From: GREY853 Date: 13 Apr 1998 00:18:07 GMT Subject: NEW Slash Consent 6/11 M/Sk NC-17 explicit language Title: Consent 6/11 Author: Grey E-mail: Grey853@aol.com Rating: NC-17--for explicit language, violence, and rape. Category: SA Spoilers: Irresistible. Keyword: M/Sk, Slash, Rape Archive: Okay to MSSS and others. See part 0 for WARNING and DISCLAIMER Consent 6/11 by Grey Wednesday 10 P.M. Georgetown Medical Dr. Boysen came into the room to find Mulder mentally pacing. He shifted restlessly in the bed, tugging at and rewrapping the sheets. "Mulder, what are you doing?" "Do you have any idea how hard it is to get comfortable in one of these beds? It's almost impossible." "Well, you must be improving, because you were in no condition to notice all that just a few days ago." "If I'm so much better, why don't you take out some of these tubes and cut me off from all these wires. They're starting to get on my nerves." "Speaking of nerves, I think the nurses around here are beginning to use your name in vain." Mulder leaned back and tried to look contrite. "Well, I really don't mean to be difficult, but frankly, I don't need to get a sponge bath when I can wash myself." "Nurse Janes is only doing her job, Mulder. And the lab techs always have orders when they come for blood. You going into overdrive and challenging everything is only going to alienate the staff. You don't want to piss off people with needles and sharp instruments, Mulder." "Yeah, well, it's a bad habit. I tend to piss off most people these days." Dr. Boysen came over and checked Mulder's readings. Then after looking back down to his charts, he said, "Your kidney function seems to be a little better and most of your blood tests are improving. I plan to remove the catheter tomorrow." "How soon can I go home after that?" Boysen leaned the metal chart against the rail of the bed. "You're still not holding down even liquid food and until you return to completely normal kidney and bowel function, I will not release you." "Any idea how long that'll be?" "I'm not finished yet." Mulder looked puzzled. "You won't be released until you have at least two sessions with Dr. Harris and he signs off with his approval and recommendations." "Fuck." Mulder pushed his weight angrily back against the bed. "What is the big deal here? I wasn't hurt on the job, so how can the Bureau mandate counseling?" "AD Skinner doesn't feel comfortable allowing you to return to duty until he's sure you're able to handle what happened along with the stress you're bound to encounter in your job. As your doctor, I have to agree with him." "Why do you have such a hard on about this anyway?" "Interesting choice of words, Mr. Mulder." Mulder flushed with anger. "Fuck you, Boysen." Boysen didn't budge and remained calm. "Mulder, at this point there is little physical reason for your severe bouts of vomiting. If you'd stop for a moment and be honest, you'd realize that it's more than a little liquid Ensure you can't stomach." "What are you talking about?" "Your medical records show that during times of extreme stress, especially when you were in BSU, you went through acute episodes of vomiting, dehydration, and exhaustion followed by periods of depression. Sound familiar?" "What's your point?" "My point is that you were involved in a horrendous case and already suffering seriously from mental and physical fatigue. Then along comes this assault, which by the way, you totally denied until confronted by your superior. You almost let yourself die, Agent Mulder. Now, don't make me waste my time telling you how what you went through can be just as damaging to the mind. You already know that." "My mind is fine, Doctor." "Mulder, I won't pretend to understand why you act the way you do. You're the perfect example of why I chose not to go into psychiatry. I will tell you that I refuse to take the responsibility if you end up killing yourself." Mulder starred at the man startled, "You think I'm suicidal?" "Maybe not right this minute, but the potential is there whether you want to admit it or not. Your long history of clinical depression and self-destructive, impulsive behavior requires that I do everything I can possibly do to make sure that you don't hurt yourself. That's not going to happen while you're under my care, young man. You will see Dr. Harris. Do you understand me, Mulder?" Taking in a deep breath of defeat, Mulder sighed. "Okay, but on one condition." "What's that?" "At least let me get up and put some clothes on before I have to see him." Confused, Boysen asked, "Why in the world would that be important?" "Shrink rule #19--Never wear fewer clothes than your therapist." "And that's because?" "It's a power issue." "You've got a strange sense of humor, Mulder." "You think I'm joking?" Boysen remembered Scully's comments about Mulder's previous experiences with mandated counseling and nodded. "Okay, Mulder, but first you have to drink some Ensure and keep it down. Then get some sleep, and in the morning, we'll see about clothes." "Goodie. Who said life wasn't just stuffed full of simple pleasures?" Boysen studied the agent's odd expression. It was the same expression his cat Luther used to get before he sneaked out and ate one of old Mrs. Gracie's pet canaries. Mulder was up to something. Boysen just hoped it didn't include anything too painful. Thursday 2 A.M. Mulder jerked awake, grabbed the side rails to the bed, and tried to keep from screaming. Sweat poured down from his forehead into his eyes, the salt stinging like tiny needles to blur his vision. Drenched sheets clung to his body as he tried to slow his breathing and remember where he was. "Are you okay, Mulder?" Scully stood quietly by his bed holding a cup of water. She studied her partner and checked out his vital signs by way of the monitors. "Just a little sleep disorder, Scully. Nothing serious." "You sure? Looked pretty serious there for a minute? What were you dreaming about?" Mulder couldn't meet her eyes when he spoke, so he starred out ahead of himself. Continuing to grasp the safety rails, he spoke quietly, "I don't really remember all of it. It was confused." "Confused how?" "It started out like the ones I usually have." "You still have nightmares on a regular basis, Mulder? You told me that wasn't happening anymore." "Well, I guess I sort of had a relapse here, Scully." "Okay, so was it about Samantha?" "It started out that way, but then I couldn't see or move. Samantha was calling out, but then it wasn't Samantha calling my name." "Who was it?" Mulder closed his eyes before he answered. "It was Skinner." "Our Skinner?" Scully watched Mulder nervously as he shifted uneasily in the bed, still keeping his eyes tightly shut . "What was he saying when he called out?" "He was trapped somewhere and hurt. It was strange, Scully. He just kept calling out to me. Over and over, and I couldn't move. I couldn't see and I couldn't move. It was so cold." Mulder gave an involuntary shudder. "Are you cold now?" "Yeah, a little." Scully went to her chair, brought over her own blanket, and placed it over Mulder. "You don't have to do that, Scully." "Of course, I don't, but I can go out and get another. No problem." "Thanks." Mulder finally looked at her. He saw the fear and exhaustion in her face. "Scully, you should go home. I'm okay now. You need to get some rest." "Okay? Sure you are, Mulder." "It was just a nightmare. I'm used to them. I'm just not used to anybody else seeing what they do to me." "What they do to you is scare you shitless. Hell, Mulder, you heart rate just broke the sound barrier a few minutes ago. I'm not leaving you until I'm sure you're really okay." "But wearing yourself out won't do me or you any good." "I am tired, Mulder, but I won't get any rest if I'm at home and still worried. You know you're the same way, so don't kid yourself." Mulder's readings gradually returned to normal, and a general heaviness settled into his limbs. "I never kid myself, Scully, and I do appreciate you being here." "I know you do." Scully watched as Mulder began a slow drift back into sleep. "Sweet dreams, partner. I'm right here beside you." She took his hand and held it gently. At her words she could've sworn, Mulder squeezed his reply. Thursday 7:30 A.M. Boysen came in early to find Scully draped awkwardly in her chair. Her head was back, but as soon as he walked through the door, she was up and alert. Mulder was still sleeping. "I hear that Mulder was busy last night." "And loud." "I reduced his medication. I think it may have been too soon." "He's had nightmares before, but these were different." "Different how?" "The first time he woke up, he told me that he dreamed that our boss was calling for help and he couldn't do anything. The last two times, he screamed for several minutes before I could even get him to realize I was here. When he did recognize me, he refused to tell me what he dreamed." "Nightmares aren't unusual in trauma cases." "I know, but it's still frightening." Mulder groaned as he rolled over in bed. "It's not so bad, Scully. Once I wake up, I barely even remember." Seeing her partner's fuzzy expression, she grinned wearily. He was rubbing his face into the pillow, and looked just like a waking child. Then she thought about how terrified he'd been all throughout the night, and her expression became very serious. "Maybe if you remembered, you could get rid of them." "Maybe." Mulder swallowed hard and tried to sit up. "God, I feel like I've been hit by a truck. Did somebody lay me out on a highway last night?" Boysen frowned and came closer to the bed. "Last night's marathon dreamfest probably didn't help your muscles any. Also I've started cutting back on all your meds, including the Demerol. You'll feel a lot more sore and achy before we're finished." "Gee, that's great news, huh, Scully? More achy bits for Mulder." "You're an achy bit yourself, Mulder." "Terms of endearment only prove how much you care, Scully." Scully shook her head and turned to Boysen. "I'm going to get some coffee and clean up some." "Sure. I'll be finished with my exam shortly." Scully looked over to Mulder with concern when she saw him grimace. "Don't worry, Mulder. Just keep telling yourself it's one step closer to getting out of here and home to your couch." "That can't be too soon." Scully left and Boysen turned to Mulder. "Don't worry. If it hurts too much, I can stop. I'll remove the catheter and then the drain and packing from your surgery. Then the nurse will do a cleansing and medicated rinse. If you have a problem at any time, just tell me." Mulder took a deep breath and shut his eyes. "I can do what I have to, Doc. Don't worry about me. Just don't ask me to chitchat while you're busy." Boysen called for the nurse. Mulder felt himself drifting to another place, removing himself from the scene. Over the years stepping away from himself had come in handy when things became too intense. Fog traced his mind and he found that the voices only filtered in slowly through the grey haze that softened the world.. The hands touching him in private places were touching someone else, that body over there, not Fox Mulder. Somehow blocking off his senses wasn't nearly as hard now. It seemed