Title:  A Cornered Fox
Author:  Vickie Moseley
Summary:  Post ep for Kitsunegari.  Mulder is 
depressed, Skinner is suspicious, Scully is worried.  
Oh, and Linda Bowman is in there, too.
Category:  UST, MT, SA
Rating:  PG
Disclaimer:  Still not infringing after 8 and a half 
years.
Author's notes:  Thanks so Deb for lightning fast 
beta!  And this is dedicated to all the folks at 
Mulder's Refuge for keeping the dream alive.
Comments:  I'd love some.  Thank you.  Send to me 
at vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com

A Cornered Fox
part one of two
by Vickie Moseley

Skinner could see by the slump of his shoulders that 
Mulder's concurrance with Scully's report was all on 
the surface.  If he didn't know better, Skinner would 
have said the man looked despondent.  But that 
couldn't be right.  He'd caught a killer, one who had 
slipped through the AD's own fingers.

Without much thought, Skinner called out.  
"Mulder, a moment please?"

Skinner couldn't help but notice the concern that 
flashed across Scully's face before Mulder gave her 
a slight, reassuring nod.  She left the room quietly, 
but the AD knew she would have questions the 
minute her partner returned to their shared office 
space.  He had little time to do this 'pep talk', but he 
was their superior and he was damned well not 
going to let the opportunity pass.

"I just want to say you did a good job out there," he 
said to the man attempting to stand tall before him.  
Attempting to stand firm, but the slump of the 
shoulders betrayed an inner turmoil that Skinner 
was trying to understand.

"How's that?" Mulder returned.  In other 
circumstances, the remark would be considered 
insubordinate.  His tone and the look of complete 
desperation were the only things holding his boss's 
anger in check.

"Nobody could have figured this out but you.  You 
knew it was Linda Bowman and not Modell.  You 
were way ahead of me."  Skinner would never have 
mentioned that fact to another agent under his 
command.  Well, maybe one other agent.  But with 
Mulder, he felt it needed to be said.

Mulder looked at him, his face a mask of confusion 
and pent up despair.  "I almost killed my partner."

"Mulder, despite that, you prevailed.  You won her 
game."

The agent before him looked directly into his eyes 
when he spoke.  "Then how come I feel like I lost?"  
Without allowing Skinner the opportunity to 
respond, Mulder strode from the office.  Skinner 
thought about calling down to Scully, if just to warn 
her about Mulder's frame of mind, but thought 
better of it.  If anyone would know how to get 
through to Mulder in his current funk, it would be 
his partner.  It was best to leave the job up to the 
expert, Skinner decided.

X Files office
11:30 am

Scully kept her glances quick and furtive, for fear 
she'd be found out.  Mulder had stormed into the 
office, thundercloud firmly in place above his head, 
and had not uttered two words since he'd sat down 
at his desk.  She wanted to know what Skinner had 
said to put him in such a horrible mood.  Surely 
Skinner hadn't taken him to task for his actions on 
the case.  By anyone's standards, Mulder had 
conducted himself with professionalism and 
competence.  She was certain he was still angry 
with her for doubting him, but there was no reason 
for Skinner to reprimand him.  So what had gone on 
in that office after she'd left?

He caught her off guard when he stood suddenly 
and stalked over to the door.  She was about to offer 
to take him to lunch, it was her turn, but he stopped 
her with his own words.  "I'm going home.  I'll see 
you tomorrow."  He was gone before she could 
open her mouth.

'He just needs some time,' she told herself.  After 
his run in with Modell the first time, she'd found 
him standing in the killer's hospital room, and knew 
from the nurse that he'd been there for some time.  
He wouldn't be surprised if she didn't find him in 
Linda Bowman's room at some point.  She made a 
mental note to find out what hospital she was taken 
to and ask to be alerted if he did show up.  

In the meantime, she knew she'd have to write up 
some kind of report.  She remembered clearly how 
hard it was writing up the facts surrounding the way 
Robert Patrick Modell managed to 'push' others to 
kill themselves.  She hadn't been on the receiving 
end of one of Modell's little 'pushes', but Mulder 
had, and Scully knew how severely it had affected 
him.  Physically, he'd gone into shock almost 
immediately after the assault team stormed the 
hospital room.  She'd finally gotten him home and 
settled him on his couch, but it was a couple of days 
before he really seemed to snap out of the daze he'd 
been in. 

This run in with Linda Bowman had been different.  
Mulder hadn't been shocky, but he did show signs 
of depression.  The incident had been a full day ago 
and he still seemed to alternate between 'someone 
shot my dog' depression and 'the world is out to get 
me' anger.  Neither was a healthy response, but she 
was at a loss as to how to get through to him.  She 
had to give him time, and just keep her watch from 
a distance.  Eventually, he would either talk to her 
about it or snap out of it.  

She reached for her coffee cup and her sleeve 
caught and brushed over the picture of Emily she'd 
placed on her desk just a week before.  Had it really 
only been two weeks since she'd attended her 
funeral?  The pang of regret and loss was still fresh.  
It had all taken place so quickly.  In a weeks time, 
she'd found her daughter, and lost her.  Now, there 
was a hole in Scully's heart.  She wondered at odd 
moments what it would have been like.  Would she 
have been granted family leave time?  With a case 
like Modell's escape from prison, would she have 
been torn between watching her partner's back and 
caring for her daughter?  

When she'd been faced with the reality of having a 
child, all other considerations flew from her mind.  
She remembered Mulder's words to her when she 
confronted him about the theft of her ova, and his 
keeping that fact a secret.  "I thought I was 
protecting you."  His words still stung.  Protect her, 
from what?  Her despair at never becoming a 
mother?  She'd faced that fear when the doctor had 
told her she was barren.  Maybe he was protecting 
her from wondering what happened to her ova, but 
that protection had proved to be moot.

