(Disclaimer same as Part 1)

Classification: S, A, UST/MSR (somewhere in between),  
Mulder/Other in the past.

Rating:  R (maybe strong PG-13) for violence toward 
children, language and sexual references.

Summary: Mulder finds that his relationship to the victim 
of a serial killer is closer than normal.


"DAVID"     (7/7)
by Gerry Hill
(GHill52695@aol.com)


Mulder got to his feet and sat heavily on the bed, letting the 
activity flow around him for a time.  He was aware that 
David had been sent back to Mary with one of the officers, 
that photographs had been taken of the crime scene, that 
Agent Chan had been whisked off to the hospital in the 
ambulance, and that now the SAIC was sitting on the other 
bed, knee to knee with him.

Paul Gregory was not a happy man.  The case had been 
solved but not in a way the bureau liked to see.  The 
methods had been sloppy, with a loss of life that was 
regrettable, and he felt that the man sitting across from him 
was largely responsible for this.

"Let me get this straight; you pegged the mother for being 
behind the killings, but you say that your partner was more 
suspicious of Sheriff Vernon.  You were both wrong and 
Agent Goldberg was killed, Agents Chan and Scully 
wounded, and Sullivan nearly murdered the little boy who 
had been a previous victim and who was in your 
unauthorized custody.  Oh, and lest we forget, the Sheriff, 
some of his men, and you yourself nearly died at the hands 
of his deputy when Sullivan went on this killing spree 
because he felt you were interfering."

Mulder refused to fight back and continued looking at his 
hands, which lay in his lap.  His lack of response was 
beginning to wear on the SAIC.

"I've left a message with your supervisor, AD Walter 
Skinner.  I'm recommending that you be suspended without 
pay indefinitely for insubordination, conduct unbecoming 
an agent of the FBI, and possible criminal charges.  An 
investigation will be conducted."

That finally got his attention.  He looked up at Gregory 
with a peculiar expression, saying, "An investigation?"  He 
was thinking that a close scrutiny would probably turn up 
David's parentage.

"Sir," he earnestly continued, "I took the child into 
protective custody with his mother's permission.  Events 
support my fears that the killer would go after him again.  
Granted, my partner and I hadn't yet figured out that 
Deputy Sullivan was behind all this, but we were getting 
closer through the investigative process, just as in any case.  
If you're still upset that we didn't report every detail to you 
as we went along, well...that isn't the way we work.  If we 
did that, none of our cases would ever get solved.  And our 
solve rate is the best at the Bureau."

Gregory wanted to break this maverick agent and show him 
how he should be conducting himself as a special agent, 
but only said, "I won't get into an argument with you, Agent 
Mulder.  I'll be talking with AD Skinner shortly and we'll 
see.  Give me a full report ASAP if you want that 
considered in our decision."

Mulder nodded and Gregory went outside to talk with the 
forensics people.

Sighing, Mulder followed him outside to talk with Sheriff 
Vernon.  He learned that Vernon had discovered records of 
Deputy Sullivan's frequent phone calls to Lobell, and had 
tried to confront him about it while waiting for the agents 
to show up at his office.  That led to the Deputy bolting and 
Vernon trying to locate him.  It had dawned on the Sheriff 
that the Deputy would probably go after David, and that's 
how he showed up in the nick of time.

Mulder wearily told the Sheriff he would stop by in the 
morning before leaving for Portland, then drove over to the 
hospital to see Scully and check on Agent Chan's condition.  
His shoulder was a constant throbbing ache, now.  He told 
himself that he really should take the time to get some pills 
down before much longer.  A search through his pockets 
turned up nothing, however.

It was dawn, and it was going to be a beautiful day from the 
looks of the cloudless sky.  He parked in the nearly empty 
lot and walked through the sliding glass doors to the 
reception desk.  He bumped his shoulder against a hurrying 
orderly on the way and had to stop and recover before 
moving on.  The flare of pain was intense for just that 
moment, then it faded.

But the alert Doctor Daisy had noticed.  She had been 
making her rounds and caught Mulder's reaction to the 
collision.