he'd gotten better with practice. ********** "Mulder, can you hear me? Mulder?" Startled, Mulder realized that Dr. Boysen stood by the edge of the bed, while Scully shouted his name. "Gee, Scully, why are you screaming like that? I'm right here." "Damn, Mulder, you scared me. What the hell happened?" Confused, Mulder shook his head. "What are you talking about?" Boysen jumped in, "She's talking about the fact that while I treated you, you became non-responsive." "Non-responsive?" "Yes, Mulder, as in you went somewhere and locked us out." Scully's voice shook. "Mulder, I've seen you in a lot of serious conditions, but I have to tell you, this was very scary." "Sorry, Scully. I don't remember. I was just lying here, and then you were here." Boysen asked, "What is the last thing you do remember?" "Scully left and then she was back. Funny, huh?" Boysen shook his head, "Not funny, Mulder. Do you realize what just happened?" "I took a nap and missed the painful part of the movie?" "Stop joking around, Mulder," Scully scolded. Boysen continued, "It's as though you separated from yourself so you wouldn't have to deal with the situation. You're a psychologist. You know what that's called." Mulder shook his head in denial. "No way. I just hared out a little bit, that's all. I did not have some kind of fucking disassociative episode. Don't even try to say that." "Call it whatever you want, but something's not right." Scully touched his arm, which he quickly pulled away. "You didn't just lose memory of the procedure, Mulder. You didn't come back to yourself until almost half an hour later. You weren't asleep, but you weren't aware of the world around you either." Finally taking in the gravity of what she was saying, Mulder looked at her and spoke carefully. "Don't make such a big deal about it, Scully. I didn't want to handle the discomfort, so I took a way out. So what? I'm back. No harm's done." "You know better than that. Has this happened before?" Mulder hesitated and then lied. "Not that I know of, Scully." Boysen noted the stiff, defensive posture of his patient and then motioned for Scully to follow him out. "Agent Mulder, we'll talk later. Get some rest." Outside in the corridor, Boysen spoke in a tense tone. "You know what this means, Dr. Scully?" Scully nodded sadly, "It means, Mulder's in a lot more trouble than we thought. Damn." "Damn, indeed." End of part 6/11 Consent 7/11 Thursday 11 A.M. Scully entered Mulder's room to find him out of his bed. Boysen had removed the monitor, but his IV was still attached. He cradled it in one hand like a baby, while he was shuffling things around with the other. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" "I need some clothes, Scully. Where the hell are my clothes?" "You need to get back in bed. You don't need any clothes." "Where's my suit? I know I had a suit on when I came in here." Mulder was frantically looking through drawers and all around the cabinet. "Where the fuck is it?" "The shirt was ruined. The suit itself is at the cleaners." While she was talking, Scully edged her way slowly toward her skittish partner. "Get back in bed, Mulder. I'll get you a robe." "I don't need a goddamn robe, Scully. I need my clothes." Mulder turned and saw her closing in. He moved back reflexively. "Leave me alone, Scully. I'm okay. I'm not dizzy or anything. I need to move around. I'm too stiff from being in bed too long." "I understand that, Mulder, but you can't just be moving around on your own without someone here in case you do get dizzy. Now, please, get back in the bed." Deliberately being stubborn, Mulder shook his head. "I'm going to the bathroom first." Starring her down, he continued, "And don't even think of following me in there." Grudgingly, Scully said, "Okay, but I swear if you pass out on me, I'm going to hurt you myself, Mulder." Smiling weakly, Mulder edged his way to the bathroom. He held the IV bag with one hand and steadied himself against the wall with the other. A short time later, she heard the unmistakable sound of relief. She stood by the door and waited patiently until Mulder emerged triumphant. "Gee, Scully, who would've thought such a simple thing could give so much satisfaction. It didn't even hurt this time." "Things are looking better then, huh?" "Sure enough." Mulder suddenly looked pale, and turned his attention to getting back in bed. With Scully's help he got his legs up under the covers and leaned back. "I think that'll do me for a few minutes." "That'll do you a while longer. Boysen's going to be pissed you got up without supervision." "Scully, I don't really need a baby-sitter anymore." "I hate the way you just decide what you need, Mulder. You're better, but you're still weak. Doctors go to school a really long time to learn about all this, and you just willy-nilly decide to have your own way about everything, no matter what anybody says. That really pisses me off sometimes." "Willy-nilly, Scully?" "Mulder, don't avoid the point. You're too impatient with yourself. You don't give yourself enough time to heal. In the long run sometimes you end up hurting yourself and that beyond annoying." Giving her his best puppy-dog look, he said, "Sorry, Scully. I know you worry, but believe it or not I do have a right to make decisions about my own body. I really do take in to consideration what others want, but bottom line is, it's my choice." Shoving his shoulder with more than just a little frustration, Scully countered, "I know that, Mulder. It just seems to me that for a smart man, you do some really silly things when it comes to taking care of yourself." "You think I'm a smart man, Scully?" "Mulder, please, be serious. I know you truly believe that getting yourself up and around, will make everything okay, but it won't." "Scully, stop. I can't talk about this right now." "Yes, you can, Mulder. Don't deny the seriousness of what's happened to you. The body heals easily compared to the mind. We both know that." Mulder turned his face away from his partner. "You're one of the toughest people I know. You can handle this, but you cannot do it alone. Why is it so damn hard for you to admit that, Mulder?" "It just is." Mulder waited for a few moments to get his voice under control. "I hear what you're saying, but you know how hard it is for me to trust anyone. How can I trust some stranger with my darkest moments? How can I do that, Scully? Could you?" "Yes. In fact I have." Surprised, Mulder turned to look at her. "When?" "During the Donnie Pfaster case. It was hard to deal with everything. I don't think I ever got over my father's death and the fear about my abduction. I hated feeling out of control. I hated the fear, but I mostly hated not being able to control how the fear made me feel. I did go to someone and talk about it and it helped." "You could've come to me." "I know, but sometimes a person needs an objective ear. You take everything on yourself. If I'd told you some of things I told my counselor, you would've felt guilty that you couldn't fix everything or protect me. I know you, Mulder. You take on the worries of the world and neglect yourself. I wasn't about to add to that." "It wouldn't have been a burden, Scully. I need to know when things aren't right with you. I'm glad you had someone to talk to." Impatiently, Scully tilted her head and crossed her arms. "Oh, I see. So, it's okay for me to need someone, but not you?" "It's different." "Different how?" "I've always taken care of myself." "Well, now it's time to let someone help a little. Listen to me, Mulder." He shifted uneasily at her strict tone, but didn't turn away. "I've talked to this Dr. Harris and he seems like a really good psychiatrist. I did a background check on him and he's one of the best in his specialty, which happens to be traumatic stress and abuse. He's on permanent retainer with the Bureau to help with agents in trouble. That would be you, Mulder." "I'm fine, Scully. All I need is a little more rest and I can get back to work. Work is what I need, not counseling." "One is not going to happen without the other, Agent Mulder." Skinner's voice boomed inside the room. Both agents were startled by his stealthy entrance. "I've been talking to Dr. Boysen." "I can just imagine what that blabbermouth said." "He told me that you had a little problem with response and alertness this morning. I was already determined you would be evaluated, now it's not even a voluntary option for either of us. You will not return to work until you've been released by both Dr. Boysen and Dr. Harris." Mulder started to whine some protest, but Skinner raised his hand. "Don't even say it. You can argue all you want, but if you want to play hardball, I can do that, too." "Walter, please." Scully glanced at her partner, surprised at his use of Skinner's first name, and saw the faintest blush on the AD's face. A puzzle formed in her mind, but she remained quiet, watching and collecting clues. "If you refuse the counseling, I will put you on indefinite leave without pay or benefits. If I have to take that route, I will also have to do a paper trail of details about why. Do you really want that, Agent Mulder?" The bed wasn't deep enough. Mulder took several quick breaths and closed his eyes. "I really hate you sometimes, sir." Skinner nodded and smiled sadly, "I know you do." After a few more quiet, tense moments, Mulder finally spoke. "Could I at least get some clothes?" Scully breathed easier and touched his shoulder. "Sure, Mulder. I'll go get your sweats." "No suit and ties?" "What, and frighten Harris before he even gets to know you? Forget about it." With his eyes still closed, Mulder missed the worried glances between Skinner and Scully. "Get some sleep, Agent Mulder. We'll be back later." He heard the two leave, leaving him alone, a long line of terrors playing games as they war-danced and taunted him from every corner of his mind. Taking a deep breath he tried to focus instead on the comfort of oblivion. Then he made the mistake of letting himself think again. Thursday Noon Mulder stirred his cup of broth dejectedly. He'd managed to drink one of the cans of Ensure and not throw up. His stomach felt tight, but not heaving. He focused on the voice in his head that told him that the sooner he ate, the sooner he could leave. Visions of being alone in his apartment without prying eyes and mandates made for quite a motivating force. As he contemplated how he could swallow the salty beef bouillon without gagging, Scully walked in carrying his overnight bag. "Well, either eat it or shoot it, Mulder. Put one of you out your misery." "Hey, don't joke, Scully. This stuff is awful. I know I have to eat. I keep telling myself over and over that it's the only way out of here, but I swear there's got to be some kind of Nazi working in the kitchen around here." Scully shook her head in mild amusement and put his bag on the end of the bed. She observed that he'd eaten about half of what was on the tray. "At least you're improving." "Small favors." Changing the subject from his lack of appetite, he questioned, "You bring me my sweats?" "Yeah, and a few other things. I also stopped and got you this." She handed him a small package wrapped in plain brown