So Shall You Reap. Stefaniexf@aol.com Disclaimed in Prologue. Day 6 Monday. Too many hospitals. Too many times like this. Usually he was the one waking in pain and sometimes shame to Scully's tired face. But he'd had his share of watching too. He sat beside the bed, clasping her hand lightly, as she lay in a shallow sleep. They had brought her by ambulance to the hospital in Yeovil, the same one Annelise Matheson had been taken to. She had been conscious but dazed throughout the short journey, and Mulder had refused to let her talk about what had just happened, but shushed her gently with his mouth on hers, soothing her as best he could with his touch when she became restless with pain. Now he had time to think. Hell, he couldn't help but think. For a moment the sense of betrayal threatened to overwhelm him. The shock of seeing Matheson - a man he had regarded as an ally - holding a gun on Scully. Okay, not holding it *on* Scully, he conceded. But just holding it was enough. In the frantic moments after the attack on Scully, when Mulder squatted at her side cradling her head in his arms, with the roaring of the Chinook still ringing in his ears, he had been too preoccupied to care about the man. Then the paramedics arrived, and pulled her gently from his grasp to roll her into the stretcher, and Mulder had heard Matheson saying to them: "Will she be all right?" ...and he had lost it. Right then. Had slammed the bigger man back into the wall with a violent push and pinned him there, hissing words with controlled venom. "You'd better pray she *is* all right, you bastard, or God help me......" "If it'll make you feel better, Fox, go ahead." Mulder had let him go suddenly, so that he slumped back against the brickwork. "Just tell me why. Why bring me over here for this - this charade. Don't you understand...those were the men responsible for what happened to your wife." He was shouting now. "It's over, Mulder. It doesn't matter any more. We're done here. Annelise is dead - she died an hour ago. I was in my car driving over here because they'd told me that you'd been found. The hospital rang my mobile and told me she was dead. And now you and Agent Scully must write your report and go home." The older man's voice was steady, emotionless, but Mulder saw his hands tremble. "There won't be any more damage here." "But you let them *go*." "Agent Mulder," said Matheson wearily, "You're in no mood for this now. Come and see me tomorrow. Bring me a report that I can accept. We'll talk about it - talk about your future - tomorrow. Agent Scully needs you now...." he had gestured to the ambulance, and Mulder had turned from him and boarded the ambulance without looking back. Scully's eyelids fluttered, and her leaned forward to hear her mumble, "My face hurts. Get them to give me the good stuff, Mulder." He gave her fingers a squeeze. "No can do. Not until the guy in the white coat comes back with the x-ray and scan results. " They'd cleaned off most of the blood, though her hairline was still matted and sticky. The discoloration of the right side of her face was rapidly changing from livid red to purplish, and a patch of hair just above her temple had been shaved to allow the doctor to insert three neat stitches. "You don't look so great yourself," Scully muttered crossly. Oops, Mulder grinned. Caught staring again. "Hey, it suits you, Red. You should wear purple more often." "Bastard." But Scully's mouth twitched upwards a fraction. A little later she roused again. " My jacket, Mulder....." It was hard for her to talk: her face was stiff. "Look in my jacket pocket." He looked searched the cubicle, then shrugged. "Sorry, Scully. It's not here. The paramedics took it off you when they were fixing the monitors on you. Maybe it got left behind at the farm. I'll ask Phoebe to find out." He leaned over her, stroked the good side of her face. It wasn't a fractured skull, there wasn't any sign of concussion, just a painful and now rapidly-swelling cracked cheekbone, the doctor was finally able to advise them. Actually, Mulder felt a bit sorry for the guy. First of all Scully had demanded a mirror to inspect the stitches, then she'd told him she had no intention of staying in hospital for the night and had written him a short list of the medications she wanted to take with her. After a brief tussle of wills - mainly, Mulder suspected, a matter of professional dignity on the part of the doctor, since the poor man looked half-dead on his feet and was probably at the end of a sixty hour shift, not to mention that the hospital could undoubtedly use the bed-space - Scully had signed a release, and they walked out into the misty