"Agent Mulder!  You aren't taking the pain pills, are you?"  
Her scolding tone held a note of concern.

Mulder looked down to his side and had to smile at the 
serious expression on that lovely face framed by those 
blond curls.

"I'm fine," he answered, realizing his ironic use of Scully's 
words as they fell from his mouth.

"Obviously you are not fine," she sternly replied.  "Come 
with me."

"I need to see my partner," Mulder protested.  "She was 
wounded earlier.  Do you know where I can find Agent 
Scully?  And Agent Chan?"

Doctor Daisy, seeing that he was determined, said, "I'll take 
you to see them myself if you'll just let me give you 
something to deaden the pain in that shoulder first.  And I 
want to take a peek at the bandage."

He gave in, although still anxious to find Scully.

Before he knew it, Doctor Daisy had him undressed from 
the waist up and was removing the somewhat bedraggled 
bandage.  Her stern look when she had the wounds 
uncovered prompted him to ask, "What!?" defensively.

"Somehow you've managed to get this infected, even with 
the antibiotics you were given.  I need to apply more 
medicine to the wounds and inject you with a stronger 
dose."

He groaned.  To hurry the process along, he impatiently 
said, "Ok, Ok, just give it to me now."

He looked up at this point to see Scully standing in the 
doorway, eyebrows in the stratosphere, watching the nubile 
Doctor Daisy helping him pull his pants down.  

He noticed that his partner wore a jaunty bandage on the 
upper side of her head, probably over a shaved patch of 
scalp.  The bruise from Lobell's boot was still prominent on 
her jaw, giving her an abused appearance.  Her eyes were 
slightly dilated, but whether that was from her wound, the 
drugs, or Mulder being undressed by this young lady, he 
didn't care to speculate.

"Hi, I was on my way to see you," he informed his partner, 
while Doctor Daisy didn't even blink, but kept pursuing her 
goal.

Scully nodded and dryly commented, "I see."

Having relieved him of his trousers, the doctor put an arm 
around his waist and turned him toward the examining 
table.  "Bend over and pull your boxers down a bit."

She took a very large hypodermic from the nearby tray, 
stuck the needle into a bottle of yellow liquid, sucked it up 
into the syringe, and announced cheerfully, "Are you 
ready?"

At the sight of the needle, Mulder's stomach knotted up, but 
he bravely turned, bared some prime real estate, and closed 
his eyes.  He supposed that Scully was getting an eyeful 
and...ouch!  Damn, that hurt.

Scully had, indeed, been getting an eyeful and fought to 
keep her expression forbidding.  Poor Mulder hated 
hospitals and needles, but most of the time he brought it on 
himself.  And it wasn't sympathy for him she felt as she 
watched his nearly naked body bent over the table.  She 
mentally slapped herself and reminded her wayward 
hormones that he was off-limits.  It was only recently that 
she had noticed this tendency of hers to be very aware of 
her partner in the physical sense.  Besides, he was so 
immersed in this latest emotionally draining case that any 
personal feelings on either of their parts were unthinkable.

And she wasn't about to tell him that Doctor Daisy hadn't 
needed to inject him in the butt at all.  By the time Mulder 
turned, boxers hiked back up, she had smothered the smile 
and again looked composed.

The doctor turned to Scully and said, "I need to clean the 
wounds and re-dress them.  I'll be just a few more minutes 
and then he's all yours."  There was a wry humor in her 
expression that clearly said 'I know he belongs to you, but I 
want to enjoy him a little longer.'  Scully knew she was 
probably thinking no such thing, but that's what it looked 
like.  So she smiled at the doctor and quietly closed the 
door on them.

When Mulder burst out of the room about ten minutes later, 
she could see that he was looking for her with a desperate 
air.  A relieved grin graced his face when he spotted her 
sitting on a chair near the far wall.  His walk was a little 
stiff-looking, she noticed, and when he sat down in the 
chair next to her, it was done very gingerly.