paper. Mulder eyed it suspiciously as he pushed his tray aside to examine it. "It's not a bomb. Open it." Top removed, the box revealed an electric shaver. "Gee, Scully, it's a nice thought, but why'd you do that? I'll be out of here and home soon." "I know, Mulder, but you still need one now and I just didn't like the idea of you using someone else's. Besides, it's no big deal." Suddenly feeling uneasy, Mulder put the shaver down, and studied his tray. Noticing his change in attitude, Scully asked, "What's wrong?" "Nothing." "Don't tell me nothing. What is it?" "I was just thinking that maybe you don't think I'm going home anytime soon." "Why would you think that?" "Well, maybe I need an electric shaver, because you don't trust me to have another kind of razor." Scully shook her head in sad amazement. "Mulder, it's just an impulse gift I picked up. I swear, you're the most paranoid person I know." Mulder felt tears sting the sides of his eyes and he fought to keep from crying. "I'm sorry, Scully. It's just I'm really afraid of being trapped here." He struggled to keep the choking sound from his voice. "I couldn't stand it if I had to stay here much longer." "You're going to be out and home soon, Mulder. Just talk to Harris and do whatever you have to. It'll be okay." Not wanting to embarrass her partner further, Scully busied herself by shoving the shaver away while she removed the sweats from his bag. "I'll tell you what, Mulder. Why don't you finish what's on that tray and then you can get dressed? That'll make you feel better. Okay?" "Okay, Scully." He reached over and got a Kleenex to blow his nose. Then he tackled the monumental task of finishing off the apple juice and the Ensure. Scully moved his tray away and then handed him some briefs and his sweat pants. "You still have an IV, so you're stuck with just the bottoms for now." "Anything's better than bare." Mulder swung his legs over the side of the bed and got a grip on the IV pole. "I'm going to the rest room first and I'll change in there." "Sure. Call if you need me." Mulder made an OH PLEASE face and said, "Come on, Scully. I've been doing this awhile now." As he made his way to the bathroom, Scully sat down in the bedside chair to wait. She thought of his uncharacteristic tears. Physically he was so much better, but emotionally she'd never seen him so fragile. It scared her. He scared her. She wanted wrap him up and keep him safe, but then that was the whole point wasn't it? She couldn't protect him, not really. "What do you think, Scully? Am I ready for the cover of Hospital Active Wear yet?" He held out one hand in a "Ta Dah" fashion while the other hand clasped his IV pole. "You're a cover model all right. Now don't get any ideas about tooling around the hospital corridors just because you're dressed for it, not until Dr. Boysen says. Promise me." Noting the concern in her voice, Mulder nodded without a fight. "Sure. It just feels good to be dressed kind of normal for awhile. I'll be good. Don't worry." "With you I always worry. Now get back in bed. You've had enough excitement for a morning." As Mulder climbed into the hospital bed and adjusted the covers, he marveled at just how much better he felt physically. Now if he could convince Harris that his mind wasn't cracked, he'd be home in no time. He raised his hand to touch the top of his head and rubbed his hair. "What are you doing, Mulder?" "Just checking." "Checking? For what?" "Oh, nothing." "Go to sleep, Mulder." End of Part 7/11 Consent 8/11 by Grey Thursday 3P.M. Mulder felt restless as he shifted in his bed. The door opened and Harris walked in. This time he didn't have an arm load of files, but only carried one. "Good afternoon, Agent Mulder." Mulder immediately stopped fidgeting and wrapped his arms around his chest. His teeth clenched and he found himself unable to speak. Harris noticed the change, but made no immediate comment. Instead he went to sit in the bedside chair. He made himself comfortable and then said, "When you're ready, Agent Mulder." Time passed slowly. Mulder refused to look at the doctor, but instead closed his eyes and leaned his head back. After a half hour of silence, Dr. Harris got up and stood by the bed. "Agent Mulder, I'm not going to force you to talk or interact with me. When you get tired of being here, then you can decide what you want to say. It's entirely up to you. I know you resent being forced into this evaluation, but how long it lasts is up to you." Mulder moved uneasily still refusing to speak or meet Harris's eyes. "I'm going away for awhile, but I'll be back in an hour. We'll try this again and again. Like I said, the decision will be yours." As Harris started for the door, Mulder managed to utter a barely audible, "Wait." The doctor stopped and turned around. Mulder asked, "What do I have to do to get out of here?" Harris headed back to the chair and settled down. "Well, that depends." "On what?" "On you. Why don't you start with telling me how you feel today." Taking a deep breath, his arms still crossed around his chest, he answered, "I'm fine." "Define fine." "I mean I'm okay." "How are you sleeping?" "Is this a test to see if I'll tell the truth?" "Why do you ask that?" "No doubt, you heard about my little screaming fits last night. So, I'm having nightmares I can't remember. I'm entitled, but then they're nothing new. I've had nightmares since my sister was abducted when I was twelve. I'm sure there are several notations about all that in my file." "So, you don't sleep well?" "I track down serial killers. Would you sleep well?" "This isn't about me." There was a short pause before Harris continued. "You say you're fine, but you're not sleeping. You're still barely able to tolerate a liquid diet after four days here. Even though your physician says there could be some nausea because of the kidney ailment, it doesn't really account for your repeated vomiting. Is that how you define being fine?" "Okay, I'll admit I've been better, but I've been worse, too. I just want to get out of here and get back to work." "Work is important to you then?" "My work is my life. I need to get back to it. I've already been away too long. I still have the case reports to finish up on the McGraw case. There are all kinds of files in my own department that I've neglected since I got loaned out to Behavioral. I just can't afford to be caged up here for much longer." Harris nodded while he studied the young agent. "So, what would happen if you couldn't go back to work for awhile?" Mulder immediately became defensive. "Are you going to be one of those power players who's going to hold my work over my head?" Softly Harris answered, "No, I'm just asking because I need to know what you would do if you couldn't work." Puzzled both by the question and tone, Mulder answered simply. "I have to work." "Why?" "Because it's what I do. Work is the most important thing in my life." "More important than your health, your family, or your friends?" Mulder frowned. "My mother is my only family and she has her own life. I have no friends outside the job. My health depends on my job." Harris noticed the obvious tension in Mulder's voice when he mentioned his mother, and made a mental note to come back to that later. Then he asked, "So, tell me, on a rough estimate, how many hours do you work a week?" "I work in my own division. I don't punch a time clock. I set my own pace." "And what pace is that?' "However much time it takes to get the job done." Mulder could see the clouds of concern leveling in Harris's eyes, so he added. "I do other things, too. I write articles and investigate other things besides bureau files." "According to your records, except for sick leave and hospital stays, you haven't taken anything but mandated vacation time since you joined the bureau." Mulder cocked his head. "So, I get demerits for being dedicated?" "No, but as a psychologist you know that being able to relax away from the job is important to maintaining perspective, especially in high stress fields like law enforcement." "Yeah, well, that works for some people, but it's never worked for me, not ever. I'm good at what I do and it gives me satisfaction to investigate and solve a case. Some people paint or ski, I track down killers and solve crimes." Harris nodded slowly taking in the depth of the compulsive nature of his new patient. "So tell me, do you have a relationship in your life?" Mulder hesitated before he answered. "I don't have a love interest, if that's what you're asking. It wouldn't be fair to the other person." "Why not?" "Relationships, good ones, take time, time I'm not willing to spend. I'm committed to my work, not to a person." "What about your partner?" "What about her?" "How do you feel about her?" "She's my partner." Mulder avoided Harris's gaze. "So, do you have strong feelings for her?" Mulder paused before he answered. "Yes." Frustrated to the return of short answers, Harris pushed harder. "How strong? I noticed that she's listed as the person to contact in case of emergency. Would you go so far as to say you love her?" "More than that. I trust her. She's one of the few people I trust." "Trust is more important than love?" "I suppose that's just a life choice, but yeah, for me it is." "And you trust your partner, but don't love her?" "Yeah." "And you can't do both?" "No." "Why is the love more difficult than the trust?" Mulder turned and looked at Harris intently as if he were trying to decide what to say next, whether he should reveal what he really felt or keep playing. Then Mulder grinned a sardonic grin and leaned his head back. "Doc, love doesn't exist for me, and trust, well that's pretty much the issue of a lifetime. Frankly, it bores me to just keep talking about it. Fact is, I don't trust easily, never have, and that's not because of what's happened recently. Point of fact, it's a complicated matter and I really don't want to tackle it today. What I do want is to find out what I can expect from you in the way of letting me get out of here. Are you going to let me out as soon as Boysen says I'm physically able, or are you going to hold me up to mental blackmail?" Taken aback momentarily by the sudden aggressive shift in Mulder's demeanor, Harris immediately countered, "How could I blackmail you? Do you think I know something that could be used against you? Is that what you're afraid of?" "I don't like having the decisions about my life taken away from me." Harris could see the flush rising in his cheeks and his muscles going tense again. "Control is important to you?" "Hell, yes. It's important to anyone. I don't understand why everybody seems to suddenly think I suddenly can't take care of myself. I've been making decisions and controlling my life since I was just a kid. No matter how shitty things got, I could always do okay without any interference." Darkness covered his face as Mulder starred down into his fists. It was suddenly so hard to even breathe. "So you resent it when people worry about you?" "If it means they don't trust me to be capable enough to manage, yeah, I resent it. It pisses me off. Skinner and Scully, neither one think I can make the simplest decision these days. I hate that. I want everybody