darkness. It was either very late, or very very early depending on your point of view. In the taxi back to their hotel, Scully fell asleep leaning against him - they'd finally given her the good stuff. Mulder smiled and put his arm round her shoulders. When they arrived he woke her enough to walk her up to the room, laid her down on the bed. The lovely, four poster bed with the cream linen. Carefully he stripped off her shirt and her jeans. She helped him shrug off her T-shirt, just conscious enough to wriggle when he directed. What the hell - after all they'd been through? He searched through the cupboard drawers until he found the nightdress - the one she had worn on the first night, when she was waiting for him like a bride for her beloved. Carnal lust is not appropriate under these circumstances he told himself sternly and not entirely successfully as he removed her bra. Christ, she looked so soft, so voluptuous. Almost involuntarily he ran his hand lightly across her breast, cupping it's warm weight. Scully's hips shifted as she sighed into his touch. She was so vulnerable, so utterly trusting. Taking a deep breath, he pulled her forward, and slid the nightdress with the utmost care over her bruised face and down onto her shoulders and arms.Then he rested her back and lifted her torso enough to slip the hem of the garment down to cover her to her ankles. Turning the lights out, he slid into the bed next to her. ****************************************** Scully woke finally in the middle of the afternoon: maybe it was the aroma of the chicken soup Mulder had ordered for her which roused her. She studied her face in the bathroom mirror to assess the damage. Pressing the flesh around the wound lightly with her fingertips she concluded that it could have been a lot worse - sore, but not unbearable. Rainbow-hued for a few days, though, she grimaced. Brushing her teeth hurt, too. She applied enough make-up to cover the worst of the damage, more on her eyes and lips than usual to distract attention from the bruising, and went out to find Mulder sprawled on the couch, surrounded by papers, laptop humming on the coffee-table. He looked up. "I was just coming to wake you. Lunch is served." "Mmmm.....chicken soup. You have some?" "Ate a while back. Been trying to write this report.Lets get out of this place as soon as we can." His tone was dry, and he didn't look at her again. Scully spooned down the watery broth. Better than nothing - maybe. At least she didn't have to chew it. "Have you spoken to the Senator today? Did Phoebe find my jacket" "No and yes. The jacket's over there." Scully said a silent prayer as she lifted it. If only.....but the paper was gone. Oh, but it would have been something for Mulder. She took a deep breath. Okay, let's try again. "How are we going to do this, Mulder. What are we going to put in our report....the truth? Or..." "Right," Mulder interrupted. "And what might that be? Come on, Scully, nobody here's interested in 'the truth' - even if the two of us could agree about what it was." Scully laid her spoon down neatly. She knew this mood of his, depressed and bitter. It happened at the end of some of their cases, those where evidence had been snatched right out of their hands, leaving no tangible proof , nothing to substantiate Mulder's theories. The last time it had happened they had quarreled bitterly about the train-car experiments, about the bodies in the pit which Scully had seen in Virginia - living human experiments or human/alien hybrids? They had been at odds with eachother for weeks - Scully knowing in her heart that the basis of his anger was his failure once again to keep hold of concrete evidence which he believed he had seen, but hurt at the extent to which he seemed prepared to exorcise his own demons by attacking her, and by shutting her out of his life. And then those awful cases in New England and the damned gargoyles...... she shook her head slightly. Ouch - mistake. "Well, but for our own satisfaction, Mulder." She stood up and caught sight of her reflection in a small mirror hanging above the ornamental fireplace. "I'll work on my account of what happened yesterday afternoon, and I'll look over yours . Then we can combine them into a final draft with what you've already got." She walked back through the bedroom and into the bathroom. "You won't *like* what I've already got, Scully". The sound of the water running into the basin drowned out any further comments Mulder might've made. Her cheek throbbed as she rubbed the foundation off the inflamed flesh, and then scrubbed at her eyes and lips. This time she didn't even try to disguise the bruising, applying