"Divided We Fall" by Dianora  7/8

All previous disclaimers apply; Colin and Cecelia are mine; if you want to
use them for some bizarre reason, just ask.  Comments and flames to
Dianora2@aol.com.  Please keep in mind this is by no means the definitive
interpretation of Scully; I only hope you're enjoying it even if you
disagree with it. :-)



I beat a hasty retreat out of Colin's apartment once I had showered and
dressed.  His eyes were full of questions, but thankfully he was afraid to
press me.

Once outside, I felt a little better and decided to walk back to Cece's
place, hoping it would help clear my head further.  I wandered the streets
at a purposefully casual pace, stopping at every store window, eager for
distractions, for something, anything that would tear my mind away from
that morning.

You're okay, Dana, I told myself firmly as the images threatened to
surface once more.  You're here, you're alive, you're just...fine, for
now, anyway.

I halted as an item in one of the windows caught my eye, providing blessed
relief from my introspection.  I was in front of one of those ubiquitous
t-shirt stores that shamelessly displayed its selection in the window. 
The shirt that caught my attention bore a line drawing of Jim Morrison in
his most famous pose, with his arms outstretched like Christ on the
cross.  Only instead of Morrison's sensual features the face was that of a
"grey," a heart-shaped face with large almond-shaped black orbs for eyes. 
I knew instantly that if I didn't buy it for Mulder right then and there
I'd never forgive myself.  I went inside and made the purchase, then
finished my walk back to Cece's with an extra spring in my step,
envisioning Mulder's reaction when I gave him the shirt.

And I was smiling.  And that was when it hit me.

It wasn't an epiphany, a Darren Oswald-esque bolt of lightning that caused
all the mysteries of life to be suddenly revealed.  It crept up on me,
slowly, insinuating itself into my thoughts until I could not believe I
had never really understood it before.

With Mulder beside me, I would get through all this.

It was only now that I had left Mulder behind that I truly treasured the
warmth that spread through me whenever I thought of him (unless, of
course, I was angry with him.  But that was another story.).  It was just
that whenever I was actually around him, that warmth was so tied up with
frustration and angst that I couldn't fully appreciate it for what it
was.  Until now.

And I knew, instinctively, with complete certainty, that that warmth, that
strength that flowed from me to him and back again in an intangible and
wonderful way, was going to be what got me through this.  Not me by
myself, no matter how much I might want it that way.  And not separate
from, but in addition to the frustration and angst and the nightmares,
because that was all part of who Mulder was, and why he meant so much to
me.

He was a part of me.  Whether I liked it or not.

I felt foolish, then.  Foolish and selfish and silly.  I didn't know why I
had never consciously realized all of this before, although it was probably
at the back of my mind somewhere from the beginning.  I was too caught up
in Mulder's problems to realize that all along he was helping me with my
own in a way that no one else could.

I wondered if I would ever have the courage to say all of this to him.


****
Cece announced a Roommate Bonding Night one evening and dragged me out to
dinner at Port of Call, a dark, smoky, loud bar and restaurant that
specialized in overloaded, greasy burgers.  She was instantly in
cholesterol heaven.

"You know, Cece, you and Mulder are a lot more alike than you'd like to
admit," I teased.

She stuck her tongue out at me.  "Too bad that didn't extend to the
bedroom," she said sourly.

"You're never going to recover from that blow to your tremendous ego, are
you?"

"Hell, no.  He got me all ready to go and then left me hanging.  That is
*not* something I easily forgive."  She took a tremendous bite out of her
bacon cheeseburger, taking her anger out on the beef.

I squirmed in my seat and toyed with my Caesar salad, suddenly
uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken.  

"And don't give me that get-me-out-of-here look you're so good at," she
told me around a mouth full of burger.  "It's mostly your fault, anyway."

"Will you please stop saying that?" I said tiredly.  "It's just not true."

"Denial is not a river in Egypt, girlfriend," she shrugged, tossing her
brown curls over one shoulder to keep them out of her stuffed baked
potato.  "So how are things going with you and Colin?"

"Good," I said casually.

"Come on, Dana, what's the real story with you two?  You certainly spend
enough time together."

