Chapter 12

When Skinner received word that Mulder and Scully's car had been located, he was immediately taken to the helicopter that he'd had standing ready. By the time he arrived at the crash site, what was left of the car had been hauled up to the highway. As the officers reassured him that no bodies had been found, he surveyed the scene in stunned amazement. Evidence of blood on the steering wheel worried him even more. The position of the driver's seat indicated that Mulder had been driving. The wind and rain would hamper the search team as well as several more hours of darkness but no one thought of waiting for the storm to pass. Lives were at stake. Bloodhounds arrived and they immediately picked up the scent and were off.

It was the cold that woke Mulder with a start. The once roaring fire had died to a small pile of embers and he was shivering violently. Glancing down at his watch, he was shocked to see how long he'd been asleep. A thick congested cough ripped through him and he realized at once that he was now sick. One hand to his forehead confirmed that he had a fever. (Oh - God,) he moaned, deeply and unreasonably ashamed of himself. He felt like he'd let down his partner. He couldn't be sick. He had to be stronger. Reaching for his now dry jeans, his movements slow and sluggish, he rekindled the fire. The warmth was immediate and welcome.

Mulder sat down next to Scully. It didn't appear that she had moved at all. Only the shallow rise and fall of her chest with each uneven breath let him know that she was alive. Suddenly uneasy, he stared at her face intently. Something was different. Her left cheek was still bruised and swollen, her right was flushed. Flushed! Biting back the growing dread, he reached out and touched her. The skin was unbelievably hot - she was burning up with fever. At the touch of his hand, Scully jerked and began mumbling incoherently, delirious.

Alarmed, Mulder gripped her shoulders and carefully shook her. "Scully! Scully - open your eyes!" he yelled. "Look at me, Scully!" he demanded.

With a superhuman effort, Scully did as she was told. She tried to focus on the voice in front of her, so filled with anguish and fear, but the face was blurred. She was seeing everything double.

"Scully - talk to me - please!" Mulder begged, his face a mask of despair. He held her up trying to get her to see him. He watched her lips move but no sound came out and he wasn't entirely sure that she even knew that he was there. When her eyes rolled back and her body went completely limp, Mulder felt his world slipping through his fingers. He quickly made sure that her heart was still beating, even as his own felt like it was breaking apart. (Please, Scully,) he silently prayed. (Please, don't leave me...)

When Mulder heard the commotion outside, he didn't dare to hope that help had arrived. Pulling himself to his feet, he tottered to the door and came face to face with A.D. Walter Skinner, a group of forest rangers, and 2 barking hound dogs. Skinner stared at his agent. He had no idea how he had survived - the young man didn't look as if he should be able to stand. His eyes were bloodshot, the left bruised and nearly swollen shut. His face was gaunt and otherwise shockingly pale and his lips bloodless.

"Agent Mulder -" Words died in his throat as he and the others rushed forward when Mulder sagged against the wall. His relief, so profound, it threatened to overwhelm him. He was led inside and he gave in to the pain - the fatigue.

"Scully ...help...sick..." He managed, his words were slurring, barely intelligible. The last thing he saw was the horror on Skinner's face as he took in Scully's condition before succumbing to unconsciousness.

The helicopter arrived within minutes bearing 2 paramedics and 2 stretchers. Skinner stood helplessly by as they worked on his agents. Oxygen, IV's, warm blankets. There was only 1 cardiac monitor and he tensed when it was placed on Scully. That meant that she needed it more. He helped them get loaded into the chopper and climbed into the front passenger seat. Listening to the reports as they radioed in only added to his worry.

"Male, late 30's. B/P 80/40, pulse 140, respirations 44, temp 101.9"

"Female, mid 30's. B/P 70 palp, pulse 190, respirations 80 and extremely labored, temp 104.9."

"Laceration to scalp, left eye swollen, pupils equal reactive but sluggish, conscious on arrival."

"Monitor shows sinus tach with occasional PVC. Blunt trauma to lower chest, no breath sounds at the bases, unresponsive."

On it went. When they arrived at the trauma center at Lake Tahoe, things seemed to move even faster. Mulder and Scully were each rushed to a trauma room and surrounded by physicians and nurses and techs. Skinner was left to handle the paperwork. It was going to be a long night.