She shoved the whole idea from her mind.  She was 
still a little sensitive about his actions.  It wasn't 
completely fair, she knew that.  He'd flown out to 
San Diego at his own expense, had testified on her 
behalf before the judge, had even carried Emily to 
the hospital and stood by her to the bitter end.  She 
knew he didn't deserve how she'd pushed him away, 
but she was so lost in her own grief and anguish at 
the time.  And they'd barely gotten home to DC 
when they were involved in this case with Modell.  

She had to reach out to him.  Mulder would want to 
wallow in his own guilt and self-recrimination for a 
while, but she needed to pull him back.  They had 
work to do and they needed to do it together.  
Gathering up her coat and purse, she decided she'd 
go over to his apartment and set them both on the 
right path.

She had no sooner left the office than the phone on 
the desk started to ring.

It was the guard at the parking garage who caught 
her.  "Agent Scully, the AD has been trying to reach 
you," he said as he leaned out of the guard booth.  
Scully thanked him and pulled the car over, ready to 
head back to the office.  She'd only planned on 
going out for an hour and couldn't imagine what 
Skinner would want with her.  Before she had a 
chance to get out of the car, Skinner was coming 
out of the building toward her.

"You can drive, Scully.  We need to get over to 
Georgetown University Medical Center.  Mulder's 
been in an accident."

They were half way to the hospital, waiting at a red 
light, when Scully realized something.  "Wait a 
minute, sir.  Mulder didn't drive his car this 
morning!"

Skinner looked over at her, his face etched with 
confusion.  "The nurse at the hospital said only that 
he'd been in an accident.  I assumed it was with his 
car."

"Why didn't they call my cell phone?" Scully asked.  
"Wait, I forgot it at home this morning," she said 
with a groan.  "They must have called the office 
phone and the call rolled over to the switchboard."

"I'm sure we'll have more information when we get 
to the hospital, Scully," Skinner assured her.

Georgetown University Medical Center

Scully parked in the visitors lot near the Emergency 
Department.  She needed no directions to find her 
way to the desk, it was familiar territory.  Skinner 
followed obediently until the nurse called back to 
the examination rooms and told Scully what 
treatment room contained her partner.

"Scully, you go on ahead.  I'll wait for word out 
here," Skinner said nervously.

Scully only nodded and headed back into the 
Emergency Department to find Mulder.  Each 
patient in the ER had their own room and Mulder's 
was close to the ambulance bay doors.  Scully found 
him easily, but the sight of him was almost her 
undoing.  The entire left side of his face was 
bloodied, his left arm was splinted and his bare 
chest revealed huge bruises on the left side of his 
ribcage.

"Oh my god," she breathed out as she stepped into 
the room.  

The nurse next to his gurney looked up.  "Are you 
Dana Scully?" she asked with a smile.

"Yes, I'm Dana Scully."  She took a step forward 
and moved around the gurney so she stood at his 
right side.  "What's his condition?"

"The doctor wanted to know when you arrived.  
He'll be in shortly and can bring you up to speed.  In 
the meantime, we need your signature for 
treatment."  The nurse handed over a clipboard with 
several sheets of paper.

"These are surgical forms," Scully said, as she read 
through them.

"Yes," said a young man as he entered the room.  
"Sorry for the rush.  I'm Dan Groat, I'm the surgical 
resident on shift today.  Your husband sustained 
quite a bit of bruising, as you can probably see."

"Um, he's not my husband.  I'm Dana Scully.  We're 
partners, agents at the FBI.  I'm a medical doctor, a 
pathologist.  Agent Mulder has given me his 
medical power of attorney and asked me to act as 
his next of kin."

"Wow, free medical advice!  I'd sure take advantage 
of that," Groat said with a smile.  "Most of the 
problems are orthopedic in nature, as you can 
probably see.  He had some distension in his 
abdomen, so we're conducting some tests.  If they 
come out the way I think they will, he'll need 
surgery to repair his left kidney.  But then again, 
maybe we'll luck out and avoid that."

"How did this happen?" Scully asked as she 
scribbled her name several times on the appropriate 
lines and handed the clipboard back to the nurse.

"The officer who escorted the ambulance said it was 
a hit and run.  Your partner was stepping off the 
curb across the street from the metro station and this 
car just clipped him.  I doubt he saw the guy 
coming.  A witness got a rather sketchy description 
of the car, late model sedan, silver, but 
unfortunately they didn't get a look at the plate 
number.  It might be a while before Mr. Mulder 
wakes up and we can see if he has a better 
description."

"He has a concussion," Scully said, turning her 
attention to her partner.

"Yes, moderate.  He's been unconscious since the 
accident.  We're watching his pressure closely but 
so far, no sign of a bleed.  That's the good news.  A 
compound fracture of the radius and a fracture of 
the ulna and a two broken ribs, one of which is 
displaced but fortunately did not puncture the lung, 
it's just pressing on it.  He'll be in surgery for a 
while, I would say."

Scully swallowed hard.  "Yes, I understand."

"Well, if you've signed the consent form, we'll be 
moving him soon.  The surgical waiting room -- "

"I know the way," Scully said, biting hard on the 
inside of her cheek to keep from screaming.  "Can I 
. . . can I have a minute with him first, please?"

The doctor looked over at his patient and then back 
to Scully.  "Sure.  I have to round up the nurse to 
get this show on the road.  But we really need to 
move him soon."

"I understand," Scully said and plastered on a brave 
smile.  "I'll just be a minute."

When Dr. Groat left, Scully touched Mulder's 
forehead and ran her hand down until her palm 
cupped his cheek.  "Mulder, so much has happened 
and we haven't talked about any of it.  I just want 
you to know, I still believe in you.  I never stopped 
believing in you.  I'll be waiting for you when you 
decide to wake up."

She ran a finger across his lips and then hurriedly 
wiped the tear from her cheek.  When she looked 
up, Groat was back with a nurse, two orderlies and a 
very pretty Asian doctor.

"Agent Scully, this is Trisha Hu, the best orthopedic 
surgeon in the DC area," Groat said affably.  Dr. Hu 
shot him a side ways glare, but turned a smile on 
Scully.

