REVELATIONS 1: DAWN (30/30)
by Sue Esty (AKA Windsinger@aol.com)
Begun 7/95, completed 9/98

For Disclaimer see chapter 1

Chapter 30
Fredrick County Hospital
Tuesday, 9 a.m.

     "How are you feeling?"

     Dana looked up from her bland breakfast to return her
mother's greeting with a warm smile. Awkwardly, she waved her
mother in with her right arm and its light cast. She had nearly
forgotten the sprain. Under normal conditions, it wouldn't need
a cast, but the injury had to be supported, because she would
need her arms more than usual over the next few weeks to move
around in bed.

     "Hard to eat with this. Food's not very good anyway."

     They talked for a while about the sorts of things people
talk about in hospitals - How Dana's night had been, what the
doctors said during morning rounds, her schedule for the day,
more about how bad the food was.

     "That Director Skinner called again," Margaret commented.
"He wanted to know if I had any questions about your health
insurance coverage or anything." Her gray eyes directed
themselves searchingly into Dana's. "The questions I have I'm
sure he wouldn't answer. Will you?"

     If she had had the mobility, Dana would have squirmed. "I'd
rather not. Not now anyway. Things happened, Mom. Some not very
nice things."

     "Could any of these 'things'," Margaret nodded towards
Dana's bandaged side, "have been prevented?"

     "Don't blame the FBI, Mom, or Mulder. Mistakes were made on
all sides. Mostly we just had a lot of bad luck. But we got out
of it not too badly and there's one less killer out there in the
dark." Maybe two. Dana's memories of their encounter with Mary
Amos were hazy at best. She'd told Skinner what she knew when he
had visited the evening before. He would have to go to Mulder
for the rest. On the subject of Mulder, Dana raised her eyes
each time a shadow approached her room but no lean, familiar
form came to darken her doorway. Her disappointment must have
been more than a little obvious.

     "Looking for someone," Margaret asked, innocently.

     For some unknown reason, Dana felt a blush threatening to
rise. "I just thought Mulder would come. I know he had the
'dreaded' examination yesterday afternoon and the CAT scan. I
know the results were significant enough to admit him for two or
three days at least."

     "Then shouldn't he still be in bed?"

     "We're talking Mulder here, Mom. He's pretty good about not
being where he's supposed to be. Besides, I haven't heard a
thing this morning and that's suspicious." For some reason Dana
found her mother's smug expression more than a little
irritating. "But you know something, don't you?"

     In response, Margaret allowed herself a conspiratorial
smile. "Not much. I know that after they took a look at his body
without his clothes and the dirt, letting him go home was out of
the question. I know that in addition to the brain scans they
ran every test they could think of and all that came out beyond
the cuts and deep bruises and exhaustion and exposure was that
he had a recovering concussion and the makings of really bad
cold. I know that they threw some Tylenol 3 and antibiotics in
him and tucked him into bed with an IV. I know that after the
first few hours of fidgeting, he had a quiet night. Of course,
the nurses had to convince him that unless he took one round of
the sedatives voluntarily, that they'd make them mandatory for
a full twenty-four hours."

     Dana's wide eyes narrowed suspiciously. "'That's a lot of
'Not Much'. How did you come by all this 'knowing'. You're not
family."

     "I have my ways," Margaret smiled, disarmingly. Dana knew
all too well that her mother was the sort of person other people
just felt comfortable talking to. "Besides," Margaret gave a sad
maternal shrug, "the nurses tell me he hasn't had any visitors
other than Skinner and some park ranger and no phone calls so
someone had to take an interest."

     Dana frowned. "I take it that you're referring to the lack
of familial concern."

     Margaret fingered the petals from the roses Dana's brother
Bill had sent. There were others in vases, baskets and planters.
An amazing number in such a short time. Mulder had none. "I take
it that he does have a family someplace?"

     Mulder's words as he sat on the floor of her motel room on
that first night of their partnership came back. His sister's
loss had torn the family apart.

     "He has parents. Divorced. I take it he doesn't talk to his
father much and his mother seems distracted, cold."