to get the fuck out of my life and leave me alone. Stop telling me what to do. Let me heal in my own way." Mulder's breathing became more rapid and labored. Not touching him but moving closer to the bed, Harris said, "It's okay to be angry, Agent Mulder. Just be sure you truly know why you're angry and who deserves the anger." Tears fell down his cheeks, as Mulder desperately tried to control himself, but he couldn't. He shut his eyes and stopped talking. After about five minutes, Harris cleared his throat. "Look, I think we've talked enough for now. What I'd like to do is come back tomorrow. Would that be okay with you?" "Doesn't really matter what I think. Without your good word, I'm pretty well screwed." "Why do you say that?" "Because I know, Skinner. He's not going to let me come back to work without the okay from you. Walter's a hardass that way. He doesn't trust me at all." "Walter? Walter Skinner?" "Yeah." "And why do you think Mr. Skinner doesn't trust you?" "He thinks I'm on self-destruct." A big red flag waved in Harris's mind. Cautiously he continued. "And why do you think that is, Agent Mulder?" "Just call me Mulder. Everyone does." "Okay, Mulder, answer the question." "He's thinks I take too many risks." "Do you?" "I don't think so." Dr. Harris stepped closer to the bed, tilting his head, observing the lack of eye contact and the nervous fingering of the sheet. "Mulder, do you trust AD Skinner?" After only a brief hesitation, Mulder spoke quietly. "Yeah, I do." "And you said trust is important to you. Don't you trust him to try to do what's best for you when he's afraid for your health?" "Yeah, I guess I do, usually, but he's wrong about this. I can take care of myself and I don't need evaluation and therapy. I just want to be left alone. I just don't see why that's too much to ask." "Normally it wouldn't be, but this isn't a normal situation." Ignoring the comment, Mulder's voice hardened. "My point is Skinner's in charge of my life right now and he's waiting on you. I'm waiting on you and I don't like it." "I have to be honest, Mulder, I can't make an evaluation or give Skinner any word yet. I don't know what I think, except that to help you, you're going to have to want that help. I don't think you're even sure about that. Now, may I come back to talk to you tomorrow?" "I guess. It's not like I'm going anywhere by then. Boysen won't take out the IV. Plus, I still can't even shit on my own. It's a drag." "It must be frustrating." "Yeah." Dr. Harris observed the slight shaking of his patient's hands. He needed to close up the interview soon. "Mulder, I'd also like to have your permission to talk to your partner and AD Skinner about you." Mulder's head jerked up. With a deeply suspicious tone, he asked, "Why?" "They're the closest people to you. You said you trusted them." "I do." "So, do you trust them enough to let them help me understand you?" "I don't want you talking to Skinner. Scully, maybe, but not Skinner." Harris noticed the hesitation, the slight catch of fear mingled in the words. "Okay, not Mr. Skinner. But what about your partner?" "I trust her, but I'm not sure I want you talking to her about me." "Are you afraid of what she might say." "I'm sure she could say a lot. No, it's not that." "Then what is it?" "I'm afraid of what you might say." "I see. Okay, how about this? I'd like to talk to her and ask her if she'd be willing to help me with your case. I won't tell her anything we discuss unless I have permission from you first." "Not anything?" "Well, unless you threaten to hurt yourself. Then you know what I'm obligated to do and say. Otherwise, it will be under your direction." Uneasily Mulder considered the suggestion. Reluctantly he nodded, "Okay, but only if she agrees to the limits." "Good, then I'll talk to her and come back to see you in the morning. Agreed?" "I suppose." "Do you agree or not, Mulder? There is no half-way here." "Jeez, don't be such a persnickety son-of-a-bitch, Doc. I agree." Relieved when he left Mulder's room, Harris was also thankful that he'd decided to let his partner help. The doctor knew after only one session, that FBI Special Agent Mulder was definitely going to take a bit of work. During the whole time, he hadn't even mentioned the assault trauma, as though not discussing it somehow canceled out its existence. He headed to his office to get his notes and thoughts down while they were still fresh. On his mental list of things to do was to get with Dana Scully as soon as possible. He also wanted to follow up on the unusual relationship between his patient and his superior. What was going on between the two men--work, friendship, or something else? Mulder reminded him of one of those old nature films that showed a trapped animal gnawing off its foot rather than staying still and letting anyone help. Yeah, Mulder was definitely getting ready to start chewing any minute. Thursday 6P.M. "Well, the good news is that you came up negative for STD's and HIV. Of course, you should be retested for HIV every three months to be safe." "Safe? Surely you jest, Doc." Boysen glanced up and saw Mulder forcing a weak grin. "Actually, I'm not. I'm afraid I don't have much of a sense of humor." "So, I noticed. So, what's the bad news?" "The bad news is that you're still fighting a low grade infection and still haven't managed to move on to semi-solid foods. Nurse Jamison told me you threw up after we tried a transition meal." Mulder moaned lightly and held his stomach. "Well, I did keep down lunch. That's an improvement." Nodding slightly, Boysen agreed. "Yes, it is. However, I still want you to keep the IV another day or two. You need the antibiotics and the fluids." "A day or two? How much longer do I have to stay here? I mean people have open-heart surgery and get up and out faster than this." "I know you feel frustrated, but I don't think your stomach can tolerate oral meds yet. Plus you haven't resumed bowel function." Without warning, Mulder snatched up his water pitcher and threw it across the room. The pitcher, water, and ice flew everywhere with a crash. Scully chose just that moment to enter the room. Everything was very quiet for a few moments. Finally, Mulder whispered, "I'm sorry. I don't know why I did that." Scully answered, "Don't worry. It's just water, not a suspect or anything. I'll clean it up." As she was picking up the evidence of his temper, Boysen said, "I know you're not happy, Mulder, but just try to be patient. You are better, just not well enough to go home yet." "Could I at least have something to do? I need my files or my laptop. I've got to do something or Dr. Harris is really going to have to have me committed. I have to be able to control these feelings and I can't do that if all I can do is just lie here." Hearing the urgency of his plea, Boysen finally said, "I'll ask Dr. Harris his opinion about that and let you know. For now, I'm going to have them bring you another tray. Finish it and then I want you to rest. I'm going to give you something to help you sleep tonight." "I don't need anything like that." "I don't want to argue about it." As Scully finished wiping up the water, she chipped in, "Look at it this way, Mulder. Maybe the other patients around here would like to sleep." Grudgingly, Mulder relented, "Okay, but on one condition. I want you to go home tonight, Scully. You've haven't been sleeping either. You go home and I won't fight being knocked out." Studying Mulder for a minute, Scully tried to figure out if he was up to something. He starred back innocently. "If you promise to take the stuff, I'll go." "You don't trust me?" "Not about this, no." Pretending to look hurt, Mulder shook his head, "You of little faith. Then it's settled. Also, you should tell Skinner, I don't need a guard at the door. I don't think I ever really did, though it was a nice thought." Scully shook her head. "No way. The guard stays. You want Skinner to take him off, you tell him. Guess what he'll say." "That's a rhetorical question, no doubt." Boysen cleared his throat and interrupted, "I'll leave you two to iron out the details. I'll see you later, Agent Mulder." When he was out the door, Mulder continued his plea, "Come on, Scully, you know I'm not in any danger here. I'm going to sleep through the night with a little help from Mr. Happy Needle. Then Harris is going to let me have my files and laptop and I'll be a good little boy until Boysen releases me." "And everyone lived happily ever after. Save the fairy tales, Mulder. The guard stays. Take it up with Skinner. As for the files, Skinner won't let you have those either and you know it. You're on medical leave and you're denied access to any of the case work." Mulder turned on his side and punched his pillow. "Fuck, Scully. At least let me have the laptop. I've got to do something. This is driving me crazy." "So I noticed. What was the pitching contest all about?" "Nothing. I'm just angry. I hate this, Scully." He looked so incredibly sad, she had to fight back her own tears of sympathy. "I know you do. So do I, but you've got to be patient." Mulder became very still and began to speak quietly. "I cried in front of Harris today." "I know." Mulder nodded in recognition of what that meant. "You've talked to him." "Yes. He wanted to know about your history, your daily behaviors, all the little foibles that make you special. Basically it was a MULDER 101 course." "Not more like abnormal psych?" "Is there a difference?" Scully moved closer and sat on the edge of the bed. Mulder shifted his legs away. "Seriously, Mulder. I didn't tell him anything much that he didn't already have documented in your previous files. He also asked me if I'd be willing to help out with some support work if he recommends some cognitive therapy to help change some of your more, as he put it, self-defeating behaviors." "Self-defeating, huh?" "Well, let's face it, Mulder, you do on occasion get in your own way." Mulder refused to look up into his partners face and continued to study his pillow like an ugly bug. "Sounds like Harris has some long term plans." "Don't jump to conclusions, Mulder. He's just saying that once this crisis stage is over and you're back on your feet, it might not be a bad idea to follow up with some therapy to help you be a little happier in your life. Face it. You're not exactly Mr. Sunshine." "More like Mr. Grim." A nurse's aide came into the room with a tray. Mulder groaned and pulled the pillow up over his head. "Please, Scully, get a hammer and put me out of my misery." "Mulder, don't even kid. Drink up while I show you what I brought." Removing the pillow, Mulder saw the excitement in his partner's wonderful blue eyes. "What? A surprise? Why didn't you say so." "Well, the flying pitcher trick and the little pity party distracted me, but there's a VCR with some of your favorite tapes out in the hall with Jenkins." "Not my FAVORITE tapes, Scully. This is a hospital and I know they've seen anatomically correct images, but..." Scully punched him playfully. "Shut up, you. I brought some 8 Hour SCI-FI marathon oldies. Everything from THE FLY to PLANET OF THE APES and all the sequels." "My god, Scully. Will you adopt me?" "In your dreams, trouble