He took her hand in his and leaned over the gap between 
chairs.  His eyes searched hers as he asked, "How are you 
doing, Scully?"  His concern was coming off him in waves.  
Although Scully was used to the routine violation of her 
personal space by her partner, she was a little taken aback 
by the concern radiating from him now.  And she suspected 
that a lot of his concern originated from his guilt in not 
being there for her until now.

"I'm OK; all patched up.  But where were you, Mulder?"  
She couldn't keep all the hurt from her voice, although she 
tried.

Still holding her hand, he said, "Ah, just the usual, Scully.  
Getting shot at, catching the bad guy..."

At her questioning look, he told her the whole story, noting 
her astonishment when he got to Sullivan's part in the 
unfolding tale.

"So we were both wrong on who was behind the serial 
murders!"  She was astonished by his revelation, not having 
given the deputy a thought in relation to the case.  And for 
Mulder to miss the mark so widely was unthinkable.

Mulder hung his head.  "You were right, though, Scully, 
about my wanting to blame Mary, to punish her for what 
she did to me.  That attitude blinded me to any other 
possibilities.  Now that it's over, I can stand back and see 
what an ass I was, accusing her of every crime possible."  
He looked back up into Scully's eyes and added, "Sullivan 
said he killed Tony Parker, her husband here in Willows."

She saw instantly what that might mean to Mulder.  If Mary 
hadn't killed her third husband, the previous two deaths 
may have been accidents.  Scully knew that he didn't want 
to believe that Mary could have murdered anyone, 
especially if David had to remain in her care.

"Gregory is suspending me and initiating an investigation 
into my conduct on this case," he abruptly said in a dead 
voice.  "He's pissed off at me for not working closer and 
coordinating with him.  I need to get a report prepared so 
he can use it when he talks with Skinner."  He stared deeply 
into her eyes and added, "But I can't let him discover my 
connection to David."

She wondered suddenly, with all the things that kept 
happening in his life, how he managed to stay relatively 
sane.  She knew he wasn't nearly as worried about the 
threatened suspension and investigation as much as having 
to ultimately leave David, his son, when he returned to his 
so-called normal existence.

"OK, then let's go get it done.  We'll talk with Skinner 
ourselves, too, before turning it over to Gregory.  It'll be all 
right, Mulder."  She stood up and pulled on his wrist until 
he reluctantly got to his feet as well.

As they started for the exit door, Mulder suddenly stopped 
in his tracks and Scully ran into him with an "ooof!"

"Sorry.  I forgot to go see Agent Chan and find out how he's 
coming along.  He was shot during the melee at the motel."

At the front admissions counter, however, they discovered 
that Chan had just gone into surgery for the removal of the 
bullet that was lodged in his upper chest.  Scully managed 
to find a doctor who knew about the case and they were 
relieved to be told that everything was expected to go OK 
for the wounded agent, since the bullet hadn't hit anything 
vital.   They decided to try and check on Chan in the 
morning before returning to Washington, D.C.

Scully drove them back to the motel in silence and found 
that crime scene tape was still in place at Mulder's room.  
After what had happened, they both expected that the 
Willows Court management would kick them out; 
however, they were pleasantly surprised to find a polite 
office staff who expressed concern over the agents' 
well-being and presented Mulder with a key to a 
replacement room on the far side of Scully's.

As Mulder fumbled with the key, trying to open the door to 
his new residence, it dawned on her that he was probably 
still in a kind of shock from recent events.  His normally 
graceful movements were slow and clumsy and he seemed 
lost in thought even when she spoke to him.  So Scully 
followed him into the room and told him to get started on a 
hot bath, keeping his bandaged shoulder dry, and she would 
retrieve some of his clothes from the old room, crime scene 
or not.

She knew he was out of it when he didn't make any 
comment on her proposal to break a law and obediently 
began undressing. Seeing him begin to take his clothes off 
as though he were alone in the room, she hastily departed; 
it was unnerving when he did that.  It apparently had never 
occurred to him to be embarrassed when changing clothes 
or undressing in front of her.  She found that offensive 
because it meant that he didn't think of her as a sexual 
being and, therefore, it was just like undressing in front of 
another guy to him.

