Authors: Circe Invidiosa and Helen Quilley
E-mail: cinvidiosa@yahoo.ca and hquilley@gmail.com
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Orison
Archive: Yours for the asking
Disclaimer: We make no claims on the characters or the show.
They are property of Fox and its companies.
Acknowledgements: Many thanks to Carol A. for the beta.

Summary: It wasn't a question worth answering...post Orison.



In the bathroom, Mulder quickly tossed a bunch of what looked
like Scully's most used toiletries into her overnight bag. He
tried to avoid the candles and the hair products lining the
floor around the bathtub. He tossed her things on top of the
array of casual clothing he picked out for her for the next
couple of days. He'd picked out her necessities: toothbrush,
toothpaste, brush, shampoo, deodorant, makeup bag...It would
only be a couple of days, he told himself.

Mulder came back into the bedroom to find Scully the way he'd
left her. She still sat on the bed staring at her Bible. The
blanket had fallen from around her shoulders and pooled around
her hips. Her lips were parted and she frowned at the old worn
book in her hands. It was the same expression she wore only
hours ago when she faced Pfaster...

He put the bag down and stepped over books and shards of glass.
He stood in front of her and put his hand over the Bible to take
it from her. She gasped and clutched the book to her chest as
if she was trying to protect it from him, as if whatever force
she thought was working through her would return if he took it
away from her.

Mulder looked down hard at her. She didn't return his gaze, he
assumed out of embarrassment. Sighing, he sat down heavily
beside her on the bed. He reached around her and pulled the
blanket back up around her shoulders. His hand came to rest on
the back of her neck. The commotion of the CSU from the other
rooms pulsated in his ears and his mind begged her to say
something before he did.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, finally.

"It's okay," he lied.

A moment passed before she said, "You didn't answer my
question."

It was true. He hadn't. It just didn't make sense for her to
ask whether or not it was God working through her when she
killed Pfaster. Instead he had told her it wasn't the right
time for this. Then in an effort not to face the question
himself he busied himself with packing her things while watching
her out of the corner of his eye.

He had expected this to go very differently. He didn't know
what he'd find when he burst through her door. All he knew was
that if he had found her in a worse state, it wouldn't have been
Scully who pulled the trigger.

When he neared her to take the gun from her, he had expected to
see a glassy stare in her eyes, or worse, tears. He didn't
expect the cold stare. He didn't expect her to hand him her gun
and to tell him so rationally that he should call an ambulance

Finally, he said, "It wasn't a question worth answering."

She shook her head. "Don't minimize this, Mulder."

"I'm not minimizing anything, Scully. I know you knew what you
were doing. I know you knew I was there. I know you knew he
was unarmed. I know you didn't care. And I know that you
didn't have a choice."

She huffed sarcastically. "If you're saying I knew and
didn't care, then how could I not have had a choice?"

He looked at her incredulously, but she continued to stare at
the Bible she was still clutching. Before he could formulate an
answer, she said, "And who am I to make that choice, Mulder? We
convict people for this kind of thing all the time. How is this
any different?" Pleading with him suddenly, Scully looked at
him and continued, "Tell me this is different, Mulder. I *need*
to know that this is different."

He was taken aback by the urgency of her need. He didn't want
to listen to this any more. He didn't know whether to hold her
or shake her. He just wanted to get her out of there and to
somewhere where they didn't have to see the wreckage of what she
just went through or face the consequences of what she did and
his failure to protect her again.

He tried to take her hand. She flinched when his hand closed
around hers and tried to compose herself. He wasn't sure
whether she was flinching at his touch or at her own physical
pain. He turned her palm over and gently pulled up the sleeve
of her oversized pajamas to find welts, cuts, and embedded glass
down her arm. He felt the frustration and anger returning as he
imagined what must have happened in this room.

"Look at this, Scully," he said, running his finger down the
side of her arm. "Look at this room. Look at what happened,
and then you tell me how you had a choice. *You* tell me how
this isn't different."

He stared at her, daring her to answer him.

"I just want this to be over," she finally whispered.

"We need to have someone look at this," he gestured toward her
wrists and arms. "I'll check with the officers and see if we're
clear to go, then we can head over to the hospital. Why didn't
you show the paramedics?"

"No, Mulder. I can do it. I don't want to go to the hospital."

He tried to repeat himself. "Scully, we should have you-"

She cut him off before he could continue. "The paramedics have
already looked me over, no broken bones. I'll just be bruised
and sore for a while."

Incredulously, he added, "Scully, you have glass embedded in
your arm and a possible concussion. I'm not going to take this
lightly."

The weary, vacant look in her eyes told him she didn't need any
more battles tonight. "Let me help you then," he conceded. She
stood letting the blanket fall again to the bed and walked
quietly toward the bathroom. He walked behind her without
speaking his concern that she was still holding her Bible.

Before following her to the bathroom, he stopped to talk to the
investigating officer to let him know that they would be a few
minutes longer. The officer just nodded sympathetically.
Mulder half wished the officer had more questions to keep him
from entering the bathroom.

Scully was putting the seat down on the toilet when he entered
the washroom. She sat down placing her Bible on her lap. She
held a pair of tweezers and a washcloth in her hands. He closed
the door behind him to give them some privacy.