child, which is exactly why I brought them. I thought about it, and I figured out that maybe you can't sleep because not only do you not have your couch, you haven't had your TV flickering at night." "And you know about the flickering because?" "We always have adjoining rooms in the field, Mulder. You rarely go through the whole night without the TV on. I just thought this might help." Mulder shook his head in admiration. "Damn, you're good." "You know it. Now drink while I get you plugged up and ready." End of part 8/11 Consent 9/11 by Grey Thursday 9PM Scully had started the tapes and then left. When Boysen came in the room, he appeared to be almost asleep. "Hey, Doc." Noticing the movies, Boysen asked, "What's going on?" "It's how I sleep without pills at home. Scully's idea." "So, you think that this is better than the medication?" "Sure. I'd rather not have the shot, if this will work instead." Boysen considered the situation and decided. "Okay, but I'm going to leave orders that if you're awake in the night, the nurses are to give you the meds." "Sounds fair." Boysen watched the screen for a minute while Vincent Price's face attached to a fly's body screamed, "Help me!". He was clueless how this could be the least bit therapeutic, but then looked over to see Mulder snuggled down in his bed, eyes closed. The reports said he'd retained all his food. Pleased with the progress, Boysen left. As soon as he was out the door, Mulder's eyes were open. He sat up, removed his IV and started to get dressed. His hands shook from the nervous thrill. He found his keys in the bedside table, but no wallet. Scully must have it. It didn't matter. He made one quick phone call out before he arranged the blankets in the bed to appear to be a sleeping form. Then he picked up his phone and called another number. He asked to speak to Agent Jenkins. After a few moments he peeked out, saw Jenkins down the hall at the nurses desk talking into a dead telephone line. He was out and down the emergency exit before the other man could get back to his spot. With any luck, he'd have at least 2 hours before anyone discovered he was missing. By that time he'd be home. They'd all be pissed, especially Scully and Skinner, but he didn't care. He needed to be free to decide what he wanted to do. He couldn't do that with everybody messing with his head. He had to be alone to just sit and think. Friday 10 PM Frohike let Mulder out in front of his apartment building. The little man had been the one to answer the phone when Mulder called to request a lift home. "Hey, Man, you going to be okay? You look kind of shaky. Maybe you should get Scully to come over to check you out." "I'm fine. Thanks for the ride. I'll talk to you and the guys later. Now, beat it." By the time he'd reached his door, Mulder's whole body wanted to quit on him. Everything seemed to be turning into sand and shifting. He put the key in the lock and entered the darkened room. When he turned on the lights, he found that his place had been searched. Skinner's words about collecting evidence barely scraped his memory. His stomach cramped up and a wave of nausea hit. He barely made it to the bathroom before he lost it. After he finished vomiting, the stomach spasms began again. He removed his sweats and finally after almost a week of no bowel function, went to the bathroom. It hurt like hell, but there was no blood. He cleaned himself, but when he tried to stand, the room spun around. He sat back down and put his head between his knees. After a few more minutes, his body gradually settled into a calmer rhythm. Slowly he raised his head and after a few more tries got himself up and into the kitchen. He got a utility knife and towel from one of the drawers, and sat down on his couch. Still not wearing his sweat pants, he looked at the inside of his right thigh. He traced the multiple scars that ran parallel up to his groin with the tip of his finger. Placing the towel under his leg, he then started to make two shallow, neat slices next to a line of puckered skin. Mulder felt the pain and relished it. He controlled it. Watching the blood well up and run down his leg, he felt the warmth pool into the towel and press against his skin. He put the knife on the table satisfied with the cuts. It was enough to know he could do it if he needed to. No one needed to know and no one could stop him. He was home. After a few minutes, Mulder took the towel and slowed the bleeding by applying pressure. When he was sure it was finished, he got up still holding the pad in place, and returned to the bathroom. He got into the shower, turned the water on as hot as he could stand it and let himself stand under the steamy jets. He leaned his head against the tiles while he let another wave of nausea and dizziness pass. When the water started to turn colder, he turned it off and got out. After drying off, he dressed the wound like he'd done so many times before. Then he pulled on fresh briefs and sweats. He went to his computer. For the first time in days his head felt completely cleared and focused. He powered up and the search was on. Friday 12:15 A.M. Mulder's Apartment Pounding on his door and Scully's angry voice, broke Mulder's attention from the databases on his screen. He bookmarked his page and shut down quickly. He heard the key in the lock right before Scully barged in. "Just what the fuck do you think you're doing, Mulder? I swear to god there's something seriously wrong with you and I'm not talking about your body." Mulder tried his best pitiful-puppy-dog look. "I'm sorry, Scully. I had to get out of there." "Sorry doesn't get it, Mulder. You've put yourself in danger here." Mulder sat on the edge of his couch, his hands balled up into fists as he struggled to control his rising anger at having to defend his actions. He didn't want to fight, but she just didn't understand, not about this. "It's my body, Scully." "Mulder, when the nurse went in and found you gone, Jenkins finally got around to realizing that you'd made the call and then he contacted Skinner and myself. Skinner's on his way over here. You know what he's going to say." "I'm not going back, Scully. He'll have to suspend me. At this point I don't really care." "Care about what, Mulder?" Skinner stormed into the room, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets to control the terrible frustration. He wanted to pound the wall, kick out every window, throw himself around the rebellious nomad who'd stolen his heart. He stared in amazement at the stubborn agent on the couch. Anger lay the first wash of heat across his skin, but relief at Mulder's safety brushed on a second layer of chilling reality. "Care about the fact that I just had to chew out Jenkins for falling for one of the oldest ploys around? Or care about how many forms have to be filled out now that you've left against doctors orders, not to mention my orders? Did it ever occur to you that putting yourself needlessly at such risk and refusing to accept help are the very reasons I wanted you evaluated?" "Sir, I don't need to be evaluated. I don't need you or anyone else telling me how to take care of myself." Mulder could barely bite out the words. His whole body stiffened as he spoke. "I don't care what you do. I am staying here, alone. Just leave me the fuck alone." He dropped his head to his hands exhausted and shaking. Scully seated herself on the sofa beside him, but did not touch him. She spoke quietly. "Mulder, you're scared. I understand that, but..." Before she could finish, Mulder jumped up off the couch shoving the files on the table violently all over the floor. He moved to one of the corners of the room and stood with his back to it. Wrapping his arms around his chest, he leaned there and tried to control his breathing before he finally spoke. "Please, don't tell me you understand, either of you, because you don't." Still maintaining her calm tone, Scully simply said, "Explain it to us, Mulder." "Being attacked like that was like losing all control in my life. I have to get that back. Ever since you made me go to the hospital, I haven't been able to make the simplest decisions. At times I can't even control my own body. I can't eat or sleep. I need to regain that control. The only way to do that is to do it the way I've always done it--alone. I need to be able to work through this myself." Walter remained silent, watching Scully's soothing technique as she slowly spoke and leaned a bit closer into her partner's space. He envied her ability to touch the man so distant, so forbidden. "Believe it or not, I do understand what it feels like to have to depend on others. I didn't just hop out of bed ready for action after I woke up from that coma, Mulder. I think I have some clue to what it feels like to have control ripped away, but you can survive it. I'm here for you. You are not alone in this." Terrible pain gripped his gut. He slid down the wall and he realized that he wasn't going to make it to the bathroom to throw up. Falling forward onto his hands and knees, he retched, bringing up only the water he'd drunk. Waves and waves of nausea struck him and he continued to dry heave until he let himself drop to his side to finally lie still. Suddenly, he felt those awful hands all over him, heard the intrusive voice of his attacker and of his father, each telling him what they were going to do to him, each holding him down, hurting him. God, he wanted to scream, but instead all he could do was start heaving again while trying to get enough air. "God, please, make it stop." Scully moved to squat next to him while Walter moved to the other side, kneeling there, but not making contact. She reached out and rubbed her friend's back trying to calm him while he sobbed. At first he tried to jerk away from her touch, but she persisted and finally he was just too tired to move at all. The warmth of her hand and the circular motion made him start to relax and feel drowsy. She whispered to him. "Don't worry, Mulder. We're going back to the hospital, but I'm going to stay with you. We'll get through this. I promise." Reaching from far down in his gut, he whispered, "Where's Walter?" Looking up, momentarily shocked, her eyes locked onto dark brown. Understanding dawned behind blue irises. "He's right here, Mulder." She whispered over her friend's back. "Talk to him, sir. He needs to hear you to know he's safe." She reached over and took the older man's hand, placing it on her friend's trembling back. Together they made a safe place in the world of hurt known as Fox Mulder. With a voice like soaked leather scraping over and over across flooded stone, he spoke in a hush. "I'm here, Mulder. Don't worry. Scully and I will take care of you. You're going to be okay. I promise." Mulder didn't want to listen, but couldn't help himself. The music of his voice wrapped him in a warmth that banished all the taunts, all the jeers from his personal gallery of failures and fears. He needed him in a way he couldn't understand and couldn't explain. As long as he could hear Walter Skinner's gruff tones, he felt the only safety he'd ever known. All he wanted was to stop hurting and go to sleep and oh, yeah, kill the bastard who raped