Chapter 13

For Scully, it was a never-ending nightmare. At some level of her mind, she struggled to believe that - to remember that - over the past 4 years since her abduction, she had always awakened from the nightmares, always been safe with Mulder planted firmly at her bedside. But now, there was no one there; no one to stem the helplessness, the pain, and the unremitting terror. As they had during numerous dreams - hands pinned her on her back, and then tied her down, white lights, nameless faces. She fought to free herself until her arms and legs burned with the effort, but the bonds were like steel. Hands – disembodied hands - forcing something between her teeth. She attempted to push against it with her tongue, shaking her head violently from side to side to no avail. Deeper and deeper into her mouth, clogging the back of her throat, choking her. She strained to pull in air through swollen, narrowed nostrils. She knew she had an IV and when she felt the burning in her arm she realized that something had been injected into the tubing. Time became meaningless as the initial burning faded away. Mercifully, she remembered nothing more.

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As he watched the medical personnel through a small window, Skinner silently prayed for his agents' lives, unable to shake the almost overwhelming feeling of helplessness and despair. Watching Scully's futile struggles against the medical personnel working to save her life, Skinner knew he'd never forget that scene as long as he lived. He would have given anything to go in and help her but knew that intubation was necessary. He had heard the words "respiratory failure" and understood that Scully was either put on a ventilator or she died. It didn't make witnessing her pain any easier.

After an unknown length of time, Mulder opened his eyes from a dreamless sleep. At first, his mind drew a blank as he looked around at unfamiliar surroundings. But then, consciousness brought perception of - pain -pain in his back and the pounding headache. And then images: dead bodies.. ..Jeffrey Spender..the crash..Scully...

He felt his senses begin to focus and he struggled to reconstruct the hazy events following the crash. Moving only his eyes, he realized that he was in an intensive care unit. His body still felt battered and sore, but his headache had diminished to a more tolerable level and he felt like his fever was gone. Seeing a call button on the side rail, he started to reach for it when Skinner walked in. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw that Mulder was awake.

"Agent Mulder, how do you feel?" He asked in concern.

"I'm trying not to," Mulder replied groggily. "Where's Scully? What time is it? How long have I been here?'

"Whoa - hold on a minute," Skinner said as he easily pushed Mulder back onto the pillow. "First things first. There is a doctor out there who's been waiting to examine you when you came around. Scully's a couple of doors down and I'll fill you in as soon as they're finished with you."

Frustrated but helpless to fight, Mulder allowed himself to be poked and prodded; taking some measure of comfort knowing that Scully was alive. The doctor informed him that he would be starting him on muscle relaxers for the severe cervical and lumbar strain. He was told that he had arrived with a concussion, which was no surprise, severe dehydration, pneumonia, and exposure.

Skinner was allowed to see Mulder as long as he promised to keep the visit short. He pulled up a chair after helping to raise the head of the bed for Mulder to a more comfortable position.

Mulder winced in pain - his back and neck still incredibly stiff and sore. He looked expectantly at his boss, waiting for him to fill him in.

"For starters," Skinner began, "It's Monday morning; almost 48 hours since we found you and flew in to Lake Tahoe Medical Center. Agent Scully just got out of surgery 5 hours ago."

"Surgery!" Mulder felt his stomach lurch.

Skinner held up a hand to silence further questions. "She is in serious but stable condition. It turns out that she had 4 fractured ribs that caused quite a bit of damage. A pulmonary contusion, and lacerated spleen. She came in, like you, with severe dehydration, pneumonia and exposure. I just checked on her. She on a ventilator, heavily medicated and the doctor says that she's going to stay that way another 6 or 7 days, depending on how quickly she recovers."

Mulder sank back. Stunned, he tried to let it all sink in. Scully was alive.

"Do you feel up to telling me what happened out there?" Skinner asked.

"Yeah, sure." Mulder tried to clear his throat, his lips dry and cracked. "Could I get some water, please?"

Skinner filled a glass from the bedside pitcher and handed it to Mulder, who gulped it greedily.

Mulder started by describing the accident: the moose, waking up to find that Scully had rescued him from the car before the explosion, finding her 6 hours later.

Skinner was silent. He had seen the car and after listening to Mulder, he knew he had been correct in his belief that his agents' survival had been truly miraculous.

"I barely remember hiking to the cabin," Mulder went on. "Just walking, endlessly. All I could think was that if we didn't find shelter, we were dead. We got to the cabin just as the rain started. Scully was really out of it by this time. Before you got there, her fever was so high that she was delirious." Mulder shuddered at the recollection.

Looking at the young man before him, Skinner had a flash of understanding: it seemed that together, Mulder and Scully were almost invincible. He refilled the water glass, thinking that Scully wasn't really out of the woods yet, but he wasn't about to tell Mulder that. He watched Mulder's eyelids drooping and knew that he wouldn't be able to stay awake much longer. Skinner stood to leave, just as a young nurse walked in with a small IV bag.

"He really needs his rest," she whispered.

