The Healer - The Collector's Edition by Susan Proto Category: X-File (Surprise!) MulderTorture (No surprise!) Angst; MSR/ M/S/SK Friendship Rating: PG13 for language Spoilers: mild spoilers up and through the movie (definitely POST-FlickFic Summary: Mulder comes across a tabloid article which describes a man with amazing skills as a 'psychic surgeon' and decides to meet him. A meeting that later has serious implications for Mulder's life. Archive: Yes Disclaimer: Mulder, Scully, & Skinner, as well as the notion of Maggie Scully and Ma ("I still can't believe you called her Teena") Mulder belong to 10/13 productions and Chris Carter. I'm just borrowing them. I won't keep them. At the end of the story you can have `em back, I swear, (unless you *want* to give `em to me.) All other characters belong to me, and if Mr. Carter wants to borrow them, all he needs to do is ask. Flames will be noted, but constructive feedback will be appreciated acknowledged! Author's Note: One night, not too long ago, Vickie Moseley and I were instant messaging one another while watching an NBC special on unusual phenomena. I wish I could remember the name, but suffice it to say we thought it must have been absolute fate that it should include segments on "crop circles" of all things and then one on "psychic surgery." Vickie said there was a story there somewhere. Well, one night it found me, and with the help and encouragement of Mrs. Moseley, here it is. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. (Though I know you'll let me know either way.) Reminder! I am not a doctor! I only pretend to be able to write them in scenes requiring medical knowledge, so forgive me if I've totally misstated some medical facts here. The Healer by Susan Proto "What?" Scully asked in her most weary voice. "What is it now that has you ready to run up to Skinner, practically getting on your hands and knees begging him to approve a 302?" "Ah, Scully, you're no fun. C'mon, where's your sense of adventure? Your sense of the wonder at the unknown?" he replied teasingly. She couldn't stay annoyed with him long. His enthusiasm was infectious and a joy to see again. It had been so long since she could share Mulder's joy and anticipation for anything unusual that came in their path. And though she could appreciate his excitement, today was not a day she felt she wanted to engage in it with him until she was certain it wasn't the proverbial wild goose chase. One wild goose chase per month was enough, and their little trek to the Antarctic had met that requirement. Okay, maybe that little adventure wasn't so much a 'wild goose chase' as it was an adventure in hell. On the other hand, they did learn more than they'd ever learned before, but__. She wasn't getting any younger, you know. Come to think of it, neither was he. And yet, with all they'd been though, they both, somehow, they both now felt as though they had all the time in the world. "What is it this time, Mulder?" she asked chuckling. "What do you know about 'psychic surgery', Scully?" "Oh Lord, save us. Mulder, you have got to be kidding!" "C'mon, Scully, have you ever heard of it?" he asked enthusiastically. "Yes, I have," she began smugly. "It's a process whereby a _non-medical_ healer pretends to dig his hands into a person's insides, going right through the skin without the benefit of a knife or any surgical instrument. There's no real incision, only a fake incision made when the so-called healer runs a finger along the patient's body, and then pretends to pull out some 'tumors' or internal organs of some sort." Seeing by his slightly gaping mouth she had Mulder's full attention, Scully smiled slightly and continued. "The healer attempts to make the whole illusion look real by squirting animal blood from a hand held balloon while discarding things like raw chicken livers and hearts. The ill patient, thinking he's been cured, goes home to die of whatever cancerous condition brought him to the healer in the first place. "Of course, if there wasn't anything really seriously wrong with the patient, he goes home to live to a ripe old age, and perpetuates the myth that psychic surgery had cured him. It's become a rather big business in the world, particularly in the Philippines and Brazil," she concludes and then takes a deep breath. "I am impressed, Dr. Scully. I honestly didn't think you'd have made yourself that well versed on the subject," he replied with a slight smirk. "Makes me kind of wonder why you would take such an interest in such quackery." "Mulder, give me a break. You know I keep myself up to date with anything and everything that has to do with medical research. Psychic surgery has had the mainstream medical community up in arms for quite some time now, simply because it induces desperately sick, often destitute people, to seek help from unqualified people. These poor people die while making these fakes richer and richer," she replied indignantly. "Okay, okay, point taken," he said quickly, but then quietly added, "But Scully? What if there were someone out there who really had this ability? I mean, wouldn't that be a medical breakthrough that even __you__ would want to see?" Scully looked at her partner and drank in the sight. He was so deliriously happy these days. Since they'd returned from the Antarctic debacle, their division had been reopened and they were a team again. A real team. She still didn't believe every theory Mulder threw out at her, but she knew she thoroughly and completely believed in him. And herself. And in them together. A team. A partnership. For life. But for this? Psychic Surgery? She was so tired. They'd already been consultants to not one, but two VCS cases and had even assisted in the capture of one of the UNSUBS. The second had yet to be caught, but Mulder's profile certainly had the local authorities on the right track. The perp was targeting local law enforcement as his victims, so the local PD's were absolutely adamant about solving this one on their own. So, Mulder handed over the profile and informed everyone he was more than happy to step aside as this all happened within the space of six weeks. All the while she and Mulder were working hard to get their new office up and running again. She wasn't tired. She was exhausted, and she was mildly jealous that her partner wasn't feeling equally spent. "Mulder, aren't you ready for a break? I mean, we've just spent the last month or so working with Violent Crimes to catch not one, but two serial killers, in addition to trying to outfit this empty shell of an office with furniture and equipment to make it homey so we can spend more than half our waking hours in it, and you want to go running off to___? Umm, where do you want to go running off to?" she asked tiredly. "Not far," he began cautiously. "We can even drive. Kentucky. Right on the border of Virginia, practically." "Mulder__," she growled. "Where?" "Letcher county, in southeastern Kentucky. The Appalachians," he finally admitted. Scully sighed. The Appalachian Mountain region was not exactly known for its four star hotels and restaurants. Much of it was an economically depressed area and relied primarily on its mining industry for growth. Of course, when one considers the subject of psychic surgery, Scully could only imagine what type of area would embrace that bit of fakery. Before Scully could protest, Mulder continued to explain his rational for wanting to take the case. "Look, Scully, I know we've been working hard with VCS. That's probably why this case looks so inviting. It's a real X-File, Dana. We haven't had one of those in soo long," he sighed. Scully smiled to herself, as she heard him call her 'Dana'. Ever since they'd returned from the Antarctica, he'd taken to using her first name more and more. He was so tentative at first and used it with such caution, almost as though he was afraid she'd admonish him for it. But she didn't. She wouldn't. She couldn't. She loved him, she knew he loved her, though neither had said it in so many words, but they both knew it nonetheless. So if he felt the need to call her 'Dana', then he could call her 'Dana'. Of course, she took the same liberty. The first time she called him 'Fox' she thought his head was going to fly off his shoulders he jerked it up so hard. She couldn't help smiling at the memory of his shocked expression when she'd called him by his first name. And she couldn't help grinning broadly at the memory of his quiet, amused acceptance of it. So now, when he looked so hopefully at her, she realized his idea of taking it easy was an X-File case. God help them both. She figured the safest thing to do at this point was to ask him to explain it to her in detail, so she would have enough information to make an informed decision. "Talk to me, Mulder. What's got you so hyped up?" "Okay. According to this article," he began while hiding the banner of the rag he called an 'alternative news source,' "there's a man by the name of Henry Marcos." "Don't tell me. He's Filipino, right?" Upon seeing her partner nod in the affirmative, she said, "Please tell he's not related to either the shoe lady herself or her late husband." "No, no relation that I know of." Scully acknowledged his response with a slight sigh of relief. He continued his briefing. "Well, apparently there's this small town in Kentucky, in the back country, called Batchtown, Kentucky." He waited for patiently for his partner to stop rolling her eyes so he could continue. "There seemed to be an extremely high incidence of hemophilia in the town." Scully's expression continued to show disbelief. "Mulder, if this area is as back country as you seem to indicate, there's probably a very good reason why they have a high incidence of hemophilia since it is a genetic disease. My God, Mulder, there's no telling how much intra-familial marriage has been going on there." "You're probably right on that," Mulder admitted easily. "I'm not concerned with why there's a high incidence of hemophilia. My interest is in how they deal with the potentially dangerous medical problems inherently associated with hemophilia." "Mulder, there's clotting factor VIII available for hemophiliacs. They don't have to live in total fear of bleeding to death any longer," she replied quickly. "But it's expensive. It can cost upward to two hundred thousand dollars to treat someone with severe hemophilia, Scully." "Well, yes, but__" "Scully, we're talking about people who can barely put food on their tables," he reminded her seriously. "These people need a way of meeting the needs of their stricken without it costing an arm and a leg. The government will spend only so much money, and then it's only on an as needed basis. There's such a large pocket of need in the town of Batchtown, Kentucky, I think the government has been running for the hills by giving those poor people the run around. "The article spoke of the government actually accusing the citizen's of Batchtown of intermarrying to create more hemophiliac victims in order to extort more money out of the government. Jeeze, and they call _me_ paranoid," he concluded chuckling lightly. "All right," Scully conceded, "so how does this Marcos character fit in?" "Well, apparently he was a pretty well known guy in the Philippines. He decided to bring his talents to the States__." "__You mean he was run out of the Philippines for fraud, don't you, Mulder?" she asked wryly. "No, as a matter of fact, I don't. I've been doing some research on this guy on the internet. Apparently, he's something of a cult hero in his native country. There's a number of web sites dedicated to this man and his following. They keep waiting for him to return to the Philippines, almost like they're waiting for their messiah to come home." Scully looked at him quizzically. "There's something I don't understand." Mulder looked at her encouragingly. "Why," she continued, "does he stay in an area where he's obviously going to be paid in nothing more exotic than chunks of coal or pig's feet. I mean, the community you're talking about can't have a whole lot of wealth behind it. What's this guy's angle?" she finally asked. "Is it beyond the realm of extreme possibilities that Henry Marcos simply wants to heal people?" he asked quietly. "Beyond the realm?" Scully echoed. "No, Mulder, it's not beyond the realm. It's just that it's highly unlikely given what we know about medical science. I think it's more likely Mr. Marcos has a vested interest in one of the coal mines up 'thar' in Kentucky, and he's waiting to make a major hit so he can run 'for them thar hills'," she teased. "I don't know," Mulder sighed, "maybe you're right. But it just feels so real." "Fox," she began. Dana watched him as he looked up with startled eyes. He was still not used to hearing his first name come out of his partner's mouth, but he knew when she did say it, it meant she wanted to be taken extra seriously. He waited patiently for her to continue. "I'm going to be honest with you. I don't see this anymore than a scam artist taking advantage of poor, ignorant people. If that's the case, then it's really the under the authority of the local P.D. "Now, I don't want you to take this the wrong way, so listen to everything I say before you jump down my throat, okay?" She waited and saw him acknowledge her with a slight nod. "Okay. I don't want to go to Batchtown, Kentucky. Quite frankly, the last thing I want to deal with is a small, secluded town with few if any of the amenities of modern conveniences. I _need_ to be near a bathtub with hot and cold running water," she said with a small smile. Mulder, she realized thankfully, was smiling back at her, and so she continued. "However, since there seems to be nothing here that could put you in harms way, I see no reason why you shouldn't go and have some fun checking it out," Scully suggested. "I mean, there wouldn't even be any sharp instruments in the area," she added dryly. Mulder cocked his head to one side and then grinned from ear to ear. "Scully? You telling me I can _ditch_ you?" "Mulder, it's not a ditch if I'm telling you to go. So go fill out your 302 form, sign out your rental car, and go!" she urged with a laugh as she watched a myriad of emotions take over Mulder's face. She knew he'd been left exhausted from the last two cases they assisted in. Scully wasn't even sure he'd completely recovered from the gun shot wound to his head before Skinner informed them they were immediately being loaned to VCS. Apparently that was one of the prices Skinner had to pay in order to have the X-Files reopened. He had to make his agents more available for VCS consultations. Skinner agreed as long as the two agents were always sent as a team. If VCS wanted Mulder's services, Scully was to always accompany him, and the same was true of the reverse. Not surprising to Skinner, Special Agent Dana Scully, MD, had attained her own reputation as a dedicated agent with brilliant abilities in the area of forensics. As much as she might have denied it, Skinner knew Scully was capable of making giant leaps of deduction based on an autopsy just as easily as Mulder was able to make incredible intuitive leaps of judgment based on seemingly meager bits of evidence. So, Scully was well aware of the wear and tear the last two cases took on her partner. This particular case was like mind candy for him. A jaunt in the park. Piece of cake. She realized he _needed_ to do this just as much as she needed to get into that hot bath. "One condition, partner," she added quickly. "I promise," he cut in intuitively, "to phone in twice a day. Honest." "Well, I was only going to demand once a day, but I'll be more than happy to hear from you twice a day, G-Man." And with that she stood up, walked over and placed a kiss on the top of his head. He looked up, kissed her lightly on the lips, and whispered, "Thank you. Thank you so much." He then jumped up with the already filled out 302 form and excitedly told her he was going to run it by Skinner immediately. She started laughing as she watched her partner take off like a schoolboy who just got away with something big time, and wanted to make his escape before the teacher changed her mind. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Mulder knew Skinner wouldn't blink an eyelash at the request on the 302 form. He just knew it. Mulder had been on his best behavior since the X-Files were reopened, mainly because he knew Skinner was most like responsible for it and that meant Skinner's ass was on the line as well. Mulder knew not to look the proverbial gift horse in the mouth. He was going to mind his P's & Q's, be a good little special agent, and do whatever the Assistant Director asked. Because he knew there would be a pay back time, and this was the time. And Skinner knew it too, and he didn't hesitate one moment. Well, maybe for one moment. "Why is this requisition made out in just your name?" the AD asked. "I'm doing this one solo, Sir." "Explain." "Scully doesn't feel this is an X-File, Sir. She believes strongly it's a sham operation, so she doesn't think it warrants the expense of her accompanying me." "Mulder?" Skinner hesitated. He was unsure if he had the right to ask this next question, but he felt he needed to clarify the situation at hand in case Mulder was acting impulsively. "Mulder, is everything okay between you and Scully?" Mulder broke into a huge smile and literally beamed at his boss. His friend. "Walter, everything's fine. Off the record?" Skinner nodded at his agent, and yes, since they'd returned from the Antarctic in one piece, personal friend. "Dana's whipped. These last two VCS cases you attached us to really wiped us both out. The fact that the UNSUB from the second case is still on the loose doesn't sit too well with either one of us, but since all that was asked of us was the profile and a couple of autopsies, well, we weren't going to argue about being let off the hook on that one. "So, since she really doesn't see this as an X-File, but also doesn't see any harm in me having my fun and checking it out, she told me to go," he explained grinning. "She _told_ you to go, Mulder?" he asked incredulously. "She told you to ___." "__Ditch her," Mulder concluded for him, chuckling. "Can you believe I got permission from Dana Scully to go off into the wilds of Kentucky all by myself?!" "And they said miracles could never happen,'' Skinner replied in kind. "Okay, if you say so, but Fox__?" Skinner's voice turned serious as he spoke, "Would you be extra careful? For all of our sakes. I mean, I just got you back. I don't think I could handle it if__," Skinner tried to explain, but he was never one to express his feelings easily, so Mulder let him off the hook. "Look, Walter, you know there are literally five people in the world I allow to use my first name when addressing me. My mother and my sister don't avail themselves of the opportunity, so I guess I'm really talking about only three people. "Maggie Scully. "Dana. "And you. "I don't allow myself to enter into a friendship, a relationship if you will, and turn around and blow it by getting myself maimed or killed. You all mean too much to me not to be careful. I've learned my lesson. I love the Scully women and admire you too much to screw up," Mulder concluded earnestly. "Good. I'm glad we got that cleared up," Skinner said hoarsely. Ever since Mulder and Scully had returned from what Skinner could only classify as the 'dead,' Skinner had made it his business to make sure things went as smoothly as possible, and the pair was protected. Through the course of such actions, Skinner was in contact with the duo more and more, and they were thrown into more social situations than ever before. At first, Skinner was uncomfortable with the notion of this closeness, mainly because he feared his subordinates would be uneasy about an amiable connection that was outside the parameters of their professional relationship. Happily, for all involved, neither Scully nor Mulder were uncomfortable. In fact, they embraced it and Walter Skinner into their lives and considered Walter an ally in their newly blossoming romantic relationship as well. Walter knew Mulder and Scully had loved one another for a very long time. In fact he'd envied that closeness for just as long. However, it wasn't until they returned from the frigid region that Skinner realized they'd only just accepted the fact they were _in_ love with one another. And there was no way in hell Walter Skinner was going to deny them that luxury. They'd earned it. A long, long, time ago. "Okay, Agent Mulder. Permission granted," he said briskly as only an Assistant Director can say it. Mulder jumped as though he were a thoroughbred being let out of the gate. But when Skinner called out, "Mulder!" he turned around and saw a much softer expression on the AD's face. "Have fun," he said, as only a friend could say to another. "Thank you, Sir. For everything." "Don't forget to call in. Twice a day, Mulder." Mulder laughed, thinking to himself 'great minds think alike' and practically bolted out of his boss's office. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Mulder stopped early the next morning at the bureau to pick up last minute report forms and to sign out the rental car. After he called Scully at home (who decided to take the day off much to Mulder's relief) and let her know he was just about to leave. She wished him luck and reminded him of his promise to check in with her that night as well. He smiled, made a remark something akin to "possessive women turn me on," and agreed he would call her when he checked into a motel that evening. He left around nine a.m. At the four hour mark he stopped and refueled the rental before heading west onto I-81 in Virginia. He picked up the pace a little and in less then three hours he entered Kentucky. He drove west onto US-119, another thirteen miles or so and reached the town of Whitesburg, KY. He took note of a couple of small motels on the road and decided to check in at one in order to drop his bags off and get directions to Batchtown. Once he registered in the motel, Mulder and got directions, it took another fifty minutes of driving, what seemed to Mulder all up hill, to actually find the very small town of Batchtown, Kentucky. He marveled at the small, modest, log-cabin homes that had small, handmade signs out front touting word crafts for sale. Apparently homemade brooms were a hot commodity in the area as well. As he got closer to Batchtown, he came to an old rickety bridge made of fallen timber and corrugated metal. Mulder normally considered himself a man of great strength, but when he saw that bridge and realized it was the only way to get to the other side, his heart was began palpitating at a rate faster than he could remember it ever beating. He steered across the passage slowly, and realized he must have discovered religion again when, as he crossed the bridge to the other side, he practically shouted, "Thank you, God!" As he climbed higher and higher into the back country, the houses became fewer and the dirt roads became more numerous. Mulder realized there were probably several families scattered up in the higher elevations living off of those dirt roads. He knew he'd soon have to make a decision as to which of those roads to follow. Finally, when he drove a little further, Mulder saw an elderly man with tanned, leathery skin, sitting on what passed for a porch. Mulder parked the car and got out, leaving his suit jacket in the back seat. "Hello, Sir," Mulder called out casually as he loosened his tie. "I was wondering if you could help me." "Mebbe, ah ken, mebbe ah ken't. Whatch you needin' help with young man?" "I'm looking for Henry Marcos, umm, the healer? The man who's been helping the hemophiliac patients in this town?" Mulder explained cautiously. "Ya mean Reverend Henry?" "I don't know, perhaps. I'm looking for the Henry Marcos who's been healing the people who can't stop bleeding," Mulder clarified. "Yup. Ya mean Reverend Henry." "Do you know where I can find him?" Mulder asked, relieved Henry Marcos did indeed exist. "He's at the church , just up the road a piece. " "Thank you, Sir. Thank you for taking the time to talk to me," replied Mulder who then got back into his car to drive 'up the road a piece.' Mulder soon realized, here in the heart of the Appalachian Mountains, __everything__ was 'up the road a piece.' As he steered down the main road, Mulder marveled at the couple of old, small, single room, log cabin homes he passed. He knew they were historical in age, but they looked so sturdy, Mulder figured they'd easily last another hundred years. He rode another fifteen minutes, when he came upon a larger log cabin dwelling, but held a simple cross on its roof. Mulder read the sign in front, "Southern Baptist Church." He got out of the car, straightened his tie and put his jacket back on. He walked to the front of the church and walked in tentatively. "Henry Marcos?" Mulder called out softly. "Hello? Mr. Marcos, are you here? I'd like a chance to talk with you, Sir." "Yes," said a gentle voice from the back corner of the church. "I am here. Come in." Henry Marcos stepped into the ray of sunlight which shone through the small window to his left. Mulder took note of the man's slight stature and build, and the sharp contrast between his dark coloring and the shock of white hair that streaked the front of his otherwise, black, thick hair. Mulder extended his hand and introduced himself. "Hello, Mr. Marcos. My name is Fox Mulder, and I work for the FBI." "FBI," the slight man echoed softly. "Am I under investigation?" "In a manner of speaking, Sir. I work for a division in the bureau that investigates unusual phenomena. I've read a couple of articles about your skills as a psychic surgeon, and __." "__I have never claimed any such skill, Mr. Mulder," Marcos clarified quickly. "Please understand, I do not do surgery, per se." "Well, that's why I'm here, Sir. To find out what it is you do, and why you have such an incredible following on the internet. Are you aware of that following, Mr. Marcos?" Mulder asked curiously. "Yes," he sighed. "I am not as isolated from the goings on in the world as some of my neighbors. I have a computer hook up in my office in town. In Whitesburg," he clarified. "There's no phone service here in Batchtown." Mulder looked at the man before him and wondered momentarily if he was going to be hostile towards his investigation. He decided to assume he would be cooperative. Positive thinking and all of that. Mulder hoped his assumption would prove correct. "Mr. Marcos, or is it Reverend?" Mulder asked. "The good people of this town declared me Reverend, Mr. Mulder. I have never made any such claim. I am Henry Marcos. I am a man with simple needs." "Who just happens to have at least two web sites dedicated to him and the capability to track them. I wouldn't say you're a simple man, Mr. Marcos." "I never said I was simple. I merely said I didn't require much to get along in life. The connection to the outside world is one of the few luxuries I afford myself. "What is it, Agent Mulder, that you want to investigate, exactly?" he finally asked. "I've read about your work with the high population of hemophiliac patients in this area," Mulder began. "I hope you're not accusing me of having anything to do with the unusually high numbers of hemophiliac patients in this area," Marcos said defensively. "No, Mr. Marcos. I am not. The incidence is unusually high, but it can be explained due to the nature of the town's isolation. No, I'm more interested in how you treat the patients," Mulder replied. "As you might know," Marcos began, "hemophilia is an extremely dangerous condition, particularly for males as it is a sex-linked hereditary bleeding disorder. In this area, there have also been some incidences of females inheriting the disorder. "There are several symptoms that indicate medical crises for hemophiliacs. As very young children, they bruise easily, as there is often bleeding into the soft tissue areas of the arms and legs. These are usually superficial and don't necessarily require treatment. "However, as individuals with hemophilia mature, they become more active and may develop deep muscle bleeding. There is swelling in the area of the limb where the bleeding occurs and the person finds it difficult to use the limb. The swelling can cause pressure on the nerves, and as a result there may be some numbness. However, inevitably there is also pain, and it becomes extremely difficult for the person to move the affected area. "Then, as the individuals grow older, a new problem emerges. Joint bleeding causes the affected limb to swell as well as swelling of the joints in the area. If the person tries to force movement in the joints, it produces a great deal of pain. The joint feels hot to the touch, and the swelling feels almost like a sponge. To compensate for the pain, the patient tries to keep the joint in a flexed or bent position. "Of course, that is the catch 22. The flexion increase the space in the joint, so, unfortunately, more bleeding can occur. If there's no treatment, the area becomes hot and extremely hard, like a rock. This, in turn, causes even more pain for the individual," Marcos described. "So, what's the treatment?" Mulder asked. "Well, the conventional treatment would involve the person infusing themselves with a factor replacement product. These are concentrates of the missing plasma proteins needed to form a clot. These proteins are known as factor VIII or factor IX," answered Marcos. Mulder pretended to be uninformed about the economics of the cost factors and asked, "So, if there's a treatment, why are you here?" Marcos, however, had none of Mulder's attempts of feigning ignorance, and replied, "Agent Mulder, I'm sure you've done your homework. The cost of the factor VIII and IX treatments are prohibitive for people who are in much better economic condition than the good people of Batchtown. Certainly you must have some idea of the thousands and thousands of dollars it costs to treat a patient with severe hemophilia." "I've read it can cost as much as a couple of hundred grand," Mulder concurred. "And that doesn't take into consideration Doctor's visits or travel costs. Agent Mulder, these people just do not have that kind of money." "Okay. Forgive me if I'm being redundant, Mr. Marcos, but why are you here?" Henry Marcos, smiled and then sighed. "Be damned if I know," he chuckled. "Come, you must be thristy, and I have forgotten my manners. Join me in some iced tea?" Mulder nodded affably and followed Marcos into the rear of the church. He noticed there was a kitchen with an old fashioned ice box. Marcos pulled out a pitcher of iced tea and poured them into two tall frosted glasses, which he'd also pulled out of the ice box. Mulder grasped the glass gratefully and took a sip. "Very good, thanks." "I've become a bit of an expert in the art of iced tea preparation since I'd arrived here," Marcos said grinning. "How long have you been here?" "Hmm, it must be going on eight months," he answered. "How did you come to be here at all?" asked Mulder curiously. Marcos looked at Mulder pensively before he spoke. "Agent Mulder, I will tell you, but I don't know if you will believe me." Mulder shrugged his shoulder to neither confirm nor deny Marcos's concern. "I had a vision. Now, I know that sounds like the words of a mad man, and quite frankly, I thought I was going mad. I don't know if you've figured it out yet or not, Agent Mulder, but I am not an uneducated man. I have both my bachelors and masters degree in biological sciences. There was a time I seriously considered going to medical school, but my gift sidetracked me." "Ahh, your gift. Umm, Mr. Marcos, exactly, what is this gift of yours?" "How about you call me Henry, Agent Mulder. I suspect you might be here long enough that we'll become more than just mere acquaintances," he offered with a slight chuckle. "Fine, Henry. And it's Mulder. Just Mulder, okay?" Henry Marcos nodded his understanding and began to explain his gift. "Well, Mulder, the fact is, I'm not exactly sure what it is. And I don't mean to evade your question. I'm answering it to the best of my ability. You see, I find if I lay my hands on an affected area of the body, I can cause a change in that area without the benefit of surgical apparatus." Mulder looked at Henry with a questioning look and then asked him if he could provide some specific examples. "Well, in the Philippines, I was able to help children with leukemia. For some reason, my gift was not as effective with adult patients of leukemia, yet I was able to relieve the pain of the very elderly who suffered from severe arthritis. "I don't know if it's because middle aged adults don't allow themselves to believe the alternative treatment is possible or not. The fact is, however, I have much better success with the very young and the very old. Occasionally, I would encounter an adult who was without hope of ever getting well and placed all of his, though more often than not it would be a female, trust in my ability to help her. "I remember a particular young woman, Lenore Gubaju. Lenore was a beautiful woman of about thirty-five. She'd been married for several years and she and her husband had been trying to conceive a baby for a few of those years. She was getting panicky when she'd discovered, to her delight, she was pregnant. "Unfortunately, she'd also discovered she had ovarian cancer. Well, she was well aware that without treatment she could very well die. But, the dilemma of course was, the treatments could kill her unborn child. Lenore and her husband were desperate. They did not want to risk losing this child they'd desired for so long, but neither did they want to risk Lenore's life either." "Quite a problem," Mulder agreed. "How were you able to help?" "Mulder, all I know is I was able to use my gift. I placed my hands on Lenore's abdomen. She told me she could feel heat permeating through the spots my hands were touching her body. She said it wasn't necessarily painful, but it wasn't terribly comfortable either. Nonetheless, I kept my hands there until she indicated she no longer felt anything," Marcos answered. "So, what happened?" Mulder prodded. "When she returned to her oncologist, he was shocked to inform her the cancer was gone. Not a trace. Of course the explanation was there was an error in the lab tests in the first place, and Lenore Gubaju most likely never had ovarian cancer in the first place. "I can not prove either case, Mulder. I won't try to prove it either. All I do know is Lenore and her husband had a healthy baby boy six months later." Marcos remained quiet while Mulder pondered the validity of the tale told. Finally, after several moments passed, Mulder finally asked, "And you said you came here, to Batchtown, because of a vision?" Marcos sighed deeply, and then poured himself some more iced tea. He nodded toward Mulder's glass, but Mulder shook him off. "Yes, I had a vision. A dream that someone needed me. I don't understand how this could have happened because no one in Batchtown had ever heard of me or my gift before. But I woke up from a sound sleep remembering in great detail the cries of several people in crisis here. "It was a miracle to me, since I'd never heard of Batchtown, Kentucky before. The only thing I had ever known about Kentucky was a famous horse race was run here," he concluded. "So you just packed your bags and moved to Batchtown?" "Well, yes. My friends and family were not all that happy about my leaving. They felt it was my duty to stay in my homeland and help my people there, and I would have agreed if the vision did not occur for several nights in a row. The dreams became more and more detailed; more and more graphic in terms of the pain these poor people were in," Marcos described. "How many of the citizens are affected by the disease, Henry?" "Well, the incidence of Hemophilia in the general population is about one male in ten thousand. That's about one one hundredth per cent of the population affected. We have a population of aproximately a hundred twenty, hundred twenty five, maybe? Mulder, we've got fourteen cases of hemophilia here. Do the math. That's about eleven per cent of Batchtown's population," Henry responded frustrated. "Even with all of the intermarriage, that's still an outrageously high percentage," Mulder remarked, astonished. "It is. I agree. But I don't get into the why's or the how's, but merely the what can I do about it." "And what can you do about it, Henry?" "I alleviate the pain. I stop the bleeding. I help them get on with their lives without having to worry about the expense of acquiring the factor concentrates. I don't know why I'm able to do this Mulder. I just am. They accept it. I accept it," he replied, and then after a short pause, he looked directly at Mulder and asked him, "Can you accept it?" "Henry, I want to believe." The two men finished their iced teas and Mulder informed Henry it had been a very long day and he was going to return to his motel room. He made plans with him to return the next day to talk more with Henry, and to possibly see him in action. They shook hands and Mulder got back into his car and traveled back to the Whitesburg Motor Lodge for a much needed rest. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ By the time Mulder had stopped at the Whitesburg Diner to buy some food to take back to the motel, drove and parked by his motel room, stripped, showered, and changed into a pair of comfortable sweat shorts and a tee-shirt, it was going on eight o'clock. When he looked at the clock, he was shocked to see it as late as it was, and no longer wondered why he was so tired, achy, and hungry. As he pulled out all of the food he bought, he opened up one unknown container and chuckled when he saw the hominy grits. He'd forgotten how the south served grits with everything. It was never one of his favorite dishes in the past, but he was so hungry now he decided to give it a try. As he spooned the warmed over, now slightly congealed, cereal into his mouth, he dialed Scully's number. He listened to it ring three times before she picked it up. "Hello." "Hi. It's me." "Hi you," she replied. "Where are you?" "I'm in the Whitesburg Motor Lodge,'' he replied and promptly recited the phone number where she could reach him at the motel. "So? What's the story with Imelda's long lost relative?" Scully teased. "Very funny. Actually, he's nothing like what I'd expected." "How so?" she asked curiously. "Well, I was really expecting someone who wasn't terribly bright and was just going to try and avoid issues and explanations with me." "And?" "I don't know what to think at this point. I mean, to be honest? I didn't expect any of this to pan out. I mean, I really expected to find a crackpot who was looking to take a few suckers for all they were worth. But__.'' Mulder paused and took a breath. "But what?" Scully asked quietly. "But he was so completely opposite of what I'd expected. For one, the man is intelligent. I mean he articulated explanations of hemophilia as if he'd invented them, and then when he explained what he did __." Mulder stopped speaking again. "What does he do, Mulder?" "I'm not sure, but then again, neither is he. I don't know all of the intricacies of what he calls his 'gift', but Dana, my gut feeling is this guy's for real." "Fox," she sighed. "No, wait. I know what you're going to say, and I'm working very hard to _not_ jump to conclusions. But that doesn't mean I need to close my mind to extreme possibilities too, does it?" he asked rhetorically. Scully sighed, smiled, and then said, "I would never think of asking you to do that, my love." "Good answer, Scully." "My mama didn't raise no stupid children, Mulder." "Oh? You haven't spoken to Billy lately, have you." "Mulder, let's not go there, okay?" "Okay," he replied, and then added contritely, "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for on my part." "Yes, it was, but I forgive easily," she replied. "Thank God for small miracles," he said lightly. "Damn straight," jested Scully. They chatted a few more minutes, and then Scully heard the yawn Mulder was trying to, unsuccessfully, hold back. "Go to sleep, Mulder. You had a long day today, and it sounds like your body is reacting to it." "Yeah, I guess I am a little tired. You know, even though I know how bushed you were from the last couple of assignments, I really do wish you were here right now. I miss you, Dana," he said softly. "Miss you too, G-Man," she replied with a slight hitch in her voice. "I'll speak to you tomorrow, 'kay?" "Good night, Scully." "Night, Mulder." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ He woke early, showered, and chose to dress in more casual clothes for his meeting with Henry later on. He was hoping for the opportunity to watch Henry in action, and he didn't want to put off any of Henry's clients with his FBI persona. Mulder stopped at the Whitesburg Diner again, only this time he decided to eat in. He made himself comfortable in one of the available booths and waited for the waitress to come over and take his order. As he waited, Mulder reviewed the file he compiled about Henry Marcus from both the internet and the notes he compiled as a result of their meeting yesterday. He was startled slightly when he heard a deep, heavily accented woman's voice asked, "Whatcha gonnna have, hun?" Mulder looked up to see a woman with dark brown, almost black, hair and heavily made up eyes staring down at him. The makeup couldn't hide the crows feet, but when he looked straight into her eyes, Mulder was surprised to see they were a beautiful shade of emerald green. "Umm, good morning," he replied almost shyly. "How about some pancakes and sausage?" "All righty. You want some coffee and OJ to go with that?" "Yes, please," he replied. "Well, now, ain't you a right and properly mannered young man," she said chuckling. "You know, I think y'all could use a little fattenin' up. How about we throw some scrambled eggs on that plate for yer too. That be okay, hun?" "Thank you, ma'am," Mulder replied with (though he couldn't for the life of him understand why) a slight blush. "Oh, you are jus' the sweetest thing, aren't you, hun?" she asked rhetorically. "Well, my name is Mandy, so if you need anything, you kin just call for me right out, ya hear?" "Yes, Ma'am. Thank you, Mandy." While Mandy sashayed off to place the order with the short order cook, Mulder resumed his perusal of Henry's file. Only a few minutes passed before Mandy returned with a glass of orange juice and a steaming cup of coffee. Mulder looked up, nodded and smiled his thanks, and then, just as Mandy turned, called out, "Mind if I ask you a question, Mandy?" Well, that woman could have turned on a dime, that's how quickly she moved back in front of Mulder's booth. "Why sure, hun! What can I do for y'all?" "Mandy, have you ever heard of a man by the name of Henry Marcus? Some people refer to him as Reverend." "You mean the Reverend Henry from Batchtown? Sure 'nough I've heard of him. Some people say he can cure any sickness there is, but he seems to just be helpin' those poor people with the bleedin' sickness. I'd say that man has been a true blessing for those people." Mulder thanked her for her observations and made a note of them in his file folder. He thought it was interesting the man had a reputation outside of Batchtown, but apparently didn't take advantage of it which lent a little more credence to Marcos's story. Mulder watched Mandy with amusement as she wiggled her hips just a little bit more than before as she returned to the kitchen to pick up Mulder's breakfast order. When she returned, sure enough there was a helping of scrambled eggs in addition to his pancake and sausage order. There was also, of course, a serving of grits in a separate bowl. Mulder showed his gratitude by practically inhaling everything he was served (including the hominy grits, which Mulder realized tasted pretty good with a pat of butter and a couple tablespoons of maple syrup.) He declared his thanks and told Mandy he would most likely be back for dinner. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Henry was sitting on the front steps to the church when Mulder drove up. However, before Mulder could even say good morning to Henry, a small ragamuffin of a boy, about eight years old, came running up the dirt walkway to the church. "Rev. Henry! Rev. Henry! He'p! We need ya up at 'are' house real quick!" the child cried out. "All right,Joshua. Who's ill? Noah or Adam?" "It's Adam, Reverend. He got it real bad this mornin'!" Joshua replied urgently. "Let's go, then," he said gently. "Henry, would it be faster to take the car?" Mulder asked hopefully. "Thanks, Mulder, but in this case, no. Glad to see you dressed down a little today. You'll see what I mean in a few minutes,'' Henry reponded. The two adults followed as the small boy agilely maneuvered about the low lying bushes and plant life that covered the otherwise rocky path they were taking. And all of it was up hill. Totally, up hill. Mulder realized if Henry Marcus wasn't in good physical shape when he first arrived from the Philippines, he most certainly was now. Mulder was grateful for the regular morning jogs he took almost without fail which allowed him to keep up fairly well with the youngster and the well trained healer. The trio traveled approximately fifteen minutes when they came upon a small wooden shack. Joshua pulled opened the door and shouted, "Reverend's here! Reverend's here!" Henry Marcos followed the youngster in, as did Mulder. Mulder looked about and was awestruck by what he saw. Though the room was a hovel by DC standards, it was remarkably neat and clean. There were small intricate carved wood sculptures all about the room, along with a few pieces of simple, sturdy, wood furniture. Along the far side of the room were two sets of bunk beds which sat catty-cornered to one another. Sitting on a small stool near one of the beds was a young woman who looked no more than fifteen. She sat quietly nearby trying to place a damp cloth on the leg of the small boy who laid in the bottom of one of the bunks. It was a child of about three. Three. Mulder thought his heart was going to break when he saw the look of horrific pain painted on the child's face. He watched Henry walk over to the child and sat down on the small stool Joshua had quickly brought for him. Henry looked over quickly at the young woman, and spoke soothingly to her. "Now Becca, you know he's been through this before, and he's gotten through it. So, we'll just have to get him through again, now won't we?" he said soothingly. "Oh Reverend, I keep tellin' him to be careful, but he just don't," she cried out. "Becca, he's still a baby. He'll learn, don't worry," he calmed. "Let me help him now, okay?" Becca nodded, so Henry turned his attention to the young patient. "Hey sweet, Adam. What have we here?" he asked in soothing tones as he gently picked up the child's leg to examine the problem. "Mama tells me you were playing. Were you running and playing, Adam?" he asked in a nonjudgmental tone. "Mmm-hmm," the toddler whimpered in the positive. "Poor Adam. You fell down on your knee, didn't you, son?" Henry asked compassionately. "Mmm-hmm," Adam whimpered affirmatively again. "Okay, young Adam. Let's see if we can relieve some of this hurting for you, okay?" The little boy's eyes were squeezed shut at the moment as he attempted to keep the tears from falling, but he was not meeting with too much success. The leg was bent at an odd angle and the entire knee, both front and back, looked red, swollen, and inflamed. Henry rubbed his hands together quickly, as if to create a heat source via friction, and then place one hand behind Adam's knee and the other on the knee cap itself. Henry simply kept his hands there for a bit. Adam began mumbling and repeating, "Hot, hot! Hot, hot!" over and over again, however Henry kept his hands in place. After several minutes passed, Mulder observed both patient and healer. Both had a look of calm about them. Adam, though not smiling, was not writhing in pain any longer either. Henry simply looked quietly on, and then removed his hands from Adam's leg. "How is that, my little friend?" Henry asked the young child. "Good." "Does it hurt now?" Henry asked. "No, Wev-wen Hen-we," the child whispered. "Adam has a little trouble with his /r/ sound, but I think he'll grow out of it in a year or two," Henry chuckled. Mulder nodded mutely as he gazed intensely at the child's knee. It was as if there were never a problem. There was no inflammation, no redness, no swelling. Mulder was amazed. He had a million questions to ask and he didn't know where to begin. "Henry, this is incredible!" he gasped. "Yes, Adam was definitely in a bad way." "But you can't cure it," Mulder said with sudden realization. "That's why you can't leave." "No, my gift does not seem to have such a power. It can relieve the pain and the symptoms of individual crises, but I can not cure the hemophilia itself," he concurred. "But you were able to cure Lenore's ovarian cancer," Mulder reminded. "Yes, but I believe I was able to do that because Lenore's was not a chronic condition. In other words, once the cancer is gone, so is the problem. My gift cannot manufacture the missing factors hemophiliacs need to cure the bleeding." "That's why you remain." "Yes. If I were not here to help Adam, he would have hemorrhaged internally, to death," Henry affirmed. "Henry, he's so young__," Mulder began. "__So I will be here for a very long time, Mulder." "Henry, how often do you __." CHIRRRRP! CHIRRRP! Mulder's cellular rang and startled everyone. "__I'm sorry. I can't believe this thing is working way out here," he apologized. "We're pretty high up. Probably a window of cellular space. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth," Henry quipped. Mulder smiled and nodded as he opened up the small phone and said, "Mulder." "Mulder, it's me." "Hey you! Scully, I just witnessed the most amazing thing. Absolutely, the most amazing thing. This little boy, Adam? Well, Adam was having an internal bleeding episode__. "__Mulder." "__See, he'd fallen earlier, which is not unexpected cause he's just a little guy, but anyway, Adam's big brother, Joshua, came running to Henry and we hiked all the way up to Adam's house and poor Adam was in a lot of pain and___." "__Mulder." "Adam's knee was all red and swollen and really looked awful and Henry simply rubbed his hands together and placed them over Adam's knee and left them there for a few minutes, and ___." "___MULDER!" "__IswearHenrymadethebleedingstop___!" "__Mulder, listen to me!" Scully said in exasperation. "What? Ohmigod! Are you okay? I'm sorry, I just got so excited. Scully, are you all right?" he asked anxiously. "I'm fine, Mulder." "Scully," he practically growled at hearing her use that particular phrase. "No, really. I am fine, Fox." Mulder heard the sincerity in his partner's voice, and calmed down immediately. "Okay. So, why did you call?" "The UNSUB is escalating," she replied succinctly. "What?" "The UNSUB from the last VCS case we consulted on? The one the local PD kicked us off of. Well, the profile still fits, Mulder, but the UNSUB is escalating." "How many?" Mulder asked as dispassionately as possible. "Three so far over this weekend. VCS didn't notify Skinner until early this morning. He wants both of us to come back in for this one, as soon as possible," she answered. "Damn it, Scully. Why us? I mean, can't we have one lousy weekend to ourselves?" Mulder responded frustrated. "I know how you feel, Mulder. But it's starting to hit a little too close to home now," Scully began. "What do you mean?" "The UNSUB is targeting FBI agents now," she explained. "Shit." "That's one way to describe it," Scully retorted. "It's gonna take me a while to drive back to DC, Scully," Mulder began. "No, Kim's already arranged for you to fly out of Tri-City Airport. It'll take you a couple of hours to get there, but it'll still be less time than it would take for you to drive all the way back to DC. You'll be fresher too__," she began. "They want me to return directly to the Hoover?" he asked. "Actually, no. Directly to Quantico," Scully replied. "Damn. All right, I'll get back to my motel and pack, and fly out of Tri-City. That's easily a hundred miles from Whitesburg. It's gonna take me a little while to get back there. Batchtown is a little up and out there in the back country, so let everyone know I'll get back as quickly as I can." "Okay Mulder, don't break your neck getting here, but we do need you here as soon as possible. This guy's got us all a little spooked," she said before she realized what exactly it was she had said. "Oh Mulder, I didn't mean__," Scully began. "__No offense taken, Dana. I promise I'll be there as soon as I can." "Okay. I'll pick you up at the airport." CLICK. "You obviously need to leave," Henry said. Mulder nodded as he replaced his cell phone in his back pocket. "There's some lunatic out there who's having a field day scaring the hell out of law enforcement personnel. First, he took care of a pair of auxiliary policemen, then a couple of meter maids. Next, was a pair of local beat officers. Then he started moving up in rank and a couple of sergeants, a pair of lieutenants along with the Deputy Chief of Police." Mulder attempted to explain the many murders as vaguely as possible in an attempt to not scare the two young children present. Henry nodded in recognition of that strategy and asked, "Over how long of a period of time?" "Over several weeks. The problem is, he seems to be escalating. There have been three incidents over the weekend. Apparently all FBI. That's starting to make everyone a little nervous at the Bureau, so everyone who's been associated with the case is being called back in," Mulder explained. "Well, then, I guess this is good bye for now," responded Henry. "Yes. I'm sorry I have to leave so soon, Henry. I want so much to talk to you more about your gift." "I'm not going anywhere, Mulder," he replied with a wry smile. "Good. We'll talk again, soon," Mulder assured as he offered his hand to Henry to shake on the promise. Henry chose to remain with Adam, so he asked Joshua to guide Mulder back down to the church. The youngster shyly agreed and within fifteen minutes, Mulder was back in his car. He returned to his motel, changed back into his FBI garb, packed and drove to Tri-City Airport, in good ol' Tennessee. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Just prior to boarding the plane in Tennessee, Mulder stopped in the small, airport gift shop and miraculously found the Saturday edition of the New York Times. He was then able to check in rather quickly, since he'd rolled the now empty suit bag in the carry-on duffel he was able to stow overhead. As he settled in his seat he began to peruse the newspaper. An article dealing with spirituality and medicine immediately caught his eye. He read about a visit the Dalai Lama made to Beth Israel Medical Center North Division, in Manhattan. Mulder was fascinated to learn of the medical profession's increased awareness of the need to include the practices of spirituality in the healing process. Mulder felt vindicated in his assertion that Henry Marcos was the real thing. Now the only thing he had to be concerned with was convincing his most skeptical partner. Mulder hoped an article in a prestigious newspaper about a respected religious leader would add credence to his view. The flight took not quite forty minutes, and since he had no need to wait for luggage, Mulder was able to go directly to the gate in Dulles and hope Scully was waiting for him. As he exited the gate, he scanned the small crowd in search of his beautiful, red haired partner. Scully, on the other hand, was waiting impatiently for her partner's arrival. Though she hadn't realized it would happen when he'd left Friday morning, she came to the conclusion they would not be taking too many more separate weekend vacations. She missed him more than she ever realized was possible. She assumed he felt the same way, but she wasn't positive until she actually caught his eye as he walked down the arrival gate's path. Mulder beamed. When he caught sight of Scully, his smile could have lit up the entire runway path. As he got closer and closer to her, Mulder walked faster and faster until he was almost running. If it weren't for the fact it was really happening, both Scully and Mulder would have thought they were the featured players in a very cliché television soap opera. When Mulder reached her, his momentum caused him to drop his bag, reach around Scully's waist, and pick her up in a vivacious hug. Scully, meanwhile, did not quite expect the greeting to be as enthusiastic as it was and responded in the only plausible manner she could think of . She kissed him. Hard. And he responded. Hard. And the two of them looked at one another as if they were looking at each other for the first time. It struck Mulder and Scully as rather odd that it was this occasion that caused them to realize with absolute certainty exactly what they meant to one another. After all, the Antarctica fiasco seemed to be the natural point for declaring their love for each another. Yet, they had remained tentative and perhaps even a little shy about taking that particular step. They knew they cared for each other more than anyone or anything else in the world. They knew Walter Skinner was aware of it as well, and they were both grateful to him for not discouraging their exploration of the relationship. Everyone knew there was no written rule about fraternization among co-workers, but all of the parties concerned knew how well the Mulder-Scully team worked together, and no one wanted to see it derail. The risks of that happening were greater if the two of them became romantically involved. It was a choice they had to consider carefully. But, it was on the early Saturday evening in July, at an arrival gate in Dulles Airport, Mulder and Scully asked themselves a very important question. What choice? They had no choice. There was only one choice. So as the two of them laughed and kissed while Mulder lifted and swung his partner around and around, they openly declared the one choice they had before them. "I love you Dana Katherine Scully." "I love you Fox William Mulder." Mulder placed one more tender kiss on his partner's lips. He then picked up his duffel and walked hand in hand with Scully to her car for the trip back to Quantico. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Throughout the drive back to Quantico, neither agent wanted to discuss their current assignment. Mulder decided to share his observations of Henry Marcos's gift in action. His enthusiasm was infectious, and try as Scully might, there was no deterring him from his beliefs and she finally yelled, "Uncle! I give up!" Mulder began laughing and asked her what finally changed her mind. "Well, as soon as you brought the Dalai Lama and the New York Times into it, I knew there was no way I was going to win this debate," she replied laughing. Mulder smiled and thought to himself, *Do I know my Scully, or what? I knew the Times would give me the swing vote of confidence.* The two of them continued their good-natured teasing of one another until they arrived at the Quantico Headquarters in Virginia. As Scully parked the car in the garage, they both became quiet and pensive. The partners realized it was time to go into professional mode and place their personal relationship on hold for now. As the boarded the elevator, Mulder straightened his tie and tried to smooth out the wrinkles in his suit. He then took one long stretch before the elevator doors opened to the lower level offices of the Vicious Crimes Section of the FBI. Both were given ID tags by the receptionist and entered the office of the SAIC, Ernest Thompson, affectionately known as 'ET' during off hours, but now demanded and deserved the utmost respect from his team. "Agent Mulder, I am glad to see you," SAIC Thompson greeted. "Welcome back to you too, Agent Scully." "Thank you, Sir," each said simultaniously. "What's the latest information we have?" Mulder asked. SAIC Thompson held a thick file folder in front of him and shared the information about each of the victims. "The first victim was Janet Margolis who had just graduated from the academy. She'd been on duty for less than three months when she was murdered. Margolis was single and had lived in the Georgetown area with a roommate. "Second, was Agent Anne Cromwell. She was a veteran of eleven years. Though she'd distinguished herself on a few occasions very early in her career, her family life became more of a priority after her first child was born. Cromwell had another child two years after that, and for the last three years she was a training instructor for new agents. She was Margolis's instructor at Quantico and lived in Arlington with her husband and two sons. "The last of the FBI victims was Agent George Bryson. Bryson was a fourteen year ve> ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Transfer interrupted! field agent who occasionally commanded routine interventions. He distinguished himself as a SAIC on two occasions. Bryson was divorced and lived in the DC area. "All three victims were first shot in the chest and then stabbed several times around the gunshot wound. They were discovered in different parts of the DC area. Margolis was found in an alley near the Hoover, Cromwell was found in her car in the Quantico parking lot, and Bryson was found in his apartment in DC. "The coroner was able to determine the approximate times of death as being between four and ten A.M. for each of them, though he knows Margolis was the first victim, Cromwell second, and Bryson third." "And he was able to do that by__?" Mulder interjected. "Blood of the first victim was found on Cromwell and of the first two victims on Bryson," Thompson offered. Mulder nodded and then remarked the UNSUB was taking a great deal of time to get to his victims. He attacked first in DC, then at Quantico and then back in DC. Mulder then asked if there was anything unusual found at the crime scenes which deviated from those of the other victims. "It appears to be the same MO, Agent Mulder. The victim was shot, then stabbed repeatedly around the gun shot wound in a geometric pattern that resembles a triangle. There does not seem to be any other clues than that which we've seen already. Other than the fact the UNSUB killed three victims in under forty-eight hours. This is new. As well as the fact the victims are no longer local law enforcement, but are FBI agents." "He's trying to tell us something," Mulder said softly. "What?" asked Scully. "I don't know yet, but it's here. He's telling us his plans, but I can't get a handle on it yet. Sir, are there pictures of the victims and crime scenes available?" asked Mulder. "Of course. Folder's in front of you and Agent Scully." "Thank you," he said as he reached over for the folder. "All right. It's late, and I know you just arrived from out of town Agent Mulder. Let's break for a sixty minute dinner break and then return here. This way, Agent Mulder, you'll have a chance to review the file with Agent Scully." "Thanks for the light reading material while I enjoy my dinner," Mulder replied with a slight smile. Thompson chuckled and shrugged his shoulders slightly. "See you in sixty, Agents. Dismissed." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Scully and Mulder chose to go to one of the better eateries in the area that was known for good food and fast service. Most of the agents went there or to one of the fast food restaurants nearby. The two partners decided to treat themselves to something a little more substantial. When the food was served, Mulder began chuckling out loud. "What's so funny?" Scully asked. "Oh, nothing really. I'd been getting so used to being served grits with everything and anything, my first inclination was to search for it under the steak and potatoes," he laughed. "I don't know how anyone could eat that stuff. It tastes like bad Elmer's glue," Scully remarked. "Oh, I don't know. I kind of developed a taste for it," he responded, then shrugged, and picked up his knife and fork to attack his steak. They'd finished their dinner and just as Mulder was debating whether or not to order coffee for there or to go, he heard a deep voice greet him and his partner. "Mulder, Scully. May I join you for coffee?" Walter Skinner asked. "Sir, we didn't know you'd be coming out to Quantico this evening," responded Scully, "Please, sit down and join us." "We're do back in about fifteen minutes, Sir," Mulder said. "That's okay, Mulder. I know the boss," Skinner replied with a wry smile. "Besides, 'ET' and I go way back together. I asked him to notify me when you arrived, so I could join you in tonight's briefing. This case not only directly affects the reputation of the bureau, but its morale as well. I hate to think this bastard believes he's put one over on us." "We agree with you totally, Sir, so perhaps we should get back," suggested Scully tentatively. "Dana," Walter responded softly, "have your coffee. I'll take full responsibility if we're late. Besides, this is the only restaurant in the area that serves a key lime pie that I'll break every diet and health rule in the book to have," he said with a chuckle. So, the three relaxed over cups of coffee and a slice of key lime pie split three ways. It was very good, and Skinner swore next time he was getting his own piece, since the 'innocent' looking red head hogged most of it. When they returned to the office, Mulder, Scully, and Skinner found they were not, in fact, the last to arrive. They sat together in one area while the other agents filed back in and clustered in groups they felt comfortable with as well. "Walter," greeted Ernest Thompson warmly, "It's good you're able to join us. We need all of the best minds to solve this one." Then turning to address the other agents in the room he said, "Agents, I assume you all recognize Assistant Director Skinner?" Several of the agents murmured and/or nodded their heads either in recognition and/or surprise the AD would make an appearance. "Sir?" Thompson now asked more formally. "Would you like to address the group?" "Thank you, SAIC Thompson," Walter replied equally as formally. "Agents, as I said to my two companions less than twenty minutes ago, it is imperative we catch this UNSUB. He or she is not only affecting the reputation of the FBI, but the fact that the victims being targeted are FBI personnel will have a devastating affect on Agents' morale. "I know I plan on doing everything I possibly can to develop strategies to prevent this sonofabitch from attacking our own. I know I can count on all of you as well," Skinner concluded. There was now more murmuring and heads nodding. Scully and Mulder unconsciously sat up a little straighter as they took personal pride in the positive acknowledgment of their mentor's words. Time was spent on filling in any of the gaps that were not filled in the file. The agents spent time brainstorming and discussing among themselves their ideas for possible motivations on the part of the UNSUB. They also attempted to develop some strategies that would thwart any future attempts on the part of the UNSUB. After about ninety minutes, SAIC Thompson called everyone back to the large group to share any and all ideas they felt might have yet to be addressed. A couple of hands went up and some questions about details regarding the positioning of the bodies as well as the locations of the bodies. SAIC Thompson answered those questions to the best of his ability. Another hand went up. SAIC Thompson recognized it. "Agent Mulder." "Yes, Sir. I'm a little concern with the speed with which the UNSUB carried out these last attacks. His MO in the past had him committing the murders over periods of weeks. The amount of time he's taken in committing these last three murders indicates a state of high anxiety, panic, or excitement. "Now, I understand it's difficult to consider the UNSUB's behavior in any form or manner as being sane or rational, but within the universe of a serial killer there are certain rules of behavior which may be applied. In this case, the UNSUB seems to be acting rashly. I don't know why, but I suspect it's because he's getting closer and closer to his intended target," explained Mulder. "Target? You believe there's an actual intended target, Mulder?" asked Agent Newton incredulously. "What evidence points you in that direction?" "Our UNSUB has been following a definite pattern all along, Newton. We know his first targets were the underlings in the local PD. He steadily worked his way up the ladder of seniority in the local PD until he reached the Deputy Chief of Police. He didn't attempt to murder the Chief of Police, because that wasn't his intended target," Mulder assessed. "But Mulder, couldn't it be the perp just knew he couldn't get to the Chief of Police. I mean, maybe he figured he was too well protected, and to make an attempt on the Chief's life would be way too risky," Newton proposed. "You're forgetting one very important attribute of serial killers, Newton," Mulder began. Upon seeing Newton's, as well as everyone else's questioning gaze, Mulder continued. "Serial killers believe themselves to be invincible. They don't see themselves as being vulnerable and are willing to expose themselves to any risk. "Our UNSUB didn't go after the Chief of Police, because he didn't need to. It would break his pattern of three anyway. There's something about the number three. I'm sure of it," Mulder said with frustration. "Okay people, we've done some good work here tonight. Let's break now and come back together at eight o'clock tomorrow morning. AD Skinner, will you be remaining with us, on call, for the duration?" SAIC Thompson asked. "I don't know about the duration, but I will be on site for the next few days at the very least," Skinner replied. "Excellent. We could certainly use your input," he responded. "Agents, you are dismissed. AD Skinner, before you leave, may I have a word with you?" "Certainly," Skinner responded directly to Thompson. He then turned and spoke to Mulder and Scully. "Mulder, promise me you won't be up all night trying to get into this guy's head. Please?" "I promise, Sir." And then Walter Skinner turned to Scully and whispered, "Scully? Promise me you will see to it he does not stay up all night trying to get into the head of this UNSUB?" Scully's mouth gaped, and Walter, who was trying desperately to keep a straight face, gave up and guffawed. Both Mulder and Scully then started laughing as well, and Scully held up her two fingers as in the Scout Oath, and promised to do her best to do her duty to God and her country. With that, Skinner shooed them out of the office and turned his attention back to Ernest Thompson. "So, 'ET', what do you need me to reassure you about?" Now it was Thompson's turn to have his mouth gape open. "How did you know?" "Because I know people can't believe how Fox Mulder comes up with the theories he comes up with and even more amazing to them is just how often he's right on the button with those theories," Skinner replied. "But Walter, what's with this number three theory of his? I mean, the only people killed in a group of three were the FBI agents. Why does he think the number three is significant?" Thompson asked. "'ET', how many local PD officers were killed?" Skinner asked. "Eleven. They were killed in pairs until the very last group. The two lieutenants were killed during the same time range as the Deputy Chief of Police." "Well, to Mulder's way of thinking, there is a pattern of some sort here. Maybe he started out killing in pairs, but with the murders of the lieutenants and the Deputy Chief, he began a pattern of threes. The death of our three agents certainly would match that pattern," Skinner replied. "Well, he's your agent. I know you tout him as the next coming of the messiah, but this is serious shit, Walter. We need answers, and we need them fast." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The next couple of days and nights found the agents in a total state of frustration. Particularly Mulder, who under his boss's advice and his partner's very dutiful and watchful eye (and nose, and mouth, and arms, and legs, and beautiful body,) had purposely avoided going into overdrive during the night to get into the killer's head. So the days and evenings were particularly aggravating for Mulder, because he felt he wasn't accomplishing anything. Each night, when he, Scully, and Skinner met for dinner at their Key Lime Pie Pub, as they were want to call it now, Mulder continued to harp on the notion that he was missing something about the number three. On the third night of the operation, while each agent consumed their own slice of key lime pie, Skinner's cell phone rang. When he hung up, he informed Mulder and Scully they were needed back at Quantico. The UNSUB struck again. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Mulder, was among a dozen agents who went to the sites of the three new crime scenes. He was the first to observe aloud how much closer in proximity the three victims were. They were within three city blocks of one another; two of the three were within thirty feet of each other. While the other agents scribbled notes regarding the surroundings of the crime scene, Mulder, Scully, and Skinner concentrated on each of the victims themselves. Skinner, who made it his business to be well versed with regards to pertinent information about those agents under his jurisdiction, was able to provide general personal background information on the three agents based upon their ID tags. Agents one and two were partners. They were six and eight year veterans of the Bureau. They each had exemplary records and a dozen commendations between the two of them. Agent one was Dennis Rourke, married for fifteen years and the father of twin sons and one daughter. Agent two was Richard Timpson. He too was married, for almost twenty-one years, and was the father of three daughters. Scully determined the cause of death was most likely the same as the other victims. Gunshot to the chest and then stab wounds around the gunshot wound. She did indicate the first and second victims were most likely shot first and then the UNSUB went back to make the stab marks. Scully noted there was more blood than usual surrounding the first of the two victims which meant, due to their close proximity to one another, the UNSUB had to act more quickly and shoot to kill first, then took his time to make the numerous stab wounds. "Which means the stab wounds are just him having fun with us, Scully. They mean nothing. The UNSUB's main focus is to kill his intended target with the gunshot. The stab wounds are not ritualistic as he wanted us to believe in the beginning. Now, he's showing us they were done to throw us off track. "Damn it, Scully. He's becoming more and more public with these acts. These guys were his way of getting some target practice in a public place," Mulder railed. When they viewed the site of the third victim, visiting Oregon State Field Office Director Michael Halpern, the evidence only confirmed Mulder's beliefs. Skinner was particularly upset at this site, as he'd only just met with Halpern and other Field Office Directors a few days before. Halpern had been on the force for twenty -two years and was looking forward to an early retirement when he turned fifty-five. Skinner knew Halpern planned on taking his wife of thirty years on a cruise to Alaska when he retired. It saddened Skinner to think she would never take that trip with her husband. "He was in the wrong state at the wrong time, Scully. The UNSUB is toying with us. Look where he chose to assassinate the regional director. Right in the heart of DC. Public. Very, very public. He's finished with the target practice, Scully. He's ready to go for his intended target," Mulder insisted. "Mulder, you can't be certain that Halpern wasn't the intended target, can you?" Scully asked. "I told you the number three was important. No, he hasn't hit his target yet, but soon, Scully, soon. And he's going to hit all three victims at once. I know it. Don't ask me how I know it, I just do. Damn, I wish I had a clue as to who this bastard is!" Mulder cried out in frustration. Skinner took note of the look of intense fatigue on Mulder's face and made an administrative decision. "C'mon Mulder. Scully. It's time to leave the scene to the clean up crew. Let's go home." Reluctantly, Mulder, as well as the dozen or so other agents did just that. They'd agreed to meet back at Quantico at eight o'clock the following morning. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The next morning and afternoon found the agents more at odds with one another than they'd been since they'd first gathered. No matter what Mulder offered, the other agents instinctively knocked it. "Mulder, there's no proof. Everything you have put on the table is pure conjecture. You have not given us one, single, concrete bit of evidence that would prove this number three theory, nor that there is actually an intended target," railed Agent Newton. "I'm afraid I have to agree with Agent Newton, son,'' responded SAIC Thompson. "Look, it's been a long afternoon. I think we're all about ready for some down time. We'd be breaking for dinner in about a half hour anyway, so what do you say we break early. I'll see you all back here in ninety minutes, Agents." Thompson then turned to Skinner and asked, "Walter, would you like to join me for a drink?" "Another time, 'ET,'" he said. Walter then walked directly up to his friend and whispered, "I think my agent's ego may need a little bolstering. He took some pretty hard hits in here today." "That he did, but I've got to give the kid credit. He doesn't back down when he believes he's right." "No," Walter agreed, "he's never been known to back down when he believed he was right. Can't tell you how many holes he's dug himself into with that routine. But Mulder is, if nothing else, a man of his convictions, and you've got to admire a man for standing on his own beliefs." "All right, Walter, I'll let you off the hook for this one, but when we catch this bastard, I expect you and me to have a date with Johnny Walker. Understand?" ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Since they had an extra thirty minutes to luxuriate in, Skinner indulged his agents and ordered a round of beers. He stuck with the Heiniken Dark, Scully preferred the Heiniken Light brew, and Mulder stuck with his Sam Adams. The liquor was having the desired effect on at least two of the three, as they began to relax before they ordered their dinner. Scully looked to her right and tried to gain Mulder's attention, but when she didn't succeed instead turned to her left and addressed her boss. "Maybe we should skip the main course, Sir,'' Scully teased, "and just go for the key lime pie." "I've seen the way you've scarfed down key lime pie, Agent Scullly, and where you manage to pack it my dear woman, is an X-File in itself," teased back Skinner. Mulder, on the other hand remained quiet and pensive. He continued to think about the case, and couldn't help but wonder what it was he was missing. What was it about the number three? His mind ticked off everything he could think of that was associated with the number three. Trio, triple, triplet, triad, tricycle, triangle, trilogy, trimester, triplicate, tripod, triplex, trisect, trinity. Trinity? The Holy Trinity? The Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit? Could it be that simple? Mulder looked up at two of the most important people in his life at the moment. He truly did look upon Walter Skinner as not only a friend, but as a type of surrogate father figure. And Scully, with her renewed faith in God, was certainly his most holy spirit. So where did that leave him in the trinity? The Son? Mulder's eidetic memory niggled at him as he pieced these particular details together. There was something so familiar about the scenario, but he was having trouble __. "Ohmigod," Mulder gasped aloud. "Mulder? What's wrong?" Scully asked as she immediately took note of the suddenly chalky pallor and glazed look in his eyes. She grasped his wrist in order to take his pulse and recognized a rate that was way too fast to be considered within normal range. "Mulder, what the hell is going on?" Scully demanded anxiously. When she received no response, she looked over to Walter Skinner for assistance. "Fox, you have to answer me. What's wrong?" Skinner asked authoritatively. He grabbed Mulder by the chin in order to assure himself the younger man was looking directly at him. When Mulder finally took a breath, he forced himself to focus his eyes on the man before him. Father figure. No, _his_ father. He remembered having a conversation with a madman once, a very long time ago about the need to look up to one's father. The madman called himself a minister of the people, and he had taken several people hostage in order to prove his point. He remembered talking to the man, Reverend Fulcher was his name, for hours. So many, many hours. Eventually he was finally shot, through the window, by an FBI sharpshooter. But the Reverend Fulcher did not die instantly. Mulder remembered a teenage son who was in the room with them, and how the boy had knelt down next to his fallen father and promised to continue the cause, even after he departed this world into the spirit world. The teen told his father he loved him, and then told him he would pray everyone would love _his_ father, and finally, Mulder remembered how the boy prayed over the writhing body that slowly bled to death. Everyone should love the father. The son said so. Even into the great spirit world and beyond. The Father. The Son. The Holy Spirit. The son, no longer a teenager, was completing the promise of the Trinity he'd made to his father on that day, so many years ago. Suddenly, even before he heard or saw anything, Mulder felt an unknown presence. He knew the others did not sense any danger, so Mulder realized it was up to him to protect Walter and Dana at all cost. He turned around slightly to his left to look behind him and observed a rustling behind the multitude of hanging plants and wicker baskets that hung all around the pub. It was when he heard the distinctive 'click' that Mulder jumped straight up from his seat. He literally dove forward, up and over the table onto Walter Skinner, while at the same time he pushed his arm straight out to thrust Dana out of the line of the madman's path when__. __ !! BANG!! BANG!! BANG!! Bodies were jumping up out of their seats all around them. People were shouting, "IT's HIM! IT's HIM!" A number of FBI agents were present eating their dinners, so the alleged gunman was quickly grabbed and cuffed. The gun was immediately confiscated and bagged for evidence. "Anybody hurt?" called out an unknown voice. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Scully looked around her and mentally took a quick assessment of her own condition. She realized she'd been grazed by one of the bullets that flew by her. Her right shoulder was bleeding slightly, but nothing that a stitch or two couldn't handle at the local emergency room. She looked for Mulder and Skinner. She noted both men were sprawled on the floor, the diving Mulder had obviously hit Skinner with enough force to knock Skinner out of his chair. In fact, Mulder was laying directly on top of a very surprised and embarrassed Skinner. "Mulder," Skinner said, "That swan dive you made did the trick. I'm okay, so you can get off of me now." "Yes, Sir. I'd love to, Sir," whispered Mulder. "Good. So do it." "I don't think I can do that, Sir," he said slightly breathy. "Mulder, what the hell are you talking about? This isn't amusing anymore. Get the hell off of me, now," demanded a suddenly very anxious Walter Skinner, who, for some innate reason, instinctively knew not to push the younger man off of him. "I wish I could, Sir," Mulder said very softly, but with remarkable calmness. "But I don't seem to be able to move." "Mulder, please tell me you're just living out some kinky fantasy and you're getting your rocks off by laying on top of me," Skinner pleaded. "Sir, I would love to say that, but I suspect the fantasy would be wasted on me at the moment." And for the first time since this bizarre conversation began, Mulder's breathy voice cracked with just a hint of emotion. "Sir, I can't feel anything. I can't move, and I can't seem to feel my arms or my legs. Shit, Sir, I can't feel anything." Walter slowly maneuvered his right hand out from under him and then did the same with his left. Mulder was literally dead weight on top of him, but Skinner realized his agent had obviously been shot and it could be dangerous to move him too quickly. He also became aware for the first time the younger man was having difficulty breathing. He reached around embraced the younger man's torso in his arms and held on to him with a firm, but gentle grip. "I've got you, Fox. I'm holding onto you. Do you understand me?" Skinner asked desperately on behalf of his injured agent. "Scully," he called out. "We have an agent down. Call for an ambulance." "Sir?" Scully questioned. "Are you all right?" "I'm fine, Scully. Mulder's been hit." "What? Ohmigod, no! Mulder, what's wrong?" she cried out as she knelt by his side. Then she regained her senses for a moment and called out, "Call for an ambulance. Agent down!" As Scully slid to her knees to try to assess Mulder's condition, she wondered why Walter was holding Mulder so securely. "Mulder, don't move until we can figure out where you've been hit," she instructed. Mulder's laugh was sardonic, and his breathing was becoming somewhat labored. "I don't think that will be a problem, Scully." "What? What's wrong?" Scully began snapping out possible diagnoses one right after the other when she heard his labored breathing. "Did you get hit in the chest? How do your ribs feel? Could you have cracked one? Did it penetrate the lung? Does it feel like your lung's collapsed?" "Scully, stop, and listen to me," Skinner pleaded. "He says he can't move or feel anything. That's why I'm holding onto him. I'm afraid he may slide down, and I figured it wouldn't be a good idea for him to move around with a bullet in his back." Scully didn't know if she was going to faint right then and there, or if she would have the strength to wait until later. Luckily, just then the paramedics arrived and saved her the trouble of making the decision. Scully was quickly pushed aside so they could get down to business. The EMT's quickly and efficiently placed both a neck brace and a backboard under Mulder's stomach before they lifted him up into the ambulance. They determined it would probably be best to have him remain on his stomach until the doctors pinpointed where the bullet had penetrated. The paramedics were advised by their home base not to place any more stress or undue pressure on the area of the entry wound then absolutely necessary to inhibit the bleeding. Scully wanted to ride with Mulder, and when the EMT's saw the grazed bullet wound on her right shoulder, she nearly had her chance. However, they determined it was probably best for them to stabilize Mulder and get him rolling as soon as possible, and they would send another ambulance for her. "Oh, no, don't send for another ambulance. I'm okay. I just want to make sure Mulder's okay," Scully offered. "Ma'am, we're going to do everything we can for him," assured the technician. "Dana, we'll go to the hospital in my car," Skinner said. "We'll follow right behind them. We won't let them out of our sight," he declared, remembering with anxiety the last time one of his agents was taken away in an ambulance. The very woman he was trying to lend his support to had ended up in Antarctica. "Please, help him," she pleaded. Just before they were ready to load him into the ambulance, Mulder asked the EMT for both Skinner and Scully. "I need you to promise me something," he whispered with effort. "What is it, Fox?" Skinner asked, his voice own voice raspy. "Promise me I won't have to live like this." "Mulder_!" "I'm serious. Scully, please, promise me I won't have to live like this," he begged in a breathy, soft voice. "Mulder, let's wait to see what the doctors can do before we make any kind of promises, okay? The only thing I can promise you is I'll go on loving you. Forever. Always. Do you understand? I will love you forever and for always. No matter what," Scully said adamantly. "Scully, please __!" he pleaded with as much force and volume as he could, but was then lifted into the waiting ambulance. Scully and Skinner watched helplessly as the doors to the ambulance closed in front of them. As soon as the ambulance began its departure, Scully leaned into Walter Skinner and began to cry. He held her tightly in his arms, both as a comfort for her and a means for his own solace, as he felt his own tears begin to fall as well. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ They'd been sitting in the waiting room for close to an hour and a half. Scully had had her superficial wound cleaned and bandaged quickly in the emergency room and now sat with Walter awaiting word on Mulder's condition. They were initially told he was going to be taken to X-Ray and then possibly for a CT scan and MRI. Both Scully and Skinner waited nervously. Scully was probably more so, in that she was in the position of knowing just a little too much. Her medical diploma sometimes worked against her, such as in situations when Mulder was injured. She kept thinking of every worse case scenario, and the more she thought, the more anxious she became. She willed herself to calm down and think like a doctor. She needed to be able to understand all of the possibilities. If there was a severing of the spinal cord in the area of any of the first three vertebra, that would result in the worst, possible prognosis. She knew, if a C1, C2 or C3 area was involved, Mulder would have no independent respiratory function and minimal movement in his neck. He'd have no bladder or bowel control, and would most likely have to use a power drive wheelchair that was equipped with a portable respirator. He might be able to control it with a chin control, or perhaps a sip and puff mechanism. A C4 disruption wouldn't leave him much better off, except he might have more sensation and movement above his neck. Scully could only hope, if there was a severing of the cord, that the highest possible location would be at the C5 level. Even that would result in quadriplegia, but at least Mulder would have full neck, and partial shoulder, back and biceps movement. She wondered if that was being too optimistic. He looked so fragile and helpless back in the restaurant. Images of the actor, Christopher Reeve kept popping into her mind. She tried to imagine Mulder's face instead of Christopher Reeve's. *My Superman,* Scully thought to herself over and over again, almost as if it were a mantra. The idea that he could possibly be like that for the rest of his life suddenly frightened Scully, not because _she_ couldn't love him in spite of the debilitating condition, but because Mulder himself indicated he wouldn't want to live like that. She was so afraid he would simply give up. When both Scully and Skinner thought they couldn't stand waiting another minute, a doctor appeared before them. They both jumped up in unison and immediately asked how Mulder was. He smiled and took the time to introduce himself as Dr. Polasky and then invited Skinner and Scully to sit back down. This was not a good omen. "Dr. Polasky, I'm Assistant Director Walter Skinner and this is Agent Mulder's partner, Special Agent Dana Scully. What can you tell us about Mulder's condition?" "Mr. Skinner, Ms. Scully, I wish I could be more definitive at this time, but I can't. All, I can tell you is what we know right now." Upon receiving an acknowledging nod from both Scully and Skinner, Polasky continued. "Mr. Mulder received a bullet wound in the back of his neck. A bullet has lodged itself in the area of the fifth vertebra very close to the spinal cord. To be honest, we do not know if the cord has been severed or cut in any manner at this point, as there is a great deal of swelling around the region. Mr. Mulder is, at the moment, feeling no sensation from the chest down. He's been placed on a respirator to assist him in his breathing." While Skinner sat completely numbed by what he'd just heard, Scully decided to ask the sixty-four dollar question even though she was well aware of most of the possibilities. There was always the possibility she was wrong. She fervently hoped she was wrong. "And what do you see as the prognosis, Doctor?" "Ms. Scully, there are many possible scenarios here__," he began before Scully interrupted him. "That's Dr. Scully, Sir. I am a forensic pathologist, so please feel free to cut to the chase. Will Mulder recover?" "I don't know," he honestly replied. "Please, Doctor, surely you can give us a little more to go on here?" Skinner commented in an annoyed tone. "I wish I could," Dr. Polasky replied in a calm, even tone. "If you want to know whether I'm optimistic, I'd have to say no, I'm not terribly optimistic. But right now there's an enormous amount of swelling in the area, which in turn is putting a great deal of pressure and stress on the spinal column. In time, the swelling may reduce, and Mr. Mulder may regain some feeling and use of his upper limbs. "Again, am I optimistic about this prospect? I'd have to say no." "What about the bullet? When will you operate to remove it so the swelling may reduce?" Scully asked. "That's another problem, Dr. Scully. I have the X-Ray here." He took it out of the envelope and held it up to the light for Scully and Skinner to look over. "As you can see, the bullet is either resting on the spinal cord or through it. It's difficult to determine due to the amount of swelling in the area. "I don't believe you could find a surgeon who would recommend removing that bullet given its placement, at least at this time. Maybe if the swelling went down, but of course as long as the bullet remains, the swelling may persist and there's the risk of infection. At any rate, any wrong move, and Mr. Mulder is a dead man," concluded Dr. Polasky. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Mulder laid awake listening to the sounds of the respirator breathe in and out for him. As much as he would have liked to fight the damned thing, he couldn't. He had neither the strength, the will, nor the ability to try to fight it. So, instead, he listened to it drone on as he contemplated his next move. Which of course was an ironic turn of phrase in his case, since he couldn't move anything. Well, almost anything. He could move his eyebrows. He practiced moving them up and then back down again. He could blink his eyelids. He practice opening his eyes wide and then closing them quickly. He did have the ability to squiggle and squish his nose a bit, and of course, if the damned respirator wasn't stuck down his throat, he'd probably be able to talk too. But he needed to make a plan. Only he didn't have a clue as to how, without it involving Scully and Skinner. He knew he would not be able to live the rest of his life like this. He couldn't. He wouldn't. But what choice did he have? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Before Walter and Dana entered his room, they each made a silent prayer Mulder would be sleeping. It wasn't so much they were concerned about his need for rest, as it was facing their own anxiety about speaking with him. Saying the right thing. Doing the right thing. Knowing the difference between the two. However, when they walked in, they were surprised to see a woman, apparently a hospital staff member given the white coat and ID badge, holding a piece of cardboard in front of Mulder. As Skinner and Scully walked closer to the bed, they further observed Mulder wearing a small apparatus on his head that held a small flashlight which emitted a direct beam of light on the cardboard. Which on the side facing Mulder, displayed the letters of the alphabet and numbers. Mulder was able to direct the beam of light with fairly good accuracy by moving his head ever so slightly. *HI* he said. "Mr. Mulder says 'Hi' to you," the staff member said and then offered her hand to each of them. "I'm Robin Abrams. I work with trauma patients and come up with nifty little devices to help them communicate with others as quickly as possible," she said to the visitors. Then, turning to Mulder she added, "And this little method seems to work pretty well for you, do you agree Mr. Mulder?" He pointed to the word 'YES' which was printed on the right side of the cardboard communication board. The word 'NO' was printed on the left. "Do you have any other questions for me at the moment, Mr. Mulder?" Ms. Abrams asked. *NO.* Mulder then pointed to one of several more functional needs and/or common courtesy words that were pre-printed on the display. *THANK YOU.* "You're more than welcomed, Mr. Mulder. I shall be around later this afternoon to check up on you, and if you have any more questions, we can address them then. Okay?" *YES. GOOD-BYE.* "Good-bye, for now, Mr. Mulder." Ms. Abrams then smiled at Scully and Skinner and left the room. "Hi," Scully greeted with a little more tremor in her voice than she would have wished for. The communication card was on a little stand that was secured to Mulder's bed. It remained in front of him, so he could communicate as long as the light had a power source. Mulder began spelling out a response. *N-E-R-V-O-U-S-?--M-E---T-O-O-* "Oh Mulder, I didn't mean__," she began, but stopped when she saw the beam of light hit the board again. *I-T-S--O-K--I--K-N-O-W-* "Mulder," Skinner began, "You're going to beat this, you know." Mulder pointed to the preprinted word, *MAYBE.* He then looked at Skinner and began to spell out a question. *U-N-S-U-B--C-A-U-G-H-T-?-* "He was cuffed right at the restaurant, Mulder. Newton phoned me while we were waiting for you to get settled in here. He said the perp confessed everything about needing to bring you, me and Scully down as a means of keeping the promise he made to his preacher father years ago. "Your number three theory was right on the button and you were right about the intended target. Did you realize it was us three who were the intended targets?" Skinner asked curiously. *L-A-S-T--M-I-N-U-T-E--K-N-E-W--S-W-A-N--D-I-V-E-* "Oh. Mulder," Skinner began, "I want to __." *YOU'RE WELCOME* There was a few minutes when everyone simply looked at each other, slightly teary eyed, but nothing that anyone couldn't handle. Finally, Scully broke the silence by asking Mulder if there were any books he'd like her to get for him to listen to. *S-U-R-P-R-I-S-E--M-E-* "Okay, I will," she said and then leaned down to kiss him on the forehead. A few minutes later MaryAnn Combs, the ICU floor nurse, came in to inform the visitors ICU visiting hours were over for now, and they may come back tomorrow morning at nine o'clock. "I think I'd better stay," Scully said. "You know," Nurse Combs began gently, "I've been an ICU nurse for twenty-seven years. I know my job, and now that Robin Abrams has been here, Mr. Mulder will be perfectly capable of letting his needs known. Quite frankly, you and your companion here look exhausted. Let me do my job. Go home, dear." Scully looked at Mulder, and he immediately spelled out, *H-O-M-E--C--U--T-O-M-O-R-R-O-W-* "Okay. Tomorrow. I love you G-Man. Always," Scully said as she brushed kisses all around his face. "I'll be back tomorrow too, Fox," Skinner said as he walked over and placed his large hand on Mulder's forehead and gently caressed it. Skinner felt it was imperative to make some kind of physical contact with Mulder, to make sure he knew how much Skinner cared about him and would be there for him, no matter what. Mulder watched the two of them leave. Mulder felt a sadness at seeing them depart, yet he felt some semblance of relief as well. He knew they were every bit as scared for him as he was for himself, and it took a great deal of energy to try to hide that fear. He indicated with the light beam he understood MaryAnn's promise she, or another ICU staff member, would be in every twenty to thirty minutes to check on him. She reminded him, however, he was being constantly monitored so if there was an emergency, the front desk would be aware of it. MaryAnn Combs wished him a good rest, and left the room. And now Mulder had some time to think. And time to be afraid. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Mulder imagined himself jerking about in a fitful sleep. He felt as though he wanted to stretch and go for a run to try to get the cobwebs out of his mind and body. He knew a good, hard run would enable him to clear his mind and get ready for the day's work. He also considered asking Scully to accompany him to Batchtown, Kentucky. He desperately wanted her to meet Henry Marcos. He'd dreamt about Henry Marcos. He'd dreamt about how Marcos had helped the little boy, Adam. It seemed so long ago. Mulder couldn't remember for a moment when that had happened. Saturday. It had happened on a Saturday and then his cell phone rang, and he was called home. To find a madman. And then Mulder woke up. He looked up toward the ceiling and then toward his communication board. He saw his headlight was still on and practiced using the board. When several minutes passed, Mulder stopped practicing and laid perfectly still. He wondered to himself if this was to be his fate. Looking at a cardboard alphabet with a light affixed to his forehead. He finally cried. He couldn't hold it back any longer. The tears streamed large and luminous down his cheeks. Mulder tried to imagine what life would be like from the perspective of laying or sitting all the time. He tried to imagine what it would feel like never to be able to look an adult straight in the eye, unless they came down to his level. He wondered, through the tears, how he would manage his life. He was so helpless now, he couldn't even brush tears away from his eyes or the snot from his nose. He was completely dependent on others for his existence. He couldn't even breathe without a damn machine down his throat at the moment. He wasn't even able to scratch the itch on his chin. He damned his impotence. His impotence. Scully. He'd finally declared his love for Scully and now he was nothing more than a vegetable. Oh, God, the last thing he wanted to be was a burden to Scully. He couldn't live like this. He wanted to die. He wanted to pull the plug on the machine himself and just die. Some minutes passed when the door opened. It was MaryAnn Combs. "Feeling a little sorry for yourself, are you?" she asked, not unkindly. *YES* was his response. "Good, you're an honest one. You're allowed to feel sorry for yourself, Mr. Mulder. You do know that, don't you?" *MAYBE* he responded. "Oh, yes, of course you can. You're just not allowed to wallow in the self-pity to the point where it becomes all consuming. Do you understand what I mean?" she asked. *YES* he answered. "Good. Now, about how long do you think you need for this bout of self-indulgence?" she asked seriously, but with the beginnings of a smile on her lips as well. *10 --M-I-N-U-T-E-S--?* he responded. "Well, then, ten minutes you'll have, Mr. Mulder. It's about five a.m. and I'll be back shortly to give you a sponge bath to freshen you up a bit. Would that be okay?" she asked graciously. *YES* he answered. "Fine. See you in ten." Mulder allowed himself a good cry from the moment MaryAnn left to just before she returned. He'd asked her for the ten minutes, and she was as good as her word, for when the ten minutes were up, MaryAnn was back in the room with sponge bath supplies in hand. While she bathed him, Mulder, who was considerably calmer now, had some time to think about what choices were open to him. He could sit and rot in the bed until the day he died was one option. The next option was to demand as many doctors and specialists out there who were expert in the field of spinal cord injuries to examine him and offer him treatment. The last option, the most outrageous choice, the one least likely to win the award for most viable from any sane person, was to go with his gut and his beliefs in extreme possibilities. He made his choice. Now, he needed the help to execute his plan. When he heard MaryAnn call his name, he hadn't realized how long he'd drifted off, thinking. She wanted to tell him she was almost finished giving him his sponge bath. He supposed she was gentle, but he had no way of really knowing. He wasn't able to turn his head fully to get a good enough view, and he certainly couldn't feel whether she was gentle or rough. But MaryAnn spoke to him and talked her way through the entire cleansing. She made small talk, but interspersed within was a documentation of everything she was doing to his body. He didn't get nor need the grimy details, but Mulder thought it was extremely considerate of MaryAnn to include him in the activity. When she'd finished the bath, she managed to dress him in a clean hospital gown, and after she'd checked his fluid output, she asked if there were anything he wanted her to do for him. *C-A-L-L--S-C-U-L-L-Y-* ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ When Scully arrived, it was with some trepidation given Mulder's request from the day before, just prior to getting into the ambulance. She couldn't imagine what was so important on Mulder's mind he felt the need to call her to the hospital at six o'clock in the morning. She opened the door and saw her partner laying so still she thought perhaps he was asleep. She moved quickly before him so she could make direct eye contact with him and saw he was, indeed, awake. "Hey G-Man. I'm here." She then moved next to him in order to read the board as he beamed the light on the specific word, phrase, or letter. *HELLO--G--W-O-M-A-N-* "I got MaryAnn's phone call. To be honest, it scared the hell out of me to receive the call from the hospital at six a.m. I thought something happened to you," she informed. *SORRY--D-I-D-N-T--M-E-A-N--T-O--S-C-A-R-E--U-* "Okay, apology accepted. Now what's so important that it required me to get here at dawn?" she asked, with a mixture of curiosity and anxiety. *HELP* "Oh, Mulder," she cried out in distress. "You know if there's anything I could do to help you, I would. You know that, don't you?" *T-H-E-R-E--I-S-* "There is? What can I do?" she asked, puzzled. *G-E-T--H-E-N-R-Y-* "Henry?" she asked in confusion. *M-A-R-C-O-S--I-N--K-Y-* "Oh Mulder, I don't know. I mean, there's no proof he really helped that child, much less be able to help you," Scully lamented. *PLEASE* he pointed to the preprinted word. "Mulder, is it wise to get your hopes up? I mean __," she began, but stopped when she witnessed the light beam moving again. *I-- B-E-L-I-E-V-E-* "I'll get a flight out this afternoon, Mulder." Scully reached over and caressed Mulder's face and then lavished him with gentle kisses all around his nose and chin and forehead. As her lips touched his cheeks, she tasted the salty wetness of his tears, but when she looked directly into his eyes she saw them glistening with love as well. "I love you, G-Man. I told you I will always love you, and I will do anything for you," she declared. *THANK-YOU* "You're welcome," she replied adoringly. "I'm not going to stay very long today. It seems I have this plane to catch to Tennessee." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ She rented the car in the Tri-City Airport and began her drive to Whitesburg, Kentucky. She figured she could stop at the little diner Mulder had described to her, see if she could develop a taste for grits, and get directions to Batchtown. When she finally found the diner, not quite two hours later, she entered with the intention of freshening up and then ordering some food. The waitress, however, had other ideas. "Oh! My heavens! He was right. He said you would come, and you did! Oh hon, I just can't believe y'all are here! Oh, listen to me blabbing my mouth off. You must need to clean up a bit, doncha? Little girl's room is right back thar, hon. I'll get a nice cold iced tea ready for ya, okay, hon?" Scully walked into the small ladies room in a slight daze. She couldn't imagine what the waitress was talking about. It was almost as if she'd known who Scully was, as though she'd expected her arrival. Scully used the facilities and then washed up thoroughly. The heat and humidity were particularly oppressive and she was feeling quite drained by it. She walked back into the dining room, and felt most grateful for the bit of air conditioning and ceiling fans that whirled overhead. When Scully seated herself at a small booth, the waitress practically ran over to her. "Hi, hon. I'm Mandy, and the reverend already told me you're Miz Scully." When Dana looked up in wide-eyed surprise, Mandy continued and explained. "Oh, y'all have to understand. The reverend comes in two, maybe three times a week, dependin' whether he come into town or not. Y'all know the reverend has a nice little office setup in town, right? "Oh, listen to me di-gressin' and all that. Well, anyway, the reverend had come on in for a little lunch yesterday, and we got to talkin' about how he'd had a real nice visitor and I told him he was probably the same nice young man that came on in for a take out dinner and then a nice breakfast. "Well, turns out it was, and the reverend told me that he had a feeling a friend of Mr. Mulder's was gonna come in for a visit. The reverend said something funny though. He said he hoped he was real wrong on this one. "Now, why would you suppose Reverend Henry would say such a thing?" Mandy asked, finally taking a breath. In a shaky voice, Scully asked, "Reverend Henry didn't give you any indication as to why he hoped I didn't come here?" "No, sweetie. But he didn't say it that way. It's wasn't that he didn't want you to come. He said, now let me make sure I'm gettin' this right, y'hear? He said he hoped you wouldn't _need_ to come on down here," Mandy elaborated. "Ohmigod. How could he __?" Scully gasped aloud. "Mandy? Mandy, I need to find the reverend as soon as possible." "Oh, dear, Reverend Henry headed back up to the church in Batchtown yesterday afternoon. But I can tell y'all how to find it pretty well, so doncha worry none, 'kay?" "But first you need to get some meat on them bones of yours. Don't they feed you people up North? Mr. Mulder was nothing but skin and bones too, for heaven's sake! Now, what can I getcha, hon?" Mandy asked. "I'm not really hungry right now. I'm really anxious to get going and find Mr. Marcos. It's really important," Scully said anxiously. "Now you listen here, hon," Mandy began to admonish, "It's near on ninety-five degrees out there and the humidity is clear on close to one hundred percent. Now listen hon, I don't mean no disrespect, but you look like something the cows would pass right on by at this point. You should at least have something to drink," Mandy insisted. "Maybe just some more iced tea. This heat has gotten to me a little, " Scully answered. "Okay, hon. Comin' right up." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Scully hadn't realized how hungry she really was until she decided to take Mandy up on her offer of apple pie a la mode, having convinced herself it would help cool her off. Scully actually managed a chuckle to herself when she thought about the enormous sweet tooth she'd apparently developed in recent days. She finished off the pie and the iced tea, ordered a giant sized tea to go, and scrupulously wrote down the directions Mandy gave her. Then Mandy placed a bag in her hand. "What's this?" Scully asked. "Oh, just a couple of tuna sandwiches for the road. Y'all may get hungry later, and 'sides, Reverend Henry loves my tuna salad sandwiches. So you'd be doing me a favor by bringin' his on up to him, 'kay hun? Mandy asked deceptively sweetly. "Mandy, do I even dare ask you what I owe you for the sandwiches?" Scully asked. "This has something to do with that nice friend of yours, don't it?" Mandy sidestepped. "Yes, Mandy, it does," Scully acknowledged. "He needs the Reverend's healing gift?" she asked soberly. "He thinks Mr. Marcos could help," Scully responded. "Well, then you best be goin' to get Reverend Henry as quick as you can," Mandy answered. "So, shoo, out the door with you. Oh, I put a few cans of ice cold iced teas in the bag. Should keep the tuna fresh, even in this heat." "Thank you, Mandy. For everything," Scully said and she left to go find Henry. The directions were, thankfully, rather straightforward, and allowed Scully the luxury of immersing herself in the scenery she drove by. The higher she got up into the mountains, the fewer the homes and the more rundown they'd become. When she finally reached the bridge, Scully recognized it from Mulder's description. Scully understood perfectly why the bridge was not the best part of Kentucky. She was scared to death as she drove over it, recited every prayer and psalm she could remember, and called on every Saint she could think of to get her over the rickety shambles that passed for a bridge. When she finally reached the dirt road that led to the church, Scully drove apprehensively. She honestly wasn't sure why she was there. She didn't believe Henry Marcos could do a damn thing for Mulder, and it worried her he would place so much faith in a scam artist. But Marcos did seem to know she was coming. Could it have be just a lucky guess and her arrival triggered Mandy's memory of the suggestion? But why would Marcos say to the waitress he'd hoped he was wrong. "Hello, Agent Scully, or do you prefer Dr. Scully?" a male voice, seemingly out of nowhere, asked courteously. "Scully. Just Scully." "Ahh," Henry Marcos said with a smile, "now why does that sound familiar?" Scully didn't understand why she'd introduced herself in that manner as she'd always preferred to be called Agent or Doctor Scully. Somehow, up in the mountains of Appalachia, with this man, it didn't seem right. Besides, she was here for Mulder's sake, not to stroke her own ego. "Mr. Marcos__?" she began. "_Henry. Just Henry, please." "Henry, when I stopped at the diner, the waitress said you knew I was coming," Scully said incredulously. "Mandy's a piece of work, isn't she, Scully? Makes a heckuva tuna salad sandwich," he chuckled, but then in a more serious tone said, "Yes, I told her you were coming. I had a dream of sorts two days ago. I dreamt there was a terrible scene with gunfire. I dreamt my new friend, Mulder, was hurt." He paused momentarily and then asked softly, "I'm right, aren't I, Scully?" "Yes, Henry, you're right." "He wants me to come to help him, yes? That's why you're here." "Yes. He thinks you can help him," she confirmed. "Ahh, but you do not, do you, Scully?" "No, Henry. I don't." "So, why are you here then?" Henry asked seriously. "Because Mulder believes. And I believe in Mulder," she answered earnestly. "Your faith in your partner is that strong, Scully?" ''I love him, Henry. Yes, my faith in him is that strong." "Then we must leave as soon as possible. I can not be away from the church for too long," he replied. "I need to inform a few of the families I will be away for a couple of days, so they may take extra precautions," he explained. Scully nodded in acknowledgment, but glanced at him with a bit of skepticism. Yes, she loved Mulder and had all the faith in the world in him. If Mulder believed Henry Marcos could help him, then perhaps a little positive energy from this man couldn't hurt. She prayed she was right. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ During their course of travel from Batchtown to Whitesburg to the Tri-City Airport near Blountville, Tennessee, Henry and Dana discussed his gift and what he could and could not do. Henry was aware that his gift was lumped in with the scam artists who proclaimed themselves as 'Psychic Surgeons.' He informed Scully he never claimed to be a psychic surgeon and agreed with her wholeheartedly the feats they claimed to do were nothing more than show biz slights of hand. Henry stated what may have been considered to be the obvious by some, but needed to be confirmed for Scully and Mulder's sake. "I cannot remove a bullet through the touch of my hands, Scully. I honestly don't know what, if anything, I can do for him." Scully asked Henry if he knew exactly what was Mulder's condition. Henry informed her the only thing he knew for sure was Mulder had been shot and was unable to function normally. He did not profess to know how involved his condition was. The fact he knew Mulder was shot impressed Scully a bit. She asked him how he came to this knowledge. Once again, Henry explained how he had dreams, sometimes through something he considered visions. He'd sensed Mulder's distress in the early evening on the night before last. Henry had felt the anguish very strongly, and had known Mulder was in trouble. He'd sensed Scully's presence as well. Henry told Scully he had also perceived a third person with whom he wasn't familiar with, as the only friend Mulder had talked to Henry about was Scully. "Skinner," she said aloud inadvertently. "Skinner?" "What?" she asked confused. "What or who is Skinner?" Henry asked. "Assistant Director Walter Skinner. He's our boss," Scully explained. "He was there, at the restaurant as well." "It is the assistant director who Mulder protected along with you, is it not?" Henry asked. "Yes," she responded cautiously. Experience had taught Scully Henry could be fishing for information, and she wanted to be careful to not lead him into any more information than she already had. Yet, as hard as she tried to look upon her travel companion with objective, skeptical eyes, Scully found herself being drawn by his gentleness and sincerity, as well as his intelligence and engaging personality. She reminded herself it was she who went to Henry Marcos for assistance. Henry did not solicit his 'services' to her and Mulder. But he'd known she would come. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ By the time they'd arrived at the hospital, Walter Skinner was by Mulder's bedside. Mulder managed to explain Scully's absence, so when she and Henry Marcos entered the room, Skinner stood up knowingly. "Walter Skinner," the AD said as he offered his hand to the awaited guest. "Henry Marcos," the Filipino man replied while returning the gesture. Scully, meanwhile, moved over towards Mulder to bend over and kiss him on the forehead. "Hey G-Man, how ya doing?" *B-E-T-T-E-R--U--R--H-E-R-E-* "I love you too, Mulder," she replied with a smile and another kiss. *H-E-N-R-Y--C-O-M-E--N-O--P-R-O-B-L-E-M--?-* "Mulder, you won't believe this, but Henry _knew_ I was coming," said Scully incredulously. *M-E--?--N-O-T--B-E-L-I-E-V-E--?-?-* Scully laughed out loud at that, and immediately replied, "Mea Culpa! I know not what I speak." "And what is it you do not know, Scully?" asked Henry. Mulder's eyebrow shot up questioningly at Henry's use of just his partner's surname, but when she let it pass with nary a glance, he decided it wasn't anything for him to be concerned about. Curious, yes, but not concerned. "I had the audacity to think Mulder would be surprised you knew I was coming to Batchtown," she said dryly. "You knew she was coming?" echoed Skinner. "Yes. I did know she was coming. Do not ask me how I knew, because I myself do not understand all there is to know about my gift. Just suffice it to say I did know, so I was able to prepare myself and my community for my potential absence," Henry explained. Next, Henry walked over to Mulder's bedside, opposite of Scully, and sat down on the chair beside it. "Hello, my friend, Mulder. It appears to me your trip back home was not so fortuitous." *NO--N-O-T--L-U-C-K-Y--A-T--A-L-L-* "Were you able to capture the criminal who committed all of those murders?" he asked. *YES* "Then I'd say something good came out of your misfortune." *YES* "But that's not why I'm here, is it?" Marcos asked. *HELP-?-* "I don't know if I can, Mulder. Every time I've ever used my gift in the past was on was something indigenous to the body. Even Lenore Gubaju's horrible cancer was created within her body. "I've never dealt with a foreign object in the body before. I don't know if my gift can do anything about the bullet. I don't know what might happen. I'm even fearful I might cause more harm," he relayed earnestly. *GOOD--R-I-S-K-* "Mulder, wait!" Scully interjected. "If Henry thinks there's a chance he might do you more harm, then it's not a good risk." *C-A-N-T--L-I-V-E--L-I-K-E--T-H-I-S--!* "But Mulder, you could really die," Scully bemoaned. *T-H-I-S--I-S--D-E-A-D-* "Oh Mulder__," she began. "Scully," Skinner interrupted, "it's not our choice. It's his choice. Don't take away his choice," he said, all the while looking directly at Mulder. *THANK-YOU--4--U-N-D-E-R-S-T-A-N-D-I-N-G--S-I-R-* "Well then," began Henry, all the while looking back and forth from Mulder's exhilarated eyes to the worried eyes of Dana Scully, "I think we should wait to hear the results of your latest tests and then proceed from there." Then, looking only at Scully, he asked, "How does that sound?" "Fine, just fine," Scully replied with a small, defeated sigh. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Dr. Polasky offered nothing encouraging after his latest examination of Mulder. The results of yet another MRI and CT scan showed little, if any, reduction in the swelling. In fact, there was some concern of signs of infection surrounding the bullet. "So there's no indication the bullet has moved at all?" asked Scully hopefully. "No, Dr. Scully, unfortunately it appears the bullet has not moved at all. We can not surgically remove it," he said, confirming her fears. "How long will it take for the swelling to go down, Dr. Polasky?" Henry asked. "And you are, Sir?" Polasky queried. "My apologies. I am Henry Marcos. I am __," "__Mulder's brother-in-law," interrupted Scully, knowing full well the hospital's policy was to allow only immediate family to visit in the ICU. "I see, well there's no way of knowing how long it will take for the swelling to reduce Mr. Marcos. Of course, if an infection sets in because of the bullet, then the length of time before the swelling reduces will be even longer," replied the doctor. "Henry, how long will you be able to stay and visit?" Skinner asked cryptically. "I must return within a couple of days, Mr. Skinner. It would be most dangerous for me to remain away any longer than that," Henry replied. "Dangerous?" Dr. Polasky questioned. "Are you in some kind of danger? Perhaps you shouldn't be here __?" "Dr. Polansky- Mr. Skinner is the Assistant Director of the FBI. I am a Special Agent with the bureau. The man lying in that bed is also an FBI Special Agent. Do you honestly believe, for one moment, we would allow anyone nearby who could possibly endanger the patients in this hospital, or more specifically, _this_ patient? Really, Doctor. I should think you would give the Federal Bureau of Investigation a little more credit," Scully retorted indignantly. "Oh, of course, I didn't mean to imply, I mean__," Dr. Polasky sputtered, but finally gave up and simply said, "We will continue to monitor Mr. Mulder for possible infection for the next forty-eight hours in the ICU. After that, if there's no change, we'll have to most likely make arrangements for a rehabilitation setting or nursing home." *NO-!-!-NO-!-!-NO-* Mulder began to choke on the respirator tube in his desperate attempt to shine the light on the communication board to gain someone's attention. There was no way he was going into a nursing home. He'd rather someone put a bullet to his head than vegetate in a home. "Mulder, calm down, please! No one is sending you anywhere. You're not going to a nursing home, so settle down," Scully cajoled, soothed, and pleaded all at the same time. Mulder finally settled down, and after Dr. Polasky carefully examined him to make sure he didn't cause himself anymore damage, the doctor declared him recovered from the choking episode. "However, this is not to say I'm not concerned about the possibility of infection. If Mr. Mulder's paralysis shows no sign of improving, or if the swelling has not shown any demonstrable decrease, we will have to consider, well other arrangements. A nursing home may be our only alternative. Now, Mr. Mulder, I suggest you rest and stay put," the Doctor finally said without thinking. Mulder rolled his eyes in response, and Polasky at least had the decency to blush when he realized his faux pas. As quickly as possible, he bid everyone a good night. *NO--N-U-R-S-N-I-G--H-O-M-E--!!--PLEASE--!!** "Mulder, the only reason Polasky mentioned the nursing home was because it's a cheaper alternative than for you to recover in the hospital. Don't panic. I won't let them send you to a nursing home," Scully insisted. *S-C-A-R-E-D-* "Please, don't be scared about that. I won't let them ship you off to a nursing home. I promise," Scully declared emphatically. *THANK-YOU** "You're welcome." And then to no one in particular, Scully asked, "So now what?" "I guess it's up to Mulder and Henry," Skinner responded. "Henry, what do you suggest?" "I suggest you leave Mulder and me alone for a little while so we can talk things over," Henry suggested in an unthreatening tone. "Oh, but__." Scully stopped, looked at Mulder, and boldly asked, "Would you like to speak with Henry in private, Mulder?" When she saw him avert his eyes, Scully softened her tone as much as she could and, in an attempt to ease his mind, told him, "Mulder, it's okay if you do. I won't be insulted, and I'm sure Walter won't be either. I ask only to make sure it's what _you_ want." *YES--PLEASE--THANK-YOU-* "You're welcome, G-Man," she said as she placed kisses on his forehead and his cheeks, and then whispered, "I'll see you in a little while. I love you so much." And with that Dana left the room. Skinner told Mulder he was going to convince Scully to go with him to the cafeteria to get a bite to eat. They'd be back in about an hour, if that was okay with him and Henry. Both men indicated that would be fine, and in fact Mulder communicated his thanks to Skinner for looking after Scully for him. Skinner smiled at that, placed his hand on Mulder's forehead and caressed it gently, and told him he would be back later to talk. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Are we doing the right thing, Sir?" Scully asked as she walked with Skinner to the cafeteria. "It's all about choice, Dana. It's not our choice to make, so yes, we're doing the right thing. Mulder needs to know he has some empowerment in making a decision about his life. "Scully, we both know Mulder would never survive living like this. Sure, his body might, but his soul would simply wither away and die," Skinner explained. "But even if he was paralyzed, he could still function. He could still live a life," Scully lamented. "Yes, he could live _a_ life, but would it be _his_ life?" Skinner responded. "Dana, if he believes there's a chance, even if' the odds are stacked totally against him, if there's the slightest chance he could get his life back from Henry, don't you think he deserves the right to take that risk?" "But he could die. Or even worse__," Scully began. "__Even worse?" Skinner questioned. "What could be worse than dying?" "Nothing." When Skinner looked at her curiously, she continued on. "I mean literally, nothing happens. Henry does his voodoo and Mulder's left exactly like he was." "So? He'd be no worse off than he was before," Skinner replied. "No, Sir. I think in that you're wrong. Mulder needs to believe in something. Right now he believes in Henry. If Henry fails, Mulder's faith in Henry is gone. But worse, I think his belief in himself would be diminished too," she said dejectedly. "I suspect it's a chance Mulder is willing to take," Skinner responded. "I suspect you're right, damn it," Scully agreed grudgingly. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "You are a very lucky man, Mulder," Henry said confidently to the man who was unable to move and laid on his back in a hospital bed with a respirator tube down his throat. *L-E-T-S--P-L-A-Y--L-O-T-T-O-* Mulder replied, noting the irony of Henry's statement. Henry laughed as he appreciated the dry wit of the man before him. He wished they had gotten together again under less stressful circumstances, as he felt a kindred spirit in Fox Mulder. Henry held out hope they would have a long friendship. "Mulder, you have very good friends." And then, almost as an afterthought, he asked, "Do you have family?" Mulder considered how to answer this question and then spelled out, *S-C-U-L-L-Y--&--S-K-I-N-N-E-R-* "Is your family deceased?" Henry pressed. He wanted to make sure there weren't others of importance that should, eventually, be in on this decision. *NO--B-U-T--I--A-M--T-O--T-H-E-M-* he said as honestly as he could. "Very well," Henry said, satisfied Mulder did not want anyone else other than the two people, who sat worrying and drinking bad coffee in the hospital cafeteria, to have a role in the decision making. "Mulder, you have to know I can offer no guarantees." *U--O-F-F-E-R--A--C-H-A-N-C-E-* "Yes, but the chance is a very slim one. I don't know, if by using my gift, I might make things worse. All I do know, is I cannot remain here beyond tomorrow. The children need ___," he began but quickly took note of Mulder's wish to communicate. *I--K-N-O-W--NO--A-P-O-L-O-G-I-E-S-* "So, you really want me to try?" he asked. *YES--O-N-L-Y--H-O-P-E-* "Mulder, I must be honest with you. I'm afraid. It's possible when I lay my hands on you, the gift could cause the bullet to move and sever the spinal cord. So if it's not cut already, my touching you could be the final blow." *I--K-N-O-W--B-U-T--M-A-Y--N-E-V-E-R--M-O-V-E--&-- C-R-I-P-P-L-E-D--4--E-V-E-R-* "Mulder, what if it moves, but you're still paralyzed?" *R-I-S-K--I--T-A-K-E-* "But is it worth the risk to you?" *YES--!-!* Both men knew the decision had been made as soon as the good Dr. Polasky offered them no more hope than before. In fact, as soon as Mulder heard there was a possibility infection from the lodged bullet, he knew he had to take a chance with Henry. Even if he remained paralyzed, Mulder didn't want to take the chance of a long, lingering death from an infection. They sat together, sometimes quietly, sometimes shooting the breeze. But the longer they sat together, the more confident each one became in their feelings the decision for Henry to go ahead was the only right one. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Only fifty minutes had passed before Scully and Skinner reappeared in Mulder's room. Neither one could make the watery coffee and stale danish last any longer, and they both felt the need to confirm what they'd already assumed was Mulder's decision. "So?" asked Scully. "So, we go ahead," responded Henry. "Mulder, are you sure?" she asked as she moved closer to him. *YES* he replied quickly. "When do we do this," asked Skinner. "I would like to begin as soon as possible. I was telling Mulder, it's important I return by tomorrow night. It could be dangerous to the children I treat if I stay away any longer," Henry answered. *N-O-W_* Mulder communicated. "Now?" Scully said anxiously. "Yes," Henry agreed, "Now would be good." "Is there anything we can do to help, Henry?" Skinner asked. He looked first at Skinner and then as he was about to speak, he focused on Scully most of all. "Try to believe," he replied Skinner smiled and nodded while Scully murmured very softy, "I'll try." Next, she looked at Mulder and said, "I love you, Fox." *I--L-O-V-E--U--2--D-A-N-A--A-L-W-A-Y-S--* Henry nodded towards Dana and she moved to the other side of the bed along side Skinner. Henry felt it would be best to lay his hands in the area closest to where the bullet laid, so he asked Skinner and Scully to assist him in turning Mulder slightly so he might get his hands on Mulder's back. The two worked in tandem and shifted Mulder just enough to allow Henry to place his hands in the approximate place where the bullet might have been. Henry kneeled slightly so he was able to place his hands flushed against Mulder's upper spine. He held them there, and he closed his eyes. Skinner and Scully meanwhile held onto Mulder to keep him in position. In addition to acting as Mulder's anchor, Scully also monitored Mulder's vital signs, to make sure there was no undue stress being placed on him that could cause him any more harm. Several minutes passed when both Skinner and Scully felt the need to shift their feet and legs from one to the other, as they were bearing Mulder's weight as well. Both were wondering how long they were going to have to continue doing this when Scully suddenly heard the monitor start to beep a little faster. "Mulder? Mulder, are you all right?" Scully asked. Of course, with the respirator down his throat and he being shifted to his side, there was no way he could answer her. If he could, he would have said both 'yes' and 'no.' He felt heat emanating through his neck and back. It was, at first, a warm, soothing feeling. As the minutes passed, however, the heat became more focused and sharper until, after several more minutes, the heat began to pass through him as though a laser were going through him. Pain. Lots of pain. This was a good thing and a bad thing. It was a good thing, because it meant there was a possibility Mulder's spinal cord was not severed since he had some feeling again. It was a bad thing, because the pain was so severe now, Mulder thought death sounded like a pretty good alternative. He began to cry out from the intensity of the pain. The monitors now screamed out their many beeps, buzzers, and bells which alerted the medical staff that something was terribly amiss with the 'quad in room B.' "What the hell is going on in here?" demanded the day shift charge nurse. "It is all I can do," said Henry, as he ignored the nurse and spoke directly to Scully and Skinner. He then leaned over his bedridden friend and said, "Mulder, I am sorry if I caused you any undue pain, but I don't think there was any way of avoiding it." Mulder simply blinked his eyes at this point, and moaned. He neck and back burned from the touch of Henry's hands and he was feeling an agonizing pain from the bullet wound and its surrounding infection. Mulder's had a few gun shot wounds in his life, but this one was by far one of the most painful. Perhaps it was because he was conscious, while the other times he was out cold. He needed to be in that state now. As soon as possible. He focused the beam of light on the communication board. *HELP--!--PLEASE--!-* "What's wrong? Talk to me, Mulder. What's wrong?" Scully asked worriedly. *P-A-I-N--B-A-D-* "Where is the pain?" Scully asked. "What pain?" interjected the nurse. "He shouldn't be in any pain! He's paralyzed for crying out loud!" "Well, he is in pain, and it's bad, so I suggest you get Dr. Polasky paged immediately so he can order some pain meds for this patient." When the nurse stood, seemingly frozen in place, Scully looked hard at her and shouted, "PAGE POLASKY, NOW." The nurse left quickly. "Mulder, where's the pain?" Scully asked again. *N-E-C-K--&--B-A-C-K--P-A-I-N--B-A-D-!--HELP* "Okay, the doctor will be here soon to order some meds for you. Hang in there, G-Man," Scully encouraged. "What's wrong?" questioned Skinner. "What's happened?" "I think," Henry began, "the bullet moved and took some pressure off of the spinal column. This can be good, because it's quite possible then the cord was not severed. But, obviously it is bad because now Mulder is feeling the pain of the wound and probable infection." "Can't you do something to heal the infection?" Skinner asked. "I am fearful of trying to do anything more, Mr. Skinner, because of the placement of the bullet. I don't know how far it's moved or where it's moved. I don't know what direction it's taken. I think it's best to wait for more tests to see if the doctors can perform the surgery now," Henry explained. Mulder, at this point, neither heard nor cared about Henry's explanation. All he knew was the agony he felt. He was still unable to move his arms and legs, though he thought he felt some sensation in his extremities. But the pain in his neck and back was too overpowering for him to be terribly excited about the possible return of sensation to his limbs. He remained on the respirator, as he still required assistance in breathing. But Mulder continued to moan and cry out as he attempted to find some solace, some relief, from the searing pain in his back. Henry stood off to the side, and for the first time in a long time, felt doubts about whether he did the right thing. He was used to seeing those with whom he'd used his gift relieved of pain. This was the first time he'd ever seen his gift seemingly cause pain. Henry felt devastated at the thought. Skinner, having noticed the obvious distress in Henry's face, walked over to him quietly and simply put his hand on Henry's shoulder in a gesture of understanding and comfort. "Henry," Skinner said softly, "it's going to be all right. Mulder knew what he was asking you to do, and he knew the risks. He can feel the pain, Henry. Believe it or not, I think this is a good thing." "Mr. Skinner, I am most fearful this may cause him more pain than he will be able to deal with," Henry responded. "Then you don't know our Mulder very well yet. This man has endured more physical and emotional pain then any ten men I've known, and somehow, he always comes out on top. He's going to get through this ordeal as well, you'll see. He's going to get through this," Skinner said firmly, as much to satisfy himself as it was to convince Henry. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ When Dr. Polasky arrived he demanded an immediate account of what precipitated his patient's sudden onset of acute pain. When no one came forth with a plausible explanation, Polasky threatened to have everyone arrested for assault on his patient. "The only person who will be held accountable for this patient's well-being, Doctor, is you, if you don't do something to give him some relief from the pain he is _miraculously_ feeling," intimated Skinner in his most powerful AD tone. "If I may be so bold as to suggest Mulder might benefit from a new set of x-rays, as it's apparent something has changed in terms of his health status, and I for one would like to know what that change is so we might know better how to proceed," added Scully in her most forceful MD tone. Polasky looked first at Skinner and then at Scully. He'd forgotten with whom he was dealing. He simply sighed, wrote down orders for some pain meds, and informed the nurses to get an attendant in to take the patient to x-ray immediately. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "It's still a risky operation, Dr. Scully," Polasky said as they all stared at the brand new x-ray, MRI, and CT scan results. "But the bullet's moved away from the spinal cord, hasn't it?" asked Skinner. "Yes, but it hasn't moved away far enough to make it completely safe to operate," Dr. Polasky answered. "But it's more of a viable option now, isn't it?" Scully asked. "It's more of an option now than it was before," he concurred. "And the infection is more evident, isn't it, Doctor?" asked Scully. "Yes, the x-rays show the infection is presenting itself more clearly," the doctor began. "We'll start a course of antibiotics and hope that inhibits the infection. After a few days, the swelling should be reduced and we'll be able to operate." BEEP**BEEP**BEEP** "Excuse me," Dr. Polasky apologized, "that's me." He walked over to pick up one of the hospital wall phones. " Polasky. -- "What?--- "When?--- "Get him prepped for surgery. Is Silvers on call? -- ''Good. Call him and tell him we're bringing up a real interesting case.-- "Yes, thanks, MaryAnn. Yes, I agree you're the best damned ICU nurse there is and yes, I know you'll keep on reminding me. MaryAnn?" he pause. "Good looking out, kiddo. I owe you. Be right up," Polasky concluded the one-sided conversation. He turned to the trio who looked at him curiously and said, "Looks like Mr. Mulder made the decision for us." "What do you mean?" asked Skinner. "He began bleeding internally. We've got to go in to stop the bleeding, so we might as well pluck the damn bullet out while we're in there," Polasky explained. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Over four hours had passed, and Scully kept ticking off, in her mind, all the things that could have possibly gone wrong. She considered the possibility they weren't able to stop the bleeding, or the bullet had become inaccessible, or the surgeon had accidentally severed the spinal cord, or Mulder's heart had simply stopped. Scully couldn't bear the last thought. She couldn't accept the possibility Mulder was dead. However, she also couldn't understand what was taking so long. Scully wanted to scream at the top of her lungs and lash out to demand information about her partner. Instead, she worked extra hard at maintaining a calm exterior, because that's what Scully did in a crisis. She looked at Henry and Walter and quickly realized they were having as difficult a time waiting for some word on Mulder's condition as she was. She wondered how much longer it could possibly take. Skinner, on the other hand, sat quietly and worried. About everybody. He worried about Mulder. He had hoped the procedure would have been done by now, but he figured if anything had gone wrong, someone would have notified them, wouldn't they? Skinner chalked it up to the surgeons working extremely cautiously, given the location of the bullet. He also worried about Henry, who he knew blamed himself for Mulder's situation. Skinner had tried to convince him no one, least of all Mulder, blamed him for Mulder's predicament. He realized though how easy it was to say the words were true, but so much more difficult to accept them as truth. At the moment, however, Skinner was most worried about Scully. He wondered when he'd suddenly developed this paternal side of his personality. Perhaps it wasn't so sudden. He guessed he'd had about five and a half years of practice. He was, nonetheless, concerned about Scully's reaction, or rather lack of reaction. He felt she was too quiet, and it bothered him to see her detach herself from the situation. He hoped she would be able to find her way back if, God forbid, Mulder didn't make it. And that was the first time Skinner actually considered the idea Mulder might not make it. Might not live. Might die. Skinner swallowed hard on that thought. He'd only just been blessed with Mulder's and Scully's friendship, and now there was a real possibility Mulder might die. Skinner closed his eyes for a few minutes. He remembered back to how he felt when he learned of Mulder's rescue attempt in Antarctica. Skinner remembered he'd thought Mulder wasn't going to make it back much less be successful in his rescue attempt of Scully. He remembered he'd felt sadness at the thought of losing his two best, if not exasperating, agents. But as much as he'd admired them, and yes, had liked them, he hadn't felt a strong personal tie or closeness to either of them. Not like now. Not since they'd come back from their frozen misadventure, and he'd actually developed a friendship with both of them. No, not like now. Now, it hurt. Skinner felt an actual physical pain in his chest and stomach at the thought of losing Mulder. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut now, in hopes of trapping the tears that threatened to escape. Skinner didn't want to alarm Scully. He wanted to remain stoic for her sake, but as the minutes ticked into hours, it was becoming more and more difficult. Henry watched both of them with watery eyes. He felt their agony was his own fault. He realized it was Mulder's choice to go through with the act, but Henry had had so much doubt, he felt he, himself, should have refused. Henry had a choice too. He felt he'd made the wrong choice, and it scared him terribly to think he might never have the nerve to use his gift again. What if he caused another person the kind of pain he caused Mulder, or the grief he's now causing Scully and Mr. Skinner. Henry knew the surgical procedure would most likely take a long time. By the time they had Mulder prepped, the surgeon located and scrubbed, the anesthesiologist and surgical support team readied, an hour could easily have passed. The surgery itself was very delicate and would last a while. Henry made it a habit to keep himself up to date on current medical practices by reading many medical journals and research papers. He wanted to understand as much about traditional medical practices and patients results and reactions as possible. So, much like Scully, he almost knew too much. Henry was well aware the procedure Mulder was now undergoing was very, very risky. Not only were they dealing with the attempted removal of a foreign object, the surgeons needed to be extremely cautious because of its location. The infection resulted in swelling which most likely obscured the clarity of the area being operated on, as well as made it more difficult to secure the bullet. And of course, there was the additional problem of the internal hemorrhaging. The surgeons had their work cut out for them as they sutured and tied whatever vessels and veins that needed attending to stop the bleeding. Henry sighed deeply. He almost wished he'd never come to Washington, DC for then he wouldn't have harmed his friend. He almost wished he'd never gone to Batchtown, KY, for then there would have been no Henry Marcos for Mulder to locate. But there still would have been a madman to catch, and Mulder would have, most likely, still protected his boss and Scully by getting shot in the back. Henry sighed again. Upon hearing Henry, Scully looked up and asked, "How are you holding up?" "About as well as the both of you, I suspect," Henry replied, and then looking back at Skinner, he asked, "Scully, is he all right?" "Walter? Walter," she repeated, as she suddenly did not like the pasty pallor of Skinner's face, "are you all right?" Skinner blinked hard and nodded his head mutely. He didn't trust himself to speak as yet, and both Henry and Scully sensed that. Scully then said, "I suppose I should contact his mother." Henry jumped slightly at that remark. "Mulder told me he didn't have a relationship with his family." "He doesn't," Skinner said having finally found his voice. "But it doesn't mean we don't try to make contact with her every time he's hurt. But since the last time, Scully, do you think we should waste our breath?" he asked cynically. Skinner shuddered slightly as he recalled the conversations he had with both Maggie Scully and Teena Mulder upon learning both Scully and Mulder were rescued from the collapsing glacier. Maggie Scully reacted in just the manner he'd expected of her. She not only asked about her daughter's condition, but Fox's as well. She interrogated Skinner on every possible topic that related to the initial abduction, the rescue, and the recovery, for both Dana and Fox. Though she was certainly emotional, she was controlled enough to get the necessary information so she'd be with her daughter as soon as possible. He then remembered what had happened when he'd called Teena Mulder. Unfortunately, she behaved pretty much the way he'd anticipated she would. In fact, she was worse. When Skinner informed Mrs. Mulder her son had traipsed halfway round the world to rescue his partner in a hostile, cold, enemy filled encampment, she stonily asked why her son continually insisted upon placing himself in danger. She then informed Skinner she refused to discuss it any longer. She didn't need to hear about the too many times he had difficulties. She'd told him she was getting far too weak and old to deal with that kind of stress. Skinner, of course, couldn't believe his ears. He couldn't understand how a woman could write off her own child, her only son. It truly boggled his mind Teena Mulder would go to the extreme of ignoring the plight of her own son. But she did. When Skinner phoned Maggie Scully to inform her of her daughter's impending arrival at the hospital in DC, she, driving in from Baltimore, had somehow managed to beat the ambulance to Georgetown Medical Center. Maggie was at the hospital to greet both Dana and Mulder. Teena Mulder, on the other hand, let it be known she felt she was much too frail to make the journey to DC, and to please let Fox know she hoped he had a speedy recovery. Mrs. Mulder made no mention of Scully. Skinner remembered holding the phone to his ear with his mouth agape seconds after he'd heard the telltale click of the receiver being hung up on the other end. So now, when Scully suggested Teena Mulder be called, well it sounded slightly ludicrous. "Why bother?" he asked seriously. "Because she's his mother, and there's always the chance she may have a change of heart," Scully replied, though not with any true conviction. "And as crazy as it sounds, he does love her, you know." "I know, but if she ever did show up, it would probably give Mulder a coronary," Skinner muttered sarcastically. "You're probably right," Scully replied more seriously, "but, I don't think we have the right to make the decision not to call her." "You know, he'd probably be better off seeing your mother," Skinner suggested. "I know," Scully smiled, "and I did phone Mom earlier. I told her to come by tomorrow when he's out of recovery," she explained as she thought how much more optimistic she was four hours ago. "You really believe she would not come to see her son?" Henry posed incredulously. "One way of finding out," Scully said. "She pulled out her cellular phone and dialed Mrs. Mulder's Greenwich phone number. It rang several times when she finally heard someone respond and say 'hello.' "Hello, Mrs. Mulder. It's Dana Scully, Fox's partner? -- "I'm sorry, I didn't realize it was quite this late__,-- "Yes, ma'am, I'm afraid he is__,-- "Yes, ma'am, again.-- "Well, he was shot while saving the lives of myself and Assistant Director Skinner from a criminally insane serial killer two days ago.-- "Yes, ma'am, two days ago. I'm sorry we didn't contact you sooner, but we__,-- "Yes, ma'am, I understand how upset you must be. I am calling you now, however, to inform you your son is undergoing emergency surgery even now as we speak.-- "Yes, ma'am, right now. The doctors are attempting to remove a bullet that was lodged in Fox's back, near his spinal cord. There's been some concern about infection and possible paralysis. -- "Yes, ma'am, paralysis.-- "We don't know for sure.-- "No, ma'am, no one expects you to become Fox's caretaker should he be paralyzed. You have made us all quite well aware of your incapacity to travel far or provide recovery care for your son on numerous occasions.-- "No, ma'am, I was not being sarcastic, merely repeating the facts as I know them.-- "No,ma'am, no insult was meant.-- "__ Mrs. Mulder? Do you want me to call when Fox comes out of surgery?-- "Of course. What ever you wish, ma'am. Good night," Scully concluded the conversation. "And her wish is?" Skinner asked sardonically. "Oh, to call her after nine o'clock tomorrow morning as she's going back to bed now and doesn't wish to be disturbed," Scully replied with malevolence. "You're not serious," Henry said unbelieving. "Unfortunately, Henry, I'm most serious," Scully replied. "Jesus Christ, have mercy on us all," Henry prayed in reaction. "Amen," both Scully and Skinner replied softly. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The surgery was tedious and taking a long time, but it was going smoothly just the same. Dr. Silvers kept looking at the row of x-rays that lined the light screen and kept muttering to himself how the hell the bullet moved so far from its original position. "Polasky? What the hell is up with those pictures? There's no way the bullet could have moved from the first place to where it is now," Silvers confronted. "Well, it did," Polasky said firmly, as he continued to suture the tiny blood vessels that kept leaking precious blood. "It's a God damned mess in here, but it's a good thing we're getting the bullet out. I'd hate to think where the damned thing could have traveled next," Silvers said. "Okay, hold this area for me. Nurse, would you please flush this area. No, over here," he indicated with the elongated tweezers. "Jon, how does it look to you?" Silvers asked his colleague. "Just ripe for the pickin', Michael. You pull it out, and I'll be ready to start suturing," Polasky responded. Michael Silvers grasped the bullet and pulled it slowly out of the infected area. He plunked it into a specimen jar. "Think he'll want it for a souvenir?" asked Silvers. "Doesn't matter whether he does or not. I was informed to label and secure the bullet when it was finally removed for evidence," Polasky informed. Silvers nodded and handed the jar to one of the team's nurses to do the labeling. Jon Polasky got quickly to work on suturing the veins torn in the process of removing the bullet, and Dr. Silvers quickly joined him in the tedious process. "Have you had a good look at the vertebra and cord?" Silvers asked. "Yeah, the vertebra merely looked slightly compressed, but not broken. The cord looks intact, but there's still so much swelling surrounding the area, he's not going to be feeling too much sensation for a few days," Polasky observed. "Well, at least all he'll require are a few weeks of PT instead of Medicare for the rest of his life," Silvers responded. "Yeah," Polasky agreed, remembering the patient's panicked reaction to the idea of being transferred to a nursing home. "Barring complications, we should see him back on his feet in a few weeks." The surgeons worked on, and four and a half later they wheeled their patient into the recovery room. Polasky and Silvers went into the waiting room to speak with his "family." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Scully saw Polasky first and looked at him with such intensity, Polasky felt almost self-conscious, as if his zipper was open or something. Finally, however, Polasky gave a thumbs up sign, which, in turn, made him the delighted recipient of one of Dr. Dana Scully's rare, but extremely radiant, smiles. "Everything went well," Polasky said. There was an audible sigh of relief. Skinner finally felt himself able to breath again, and Henry was just so relieved he thought he might cry. Scully, however, recomposed herself quickly and went into 'medical mode.' "Dr. Polasky," she began, "when you say everything went well, what exactly do you mean by that?" "I mean everything went well. Though the area is badly infected, the bullet's been removed and we stopped the internal bleeding. We'll be administering a strong block of antibiotics which should clear up the swelling within the week. "The vertebra merely look slightly compressed, and that was most likely due to the pressure the bullet had put on the spinal column when it first entered, as well as from the swelling. With the bullet gone, and the swelling due to be reduced, I'm sure with physical therapy the compression can be corrected as well," Polasky explained. "And the cord? Was there any damage to the cord?" Henry asked anxiously. "No, Sir. The cord looks quite intact," Dr. Silvers offered. "Thank God," Henry murmured. "How long of a recovery period are we talking about here, Doctors?" Skinner asked. "Agent Mulder will most likely be needed as a material witness against the SOB who shot him." "Well, he'll need to be in the hospital for another week at least to insure the infection is obliterated, and then he'll need to start physical therapy. Mr. Mulder won't be able to just hop out of bed and start walking. His body has been through an enormous trauma, and it will need time to readjust itself," suggested Silvers. "May I ask a question? Where exactly was the bullet?" Henry asked curiously. "Well, now that was the damnedest thing. The bullet was lodged in some fatty tissue a good four to five centimeters away from the spinal cord. Now, I know that doesn't sound like much, but when you're dealing with the spinal cord, millimeters count, so four centimeters is actually quite a large jump. Any idea as to how that could have happened?" Polasky asked with good-natured suspicion. "Not a clue, Doctor. My partner might call it an 'X-File,'" Scully offered. "An 'X-File?'" echoed both doctors. "It's what Mulder and I investigate. Unexplained phenomena," explained Scully. "Oh," they responded knowingly, but not really comprehending. "When can we see him?" Scully asked. "He's still out from the anesthesia and should continue to sleep for another couple of hours at least. Why don't you all grab a bite to eat, and he should be back in his room in about an hour," Silvers responded. "ICU?" asked Skinner. "For the next forty-eight hours at least," replied Polasky. "Dr. Silvers is right. Go grab a bite to eat. He's going to be fine." Scully looked at Polasky and offered her hand in gratitude. Polasky felt a sense of relief he hadn't realized he needed to feel, as he shook Dana Scully's hand. "Thank you, Doctor. I know I wasn't the easiest person to deal with, but when it comes to getting the best medical care for my partner, I tend to be a shrew," admitted Scully. "I never took it personally, Dr. Scully," he said, though both knew the truth behind that statement. "And to be honest, I hope someday I find someone who loves me as much to fight tooth and nail if I'm ever incapacitated." Scully returned the Polasky's knowing smile with a bit of surprise, since she'd never realized her feelings for Mulder were that obvious to the public. She supposed they were, and since Polasky seemed to actually admire her openness, it didn't bother her one bit. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ They sat quietly in his room while Mulder continued to sleep off the effects of the anesthesia. It had been another hour since he'd been brought back to his room in ICU, and Scully calculated Mulder should be coming out of his slumber soon. He was still on the respirator, but when Scully stopped at the nurses station to check Mulder's chart, (MaryAnn didn't even blink an eye when Scully had asked for it) she noted the doctors orders to remove it after twenty-four hours or sooner if indicated. Scully knew if Mulder had any control over his breathing what so ever, the tube would be removed immediately after he woke up. She would try to convince him to leave it in for the twenty-four hours to help build up his strength, but she knew Mulder. If he were physically capable, he'd want it out. As if on cue, she heard him start to cough. She wasn't sure if it was a reaction to the respirator tube, the anesthesia, or a combination of both. Either way, she knew Mulder would be waking up soon, and she wanted to be nearby to comfort him in any way she could. The coughing increased until she heard him moan in distress. Scully saw his eyes were open, and he looked frightened. His communication board and headlight were nowhere to be found, and he had no real means of communicating with her. "Mulder, you're going to be okay. The bullet is out, the cord is fine, and after the swelling is down, you should be up and around in just a few weeks," she said quickly to reassure him. "The doctors want you to use the respirator for another twenty-four hours to give your lungs a chance to get stronger." He tried to shake his head 'no' and found he was able to move his head slightly, but it was painful. He winced his eyes in reaction to the sudden flood of pain he felt in his neck that permeated to his entire back. "Try to lay still. I know you want to be able to do _everything_ all at once, but it's going to take some time," Scully consoled. "Mulder, listen to her for a change, okay?" Skinner said next, with a broad smile. "You sure do know how to make things interesting, you know? Doctors said you're going to be fine. Just be patient, okay?" Mulder scanned the room within his range of vision, and finally caught the gaze of Henry. Mulder practically willed the Filipino man to come to his bedside. "Mulder," Henry began, "I know what you're thinking." Mulder's eyes twinkled brightly. "What?" Scully asked. "What?" Skinner echoed. "Mulder, I don't know if that would be wise," Henry said. "I think it would be best for you to wait." With that, Mulder began a coughing fit that had him literally choking on his own saliva and the tube that was down his throat. "Mulder, calm down!" Skinner implored. "Please, let the machine breathe for you!" "It's got to come out. Henry, call for one of the nurses, please. He's not going to stop until the damn thing is out." And then to Mulder she yelled, "Damn you and your stubbornness! You couldn't leave the damn thing in for a little longer? It would have killed you to give your lungs a break?!" MaryAnn came rushing in with one of the other ICU nurses and stopped suddenly to listen to Scully berating Mulder. She began to laugh lightly as she finally walked over in attempt to thwart the tirade. "Somehow, I have a feeling you've been through this before with this young man," MaryAnn said to Scully. "Oh? How can you tell?" Scully asked griping. "It sounds too damned well-rehearsed," MaryAnn chuckled. And with that, Scully allowed herself to smile slightly and MaryAnn and her colleague instructed Mulder on what they were about to do with the respirator tube. "Unfortunately, I think you've heard this speech once or twice before too, haven't you Mr. Mulder?" she asked rhetorically. Within minutes, the respirator tube was removed and an oxygen mask was put on its place. "Now, no arguments about this mask, Mr. Mulder. Your lungs are not acting at full capacity yet, so don't even think about trying to breath without this. Do you understand?" MaryAnn instructed firmly. When Mulder indicated his understanding by nodding ever so slightly, Scully looked at MaryAnn and asked with a genuine smile, "So, do you make house calls on an as needed basis?" "For my favorite patients, Dr. Scully? Anytime," she said. As MaryAnn turned to leave, she said, "Dr. Polasky said I should page him when Mr. Mulder woke up. He wanted to check him over and see how he was managing the pain." MaryAnn paused for a minute, and in an aside to Scully asked earnestly, "How does he deal with pain?" "Well, to be truthful, he has a pretty high tolerance. He hates feeling a lack of control when he's under a pain killer's influence. He'd rather be in pain then relinquish control," Scully admitted. "Okay, that's important to know. I suspect Dr. Polasky is going to want him to be heavily sedated for the next day or so, because he's not going to want him moving around too much. The wound and infection need time to heal. The less movement, the faster the healing process," MaryAnn informed. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ When the doctor completed his exam, he did prescribe strong pain killers in addition to the block of strong antibiotics. He explained to Scully, Skinner, and Henry pretty much what MaryAnn had indicated. Dr. Polasky then informed him the nurse would be in with the medication shortly. Mulder pulled the mask off as soon as the doctor left. "Henry," he rasped. "Please. Now." "Mulder, don't ask me to do this. I don't think I can do this." "I don't want to lay in a hospital bed for the next month, Henry. They're going to need me to testify against the sonofabitch who tried to kill us. I need to be strong enough to testify. Please, Henry," Mulder pleaded. "What the hell are you talking about?" Scully asked incredulously. "Mulder, let the poor man be. He's been through enough!" "What?" questioned Mulder. "He was so worried he did something to harm you. Henry thinks it's his fault the bullet moved and caused you to be in so much pain," Scully elaborated. "What do you mean, 'think?'" Mulder asked hoarsely. "Well, surely you don't think the bullet moved because Henry touched you, do you?" Scully asked in exasperation. "You don't, Scully?" Skinner asked. "No, of course not. Why? You do?" she asked unbelievingly. "Well, Scully, the bullet did move," Skinner said tentatively. "Sir, we also moved Mulder so Henry could touch him. The bullet could have moved then," she responded. "Is that likely?" asked Skinner. "Hardly," Mulder rasped. "Henry, please, there's no foreign object in me anymore, so there's no need for you to worry about hurting me. Please. I don't want the drugs and I don't want to stay in the hospital and you have to get back to the Batchtown children," he pleaded. "Mulder, I'm not__" he began. "__Henry, I still believe." Henry looked into the eyes of his friend, and realized the man truly did have faith in him. In fact, he seemed to have enough faith for both of them. "Very well. Would you help me turn him over again?" he asked. "For crying out loud, Henry, didn't you hear the doctor said it was necessary to keep Mulder still to prevent the infection from spreading internally?" Scully argued. "Dana," Mulder called out as best he could, "please. Henry really can help me. Please." "How could you want to do this, when you were so damned close to dying?" she asked angrily. "I'm not dying now, and I want to avoid having to get rid of this excruciating pain by taking a multitude of drugs. Henry can help me walk out of this hospital a lot sooner than the drugs. Dana, I really, really believe Henry can help me. Like he did in moving the bullet away from my spine." "Mulder, you're scaring me, you know that? What's worse, is I'm scaring myself, because I'm going along with this craziness. C'mon Walter. Let's get this over with before MaryAnn comes back in with the medication and gives it to me to save my sanity," Scully ranted. Walter and Scully got into position to roll Mulder slightly onto his side in order to give Henry access to Mulder's back once again. Henry laid his hands flushed against Mulder's upper back. Once again, Mulder felt an intense heat, but not the searing pain of a bullet moving through his body ripping apart vessels and veins. This time, the heat, though concentrated, felt almost soothing, as if it were weaving the cells of his body back together again. Mulder moaned, but not so much in pain, as in relief. "Are you okay, Fox?" Scully asked. "Yes. It's okay. It's good," he said into the oxygen mask. Several minutes passed and when Henry felt the heat dissipate, he removed his hands and said simply, "It is done." What none of the occupants of the room had realized was MaryAnn Combs had entered a few minutes before and witnessed Henry's interaction with Mulder. "May I ask exactly _what_ is done?" she asked softly, but startling everyone in the room anyway. "MaryAnn! We were just__. I mean, Henry is very knowledgeable in the practice of ___. Oh shit," Scully said and gave up. Henry ignored both Scully and MaryAnn for the moment and concentrated on Mulder. "How do you feel?" he asked. "I'm not sure," he responded as he removed the oxygen mask. "I think I feel okay. I mean, I still feel this incredible warmth inside, but it's not painful. I don't hurt. Oh God!" he realized happily. "It doesn't hurt!" When he tried to get up, however, he felt himself to weak to even raise his head. "Why can't I__?" Mulder began in a panic. "__Move? Mulder, your body still suffered a terrible trauma. It will most likely take less time then if I hadn't used my gift, but it will take some time for you to recover nonetheless," Henry reassured. "Please. I want to know what just happened," MaryAnn said sincerely. "I'm not sure, MaryAnn," Scully replied in shock. "I mean, we can't really know if anything happened until we do some tests, can we?" "I must get back to Kentucky, my friends. I must leave as soon as possible," Henry said a little nervously. The last thing he wanted to happen was to be detained by curiosity seekers in the medical profession. He had his community to care for back in Batchtown. "Of course you do," said Mulder, immediately understanding Henry's dilemma. "Sir?" he addressed Skinner, "Would it be possible to have someone from the bureau drive Henry to the airport. Soon? Like, now?" "Now?" Skinner asked, momentarily confused about why the sudden need for Henry to leave. It was only when he looked over at MaryAnn that Skinner made the connection. "Oh, of course, now. Yes. Let me make the call," and he pulled out his cellular to do just that. MaryAnn continued to stare at Henry, but she remained silent. When Skinner said an agent would be there shortly to take Henry to the airport, Mulder said, "Would you all mind giving me a minute or two alone with Henry?" Scully and Skinner nodded their heads in agreement and accompanied a still inquisitive MaryAnn Combs out of the room. "But, Dr. Scully, what did he actually do to Mr. Mulder?" she was heard asking as the two Federal officers ushered her out of Mulder's room. The two men actually chortled as they watched Scully, of all people, try to explain Henry's actions. Poor skeptical Scully. She so desperately did not want to believe, yet she was left with little choice given Mulder's responses to Henry's touch. Mulder looked at Henry and though there was so much he wanted to say, he didn't know quite what to say. "So," Henry said, breaking the awkward silence, "when you're finished with the trial and get your strength back, perhaps you'll come back to Batchtown for a visit. There is much for us to still talk about." "Henry, I would like that. I would like that very much," Mulder said with emotion. "Yes, besides, I think Mandy was smitten with you," Henry said with a chuckle. "I suspect Mandy becomes smitten with any male of the species that walks through the door," Mulder retorted. "True, but she makes a helluva tuna salad sandwich," Henry zinged back. Mulder averted his eyes for a moment, trying to gather the courage to say what he wanted to say without totally losing it. "I don't know how to thank you," he began. "I'm not looking for thanks. If I was able to help, then that's all the thanks I need. And a promise you'll stay in touch. I see a long friendship here, Mulder." "Well, I thank you for that at least," Mulder replied and then did something which, not twenty-four hours ago, no one believed he'd ever be able to do again. He moved his right hand slightly toward Henry. Henry, with great satisfaction, reached out to grasp Mulder's hand into both of his. "This is all the thanks I could ever need, Mulder." Skinner knocked on the door to inform Henry the FBI agent who was driving him to the airport was waiting outside for him. Henry acknowledged him and told him he'd be out directly. "I have to go." "Yes." Henry then bent down and offered the agent a gentle hug. "Till the coming of 'soon'." Mulder laughed and said, "Have a good trip back. Say hi to Adam and Joshua for me, okay?" "And Mandy?" Henry asked with a broad grin. "Oh, definitely Mandy," Mulder replied in kind. "Good-bye, Henry." Henry Marcos nodded, turned, and left the room. Mulder let out a sad sigh and closed his eyes. Suddenly, he felt totally drained of energy and emotion. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Mulder was out of the hospital by the end of the week. The doctors were astounded by his progress. The infection cleared up miraculously within days of starting the antibiotics and Mulder's physical therapy saw him weeks ahead of schedule. As Scully happily gathered his belongings, Skinner made arrangements to have Mulder released. No one could remember the last time a patient was released directly from the ICU. No one thought it was possible. Yet, Fox Mulder was living proof that it was indeed very possible. Drs. Polasky and Silvers talked about the possibility of writing up Mulder's phenomenal recovery up for a well known medical journal. They asked Mulder if he'd have any objections, to which Mulder simply smiled and told them to go right ahead. The thought of Mulder's extraordinary recovery being looked upon in the same light as his X-Files gave him a moment's pause and he laughed to himself at the thought of it. Scully brought the wheelchair around for him. "I'm perfectly capable of walking out of the hospital," he declared obstinately. "Yes, I know you are. But hospital regulations require them to release you from a wheelchair for insurance purposes," she replied automatically. "Well, it's ridiculous. We spend all of this time and energy, not to mention money, to get me well enough to walk out of here, and they make me ride in this stupid wheelchair." "Have you ever noticed, G-Man, we have this same conversation every time you are released from a hospital?" Scully responded with a sigh. "So what does that tell you?" Mulder asked, as he finally climbed into the wheelchair. "That you are admitted to the hospitals way, way too often, my love," she said with a wry smile and dropped his duffel bag onto his lap. Scully wheeled him out of the room and onto the main floor of the ICU. They were greeted with many smiles, a smattering of applause, and many wishes of good luck. The medical staff marveled as he reached out to shake hands and accept their kind words and good wishes for a full recovery. They also encouraged Mulder to stay strong in his role as a witness during the shooter's trial at the end of the month. He promised he would, but jokingly added, "Think I could borrow a set of the barbells from PT just in case?'' Everyone laughed at that and were impressed with Mulder's ability to maintain his sense of humor and emotional strength about the whole situation. Though he wasn't anywhere near full strength physically, Mulder was certainly more fit than _all_ of the doctors or nurses had thought possible. All, except one. MaryAnn Combs knew her patient would recuperate quickly. She had an idea as to why, she just didn't have a clue as to how. Yet, she realized there was a reason she wasn't meant to know the answer to that question. Apparently Henry Marcos had another responsibility, a more pressing responsibility. Someone had slipped the tabloid article about the 'psychic surgeon' who could cure hemophiliac patients in a little hillbilly town called Batchtown. MaryAnn recognized the face in the grainy picture as belonging to Henry Marcos. She held onto that article. MaryAnn had some vacation time coming to her. Perhaps she could learn a thing or two from Mr. Marcos. So, MaryAnn Combs remained silent about what she'd seen that day in Mr. Mulder's hospital room. You see, she too, believed. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Please send all comments and feedback to: STPteach@aol.com Thank you so much! Website: http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Chamber/4819/index.html