"I understand he's a federal agent.  He's right 
handed?" Dr. Hu asked.

"Yes, he is.  The arm has me concerned," Scully 
admitted.  "Field status requirements are pretty 
stringent."

"I did my residency at Bethesda Naval, I think the 
military has much the same requirements," Hu said 
with a knowing nod of her head.  "Beyond the 
obvious open fracture, I see no nerve damage that 
could result in problems later.  I think he got off 
lucky, especially since his arm and chest took the 
brunt of the impact.  Hiss hip and knee were 
twisted, but not enough to result in damage.  Still, 
he's going to be looking at some physical therapy 
with that arm."

"He's usually pretty good about that.  He swims, 
runs, plays basketball.  He'll need that arm for his 
three pointers," Scully said with a cheerfulness she 
really didn't feel.  It was starting to hurt her face, 
holding it so stiffly to keep up a strong front.

At a nod from Groat, the nurse started unhooking 
the monitors as the orderlies moved equipment out 
of the way.

"We'll take good care of him," Groat told Scully.  
"If you haven't had lunch, you might grab a bite to 
eat.  As I said before, this might take a while.  
Trisha and I will be out to talk to you after surgery."

Scully's feet were dragging as she made her way 
back to the ER waiting room.  Skinner had been 
skimming a magazine, but stood and dropped it 
when she entered the room.  "How is he?" he 
blurted out before she had a chance to open her 
mouth.

"He's pretty banged up.  Concussion, broken left 
arm, some broken ribs.  Some internal injuries 
they're watching closely.  They have to set the 
bones surgically, that's where they're taking him 
now.  I'm going up to the surgical lounge to wait for 
him.  You don't have to stay, sir.  I can take it from 
here."

Skinner frowned and looked away, then jerked his 
head back toward her.  "No, if it's all the same to 
you, I'd rather stay."  He glanced at the clock on the 
wall.  "It's past noon.  We might as well get 
something to eat before we head up to the waiting 
room."

"Mulder's doctor advised we do that," Scully 
admitted.  "I'm not really that hungry."

Skinner frowned again and took her elbow.  "You 
aren't that long off medical leave yourself, Agent.  
You need to force down a few bites of something 
healthy."

She looked dubious, but allowed him to lead her to 
the cafeteria.  After some stern looks from the AD, 
Scully settled on a small salad and a cup of yogurt.  
He tossed an apple on her tray and she rolled her 
eyes but didn't comment.  She even let him pay for 
her meal.

They were soon seated and eating in silence.  Scully 
hoped it would stay that way.  Her mind was 
running a hundred miles a minute, going over 
everything that had happened in the last couple of 
weeks.  Mulder had been walking and was hit by a 
car.  He was usually observant, unless lost in 
thought.  Could he have stepped out in front of the 
car, not seeing it coming at him?  Or had the whole 
'accident' been a set up, a way to finish him off 
because he 'refused' the deal he'd been offered in 
exchange for her cure?  So many conspiracies and 
so little time to figure them out.

"Scully, did Mulder seem particularly . . . oh, 
despondent this morning?" Skinner asked abruptly, 
shaking her out of her thoughts.

She jerked her head up to meet his gaze.  "Sir?  I'm 
not sure I follow."

Skinner took a moment to wipe his mouth on his 
napkin, an action to give him time to collect his 
thoughts.  "When I spoke with Agent Mulder after 
our meeting, he seemed, well, to be perfectly 
honest, he seemed depressed.  I know this incident 
with Linda Bowman brought up some very sensitive 
areas for you both, and I wonder if maybe . . . this 
accident . . ."

"Sir, are you asking if I think Mulder might have 
deliberately stepped into the path of an oncoming 
car?" Scully asked, her voice colored with disbelief.

"Scully, look at the facts.  Mulder hasn't been 
himself over the past couple of days," Skinner 
pointed out.

"But he was right, sir!  He was the only one who 
knew what was actually going on," she stressed, 
dismissing his words, but her mind was dwelling on 
the ideas he'd just put in her head.

"I know he was right, Scully.  But he would also be 
the first one to tell you that Linda Bowman affected 
him, 'pushed' him.  Maybe that kind of thing doesn't 
just go away."

"Are you suggesting that this accident was the result 
of Bowman's attack?" she asked slowly.  It hadn't 
even crossed her mind until just then.  If Modell 
could 'push' someone to commit suicide, could his 
twin possibly plant a subconscious suggestion that 
would be triggered at a later time?  If the one was 
not outside the realm of extreme possibility, was the 
other?

"You hadn't thought of that, had you?" Skinner 
asked, even though he could see the answer in her 
eyes.  "Should we tell his doctors?"

Scully frowned and shook her head.  "Sir, even if 
Mulder might have been 'pushed' to step in front of 
that car, it should have no affect on him after that 
initial action.  I don't see how it could affect his 
recovery.  Bones knit, bruises heal.  I'm not sure I 
even completely buy the idea that Mulder could be 
given a post-hypnotic suggestion that strong.  In the 
case of Modell - "

"In the case of Modell, Mulder put a loaded gun to 
his head and pulled the trigger without a second 
thought, and that is by your own report, Scully," 
Skinner interjected.  "If that's not suicidal, please 
tell me what is?"

"But that is exactly my point, sir.  Modell had to 
have voice contact with his victims.  In Mulder's 
case, it was not only his voice, but he had direct eye 
contact.  I could see the effort it took Mulder not to 
pull that trigger."

"When the gun was pointed at you," Skinner 
corrected.  "Not when the gun was pointed to his 
own head."

Scully chewed on her lip.  She could feel the 
conversation spiral down to chasing its own tail.  
"Sir, I don't know what to tell you.  I really don't 
think Mulder was psychically pushed into stepping 
in front of that car.  I'm more concerned that the car 
was waiting for him to step off the curb."

"You think this wasn't an accident, that it was a 
premeditated attempt on Mulder's life," Skinner said 
evenly.