"I was just leaving," Skinner informed her quietly. He was almost out the door when Mulder called after him. He turned back.

"Keep an eye on her, please. Let me know how she's doing," he requested.

Skinner nodded and was gone. The request was expected and easily filled.

Chapter 14

The next day, Skinner checked out of the hotel and returned to the hospital to see how his two agents were doing before flying back to Washington that evening. He stood at the doorway, staring over at Scully, who seemed nearly invisible amongst the tubes, wires, and machinery that surrounded the bed. The lights had been dimmed, and only a soft glow illuminated the woman propped up on pillows. Skinner shook his head. He had seen horrendous things in his life, his tour of duty in Vietnam had shown him things that had changed his life. But Dana Scully in a hospital bed - on a ventilator...that sight touched him in a very private part of his heart that was reserved solely for Dana Scully and Fox Mulder.

He took one step inside, the sound of the ventilator's hypnotic rhythm pulling him forward. Staring down at Scully's chalky pale cheeks, the left still bruised, he watched as his right hand reached out, seemingly of its own volition, to touch the cool skin. A shiver coursed through him. Abruptly he backed out, his jaw clenched, his fingers tingling from their brief contact with her. As he stepped out, he couldn't resist one more glance back. Staring at Scully lying so very still - all the pretty color shocked from her face. It was this distressing image that he carried with him.

Next, he checked on Mulder. He found the normally garrulous patient lying as quiet and still as he'd ever seen him. "Mulder?"

Fox Mulder looked over at Skinner, wincing slightly, his eyes heavy-lidded. "Hello, sir." He spoke slowly, his words slurred slightly.

Skinner couldn't help but grin. "I see the muscle relaxers have started working."

Mulder huffed softly. "Very funny, sir. How's Scully?"

Skinner shook his head. (Well, that took all of 30 seconds.) "Unchanged."

Mulder simply closed his eyes. He hadn't really expected anything more or less.

Skinner quietly cleared his throat. "I'm heading back to D.C. They're going to call me when Scully is ready to be taken off the ventilator and as soon as she's stable, we'll all return on a medical transport plane."

Barely able to keep his eyes open, Mulder nodded.

"Get some rest," Skinner said quietly. "Call me if there is anything you need." Without opening his eyes, Mulder thanked him and fell almost instantly asleep. Skinner slipped out and went to the nurses' station, requesting to speak with the charge nurse. He gave her his business card with instructions to call if there were any problems.

"I'm sure everything will be just fine, sir," the brown - haired woman assured him, taking the proffered card and pocketing it.

Skinner simply nodded, and said a silent prayer that Mulder would behave himself. He wasn't known for being a model patient, and Scully was in no condition to keep an eye on him.

Chapter 15

For Mulder, it was three hellishly long days before he was able to get out of bed and see Scully for himself. The high dose muscle relaxers helped the severe back and neck spasms but left him barely able to lift his own fork. The antibiotics had gotten his pneumonia under control and he was at last afebrile. The nurses gave him regular, if unchanging reports on Scully, who remained heavily sedated on the ventilator.

Finally he was allowed to visit his partner, although he was forced to sit in a wheelchair, pushed by a lanky junior volunteer named Todd. The young man had been given strict orders to notify the nurses if the patient even attempted to get out of the chair. Mulder simply glared at the nurses, unwilling to risk their anger and lose his chance to see Scully.

When Todd entered Scully's room, he heard Mulder moan softly, obviously in pain. He stopped. "Mr. Mulder? Are you all right?"

Mulder closed his eyes, his breath coming in short painful gasps. (No, kid - I'm not all right,) he thought desperately. (No - because my partner - the woman who gives meaning to my very existence - the woman I love more than any man has loved a woman is lying in that bed hooked up to more machines than I can count. And those machines seem to be the only thing keeping that precious creature alive. So - no. I'm not all right.)

When Mulder did not answer, Todd moved to get him out of the room.

"Wait."

Todd froze at the command.

"Get me closer to her bed," Mulder demanded quietly.

Todd held his ground. "Are you sure, Mr. Mulder? You really don't look so good."

Again, Mulder closed his eyes, thinking it wouldn't get any better if he didn't touch Scully in the next 10 seconds. He wanted nothing more than to stand up and rush to Scully's side and he knew that no matter how he tried to convince himself otherwise, he simply did not have the strength. "Todd. Get this damn chair next to her bed, right now." He said softly, dangerously, his head pounding painfully.

Todd, wise beyond his seventeen years, heard the determination and something he was unable to identify in Mulder's voice. It was that "something" that made him push Mulder over to the bed and then slowly back out of the room.