him. Friday 9:30 A.M. "Hold still a bit longer, Mr. Mulder. I'll be finished in just a minute." A pink-faced young woman capped off the latest cylinders of blood. As she placed the last one in the tray, she said cheerfully, "There you go. All done." "Promise?" Smiling, she apologized, "Sorry, I meant to say all done for now. You've just got to try harder to kick this nasty infection, so I won't have to work so hard myself." "I'll do what I can, Miss Kim." "Yeah, well, see to it. Now, get some rest. Maybe these samples will be the ones that do the trick." She practically skipped out the door. It made him weary just to see her with so much energy, when he felt like absolute shit. Personally, Mulder couldn't remember ever being so damn tired. He shifted in the bed, trying see past the gulf of blankness that covered any wayward images of the night. Perfect memory put the gaps into contrast, niggling and screaming to be noticed. He did know that eventually Scully and Skinner managed to get his sorry ass traitor of a body back to the hospital so that Boysen could drug him into oblivion for a few hours. Then the round of testing had started again. "Hey, Mulder, don't look so goddamn serious." "Hey, Frohiki. What are you doing here?" "I could ask you the same. Fuck, Mulder, do you have any idea how much skin Scully chewed off my ass when she found out I'd helped you escape?" "I would've thought you'd like that." The short man moved closer to the bed to study his pale friend. Mulder lay with his right arm covering his eyes. He hadn't bothered to look at him while he talked. "Jesus, Mulder. Don't you know when to take it easy and stop being such a dumbfuck?" "I guess not." Troubled by his lack of defense, Frohike asked, "So, are you going to be okay or what, Mulder?" "They tell me that I might rise again if I'm a good boy." "Then you're really seriously fucked." "Yeah, well, I guess you heard." Frohike choked, but tried to recover. "Mulder, you've got to get out of this dangerous state of mind, man. The Lone Gunmen depend on you. You crash out on us, it's going to be a lot harder to do the work, you know." Mulder looked wearily at the squat man at the bed edge. "I'll see what I can do, Frohike. I mean, if the world's fate is at risk, what's a little mental anguish, right?" "Right. Hey, by the way Beyers said that he's got a lead on that Database you wanted him to look for when you called." For the first time Mulder shifted upward with a little energy. "Did he say how good a lead it was and if he could get me some hard copy?" "Not yet. He just said he's close to cracking into some sealed files that could be helpful. Could be a day or two, but I'm sure that he'll get what he can. What's this about, Mulder?" "What is what about, Frohike?" Scully scathing voice came from just inside the door. "What are you doing here? Mulder is not supposed to have any visitors yet." Looking contrite, Frohike apologized again, "Agent Scully, I told you that Mulder conned me. Seriously, I'm just here for moral support." "Well, if he looking for morals from you, he is in trouble." Mulder took a protective tone. "He was just leaving, Scully. Tell, Beyers I'll call later." "Sure thing, Mulder. Have a great day, Agent Scully." Scully refused to smile as she watched the little man slink away. Then she turned a fiery look at Mulder. "What are you up to, Mulder? What is Beyers doing for you?" "It's nothing, Scully. Just some research I asked him about." "You'd better not be lying to me. I'm getting really tired of this." Trying to smooth over his behavior from the night before, Mulder turned on his side and lowered his voice. "I know you're tired, Scully. I don't know why you even put up with me." Scully unfolded her arms and walked over to the bed. She stood there a few moments, starring at her partner as if seriously considering what she wanted to say next. She decided to ignore the pity remark. Instead she opted for something more serious. "Mulder, I need to know something." "What?" "I need to know about those cuts on your leg." "What do you need to know about them?" "Well, thank god, you didn't say what cuts or try to deny them. I want to know if you cut yourself, Mulder. Boysen said they were self-inflicted." There were several minutes of silence before he finally answered. "Yes, Scully, I did." He could hear her breathing quicken and get louder. "My god, Mulder, what were you thinking? Why? I don't understand." "I know you don't, Scully." She thought her heart would break watching Mulder pull in on himself, the way he sometimes did when a crime scene was too horrible for his overburdened eyes. Watching him then, she saw the same thing. The eyes focused on a different place. "Tell me, Mulder. Make me understand why you would possibly want to cut yourself. Why hurt yourself like that?" "Control." "Control?" "I've been in pain most of my life, Scully. I know that's not what you want to hear, but it's true. I found out that I couldn't stop the hurt. I was there and there was nothing I could do to stop it from happening." "So, why would you want to add to it?" "Because I can control how much it hurts and how it hurts. Nobody but me." "Jesus, Mulder. I still don't get it. How does deliberately hurting yourself make anything better?" "When it hurts too much inside, if I can focus on the outside, it helps. I can't really explain how, but it's what I do, what I have done for a long time." "When did it start, Mulder?" Scully fought to control her voice, uneven and husky from fighting back tears. "Can't you guess?" "Was it after Samantha was taken?" "That's when it got to be the worst. Before that it was just little stuff. Dad would get mad, hit me. I couldn't stop him, but I could out do his pain. After Sam, well, it got really bad sometimes." Mulder pulled himself into a tighter, protective ball, his left hand held unconsciously between his legs. "Sometimes I had to cut really deep even to feel it. Then Dad would find out and hit me harder." Scully jerked up suddenly and ran to the bathroom. Mulder heard her retching and squeezed his eyes shut even tighter. She came back in with a damp cloth held to her mouth. After she'd regained control, she whispered, "I'm so sorry, Mulder." "No, I'm sorry, Scully. You shouldn't have to hear all this." "Hell, Mulder, I'm just listening to it. You had to live it. Hell, Mulder, your father was a fucking bastard." "Yeah, that he was, Scully." She froze at his words. "Mulder?" "What?" "Are you saying what I think you are?" "What are you talking about, Scully? Isn't beating bad enough?" "Did your father molest you, Mulder?" No answer came. Mulder settled his face deeper into his pillow. "I don't want to talk anymore right now, Scully. I don't really feel very good." Her heart ached with the weight of the newly revealed truth. She hadn't seen it because it was so alien to her mind. Her parents had been so loving, so very kind. How could anyone do such a thing to a child, to the man she cared so much about? She could barely hold back the tears. "Sleep then, Mulder. I'm going to be right here in the chair until you feel better." "Damn, I hope you brought a library with you. It could be awhile." "As long as it takes, partner. As long as it takes." Scully pushed the damp cloth into her mouth to smother a desperate scream she felt rising in her throat. Then she sat down and decided to pray. Clenching her eyes shut, she pleaded to whatever god there might be to send her, if not answers, at least a little guidance. What the hell could she do to help Mulder save his very soul? End of Part 9/11 Consent 10/11 Friday Noon After sending Scully on a break, Harris sat quietly as he watched Mulder sleep. While writing his notes from the observation of the night before, he looked up to see the young agent staring at him with sad, clouded eyes. "Well, it's good to see you awake." "If people would stop poking me and shooting me up with tranquilizers, I could stay awake a lot more." "If you'd stop running off and scaring people, that might be arranged." Pausing briefly, he saw Mulder had no comeback. He put down his notes and asked, "So, would you like to explain that little stunt?" "Not particularly." "Listen, Agent Mulder, you keep talking about wanting to get out of here, but it seems to me for an educated, bright fellow, you're doing your goddamn best to get yourself locked away." "Is that how it seems to you?" "Don't play with me. You used all kinds of subterfuge and left the hospital knowing full well that you were not ready. You scared your partner, your boss, your doctors, everybody." "I don't know why everybody's so worried and pissed off. It's not like I'm terminal or anything. I just wanted to be left alone. I mean, I'm sorry if Scully and Skinner got worried, but hell, they both worry too much anyway. Why can't I just go home? I can't rest here. I feel like a prisoner." Harris shook his head and sighed in frustration. He took a deep breath to try to regain some patience. "Agent Mulder, I know it's hard to be here. But face it, you blew your chances at getting out early when you cut yourself." Mulder rolled onto his back and gazed at the ceiling. "I'm sorry about that. I didn't mean for that to happen." "What you mean is you didn't want anyone to find out about it. Dr. Boysen had noted the previous scarring, but never attributed it to self-mutilation. Last night's efforts shed a whole new light on your psychological profile." "Well, I've always been a little on the dark side." "Go ahead and joke, Mulder. I know you use humor to deflect, to shield yourself from dealing with your issues, but it's not going to work this time. I'm on to you." "You make it sound like I'm a criminal." "I don't mean to, but I just think it's important that we both know where we stand. I'm not a game player. You are in serious trouble for a lot of reasons. You've suffered a recent trauma and that's brought you to this critical stage, but your problems go a lot further back. Self-mutilation isn't just an annoying personal problem. It's a serious long-term indicator." Mulder shifted uneasily in his bed. "It's not so bad. I mean, I didn't try to commit suicide and I'm not going to. I would never hurt Scully or Skinner like that." Harris jerked his head up as if smacked. "Wouldn't hurt Scully or Skinner like that? So, if your partner or your boss weren't around, it wouldn't make a difference if you hurt yourself?" Mulder shook his head and answered slowly as if talking to a slow child. "I told you that I'm not suicidal. Cutting myself was a mistake. I realize that. You don't have to worry about it. I won't do it again." "You and I both know that established behaviors like this are hard to change. You say you won't do it again, but what happens the next time things get too tough, when you hurt a little too much, and you need that fix, you need that feeling of controlling the pain? My experience says you'll do it again, not necessarily because you want to, but because it's what you've always done. It's addictive behavior." Gritting his teeth, angry that the doctor challenged his words, "I said, I wouldn't do it and I won't. Now, why don't you leave me alone for awhile. I'm tired and want to go back to sleep." "Not