"It would make sense, given the events of the last 
several months.  When Mulder confronted Dr. 
Calderon in San Diego, I suspect he was anything 
but subtle.  The very fact that he discovered the lab, 
knew what they were doing to those . . ."  Her voice 
failed her and she dropped her eyes to study the 
meager remains of her lunch to avoid Skinner 
seeing the pain the memories caused her. 

"So they waited until he came back to DC and hung 
around hoping that he might take the metro home at 
lunch?"

Scully's eyes rose to meet Skinner's.  "I have no 
doubt that we are under surveillance at all times, sir.  
In the Hoover Building, in our own apartments.  If 
their actions of last fall are any indication - "

"Scully, that was Scott Blevins and his actions," 
Skinner noted.

"Sir, do you honestly believe Section Chief Blevins 
acted alone?  Do you really buy the theory that he 
walked into this office after Mulder outed him to 
the OPR and, in a fit of grief and fear of disclosure, 
shot himself in the chest?"

Skinner winced but took his time answering.  "No, I 
don't believe that," he said quietly.

"Then I think it's very possible that someone has 
been watching Mulder for some time and felt that 
this was the perfect opportunity to get him out of 
the picture."

"Then you believe he's still in danger, even here in 
this hospital?"

Until she heard the words, she hadn't realized how 
much she believed them to be true.  "Yes, sir.  I do 
think he's in danger.  And I don't intend to leave 
here until I feel Agent Mulder is safe."

"Well, that is something I can assist on, Agent," 
Skinner said bluntly.  Reaching for his cell phone, 
he called the office and requested guards to be 
posted at the hospital for Mulder's protection.

6:45 pm

Scully had spent the afternoon in the surgical floor 
lounge.  After the guard showed up, she'd 
convinced Skinner that it was all right for him to 
return to the office.  She promised to call him with 
word when Mulder was out of surgery.  About a 
quarter to six Groat and Hu had emerged with 
smiling faces.  The displacement was reduced and 
they had been successful in avoiding surgical 
intervention on the kidney, although a few minor 
arteries had needed repair to stop some bleeding.  
Groat explained that Mulder would be kept in the 
hospital for a few days to keep tabs on the healing 
kidney, but that he would be 'good as new' in a few 
months.  

While Mulder was in recovery, Scully ran back 
down to the cafeteria for a quick sandwich and then 
went back up to the surgical ward to wait for 
Mulder in his room.  The nurse at the desk showed 
her which room was to be his and she headed down 
the hall.  A name on one of the other doors caught 
her eye.  'L. Bowman.'

Scully stopped and looked at the closed door to the 
room.  She was just about to reach for the knob 
when the nurse came by with a tray of medications.  
"Oh, I'm sorry.  This patient is restricted.  No 
visitors."

"My name is Agent Dana Scully, I'm with the FBI.  
I'm looking for a patient who might have been 
brought in with a gunshot wound.  Her name is 
Linda Bowman."

The nurse looked skeptical until Scully produced 
her badge and identification.  "This patient's name is 
Linda Bowman.  I can't tell you much about her 
condition except that she's in a coma and restricted 
from all visitors.  There was an officer here earlier, 
but in her condition, I really don't think a guard is 
necessary."

Scully sighed.  When would these people learn?  
"Look, do you have the name of the officer who 
was here.  Perhaps he left a card or something?  I 
would like very much to speak with him."

"Oh, it was a woman.  I think she left her card at the 
desk, in case there was any change in Ms. 
Bowman's condition.  I'll see if I can locate it for 
you, Agent Scully."

"Thank you.  I'll be in room 632, just down the hall.  
Fox Mulder's room."

If the nurse thought that odd, she made no 
comment.  "I'll see if I can find that card," she 
repeated.  Scully stood by as the other woman 
produced a key and unlocked the door to Bowman's 
room.  With a worried expression, Scully turned to 
continue down the hall to Mulder's room.

She'd just sat down when the orderly wheeled 
Mulder into the room.  He appeared to be sleeping, 
still under the affects of the anesthetic.  The nurse 
she'd met earlier followed him in and administered 
pain medication into his IV.  His face looked a little 
better, now that the blood had been cleaned away.  
Two rows of black stitches, neat and close together, 
traced a line above his left eyebrow and near his 
ear.  He should come out of it without much 
scarring, not that he ever seemed to mind how many 
'badges of courage' he racked up.

After a thorough examination of his cast and the 
bandages wrapping his chest, she read each of the 
monitors closely, making sure she was satisfied 
with his condition.

"Take a picture, Scully.  It'll last longer."  The rusty 
rasp coming from the bed startled her.  

"Mulder!"

"You were expecting someone else here?" he 
quipped, and ended up grimacing when he tried to 
find a more comfortable position.  "Ouch."

"The nurse just gave you something, it should start 
to work soon."

"I know, I was here when she did it," he ground out, 
relaxing a bit when the medication finally hit its 
mark.  "Gettin' better," he slurred quietly.

"You were awake when they brought you in?" she 
asked, but she already had her answer.

"Yeah.  Really sleepy, tho.  Eyes closed."  He was 
starting to zone out on her.  "Arm hurts a lot.  Head 
hurts.  Back . . ."

"Go to sleep, Mulder.  I'll be here when you wake 
up and maybe you'll be feeling better."  She figured 
he'd fallen asleep, but a faint smile passed his face 
when she pressed a kiss to his forehead.  

After waiting a few minutes, in case he was playing 
'possum' again, Scully stepped out into the hallway 
and headed to the family lounge.  There was a pay 
phone there, since her cell phone was very 
unwelcome inside the building.  She pulled a couple 
of quarters out of her wallet and placed her call.

"Skinner," came the immediate answer.

"Sir, Mulder is in his room, 632.  It's two doors 
down from the nurses desk on the west side of the 
building."

"I'll send the guard up, Scully."

"One more thing, sir.  I don't know if it's of any 
consequence . . . Linda Bowman is on this floor.  
She's in a room just a couple of doors down from 
Mulder."