Maybe I should change my name to 'Dan' she was 
grumbling to herself while rummaging in his suitcase.  
Finally she gave up on selecting something and decided to 
take the whole thing.  She put everything back as neatly as 
possible, zipped the bag shut, and staggered out the door 
with it.  She set it down for a moment, returned to grab 
Mulder's prescription bottles from the table, and then 
replaced the crime tape as best as she could.   Wrestling the 
large case down the walk and into Mulder's new room 
managed to add one more bruise to her leg, so she was 
cursing under her breath when she finally dropped the bag 
with a thud to the standard motel-brown carpet.

He wandered out of the bathroom with a towel around his 
waist, just in time to see her kick the side of his luggage.  
With an injured expression for this mistreatment of his 
luggage, he easily tossed the bag up onto one of the beds 
out of reach of her fury.

She guiltily told him, "I'm going to take a shower and 
change while you get dressed.  When I come back with the 
laptop and case files, we can work on putting the report 
together."  She beat a hasty retreat as she saw him reach for 
the corner of the towel and therefore missed seeing the 
smirk on his face in her rush to leave.  He loved to tease 
her, but most of the time she didn't even realize he was 
deliberately doing it.


Three hours later

The detailed report had been faxed to Skinner.  It made no 
mention of Mulder's connection with David.  Scully 
reached Skinner by phone about twenty minutes after he 
received the fax and answered all his questions.  After 
hanging up, they both breathed a sigh of relief, feeling that 
their boss would put the SAIC in his place when he called.  
Of course Skinner had taken several strips out of his two 
agents' hides first, for not trying to work with the man.  He 
told them that the worst they would probably see would be 
a letter from Gregory that would go into their files.

Scully had neatly put the laptop, files and paperwork away, 
then turned toward the beds.  Her partner had stretched out 
full length on the farthest one from the door, his arms 
crossed over his face.  Either the beds were short or he was 
too tall, because his feet came close to hanging off the end.  
She smiled.

"Come on, Mulder.  Let's get some lunch."

His muffled and unenthusiastic, "I'm not hungry; you go 
ahead," had been expected, but Scully wouldn't take that 
for a final answer.

"You have to eat something.  Come on; I have to get some 
film developed, too."

She retrieved his prescription containers from the top of the 
television and threw them into a purse with her pills so they 
could both take them with their food.

Grumbling good-naturedly, Mulder let her drive.  First she 
left her film at a one-hour place for development .  "The 
role of film must almost a year's worth of pictures on it.  I 
never find the time to either take pictures or to get them 
developed," she told an amused Mulder.

"So after all this time, you require one-hour service?  
You're suddenly in such a big hurry?"

She just gave him an enigmatic smile and drove to the 
other side of town to a restaurant that Matt had 
recommended.  They had a delicious lunch of broiled 
salmon with dill sauce, some locally-grown squash, and 
small red potatoes.  Mulder surprised himself by eating 
everything and then wistfully eyed Scully's remaining 
portion.  But her killer look stopped him in his tracks 
before his hand could even twitch.

He was glad that Scully seemed to have forgiven him to 
some degree, even if he didn't deserve it.  Times like this 
when they could sit and relax together were so infrequent 
these days.

"When is our flight, Scully?"

"Not until tomorrow morning at 11:30."

"Now, why can't we get that kind of extra time in a place 
like New Orleans or San Francisco?" he whined.

"What?!  Willows isn't exciting enough for you, Mulder?"

He gave an exaggerated sigh and started fidgeting.

Scully knew the signs, and figured what would be coming 
next.  She called for the check and they emerged into the 
late afternoon sun and brisk air.  The pictures were ready, 
surprisingly, but Scully absolutely refused to let Mulder see 
them.

"I don't even know what's on them myself, and it might be 
embarrassing," she protested as she tucked them into the 
jacket pocket on the opposite side from where he was 
sitting in the car.

Here it comes, she thought, when they returned to the 
room.

Without looking at her, he softly said, "I need to go see 
David."

Expecting to have heard this sooner, she wasn't surprised.  
What *did* surprise her was that he would bother to tell 
her first and not just disappear as usual, with no 
explanation.

