
"Did I get hit by a tractor trailer or something?"
Scully laughed. "No," she said, suddenly serious. "Not this
time."
"How long?"
"You've only been here for two days. Only a few more to
go." She paused. "What happened?"
Mulder thought about that for a moment, remembering
going into the office in the morning, working, then finally leaving- 2
hours after Scully had called it a day. That was Friday. He must
have been attacked in the garage. "I remember leaving the office on
Friday..."
"And then?"
"I don't know- there's nothing there. I guess I was attacked
in the garage."
Scully frowned. Seeing Mulder's expression of pained
curiosity, she smiled again. "Actually, it was in your apartment
Sunday night. Today is Tuesday. You were shot twice. Some
things were stolen out of your apartment. The police have named
you the latest victim of an armed robbery ring."
"Oh," he said, frowning. "Guess I don't get a purple heart
for this one, heh? What did they take?"
Scully frowned with the realization that Mulder really didn't
remember. He didn't know that it had been a hit. He didn't
remember the file. He didn't remember the letter. "Television," she
mumbled thoughtlessly. "Computer, stereo, your wallet." She
stopped, paused as his eyelids fluttered. "Your memory," she
whispered as she took his hand and he drifted back to a drugged
sleep. "You may have lost it, Fox Mulder. But I'll keep it safe for
you, I promise." Scully fingered the envelope in her hands and
silently placed it back into her purse.

END E-bow the Letter
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