Hardly daring to breathe, and unable to tear his eyes from Scully's face, Mulder whispered a silent prayer to the powers that be that never again would he be confronted by the sight of his partner on total life support. Trembling, he reached out to take her hand. It felt cold and lifeless, heightening his fear. Reaching up with his other hand, he let his fingers touch her pale cheeks and graze her lips, which had also lost their naturally rosy color.

"Dana," he called softly, desperately hoping for a response. "Can you hear me?...Dana, I'm here," he whispered, trying to warm the chill in her fingers. "Hang on, Scully ...please ...I need you..." Caressing her hand and pulling it to his lips, he let the reality of his words wash through his soul. He did need her. He always had. And he always would. And he had always known that.

When the nurse found him asleep, his head propped on Scully's arm, she quietly woke him. "Back to bed, Agent Mulder. I'll bring you back later."

Morosely, Mulder nodded and allowed himself to be wheeled back to his bed.

For the next four days, Mulder was shuffled between his room, Scully's bedside, and grueling physical therapy sessions. He was told that Scully's condition was improving slowly, but surely. Mulder, however, would not be satisfied until he was able to again fall into the depths of his partner's incredible blue eyes.

Darkness: solid darkness. Sounds: unintelligible sounds. Anguish. It was these sensations that first gained coherence in Scully's brain. Eventually the darkness faded some, leaving a thick, misty haze. Time, as she knew it, was meaningless: as meaningless as the sounds that attempted to penetrate the haze. And then the essence of her awoke. In her mind, she actually heard Mulder calling to her, and became frustrated that she could not respond to him. She found that she was able to feel his hand around hers, stroking and again she was helpless to move. Fox Mulder. His presence filled her - overwhelmed her – took her breath away.

When Scully gasped, Mulder jumped violently in his seat. Filled with hope, he moved in closer, gently taking her face in his hands - desperately searching for any sign of returning consciousness. He rang for the nurses and as they assessed his partner, he made a call to Washington D. C.

"Dana...Dana, listen to me. I'm Beth, one of your nurses. Try to hold still and listen..." She waited for Scully to cease her restless movements. "Better...that's better. You can keep your eyes closed, but please listen...Dana, you're on a ventilator. There's a tube down your nose and one down your throat and into you lungs. You had a high fever and we've had to restrain you. Do you understand all that?"

Mulder looked over at Beth when Scully squeezed his hand, and nodded.

"Good. Good, Dana," Beth continued. "Just try and keep calm. I'm going to tell Dr. Carmichael that you're waking up and we'll hopefully get that tube out." She whispered to Mulder and Skinner that the fentanyl drip that had kept Scully sedated was no longer infusing. "She should be waking up any moment now. Let me get Dr. Carmichael, I'll be right back."

Scully held on to the hand she instinctively knew to be Mulder's. She strained to separate nightmare from nightmare. As the haze in her brain cleared ever so slowly, partial memories rushed back. Fuzzy images floated behind her closed eyes. She could hear Mulder whisper words she was unable to make out but just the sound of his voice touched her and soothed her.

As her consciousness and awareness grew, so did the indescribable discomfort of the endotrachael breathing tube and the fearsome sensation of air hunger. She could hear the ventilator bucking and whirring as it fought against her own attempts to breathe. She flashed back to the previous two times that she had been intubated and attempted to coach herself against her struggles. (Slow down,) she begged herself. (Don't fight it. Remember the last time...slow down...go with it...relax and go with it...)

"Dana, can you hear me? Dana, can you open your eyes for me?"

She knew that voice. That voice had been with her. She trusted that voice: she loved that voice. She blinked against the blurriness and the sting of light. Gradually her vision cleared and she was looking up at the man she loved and who had said that he loved her. Mulder was looking down at her with barely contained joy and relief. She caught sight of Skinner and an unknown doctor watching her with hope and concern.

"Ms. Scully, I'm Dr. Carmichael. You're in ICU here at Lake Tahoe. Do you understand?"

Scully flicked her gaze from Mulder to Skinner and blinked once.

"Good," Dr. Carmichael continued. "I'm going to undo the restraints on your wrists. Please don't touch the tubes. Understand?" Scully blinked again. "Good."

Scully waited patiently as the soft foam straps were loosened and then removed. Her head was throbbing but she was fully awake now and rapidly regaining control. Slowly and deliberately, she reached up with her free hand and pointed to the endotracheal tube. Her other hand was still in Mulder's crushing grip, but she wasn't about to let go.