only the light make-up she normally wore, then went back out to join Mulder. "Shift," she ordered, forcing him to scoot along the couch so that she could sit next to him. . Mulder glanced at her as she sat down, and then looked back, studying her more intently. "Hey Scully, that chicken soup's worked wonders. You look much better already. You looked really rough when you first came in." Scully couldn't help herself. She grinned at him even though it made her face hurt and reached out to rap the top of his head very lightly with her fist. "What?" His look was one of genuine bemusement, and Scully grinned at him again. "Mulder" She gave him The Look. "Stop making me laugh." And this time he smiled back at her, his posture more relaxed, affection shining in his eyes. "I think that bump on the head must have done more damage than we thought!" Then of his own volition her passed to her the notes he had been working on. Without thinking, she pulled her reading glasses out of their case which was lying on the coffee table, and shoved them on. "Y-ouch" "O-oh..." Mulder mouthed in sympathy. "That bad, huh?" "Maybe if I -" Scully gingerly lifted the spectacles off, "If I balanced them down on the end of my nose............." "Red, your nose is so small it's *all* end. If you move them further down they'll fall off!" Mulder snickered at his own wit. "Oh, right. We're insulting noses now are we." Scully crossed her arms and sat back. "People in glass houses, Mulder...." He leaned forward, so close to her that she could feel his warm breath tickle her as his whispered in her ear, "Hmm, but you know what they say about men's noses and feet Agent Scully." "Maybe I should do some research right now, Agent Muld....." Her voice trailed off in puzzlement as he pulled back at her words. Fighting to control a twinge of hurt and disappointment at the abrupt termination of their flirting, Scully bit her lip and picked up again his report. "Here." He took it from her. "I'll read it to you. I don't want you to strain your eyes, if you can't wear your glasses." And he moved back to her again so that they were touching from the shoulder down. What was with him? Scully frowned a little as he began with a recitation of the facts which had brought them to England. Then she sighed, and relaxed against him. Such a complex man. ".....That's one of the main reasons they *came* here, Scully," Mulder reiterated, exasperated. "That's why such an important project was developed on foreign soil! It was an opportunity to examine at first hand and in action alien technology, and to measure up the best that we could create against them -" "Mulder, there's no evidence *whatsoever* for what you suggest." "What about the documents you saw in that helicopter? What about those helicopters? " "Nothing I saw or read was proof of alien involvement. I can't say to you that it excluded it, but I didn't have time to look. Yes there were references to West Virginia - to the tests on me, on Duane Barry. And yes - " Scully squeezed Mulder's arm gently, "- I thought I saw your sister's name in one of the documents. But it was too dark too see properly, I can't be sure...." "And now we'll never have the chance to confirm it. " The bitterness was back in Mulder's voice. They had been arguing about the report for hours. It had grown dark outside and they were no nearer to agreement than they had been when Mulder had started. "Mulder do you *really* want to hand a report to Matheson saying that the US government has been based here for the last ten years developing secret helicopter technology, using it to chase the UFO's which according to your theory commonly buzz this part of England? And that it has systematically and quite deliberately eliminated by causing apparent accidents any citizens who might have been able to give first hand descriptions of these activities? There's absolutely no evidence to support any of this!" Scully's incredulous tone made Mulder lose his temper. "Damnit, Scully, you're going to let them get away with it again! Coming up with some so-called 'rational' scientific explanation! You do their work for them.....just like after that train business. You believe all their lies - anything, rather than to face the truth." "The truth? You think it's the 'truth' that Annelise Matheson and her son had a very close encounter with a UFO, and that a US helicopter flew so close to their car that it crashed, killing the driver, and that US personnel then abducted her and her son, drugged them and then nearly a day later deposited them fifteen miles away on a hillside so that no-one would believe them about the UFO? Even those crop-circle nuts don't