just yet. Tell me what you remember about last night when you returned to the hospital." Taking his time to straighten the sheet around him, Mulder tried to think back. After collapsing in his apartment, the trip back to the hospital and returning to his room pretty much remained a blank. He was uncertain what Harris was after. "What's to remember? I came back, got a shot, and went back to bed like a good little guy." Harris studied Mulder a few moments before he responded. "You don't remember do you?" "I was upset. I didn't want to be here." "You were more than a little upset. You were in the middle of a flashback, a serious episode from my observations. You were confused about where you were and what was happening. You kept calling for your sister. You kept begging someone to stop hurting you." Ice flooded across his skin. He didn't recall the words or actions, but had no doubt they'd happened. He hated the blankness in his usually clear and quick mind. Now, he only felt dull and useless, unable to process the simplest information and clear memory of anything but the most horrible points in his life. He closed his eyes and didn't say anything. "Agent Mulder, I'd like to believe you when you say you wouldn't hurt yourself, but I don't. I'd like to believe that given some freedom to go home and come back into the hospital for counseling on your own, that you could be trusted to do that. However, I can't really believe that based on what I've seen. Right now, you're still primarily under Dr. Boysen's care for your kidney infection and your other physical symptoms. When he releases you from his care, I'll have to decide whether to admit you to the psychological center for in-house care. Right now, I'm leaning in that direction." Mulder wanted desperately to bite off his tongue. Instead he managed to say, "You can't be serious." Harris leaned in and braced both his arms on the side of the bed and spoke evenly. "I'm very serious. You've got until Boysen releases you to convince me that you're capable of honest effort to tackle your problems and to accept help. If you can't do that, I will have you admitted." "You can't prove involuntary committal." "Oh yes I can, Agent Mulder. You've given me plenty of behaviors to cite. I don't want to do this, but if you don't turn around and get busy, you will be admitted for psychiatric treatment." The untamed monster of his breathing reared back and it took all his energy to control it and himself. He spoke through a blood-colored light, his tender tongue scraping across a razor-sharp air. "Do you realize that would destroy my career?" Mulder hazel eyes dilated and swirled with a dark anger. His hands clenched the sheets by his side. "Frankly, that's what I'm betting on. I know what you said about your job being the most important thing in your life. I'm not even going to address why that's a problem in itself. What I am going to do is use the fact as a motivational tool. If you want to remain an active field agent, then you'd better seriously consider working with me without all the walls. Defense mechanisms can be useful for survival, but sometimes they just get in the way. Right now, they're what's keeping you locked in your own prison. It's time for a change." Reluctantly Mulder settled back, but every nerve in his body started to fire up for a fight. Then just as quickly they seemed to fizzle and die. "You seem to have all the power here, Doc." "It may seem that way to you now, but you're the one with the power, Mulder. You've just got to learn out to use it without letting it blow up in your face. This isn't a war between us. I really do want to help you, not fight you. I want to help you fight the ghosts that keep pounding at your defenses." "Ghosts?" Mulder gave a weak half-laugh. "No, not ghosts, Doc. Demons." Harris nodded sadly, "Yeah? Why don't we bust their asses together?" Eyelids drooping, Mulder whispered like a little boy. "Okay. But, I'd better warn you. They're some nasty motherfuckers." "Yeah, well, I can be a pretty mean son of a bitch myself." "So I noticed." Harris stood up straight and allowed himself a small smile. "Go to sleep, Mulder. You're going to need your strength." "Are Scully or Skinner coming back in?" "Agent Scully is getting something to eat. She'll be here shortly. AD Skinner is running interference between the Bureau and the insurance companies over that little stunt from last night." "Oh." "Don't worry. The man can handle himself pretty well. You're lucky to have him on your side. "I know. Thanks." "Now, go to sleep." "Okay." Any resistance had temporarily drained from his voice and body. Harris went over to the chair, picked up his folders, and glanced back at the man who had already drifted into sleep. Harris could almost smell the stench of Hell's gate as it inched its way open. Shaking off his morbid, melodramatic thoughts, he headed out the door and prayed that Scully and AD Skinner could fight like the devil, too. The battle was so damn close, he could actually hear the gnashing of teeth. Turning back for just a second, he realized Mulder was grinding his molars in his sleep. A shiver ran through him as he left the room. ************* Friday 5 PM Determined, fired by an almost overwhelming rage, Walter Skinner stomped down the hospital corridor, a dented envelope in his right hand. Scully turned at the sound of his footsteps on tile. "Sir? I thought you were going back to work." His tense expression prompted her to continue. "What's wrong?" He touched her elbow lightly, his earlier flash of anger contained. "We need to talk privately." "What's going on?" He didn't answer, but she let his hand guide her to the far corner of the empty lounge. They sat side by side before he handed her the envelope. "I found this on the front seat of my car. I think you'd better read it." Blue eyes locked with dark brown. "Sir, what's going on? What am I going to be reading?" "Just read it, Agent Scully. I need your advice on how to continue with this." Anxious anticipation tightened her chest. She pulled out a letter and set of photographs. A large color picture of a white male, heavy build, about 60, peppered dark hair, brown eyes, a thin scar on his chin stared back at her. The second shot showed the same man in black and white obviously taken after the bullet entered the forehead. "What the hell is this?" "Read the letter, Scully." Skinner sat perfectly still, years of training working overtime to keep him from shaking apart. Several minutes passed before Scully looked up. "Shit." "My sentiments exactly." "Do you have any idea who sent this?" "I don't need a crime lab to tell me that the paper reeks of a particular brand of cigarettes. My question is what do I tell Mulder?" "He has a right to know." Skinner stood, pacing several moments before sitting back down. He pushed his glasses back. "Scully, I know he has to know. I'm just not sure he has to know the whole thing." "You mean tell him the man who attacked him is dead, but don't tell him his rapist was assassinated by the very man he hates the most, the man who apparently employed him to spy on him for most of his life?" "Something like that, yes. I don't know how he'll react to the idea that the Smoking man's involved up to his ass on this one, too." "Well, I think we both can figure out, he won't react well. I mean, would you? I know I wouldn't. Then again, after all that's happened, I'm not sure I how I'd feel. This is all so unreal. Hell, I don't even know what I feel now and none of this has really happened to me." Scully sat shaking her head, confusion tensing her cheeks and erasing color from her skin. "That's where you're wrong. It has happened to you in a way. You have this almost empathic connection to Mulder. I sometimes envy the ability you two have as partners to share and be there for each other. His pain affects you deeply. This has been hard on both of you." A misty sting wavered the light around her as she looked up to see the AD studying her intensely, his dark eyes coal black. "Thank you, sir, but it's been hard on you, too." He didn't answer, so she didn't push him to share more. She stuffed the pictures and letter back in the envelope and handed them back. "I think we should give them to Mulder. There's no way to prepare him for this and he has to be told." Nodding reluctantly, Skinner stood up. "I agree. Come on. I can't do this one alone." His voice caught slightly on the words. "Mulder's stronger than he looks, sir. He'll handle this." "I've go no doubt about that, Agent Scully. I'm just worried about how he'll handle it, if you get my point. Mulder's coping mechanisms have been called into question of late and I don't want to be the messenger who brings him the bit of news that might push him even closer to that edge. I mean, seriously, how much shit is one man supposed to take anyway? When is enough enough?" The anger in his tightly clipped words made her flinch. "Sir? Are you all right?" She placed a concerned hand on his arm. He glanced at it, took a deep breath, and squeezed his eyes shut for a few moments. Then he spoke very softly. "I'm okay. I just hate this." "I know. It's hard to admit isn't it?" "What?" "He gotten past your defenses." Standing a little straighter and pulling back, he pretended to be ignorant. "My defenses? He's one of my agents, just as you are. I take attacks on my people very personally." Moving in just a little closer, she whispered. "I know that, sir. But, we both know that Mulder isn't just another agent to either one of us. You and I both witnessed last night the level of trust he has for you, that need he has for you, sir, not me. Trust is important to Mulder. It's not a sin to admit that he's special to you, not a crime to admit that you care about him maybe a little more than you do for your other agents." Pulling back, Skinner stepped aside as he shoved his glasses up nervously, his skin flushed with the heat of discovery and lure of acceptance. He spoke quietly, his breathing too tight. "That's enough. I'm not going to talk about this right now." "I know. The timing sucks." "Let's just go see your partner, Agent Scully." Fingering the cross around her neck, she agreed. "Yes, sir." She followed the larger man down the hall, her pumps clicking with renewed energy and hope. End of part 10/11 Consent 11/11 Friday 5:30 PM Mulder sat quietly at first and then placed the envelope very carefully on his lap. Without looking up, he spoke, his voice barely moving air. "He's dead then." A statement, not a question reached Skinner's ear. "According to the letter, yes. The man who attacked you is dead." Skinner stood on the right side of the bed, his thigh against the mattress edge. Scully flanked the other side. "How can we know for sure?" Mulder still refused to make eye contact with either of his friends. "The letter said where to find the body. I sent a team out to the spot and got a call saying it's been retrieved." "Yes, and I plan to do the autopsy myself, Mulder. With the samples from your apartment, we should be able to verify his identity pretty quickly." The world vibrated painfully around him as Mulder pressed himself to manage the words dancing in chaos on his tongue. "And then