"We have fun," I shrugged.

She leaned forward, and that familiar gleam was in her dark eyes.  "So how
is he in bed?"

"Cece..."

"I mean, I always figured he'd be good.  He seems like he would be *very*
good.  So spill it.  Inquiring minds want to know."

I couldn't help it.  I giggled like we were back in college.  "He is
good.  Very, very, good."

"I knew it!" she said triumphantly.

"How come you weren't interested in him?" I asked suspiciously.

She made a dismissive gesture with her hand.  "He's too...nice," she said
distastefully.

"So *that's* why you liked Mulder!" I laughed.

"Yeah, well, *nice* is not a word I would use to describe Fox Mulder,
that's for sure."  She smiled, then gradually grew thoughtful, pensive,
even.  "You really miss him, don't you?  It's so obvious."

I opened my mouth to deny it, but then thought, what's the point?  "I
do.  I miss him...God, Cece, I miss him so much.  It's like
I'm...incomplete without him."

"Dana, that's beautiful," she said sincerely.

"It's frightening."

"Give me a break."  She pushed her food aside.  Uh oh.  Now I knew she was
serious.  "Dana Katherine Scully, I want you to listen to me.  What you and
Mulder have -- partnership, friendship, and I don't even want to know what
else -- is something that most people are never lucky enough to have. 
That man would *die* for you Dana.  How many people can say that about
someone?"

"I don't need you to explain my relationship with Mulder to me," I snapped.

"All I know is, you keep going on and on about how Mulder needs you, and
you can't take it anymore, and blah blah blah," she snapped back, putting
on a whiny voice, mocking me.  "And what you never seem to acknowledge is
that you're just as fucking co-dependent as he is."

I stared at her, speechless.

"You heard me."  Her eyes softened a little at the stricken expression on
my face.  "Dana.  I'm only saying this because I love you.  I've seen you
with Mulder, and I've seen you without him.  And when you two are
together...well, there's just something extra there.  Can you honestly
tell me that you've been truly happy here, no matter how great the sex
with Colin is?"

I traced circles on the wooden table with my finger, unable to look her in
the eye.  "No," I said in a small voice.

"Then go back to him.  You wanted to prove you could get along without
him, and you did, more or less.  Now stop making yourself miserable."

"I can't."

"Why the hell not?"

"I don't know," I said truthfully.

She laughed.  "You're a piece of work, Dana."



****
The next couple of weeks were uneventful.  I had no further encounters
with Them or with X, and I was trying to come to terms with my abduction a
little bit more.  Just a little bit, but it helped.  

And when I wasn't thinking about that, and attempting to deal with it, I
found myself thinking more and more about that damn kiss.

The kiss...I had been trying so hard not to dwell on it, because I was
unsettled by the feelings that lingered.  Longing.  Fondness.  Desire.  I
didn't want these feelings, could not have them.  It was unacceptable.

I knew these things.

I found myself looking forward more and more to the end of my three months
leave.  I actually wanted to get back to work, to see my mom, and to be
with Mulder.  But yet I hesitated.  What was keeping me here, after all? 
Was it Colin?  Or was it that I was still afraid, afraid to face what
waited for me in D.C., afraid to be in danger once more, afraid to deal
with the possibility that my little excursion could have affected the way
Mulder felt about me?

I wished I could discuss it with Colin, could tell him my loneliness and
my fear, but I just didn't feel that connection with Colin, that bond that
causes people to confide in each other.  It was missing from our
relationship.  And I knew that was my fault.  Because he wasn't my partner.


****
Eventually, the decision to leave was taken out of my hands.

One morning, about two weeks before I was supposed to leave New Orleans, I
woke up knowing with an unshakable certainty that something terrible had
happened to Mulder.  I didn't know where the feeling came from or why, but
I felt as if an anvil was pressing on my chest and something sinister had
crawled down into my stomach and died there.  And somehow I knew it was
about Mulder, that he was in danger.  It was one of the eeriest sensations
I had ever experienced.

Without taking time to examine just how such a thing could be possible, I
dialed Mulder's cell phone number.  No answer.  I tried him at home.  No
answer there, either.  Then the office.  Nothing but his voicemail.