"OK."

Still not looking at her, Mulder held his hand out for the 
keys to the car.  She gave them to him but let her hand 
linger in his for a moment.  He looked up at her suddenly 
and Scully felt a stab in her heart at his expression.  So 
much pain to be clearly read there.  And then he was gone.

Mulder hadn't called Mary first to see if they were at home, 
the hospital, or still with the local authorities.  He figured 
that if they weren't home, he would wait until they showed 
up.  The need to see David again was a tangible craving 
seeming to originate somewhere in the vicinity of his heart.  
He knew he would have to let go of his son, but that was 
equivalent to anticipating death.  He knew it was 
inevitable, but felt a deep dread of what came after.

When he reached their house he sat in the car for a few 
minutes with his mind on hold.  He supposed he was 
building up the courage to go in.  What he would really 
need, however, would be the courage to leave.

He finally walked up to the door and rang the bell, but 
noticed that his hand trembled when he pushed the button.  
Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm down before making 
a fool of himself.

The door swung open and Mary stood there, an unreadable 
expression on her face.  She looked like a school girl with 
her plaid skirt and heather-colored sweater.  David was 
nowhere to be seen.

After a slight hesitation that didn't get past Mulder, she 
moved aside to let him enter.

The first words he said as he turned to her were, "I'm so 
sorry, Mary.  I accused you of some pretty awful things, not 
to mention physically hurting you as well.  Can you ever 
forgive me?"

Her gaze lifted to his eyes and he saw that she was 
frightened.  Oh, God, she's afraid of me, he thought.  

"You aren't going to tell him...?"

Mulder immediately grasped her concern and quickly 
shook his head to reassure her.  "No.  I thought about it, but 
no."

She could see that it had not been an easy decision for him 
to make.

They heard the back door slam and David came running in, 
his face flushed, eyes sparkling, throwing off his coat and 
gloves as he went.  Seeing Mulder caused him to brake 
suddenly and apprehension showed on his face.

The tall agent was quick to reassure him, saying, "I just 
came to say goodby, David.  I'm sorry we didn't have time 
to get better acquainted."

The child's posture relaxed when he saw that no one had 
guns or seemed to be about to throw him on the floor again.  
He didn't hesitate to shake the large hand offered by the 
FBI man.  Even though his latest experiences with Agent 
Mulder were a little traumatic, he instinctively felt that the 
man meant him no harm.

He was curious, though, why Agent Mulder had tears in his 
eyes.  It was always sad to say goodby, but the man was a 
grown-up.

"David, do you think I could get a hug?"  The tall man had 
squatted down on his heels and still looked as though he 
would cry.  David's basic loving nature drew him to offer 
comfort, hoping that Agent Mulder would feel better if he 
did as he asked.

Mary was amazed when David unhesitatingly moved into 
Mulder's arms, and hugged as hard as he could.

Mulder buried his face in David's shoulder, unable to keep 
a sob from escaping.   It was clear that he could hold the 
small body in an embrace forever, but loosened his hold 
when he felt David pull back slightly.

The boy looked into the sad, tear-filled eyes of the agent 
and said, "Don't cry.  We'll see you again."  Then he turned 
and continued on his way to retrieve a toy from his room.

Seeing that Mulder couldn't speak at the moment, Mary 
told him, "I don't think you should see him anymore, but I 
promise to tell you if we move and about the big events in 
his life - his graduation, marriage...  I owe you that much."

He nodded, gave her a light kiss on the cheek, and quickly 
left the house.  He knew that a large part of his heart was 
left behind, as well.

By the time he reached the motel again, his emotions were 
somewhat in control.  He unlocked the door and entered, 
unsure whether he wanted to find Scully still in his room or 
not.

Apparently because it had been getting darker outside, she 
had turned on the lamps and closed the curtains.  The 
connecting doors to their rooms were standing open and he 
could hear what sounded like humming.  She passed the 
doorway, saw him, and detoured into his room.