believe that! They said the crop circles were poor fakes!" "Can't you see - ever heard of hiding in plain sight? *One* of them was real enough. The craft Mrs Matheson saw made it. And there wasn't enough time that night after the incident to destroy all traces so it had to be hidden another way - by surrounding it with fakes! The project must have really thought that the shit was going to hit the fan when the helicopter radioed back the license plate of the vehicle which had been spotted in contact with the alien craft -" "Come on, Mulder! " Scully took a deep breath. "What about the radiation?" "What about the scopolamine in Jonathan's blood?" Mulder countered. "We know they use that stuff. Just like in Wisconsin." "Okay. I agree that Mrs Matheson and Jonathan were abducted - by those people we met yesterday. I can even accept that they dosed them up with hallucinogens and ditched them later so that no-one would ever believe what they said. They stumbled across *something*, Mulder - but not a UFO - government tests!" "Christ, Scully, not again!" "Radiation tests, just like the others in the USA. Just like those people I saw in..........." "The ones that were so conveniently gone when we went back -" "Tests on an unsuspecting civilian population of a new radiation weapon in their secretly developed helicopter they kept stashed at that farm. All those people had been subjected to a massive dose of radiation. Jonathan Matheson was lucky that it killed his cancer - a side effect that they didn't expect." "Then why bother to save Annelise Matheson and her son? If they were going to die anyway? The project leader *told* me they didn't kill her, that what was happening to her was nothing to do with him." "Well they would say that now, wouldn't they?" Scully shook her head. "I don't know why they went through the charade with Matheson's wife, Mulder. Maybe they were panicked when they first found out who they'd used as test subjects. But I can't think of any other explanation for the radiation. And we know that the government has conducted such experiments in the past. It's a matter of record." "How is it that you can believe apparently without question that the governments of the US and the UK could condone such depraved tests on their own populace, but you can't open your mind to the idea that we are not alone?" Mulder stood up and stretched, fetched a glass of water. He moved over to look out of the window, staring into the blackness at the night sky pinpricked with stars. "I think they're just curious, Scully." "Who?" Scully was confused. "The ones who come. The aliens. They want to see how we work - so they look at us. Inside. Maybe they don't even realize the effects what they do - the radiation they use - has on us." He spoke quietly now. "I've read reports before just like Mrs Matheson's - a woman in Puerto Rico....." Scully joined him to look into the dark. After a while she said softly, "I don't find it hard to believe in human evil, Mulder. I've seen so much of it in these last years. I don't need to look outside this earth for the cause of wickedness." Mulder looked down at her with a soft, sad half-smile. She linked her arm in his, but he didn't relax against her. "We're never going to agree about this." "About so much, Scully." He looked away again. So - what were they going to do? And not just about the report to Matheson. Could they argue like this, fiercely, intellectually, passionately disagree, and yet still be lovers? They had managed to do all that and still be friends. There was no report they could both put their names to. And, hell, Matheson didn't want the truth, whichever version it might be. His wife was dead. She wouldn't be embarrassing him any more, Scully thought with sudden bitterness. She had liked the woman. So - if he wouldn't concur with either version as being politically acceptable, what was the point? "I think we should tell him to shove his report." Now he did lean into her. "Where the sun don't shine." "Would you like to tell him, or shall I, Agent Mulder?" He turned and took her loosely in his arms, resting his chin on top of her head. "I'd like that pleasure, Agent Scully." Scully tilted her head to look up at him. He looked so very tired, shut off from her again. "Time for bed, Mulder." "O-oh, is that an invitation?" But Scully could tell that the reply was automatic. His heart wasn't in it. She pulled his head down and brushed his lips with hers. "It's whatever you want it to be. But just let me hold you tonight. We'll think about the rest " - and they both knew she wasn't just referring to the report - "tomorrow." *********************************** End of Day Six