"She's not in the secure wing?" Skinner didn't sound 
at all pleased by the news.  

"No, sir.  I don't think she's much risk of flight or 
any danger.  She's in a coma."

"Her brother was brain damaged and look at all the 
commotion he caused," Skinner shot back, then 
seemed to remember he was preaching to the choir.  
"Sorry, Scully.  I'll put a call in to the Fairfax 
County Sheriff and find out what's going on."

"I never did hear what hospital they took her to, sir.  
They may have brought her here because of the 
severity of the wound.  This is a major trauma 
center for the area."

"That's why they have a suite named after Mulder," 
Skinner muttered.  "OK, Scully.  Well, I'm doubly 
sure about putting a guard outside Mulder's room 
now.  If there's nothing further, I'd like to get on 
that.  Oh, wait, how is he doing?"

"He was awake when they brought him in from 
recovery.  He's pretty sore, but he was coherent 
enough to speak to me.  I'm staying with him 
tonight.  I'm sure he'll be able to tell us more about 
the accident, if that's what it was, tomorrow."

"I'll let you know what I find out from the Fairfax 
County people, Scully.  But try to get some sleep 
tonight.  You're going to need it, helping Mulder get 
back on his feet."

She smiled to herself at his fatherly concern.  "I 
will, sir.  Thank you for coming with me today."

"All part of the job, Agent," Skinner said gruffly, 
and she knew it was because he'd realized how 
'paternal' the conversation had gotten.  Her smile 
got even brighter at his quick change of tone.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow, sir."

"I'll notify Kimberly that you are guarding Agent 
Mulder until further notice," Skinner replied.  
"Good night, Scully."

"'Night, sir."

Scully made her way back to Mulder's room and 
settled down in the chair next to his bed.  The nurse 
she'd spoken to earlier came in to check his vitals.  
"Can I bring you a pillow and blanket, Agent 
Scully?  These rooms get pretty chilly at night," she 
offered.  

Scully glanced at her nametag, which read 'Suzanne' 
in bold type and smiled.  "I'm fine, Suzanne.  And 
call me Dana.  I'll be here all night."

"Well, I'm on till 11," Suzanne replied with a big 
grin.  "So if you change your mind, just let me 
know."  She finished with her checks and tucked the 
blanket more securely around her patient.

"His pressure is good, his heart rate is great, no sign 
of fever.  We might have a quiet night," Suzanne 
stated, holding up her left hand to show her fingers 
were crossed.

"I could use a quiet night," Scully said with a sigh.  
"Thank you."

"I'll be checking him every hour now, so I'll be back 
in a while.  Want the TV on or can I bring you some 
magazines from the lounge?"

"No, thanks," Scully replied.  "I'm fine."

"All right, then.  See you later."

She was just about to doze off when Mulder 
groaned loudly.  Standing up, she leaned over the 
rail of the bed and brushed her hand over his 
forehead.  "Mulder?  Mulder, are you awake?"

He let out another loud groan and then tried to roll 
onto his right side, away from her.  "Scully," he 
mumbled.  His IV got caught up in his attempts and 
the arm in the cast slipped off the pillow, banging 
his hip.  He groaned even louder, but didn't seem to 
be waking up.

"Mulder," she tried again, a little more forcefully.  
She was on the wrong side, the left side and couldn't 
reach him without hurting him in some way.  She 
hurried around the bed to get to the side he was now 
facing.  "Mulder, wake up.  Are you in pain?"

"She's dead!" he moaned and she could now see that 
tears were streaming down his cheeks.  "You killed 
her, you bitch!"  His eyes shot open, furious, and 
locked with hers.  "You killed her, and I'm going to 
kill you!"

He was in a waking dream, she was certain of it.  
"Mulder, it's me:  Scully.  I'm not Linda Bowman.  
She didn't kill me.  I'm fine.  See, it's me!"  The 
more she tried to get him to see her, the more he 
seemed to be seeing someone else in her place.  His 
right hand came up and grabbed her collar, pulling 
her down toward him.  

"I will see you dead!" he spat out and started to 
reach one-handed for her throat.  She was able to 
twist out of his grasp.  He let out another groan, this 
time of frustration and started searching around the 
bed, grabbing at the sheets and blankets.  "Where's 
my gun, you took my gun!"

"Mulder, stop this.  Wake up, damn it!"  She looked 
frantically around the room and spied the handiest, 
and safest, solution to her problem.  Picking up the 
cup of half melted ice chips, she threw them in his 
face.

The shock of the cold water and the impact on his 
heated face caused him to sputtered and gasp, but at 
the same moment, she could see him coming out of 
the dream.  "Scully . . . <cough>, you're . . . you're 
here," he stuttered.

Suzanne was at the door not more than a second 
later.  "Agent Scully, what is going on here?" she 
demanded, surveying her damp and now shivering 
patient.  "I heard yelling."

"It was a dream," Mulder rasped out, lying back on 
the pillows.  "It was a dream."

"Yes," Scully said firmly, stepping forward to use 
the corner of the sheet to wipe the moisture from his 
face.  The ice had found its way under his gown and 
was melting against his bare chest, increasing his 
discomfort.  "Suzanne, I think we need a dry gown 
and some dry sheets."

Suzanne looked from one agent to the other for a 
moment, but seemed to bypass any explanation.  
"I'll be right back," she said as she left the room.

"Mulder, are you all right?  I'm so sorry, but I didn't 
know what to do."

"W-w-what did you d-d-do?" he asked, reaching 
under his gown and scooping out a handful of 
melting ice.  "W-w-w-when d-d-did it st-t-t-tart 
snowing?"

She couldn't help the relieved chuckle that slipped 
out, but she covered quickly.  "You were having a 
nightmare, but your eyes were open.  I thought you 
were awake.  You were reliving the confrontation 
with Bowman.  You thought I was her, and that 
she'd just killed me.  You were threatening to kill 
her."