"I know, I know," Dr. Carmichael said. "We're going to get a blood gas and anesthesia will come in and we'll see if we can get that tube out. Are you okay for now?" Again, Scully blinked. "Okay," he went on, "I've switched your vent to demand, so you can breathe any way you want. I'll be right back."

Mulder tried to relax with her, easing up on the death grip he had on her hand.

A respiratory therapist came in with Beth and obtained a sample of blood from the line in Scully's radial artery then hurried off to have it analyzed. In the 10 minutes that followed, Mulder and Skinner stayed beside her, doing what they could to keep her calm and filling her in on the events surrounding their rescue after ascertaining that she remembered the car crash.

"You were pretty sick by the time we got to the deserted cabin," Mulder began. "Do you even remember that?" Scully managed to shake her head. Everything was hazy from the morning after the accident.

Skinner spoke for the first time. "It turns out that your broken ribs caused some internal damage. You were taken to surgery and you've been here in the ICU for the past 8 days."

When Scully's eyes widened, Mulder gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Hey, I'm jealous," he quipped. "I only got 5 days here. Then they shipped me off to the medical floor. I just got released this morning."

Scully pleaded with her eyes for Mulder to continue to fill in the blanks. With a wry grin, he got the message and went on.

"We had walked all day and finally found a cabin just ass the rain started. I got us settled in, then basically passed out until the cavalry showed up. Our leader here arrived with park rangers and paramedics and basically saved our lives.

Scully looked over at Skinner with such unabashed gratitude that he actually blushed. He wasn't used to hearing praise from Mulder or seeing that appreciative look in Scully's eye. To cover his embarrassment, he filled her in on Mulder's condition, then not knowing what else to say, he glanced outside. He caught sight of Beth. "Uh-hang on, Scully. Beth and Dr. Carmichael are coming back with another doctor."

The news from the pulmonary lab was very good. Scully's blood gases - her pH, oxygen, and carbon dioxide levels-were all good enough to warrant taking her off the vent. Dr. Carmichael introduced Dr. Schaeffer, the anesthesiologist.

"All right, Ms. Scully. Do you know the procedure?"

Scully blinked - yes.

"If you're ready?" Dr. Schaeffer prompted. She blinked again.

As the anesthesiologist moved into position at the head of the bed, Scully caught Skinner's eye. He was on the opposite side of the bed from Mulder. She extended her hand. Skinner did a double take. (Me?) his expression said as clearly as if he'd spoken aloud.

Scully blinked. (Yes.)

Slightly flustered, Skinner took a breath and swallowed her hand in his. He caught Mulder looking at him, nodding his approval.

"Okay, Ms. Scully, here we go."

Scully held on to Mulder and Skinner as she endured having her trachea suctioned and then the tube pulled out. As she sputtered, gagged, and coughed spasmodically, Mulder and Skinner held on, steadying her through the coughing jag. Finally, she was able to breathe without coughing but still was panting slightly. She sank back against the pillows.

Dr. Schaeffer and Dr. Carmichael listened to her lungs and were satisfied that she was stable, and then they stepped outside. Beth put her on oxygen by nasal cannula before leaving also.

Mulder gently brushed away the tears that had slipped from his partner's eyes. "Are you sure you're okay, Scully?"

"Yeah," she rasped; weak and hoarse. "Thanks, Mulder." She looked over at Skinner. "Thanks to you, too, sir, for your support."

He smiled faintly. "You've always had my support, Agent Scully. I - I can't imagine what that must feel like."

"It was my third time," Scully said quietly, "and hopefully my last."

Mulder stared at her closely. She looked so pale and helpless. And so tired. He made a promise right then and there, that she would have at least a month to recuperate and he was going to make sure she did indeed rest.

"Hey, third times the charm," Mulder joked and Scully smiled.

"Is there any water in here?" She asked softly.

"Yeah, sure," Mulder replied and moved to fill the glass on the bedside table for her.

Noticing that Mulder still held himself carefully and stiffly, she asked Skinner if he would help her sit up. Flustered, Skinner swallowed and ever so gently, reached behind Scully's shoulders and raised her up. Mulder placed the glass to her lips and watched her eagerly swallow the cool liquid. Water had never tasted so good.

"Thanks, guys," Scully said, a sleepy, dreamy quality commanding her voice. The past few minutes had left her completely exhausted. It was becoming harder and harder to keep her eyes open.

Mulder brushed her forehead with a gentle kiss before heading out. He felt that he could relax at last. His Scully was going to be all right. Skinner stared down at Scully who was already sound asleep. Though her face was pale, it seemed calm, now, almost serene. "Take care, Dana," he whispered softly, placing his hand briefly on her shoulder and squeezed lightly. "Take care." Then he too was gone.

The End.