what? Do we investigate who killed him? Do I ever get any answers?" Skinner braced his right hand on the back of the raised bed. He leaned in a little closer, the weariness of the long ordeal settling into the deepest tissue and scraping like jagged nails at his bones. "There are no answers for something like this, Mulder. As for investigating, I'll leave that up to the city. It's not FBI jurisdiction. Frankly, if this was the man who hurt you, I'm sorry he died so fast. A bullet to the brain was a mercy he didn't deserve." Mulder raised his head and let his too bright eyes lock with Skinner's. Walter's passionate anger touched him, dragged him up from the abyss of lost faith that sucked at his spirit. "Thanks." "For what?" "For being so pissed. I'm too tired to really care yet." Skinner nodded in understanding. "But you will, Mulder. And when you do, the rage is going to be a ball buster. You think you can handle it?" A polite "ahem" came from the other side of the bed and both men turned to look. "I'm going to go do the autopsy, Mulder. You two talk." Mulder reached out and grasped her hand before she could move away. "Scully, you don't have to leave." "Yes, I do, Mulder. We all need to know for sure. If it is the guy, we can focus on getting you back on your feet without having to constantly worry about another attack. If it's not, then we'll worry about it then. Meanwhile, you and the boss have things you need to discuss." Skinner cleared his throat, suddenly self-conscious and unsure. "Agent Scully, this isn't the time for this." "Why not, sir? Agent Mulder was attacked, but he's not dead. He needs to know the truth. The truth, sir. Remember how that tune goes?" "Scully, what the hell are you talking about?" Mulder focused on his diminutive firebrand. "I think you know, Mulder, but even if you're still figuring it out, it's time for me to go. If you know what's good for you, you'll talk and listen. And, please god, for once, Mulder, pay attention." She leaned over and lightly kissed his forehead. He didn't flinch at all. However, he scrunched his face a little and blushed a lot. The young man finally realized for the first time just how brilliant his partner was. She knew all along. Hell, she probably knew before he did. Scully could be that way. As soon as she closed the door behind her, Mulder turned and watched as Skinner stood up straight and crossed his arms around his chest. Inside his own chest, his heart pounded in a rush. "Sir, I'm not sure what to say here." "I know. Me, either. This is damn awkward, not to mention just plain bad timing." "Well, I'm used to all that. We should get along fine." A quick smile cracked through to melt the serious features. "I'm sorry about all this, Mulder. I don't want to do or say anything that might be a problem for you." A sudden swelling tightened his chest. "I understand that, sir. I'm not even sure what to say about any of it. I know this must be hard for you. I've been such a royal pain lately." Walter stepped closer to the bed, his face red. "Shit. Don't do that. None of this is your fault, Mulder. And stop calling me sir. What I hate is knowing you've suffered and there's been nothing I can do to make it go away." The words hissed and sizzled the air between them. Unsettled by the pain behind the strong words, Mulder sank down into the bed and turned away. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be a jerk like that. I just want to help." "You do help, Walter. Your being here helps. At first I tried to deny how it felt to have you around. But I can't seem to control the feelings I have for you right now." Walter's voice drifted softly to his ear. "And how do you feel right now?" "Safe. I know it's not sexy, not romantic, but it's how I feel when I'm with you." He hesitated, but then let his voice test the unexplored world. "Before all this happened, I used to think about you a lot." "You did?" "Actually it was the two of us together, but now, after what's happened, my thoughts are just too messed up. I can't think about anything like that, not now, not yet." Walter shook his head almost violently. "Of course not. Besides, I have to tell you that even if this assault had never happened and somehow I'd gotten up the balls to tell you how I felt, we certainly wouldn't be rushing into anything. I mean, my god, Mulder. Think about it. We're in the FBI for godsakes. I'm your boss. God, that alone makes me crazy to say anything." "I hate the word crazy." "Sorry. It's just you know how it is, Mulder. We've got this image at the bureau about being tough guys and pricks. We're not supposed to fall in love with each other for godsakes." His usually strong voice flirted with control. "We're manly men, huh?" Again the unexpected chuckle tickled Mulder's starved ear. "Yeah. I guess what I'm trying to say, though not very well, is that we need to take this slowly. This is a dangerous thing this feeling between us." Mulder let his head fall back against the pillow, squeezing his eyes shut, letting his mind float into a grey, wispy space. "You have no idea how dangerous, Walter." "What are you talking about, Mulder?" After several moments the young man opened his eyes and reached for Walter's large hand. Unlike Scully's petite, cool palm, the AD's had thickness and rough strength. A fiery tremor telegraphed from Skinner's hand to Mulder's, make a firestorm in his brain. "I guess it's no secret that one of your agents is truly and totally fucked. And I'm not saying that in my usual sarcastic way. I'm really confused about a lot of things. Believe it or not, I was a little baffled before any of this happened." "Really?" The tone laced the air with a light tease. Mulder held Walter's hand in his palm and stroked each thick finger with one of his own, very gently, almost a feather's touch. Skinner's groin tightened with each whisper of flesh against his own. "What I'm trying to say is that it's not just dangerous to be with me because of the homophobic nature of this world, but because I'm truly and royally fucked when it comes to a relationship and sex and my place in either." "Mulder, my marriage to Sharon wasn't that great. I'm not exactly the best person when it comes to making it through the relationship gambit myself. What matters is that we've finally decided not to pretend that there's only respect between us." "Respect? You respect me?" "Well, hell, yes. Didn't you know that?" Mulder stopped stroking Walter's hand, but he didn't release it. "No. I just thought you tolerated me." "Oh, I do that, too, but it's gotten to be necessary to have a stronger dose all the time. You're addictive, Agent Mulder. A person gets a taste and gets hooked pretty quick." Mulder found a smile could actually gain access to his lips. He'd forgotten what a lovely sensation it could be. After a few moments of quiet, Skinner spoke softly. "Mulder, would you mind too much if I touched your hair?" "My hair?" "Yeah, I love your hair. And no cracks about being jealous either." "I wasn't going to say that. I was going to say, okay. And, Walter?" "What?" "I appreciate you asking first." Walter nodded, leaned forward slightly and ran his fingers through silky thick layers. Mulder's breathing increased, and the older man stopped. "You okay?" "Yeah, I just had a flashback for a second that's all. I'm sorry." A mix of rage and sadness circled his heart, ready to go wild, to tear flesh for revenge. Practice let him calm his tongue before he could finally formed sensible words. "I'm sorry, too, Mulder. I hate that you have to even deal with this, but I know you can do it. Harris seems like a pretty good doctor." "Yeah, he's all right." Mulder's features suddenly clouded, his face drawn and pale. "What is it?" "I never told you this before. I didn't tell Scully either, because I didn't want to think about it." "What?" Skinner's bone and tissue fought against muscle to remain still. "This man who raped me, the letter said his name was Aaron Turner, right?" "Yes." "Well, it was rape, but it wasn't." Blood thundered. Synapses flashed nova bright. "Mulder, what are you trying to say?" "I told Turner he could fuck me." "Mulder, I doubt that." "I know. In my mind I know it was rape, but he asked me to consent to it if he'd spare Scully, and I did." "You're saying he threatened Scully?" Walter's fists balled tightly against mere palm flesh. "He said he'd rape her, if I didn't let him do what he wanted. Walter, in my mind I know, I've been trained, to understand this kind of thing. He wanted to pretend he had permission to do what he did. Like I said, in my head I understand that, but I swear, it's hard to get that reality into the heart, you know." "I know, Mulder, but you have to. You have to know it for truth. If you don't, it'll never get better." "I know, Walter. It's just hard." Mulder turned his face away to hide the tears slipping down his cheeks. Walter wanted so much to take the young man in his arms, but he held back. Instead, he simply whispered. "You're going to get through this, Mulder. You're not alone. Scully and I are both here." "But I don't want to sleep with Scully." Caught off guard, Walter coughed to cover his surprise. Unsure, but willing to try, the AD leaned against the bed rail. "Well, then consider it strong motivation." Mulder laughed out loud. "Motivation? Shit." Keeping a straight face, Walter pretended innocence. "What?" "And some people just get suckers when they go to the doctor." "Well, if you're really good you get a sucker, too." "Oh, man." Mulder let the weight of a thousand worries hover and float away. Aware that the thin sheet revealed secrets too easily, Mulder shifted to lie on his side. Taking respite when he could, he reached for Skinner's hand again. "Walter, just promise me that you'll be patient, okay. I mean, we can joke all we want, but I'm not going to get better in a few days. This could take awhile." Still holding his agent's slender hand, AD Skinner actually kneeled down by the bed. Face to face, intense eyes locked, neither man turned away. "Mulder, I have to confess here." "What?" "I've been waiting for you almost since the beginning. I'll wait as long as it takes, and I promise to be here until the end." His features softened as his breathing slowed into comfort and the drowsiness of relief turned Mulder's limbs into heavy stone. "I swear, Walter, I would've never guess you for a romantic kind of guy." "Well, consider it an X-file." "Done." Closing his eyes, Mulder drifted, warm satin air removing all pain, his hand held tenderly, but firmly by Walter Skinner's. The entertwining of fingers anchored him to safety, connected him to an actual shot at that elusive thing called hope. Salvation existed in a simple touch, a fated connection. He closed his eyes and let the final understanding of it seep into his bones, into the very fiber of spirit that held him together. The desert spaces within him no longer frightened or stretched so vast as the distance between stars. Destiny's curve ball changed the whole game plan with one hard pitch. He finally knew he had to keep playing to win. The reason to believe traced and teased his hungry fingertips, the truth branding his initials into tender skin. The End