His eyes went wide and his face lost all color.  "Oh 
god . . ."

"Mulder, it's all right," Scully soothed, but he was 
having none of it.

"God, Scully get out of here.  Fast!" he demanded, 
but she stood her ground.  

Taking his face in both her hands, mindful of the 
stitches and bruises, she forced him to look at her.  
"Mulder, it was a dream.  I overpowered you with a 
cup of ice water, for God's sake!  You didn't hurt 
me.  Stop beating yourself up over this!"

He tried to look away, but eventually turned his 
eyes to meet her gaze.  "Scully," he whispered, and 
more tears leaked from the corners of his eyes.  

"Do not let her win at this, Mulder," she said softly, 
leaning in to kiss his forehead.  "Please, don't let her 
win."

He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly.  
Suzanne was back with a clean gown and bedding.  
"If you don't mind, Agent Scully.  This is usually 
easier without an audience," she said stiffly.

Scully cupped Mulder's cheek tenderly, then moved 
back.  "I'm not as thirsty now, Scully.  Sorry I 
spilled that cup," he said.  

She grinned at his attempt to find cover.  "I'll just be 
outside," she told him.

Once outside, she paced the hall.  More than once 
she thought about marching down to the nurses' 
desk and demanding access to Linda Bowman.  The 
young agent Skinner had assigned to stand guard 
looked up at her with a curious expression.  
"Something wrong, Agent Scully?" he asked, 
glancing back at his charge's door.

"No, just a little accident with a water cup," Scully 
said lightly.  "Agent Baxter, has there been any 
activity in this room tonight?"  She pointed to 
Bowman's door.

Baxter looked down at the room number and then 
shook his head.  "Is anybody even in there?" he 
asked.

"Yes, Linda Bowman," Scully replied.

"The Pusher's sister?" he asked, somewhat 
surprised.  Apparently the Bureau grapevine activity 
had been especially brisk over the Modell escape.

"She's in a coma," Scully added.  

"Well, I haven't seen anybody come in or out of 
there all evening, Agent Scully."

Scully nodded.  "Thank you, Agent Baxter," she 
said and resumed pacing.  Suddenly, a thought 
struck her.  "Not even the nurse?" she asked.

Baxter thought for a moment.  "No, not that I 
remember.  You want me to keep an eye on that 
room, Agent Scully?  I mean it's right down there, I 
can keep an eye on it for you."

Scully thought for a moment.  "Yes, Agent Baxter, I 
would appreciate that."  

Suzanne opened Mulder's door and stepped out.  
"It's time for another shot of Demerol.  I'll be right 
back.  And he can have sips of water, the doctor 
said.  Just don't let him hold the cup himself."

Scully gave the woman a tight-lipped nod and 
entered Mulder's room.

"Guess we're already causing them to talk, huh, 
Scully?" he asked sheepishly.

"Don't worry about it, Mulder."

He leaned back against his pillow, eyes to the 
ceiling.  "I'm sorry, if I didn't say that already," he 
said, still not looking at her.

"You did.  And I told you to forget it.  Mulder, you 
had a horrible experience and followed it up with 
getting into a serious accident for a chaser.  You are 
bound to have some trouble with all of that."

"I keep forgetting who has the psych degree, Scully.  
Would you look at our diplomas for me when you 
get back to the office," he sneered.

"Mulder, stop this and look at me," she ordered.  "I 
don't even know if I should mention this, Mulder, 
but Linda Bowman is right down the hall."

His eyes widened as he looked at her.  "She's not in 
the secure ward?"

"No.  She's in a coma.  She doesn't even have a 
guard," she said with a sigh.

"Modell was harmless until he regained 
consciousness," Mulder said, more to himself than 
to his partner.

"Well, she's not the one who has me worried right 
now, Mulder.  I want to know about this accident 
you had."

That got his attention.  "I stepped off the curb and 
BAM.  When I woke up, I was here.  End of story."

"The car hit you from the left side, Mulder.  If you'd 
just stepped off the curb, traffic would have been 
coming from the right. "

"One-way street, Scully," he reminded her.  Then he 
looked at her closely.  "Why?  What are you 
thinking?"

She took a deep breath and studied her hands 
resting on the bedrail for a moment before raising 
her eyes to meet his.  "That this wasn't just an 
accident.  That it was premeditated."

He chewed on his bottom lip, considering her 
words.  "But who?"

She rolled her eyes in exasperation.  "Who?  
Mulder, they have to take a number!  Cancerman, 
Krycek, Dr. Calderon and his men, the man who 
spoke to me at your father's funeral!  The list is so 
long it boggles the mind!"  She licked her lips and 
looked away.  "I think it has something to do with 
that deal you didn't accept last fall."

His brow furrowed as he thought about her 
suggestion.  "Scully, couldn't it have just been a 
scared kid who didn't see me until it was too late to 
stop?"

She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms.  He 
appeared to appreciate the protection afforded him 
by the hospital bed.  "OK, I see your point," he 
admitted.

"Skinner has a guard posted outside your room," 
she told him.

He rolled his eyes in almost the same manner she'd 
earlier adopted and shook his head until the action 
caused him pain when he moved his face on the left 
side too much.  "Scully, that is a waste of Bureau 
manpower," he ground out.  "Go out there right now 
and send that poor bastard home!"

"No.  I will not," she said sternly.  "Mulder, I 
believe your life was put in danger today.  I will not 
ignore that, even if you decide you will."

He started to cross his arms, but thought better of it 
when it jarred his cast.  "Damn it, Scully," he 
breathed.

Suzanne stepped back into the room, eyeing both 
agents again.  "I have your pain shot, Agent Mulder.  
I think it would be in everyone's best interests if you 
went back to sleep."  

Scully looked properly chastised and nodded in 
agreement.  "Mulder, you need to relax and get 
some sleep."

"Yes, ma'am," he said dutifully.  Suzanne frowned, 
but didn't say anything else.   She took his vitals and 
switched off the light, leaving only the strip above 
his bed illuminated.  