"Thought I would get comfortable," she commented when 
she saw him staring at the too-big sweat shirt and pants.  To 
Mulder, she looked so delicate in that seemingly frozen few 
seconds that he wondered if he had imagined all the 
strength that lay beneath the surface.

That strength suddenly became a magnet to him.  As fragile 
as he was feeling, he shouldn't have been surprised when 
his emotions overwhelmed him and he burst into tears, 
hugging Scully to him as if she were a life preserver.  She 
represented normalcy and reason, things he needed 
desperately at the moment.

Scully, as ever, understood, and moved with him to the 
bed.  Sitting down, she continued to cradle his head to her 
shoulder, feeling his body shake with his grief.  It took 
awhile, but he finally grew exhausted from the emotional 
storm that had ravaged his body.  She let him gently slide 
down to lie on top of the quilt, helped him lift his legs up 
onto the bed, and removed his shoes.

"Get some sleep.  I'll be right here, Mulder."

Scully thought at first that he might refuse to sleep, aware 
that he had a masochistic streak and would normally hug 
his pain close,  jealous of sharing it with anyone.  That was 
why she hadn't expected the tears.  Maybe he was opening 
up a little bit more to her each time he hit a brick wall like 
this.  He was finally realizing that she wasn't going to fail 
him or make fun of him or throw his own failures back in 
his face.  The trust was deeper, she realized, as he drifted 
off to sleep in about a minute. 
 
When he awoke several hours later, he could see Scully in 
the dim light sitting at the table, watching him with a 
thoughtful expression on her face.

"Hey," he said.

She hiccuped and hid a giggle behind the palm of one hand.

Intrigued, he sat up and said accusingly, "Are you drunk, 
Scully?"

"I think...I think I took the wrong pain medication.  I 
grabbed yours from my purse by accident when I 
remembered that we hadn't taken our pills at lunch."  Her 
eyes weren't too focused, he noticed, and her words were 
slurred.

Slightly alarmed, he asked, "Do you need an ambulance?  
Was it an overdose?"

She shook her head no, got unsteadily to her feet, and made 
her way over to him.

He saw her toes catch in a raised section of the carpet, and 
then Scully was suddenly in his lap.  Mulder felt her warm 
breath on his throat and her arms slowly wrapped around 
his neck.  She began to nuzzle behind his ear and an 
electric stab of desire shot through him instantly, to 
concentrate in his groin.  Oh, God, this wasn't right.  The 
drugs were messing with her mind and she couldn't realize 
what she was doing.

When he tried to tell her they had to stop, he found his 
mouth covered by hers in a forceful kiss.  He nearly lost it 
then, wanting desperately to bury himself in the sweet 
oblivion she offered, but found the strength to push her 
away.  He would never forget the hurt, devastated  look on 
her face when she half fell, half climbed off his lap.  
Mulder knew that she hadn't started out to shatter the 
invisible barriers they had mutually built up over the years, 
but when presented with the opportunity, she had had the 
courage to leap into the fire.

"Not like this, Scully," he whispered.  "Don't you see that it 
would just be a way to escape reality for a short time?"

"So what's wrong with that?" Her soft, still unfocused eyes 
bore deeply into his, openly showing him without words 
that she would gladly, willingly relieve him of his anguish 
and sorrow, if only for a short time.

"Other than it would probably ruin our friendship and 
career, nothing," he replied.

He could see some clarity returning to Scully's eyes and she 
nodded.  "Will you be OK?" she asked, with some 
embarrassment.

"Aren't I always?"

And she knew it was true.  His wonderful heart took a lot 
of damage but seemed to emerge as strong as ever once it 
had a chance to heal.  Her fogged-up brain could grasp that 
much.

As she turned to leave he called, "Scully?  Thank you."

Nodding, she said, "Tap on the connecting door if you need 
me...anything...during the night."

"Only if you'll do the same."  He was still concerned about 
the excess drugs in her system.

When he got ready for bed, he found the picture on the 
table that Scully had meant to give him.  It showed David 
in his arms, both of them asleep.  He held the picture in a 
hand that shook, and he wondered whether feeling such 
intense joy and intense sorrow at the same time would kill 
him.

THE END