Fighting down a rising panic, I called Skinner's office and demanded that
his assistant put me through to him immediately.  Seconds later the deep,
confident voice of the Assistant Director spoke to me from across the
line.  "Agent Scully?"

"Yes, sir.  I've been trying to reach Agent Mulder this morning with no
success.  Is he out on assignment?"

There was a pause, and when Skinner spoke next his voice had lost some of
its initial assertiveness.    "Actually, Agent Scully, I was about to try
to get in touch with you.  I'm afraid Agent Mulder has been shot."

I closed my eyes as a wave of nausea passed through me.  Please, God,
no.  "Is he..."  I couldn't bring myself to say the word.

"He's alive, Scully.  He's listed as critical, however.  He took the
bullet in the abdominal area, and I think there's been some internal
damage."

"What's the prognosis?" I whispered.

"The doctors say it's too early to tell."

"What hospital?"

"Georgetown."

"I'll be there by the end of the day."

"Agent Scully, I'm not sure that's...okay.  It would probably do him some
good if you were here."

"Thank you, sir."  I hung up the phone with a trembling hand and began to
pack, concentrating on the necessary physical act of taking clothes from
drawers and placing them in my suitcase, refusing to think about Mulder
lying in a hospital bed -- again -- pale, still, with tubes and needles
sticking into him...

I shook my head violently, angry with myself for succumbing to such
macabre thoughts.  It wouldn't help Mulder any if I fell apart now,
without even knowing all the facts.  I resisted calling the hospital,
since his status could change by the time I got there and I wasn't sure
they would tell me anything anyway.  Although God knew I was the closest
thing he had to immediate family, distant mother notwithstanding.  His
mother...someone should call his mother, I thought.  Someone should call
*my* mother.  Someone should call...

Oh, no.

Colin.

I called Cece at work first, explaining what had happened and that I had
to leave immediately.  Her only comment, other than hoping that Mulder was
okay, was that she couldn't believe it took a shooting to make me get up
off my ass and get back to D.C. where I belonged.  Typical.

I put off the inevitable even longer by calling my mom first, then Mrs.
Mulder.  Mom was practically out the door before she hung up the phone,
and I was relieved to know that someone would be at Mulder's side.  I had
to leave a message on Mrs. Mulder's answering machine, trying not to sound
too panicky.  I doubted she would show up, but who knew for sure?

Colin was at home when I called.  He was at Cece's apartment ten minutes
later, as I was finishing up my packing and calling for a cab.

"I can't believe you're just dropping everything to run up there," he said.

I looked at him in disbelief.  "He's my partner.  And my best friend.  And
he could be seriously hurt."  I refused to even consider the possibility
that Mulder could die, that I could be left alone.  

"But..." he trailed off, at a loss.  "I guess I just thought we'd have
more time."

"Me too."  I reached up to tousle his hair.  "I wish I was leaving under
better circumstances."  I did feel badly that I was leaving him, and kind
of sad, even, but all I could keep thinking was Mulder needs me, Mulder
needs me, please God don't take Mulder away from me.  I hugged Colin
briefly, inhaling the scent of his cologne one last time.  He held me
tight and placed a kiss on the top of my head.

Deja vu all over again, I thought acidly.  You've come full circle,
Dana.  Leave one guy, meet another, leave that guy too.  No wonder you're
so messed up.

The cab honked outside, and it jerked me back to reality.  "I'd better go."

"Dana..."  He reached for me and kissed me, tenderly, slowly, longingly. 
I returned it fully, holding his head with my hands, savoring the taste of
him to last me a lifetime.  When we parted, he caressed my cheek with the
back of his hand.  "Will you call me?"

I nodded.  "Sure."  Maybe I would.  I doubted it.

He walked me down to the sidewalk where the cab was waiting.  "Take care
of yourself, Dana," he said.

"I'll try.  Take care, Colin.  I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too."

I got in the cab that would take me to the airport, where I could catch
the plane that would take me home to Mulder.  I only hoped I wouldn't be
too late.


To be concluded...
end part 7