"You don't have to . . ."  Mulder stopped what he 
was about to say before he really got on Scully's 
bad side.  "Make yourself at home.  My hospital 
room is your hospital room," he teased lightly.

"Thank you.  That is my intention," she replied as 
she settled back down in the chair.  Happily, it had a 
footrest and soon she was as comfortable as she 
could expect to get.  "Go to sleep, Mulder."

"Get some rest, too, Scully," he said with a yawn.

Scully woke with a start some time later and tried to 
remember where she was.  Hospital room.  Mulder.  
Check.  She glanced over at the clock on the wall at 
the foot of Mulder's bed and saw that it was almost 
3 am.  

Mulder had his head turned slightly to the right, but 
seemed to be sleeping peacefully.  Scully rolled her 
shoulders, trying to work out the kinks from 
sleeping in a recliner.  Giving up all hope of going 
back to sleep for the time being, she sat up, slipped 
on her shoes and quietly left the room.

The lights of the hallway were dimmed, but still 
much brighter than the ones in Mulder's room and 
she had to blink while her eyes adjusted.

"Everything all right in there, Agent Scully?" asked 
the young man sitting next to the door.  It wasn't 
Baxter, but then Baxter's shift was over at midnight.  
"Agent Pascal, ma'am," he said, rising to shake her 
hand.

"Agent Pascal.  Nice to meet you.  To answer your 
question, yes, everything is fine.  I just needed to 
stretch my legs."  

The young man nodded and smiled.  

"I'm heading down to the cafeteria.  Would you like 
a cup of coffee?" she asked before heading to the 
elevators.

"No, thanks.  The nurses have been keeping me well 
provided.  Better than sitting out in a cold car, that's 
for sure!" he assured her.  He held up a paper cup 
and motioned to a half-eaten apple on a paper plate.

She smiled at him.  "I'll be back in a few minutes, 
then."

"Take your time, Agent Scully.  I've got it covered."

Scully had to smile.  It was probably the kid's first 
unsupervised assignment.  

The cafeteria was busier than she expected, until 
she remembered that it was probably lunch break 
for most of the graveyard shift.  She waited in line 
to get a cup of coffee and then snagged a cup of 
yogurt to go along with it.  After waiting in line 
again to pay, she found a seat near the back of the 
lunchroom and sat down to enjoy her snack.

Mulder's nightmare came back to her.  He'd been 
back in that warehouse, seeing her dead on the floor 
and Linda Bowman standing in front of him.  But 
just like in the warehouse, it wasn't Linda Bowman, 
it had been her, Scully, standing in front of him.  
He'd grabbed her by the throat.  True, he was weak 
from his injuries and the surgery, but she could still 
feel his fingers seeking purchase on the skin of her 
neck.  

She would only admit it to herself, but she was 
worried about him.  If the nightmares continued 
after he was out of the hospital, she would make 
him seek professional help.  If he refused, she might 
even have to go to Skinner about it.  She prayed it 
wouldn't come to that.

Her watch told her she'd been gone almost an hour, 
so she cleaned up her trash and headed back up to 
the room.  When she got off the elevator on 
Mulder's floor, she noted that Agent Pascal wasn't at 
his post.  "Probably all the coffee," she muttered.  
She glanced around the hallway, but didn't see him.  
For that matter, she saw none of the nursing staff.  
"Checking vitals," she said aloud and continued to 
Mulder's door.

When she got there, the door was closed, so she 
turned the knob and pushed.  Nothing happened.  
The door wouldn't budge.  She looked down the hall 
again, hoping to catch a nurse coming out of one of 
the other rooms.  Then she heard a noise.  It 
sounded like someone was crying.

"Mulder?" she called out and pushed on the door 
again.  The knob turned freely, the door wasn't 
locked, it appeared to be blocked from opening.  
"Mulder, is someone in there with you?"

"He has a gun, Scully," Mulder called back and now 
Scully really started pushing at the door.

"Keep them out!  They're here to kill us!  Keep 
them out!!"  It was Pascal, shouting.  Scully could 
hear the panic in the young man's voice.

"Agent Pascal, this is Agent Scully.  There is no one 
out here but me.  Please, let me in to see to my 
partner!"

"They're making you say that!  That's how they 
think they can get in and kill us," Pascal shouted 
back.  

Scully looked down the hall, hoping to see anyone.  
An orderly stepped off the elevator, confused to see 
no one at the desk and a woman shoving against a 
patient's room door with all her might.  "Call 
security.  Tell them we have a hostage situation.  
Hurry!" Scully called to him.  He looked confused 
for a moment, then hurried to the nurses' desk and 
dialed a few numbers on the phone.  When he hung 
up, he ran over to stand next to Scully.

"They're on their way," he told her.  "Here, let me 
try."  He shoved against the door until a shot was 
fired and then he jumped back.  "Screw that!" he 
cried out.

"Mulder!  Mulder are you all right?" Scully yelled 
again.  She could hear more commotion, the sounds 
of more than one person crying and finally, she 
heard her partner's voice.

"It's Bowman, Scully.  It has to be Bowman pushing 
him," Mulder called out.  His voice sounded 
strained, in pain.

"Mulder, are you hurt?" she called back through the 
wooden door.

"Scully, get to Bowman before she hurts anyone 
else!" he cried out.

Running as fast as she could, she reached Linda 
Bowman's room, but the door was locked.  "Damn 
it!" she cried in frustration.  The elevator dinged 
and a security guard emerged, hand on his weapon.

"Thank God," Scully said, pulling the man over to 
Bowman's door.  "Do you have a master key to the 
patient rooms?"

The guard gave her a perplexed look.  "No, ma'am.  
There's one down in the office.  But the floor nurse 
has a key to all the rooms on her ward."

"That's no help, they're probably on her person.  
Look, we have a hostage situation in Room 632," 
Scully explained.

"Then why are you trying to get into this room?" the 
guard asked, crossing his arms.