There were few words spoken while Mulder and Scully washed away
what evidence they could of Donnie Pfaster. Mulder carefully
rolled her sleeves up. The blood was dry now and ran all along
the inside of her forearms. For some reason, her right arm
seemed much worse than her left. Mulder thought that it almost
resembled a roadmap - the welts that were forming in earnest now
could be the mountainous regions, the blood the wiry roads
spreading across vast land. He could feel his frustration
building again as he thought of her struggle with the monster.

He was sure she'd be pretty uncomfortable for a few days. The
shards of glass were fairly large and Scully was able to remove
them with the tweezers from her left arm. She had to have
Mulder's help with her right arm. When all fragments of glass
were finally removed, Mulder carefully patted her wounds with
the washcloth until the dried blood disappeared. He was tired
of seeing blood on her.

Mulder disinfected and dressed the wounds. He watched her and
it worried him that she wasn't looking at him. Kneeling,
looking up at her, he was beginning to feel like a bystander to
a gruesome accident waiting for some sign of life from the
unfortunate victim. When she didn't respond to his gaze, he
followed her line of sight. She was staring at the mound of
candles by the bathtub.

"Such a waste to throw all those away," she murmured. He wasn't
sure if she was talking to him or if she even remembered he was
in the room.

"You don't have to worry about cleaning this place up. I'll
take care of everything."

His voice seemed to rouse her. She lifted her head suddenly and
watched him for a long moment then quietly shook her head. "You
don't have to take care of me, Mulder."

"Christ Scully, don't..." he started to argue. If she told him
she was fine he was going to put his fist through her other
mirror. He tried to start again. "If I don't, who will?"

She squinted hard at him for a moment, trying to grasp the badly
timed humor. He gave her his best winning grin and she managed
to smile back, but he winced when the split in her lip began to
bleed again.

He tried to dab her lip with the washcloth, until she stopped
him. She took his hands and held them in her lap atop the
Bible.

"I'm not okay, Mulder," she whispered.

He closed his eyes. "I know. But you will be."

He very carefully brought her hands up to his shoulders and she
closed them behind his neck. He slowly encircled his arms
around her and held her tightly to him. He worried that he
might be hurting her, but if she didn't complain, he wasn't
going to let go until she did.

"I'm glad he's dead," she murmured into his ear after an
eternity. The words tumbled from her like a child confessing
her worst secret.

"So am I." Partners in crime and not for the first time.

She pulled back from him. "But it's not right. I don't know
how you can defend my actions."

He tried to carefully hold her so that she couldn't pull back
any further. "The same way you've defended my actions in the
past. And I deserved it a lot less. Scully, you have been
through a horrible trauma that you can't deny. No one is going
to begrudge you for the life of this worthless shit. He would
have killed again. He would have tried to kill you again. I
know that and you know that. It's a fact. And in that respect,
you saved lives tonight, you saved your life. To me, that's all
that matters here. And that's why I can defend you. "

"It's not that simple, Mulder."

"I know. But you can argue with me until Judgment Day, Scully,
and my opinion is not going to change."

He had hoped she would accept his justification. And for the
first time he felt hopeful when he saw tears were in her eyes.
She reached up and held his face in her hands. She leaned
forward and pressed her lips to his, letting the Bible fall to
the floor.

He gently kissed her back, hoping she would let him know what
she could endure. When she released him from the embrace and
she pressed her forehead against hers. Their moment was
interrupted by a knock on the door and a muffled inquiry about
their status.

Mulder yelled towards the door, "We're fine." The irony of his
words struck him with Scully's small laugh.

He stood up, and with a soft touch on her shoulder said, "Let's
get out of here, Scully."

Scully grasped his hand and she nodded. He watched her rise
uncomfortably then walk stiffly past him out of the bathroom.

Relief swept through him knowing that they would be leaving
soon. He couldn't wait to get out of there, especially this
room that Pfaster intended for Scully's final tortures. He
looked about the room, ignoring Pfaster's preparations, to make
sure he had taken everything she would need. It would only be a
couple of days, he told himself again. But his eyes fell onto
the book that had dropped to the floor.

It had fallen open to the floor. He crouched down to pick it up
and glanced at the page, reading the words:

Be sober, be vigilant, because your adversary, the Devil,
walketh about as a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour.

He snapped the Bible closed. It mocked him even now as he
sought its comfort. It had never held any answers for him, why
should it start now? He wondered what answers Scully had been
able to take from it after everything she'd seen and been
through. Why could she accept these words so easily and not
his? He was jealous of her God. He wished she had a reason to
put every ounce of her faith in him alone. But no matter what
he wanted, he could never let her lose her beliefs.

His thoughts were disrupted by Scully's voice. "Mulder, are you
ready? What's wrong?"

He turned to face her holding the book behind his back. She was
still in her pajamas, but now she was wearing sneakers and her
coat over her shoulders. She carried her bag in front of her
gingerly with her bandaged hands.

"What are you doing, Mulder?"

"I wanted to make sure I got everything." He walked towards her
and handed her the Bible. "You might need this."

He watched her take the book and placed it in her bag. She held
out her hand to Mulder. He took her outstretched hand and
kissed it lightly. He took the bag from her other hand and
ushered her out of the room. He flicked the switch on the way
out, momentarily immersing them in darkness before they walked
out toward the light filling the doorway.

End


Authors' note: the Bible passage is from 1 Peter 5:8, the title is from Hamlet Act III, Sc.I