"Because the woman in this room is causing the 
hostage situation!" Scully exclaimed.  "Look, I 
know it's hard to understand, but I'm an FBI Agent, 
my partner is in room 632 and I believe he's been 
shot, all because of this woman in here.  Now 
please, get this door open now!"

As she finished speaking, another shot rang out 
down in 632 and a woman screamed.  "Now!" 
Scully ordered and the guard jerked his eyes back to 
her and then to the door.  He raised his weapon and 
fired once, splitting the wood and breaking the lock.  
The door swung open freely.  

"Great!" Scully called over her shoulder.  "Get more 
men up here!" she added as she entered Bowman's 
room.

Linda Bowman lay motionless in the hospital bed.  
A respirator was chugging softly and a heart 
monitor was keeping a gentle beat.  Not even the 
woman's eyelids were fluttering.  She looked 
completely comatose.  Then, Scully saw the little 
finger of her hand flinch.

"Linda Bowman, I order you to stop!" Scully called 
out and reached over to the respirator, her finger 
hovering over the power switch.  "Stop or I will 
stop you!" she said fiercely.  In the distance she 
heard another gunshot.

Without a move on Scully's part, the heart monitor 
faltered and suddenly showed a straight line.  
Immediately, a high-pitched shriek issued from the 
machine.  Linda Bowman had flat lined.  

Scully heard noises out in the hall.  She ran out to 
see the door to Mulder's room open and the nursing 
staff run from the room, crying.  She pushed past 
them and told one of them to call for a doctor.

"He shot himself, Scully," Mulder said sadly.  His 
eyes were glued to the lifeless body crumpled near 
the window.  

Scully hurried over to her partner and found he was 
sporting a growing red blotch on his hospital gown, 
on his right shoulder.

"Oh, Mulder," she exclaimed and quickly pulled 
back the gown to assess the wound.  "It doesn't look 
that bad," she said quietly.

"He shot me and then he shot out the light, just 
above my head.  Then, suddenly, he just turned the 
gun on himself."  She could tell Mulder was in 
shock, he was completely ignoring her attempts to 
stanch the bleeding at his shoulder.  "He was just a 
kid, Scully.  Just a kid."

"It's over now, Mulder.  It's over."

Mulder looked up into her eyes.  "Is it?" he asked, 
his voice hitching.

"Yes, it is.  Linda Bowman just died.  Heart failure.  
Right after Pascal committed suicide, apparently."

"Pushing him to do that was too much for her," 
Mulder said, as Scully lowered the head of the bed 
and raised the foot to treat him for shock.

"It doesn't matter now," she told him but before she 
could say anything more, a doctor and more nurses 
were shoving her out of the room to attend to her 
partner.

Walter Skinner's Office
2 pm the next day

"Have a seat, Scully," Skinner said, motioning her 
to her customary chair.  "How is Mulder this 
afternoon?"

"The gunshot wound was fairly superficial, sir.  It 
went right through.  He did lose some blood, and it 
will add some time to his hospital stay, but all in all, 
it's better than the alternative."

Skinner removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes.  
"I have to tell you, I'm having a hell of a time 
explaining this to the Director.  A young agent takes 
four nurses hostage, shoots a fellow Agent he's 
supposed to be guarding, and then kills himself.  
That's a public relations nightmare, Scully.  What 
the hell happened?"

"I think you know, sir.  Linda Bowman was on that 
floor."

"In a coma, as you told me yourself."

"Yes, sir.  But I think Linda was stronger than her 
brother.  I think while she was in the coma, she was 
able to continue her manipulations of people's 
minds."

"Do you think she's the cause of Mulder's original 
accident, now, Scully?"

She ran her tongue over her teeth, trying to decide 
exactly how to answer that question.  "Sir, I think 
that question will remain unanswered for the time 
being.  I do think Linda Bowman was capable of 
'pushing' Mulder in front of that car, or even of 
pushing the driver to hit Mulder as he stepped off 
the curb.  But there are other possibilities, too, as 
we've discussed."

"Sounds like an X file," Skinner muttered.  "Well, 
in the meantime, I'm going to try and convince the 
Director that Adam Pascal died in the line of duty."

"I believe that is accurate, sir.  I'd be happy to 
accompany you to see the Director, if you think it 
would help?"

"No, Agent, your signed report, and thank you for 
being so prompt after such a long night, will more 
than stand in your stead.  I assume you're going 
back to the hospital now?"

"Yes, sir.  I think it would be best if I guarded 
Mulder for the duration of his stay."

"Yes, that is a very good idea, Scully." 

Georgetown University Medical Center
3:40 pm

Scully had just sat down in her chair when Mulder 
started to roll his head.  Quickly, she was up at his 
side, taking his hand in hers.  "Mulder, it's me, 
Scully," she whispered near his ear.

"Hurts," he complained and tried to roll over onto 
his right side, but encountered his new stitches in 
the process.

"I think you're officially stuck with lying on your 
back for a while, Mulder," she said softly as his 
eyes fluttered open.

"Thirsty," he croaked.  She held the cup up to his 
lips and he sipped from the straw.

"Were you having another nightmare?" she asked 
him carefully.

"Yeah, but an old one.  No Modells or Bowmans in 
it."

"Good," she said with a knowing nod.  "I guess," 
she amended.

"Scully, the more I think about it, the more 
convinced I am that it was Linda who got me hit by 
that car," Mulder said, squirming around to find a 
comfortable position and being totally unsuccessful.

"You may be right, Mulder.  But now, we'll have a 
really hard time proving that."

"I just mean, I really don't think I need a guard.  
You don't have to stay here again tonight, Scully.  
And the doctor says he's not letting me out for two 
or three more days.  Your back is going to be toast!"

She shook her head with a smirk.  "Mulder, my 
back should be the least of your worries.  Besides, 
we have some things to talk about and being cooped 
up here together for three days ought to give us 
plenty of time to work them out."

He gave her hand a squeeze.  "Probably not a bad 
idea at all, Scully."

the end.