     "I get the picture." Margaret looked up into her daughter's
eyes. She didn't like the sadness she saw there. Now was not a
time for sadness, not if she was going to recover quickly. She
reached for Dana's hairbrush on the nightstand and began to
brush the fine red hair with gentle strokes. "You've probably
noticed," Margaret said casually, "but he washes up really
nice."

     Margaret had positioned herself to catch her daughter's
reflection in the mirror. The light came back to those blue
eyes. "You've actually seen him since yesterday then?" Dana
asked.

     A secret smile. "Of course. This morning. He brought my
baby girl back to me, didn't he? And in 'absentia parentis' I
have some responsibilities. I saw him just as he finished
dressing, as a matter of fact. He's a quiet one, isn't he?"

     "Only to people he doesn't know and when he's not on a
case. He's just not into small talk about himself. On a case,
however, there are times when I'd do just about anything to get
him to shut up. In this case, since you're my mother, he's
completely cowed. And you say he was dressing? You can't mean
that they're letting him out today?"

     "Of course not, but I think he was hoping."

     Dana felt a pang of disappointment. She knew Mulder hated
hospitals, but would he really have taken the first possible
opportunity and just slipped away? Wouldn't he have stopped by
even to say good-bye?

     "Did he... happen... to mention whether he plans to come
down sometime?" she asked, hoping the question wasn't too
obvious.

     Margaret paused in her hair brushing as again she studied
her daughter's expression in the mirror across the room. "I
think he doesn't know if he should, dear. He's afraid that
you'll be having a lot of family in."

     This made sense to Dana. Together less than six weeks and
she was fairly certainly that Fox Mulder looked forward to happy
family gatherings as much as to trips to the hospital.

     "However," Margaret continued, "I told him that no one
would be coming today until after lunch."

     "And how could you be so certain of that?"

     "I told them not to. I can tell when a man has something
weighing heavily on mind."

     "Mulder has this thing about guilt, Mom. Do you remember
the soul in the underworld who is doomed for all eternity to
roll a huge stone up a hill only to have it roll back down for
him to do it all over again? That's Mulder. But he did say that
he was going to come, right?"

     "Oh, yes, and right about - " A gentle knock and a shadow
appeared in the doorway "- now."

     It was not Mulder's jaunty, self-assured persona that stood
in the doorway, but a much more subdued version, uncomfortably
shifting in the seat of a standard-issue hospital wheel chair.
Dana nearly failed to recognize him for he looked far younger
than the dogged fighter from the day before and the day before
that. As he rolled smoothly forward into the room, she could see
that, not only was he clean and shaved, but his hair had been
trimmed and combed and he was wearing a set of rather
distinctive black velour sweats with silver piping. He had
clearly lost weight, but the effect was most likely enhanced by
the elegant rainbow of old bruises on his face.

     A 'melancholy Dane' came to mind as Dana appreciated the
affect. "Nice threads," she remarked.

     A shrug. "Skinner took my old ones for evidence. Yours too,
you'll find." Hesitantly, his gaze went to Margaret. "These were
from your mother. Thank you, Mrs. Scully."

     "Oh, my pleasure, and call me Margaret. They look good on
you. Better than those uncomfortable paper-thin scrubs."

     Dana's eyes strayed to the door expecting to see the nurse
or volunteer or orderly who had brought him. No one. "How did
you get them to let you our of your room?" she asked,
suspiciously.

       He squirmed a little more in his seat. "I didn't...
exactly. Nurse Do-it-my-way-or-else said that if she caught me
standing again without an attendant that they'd get out the
restraints. Well, I'm not standing."

     "But then how did you get the wheels? They keep pretty
close tabs on those things."

     Involuntarily, Mulder's eyes drifted in Margaret's
direction. Dana's mouth dropped open. "Mom!"

     In response, the older woman's chin lifted in a way that
Mulder must have found very familiar. "He's an adult. I thought
he should be allowed to make his own choices. You medical people
treat patients like children. Besides, I thought he managed
pretty well two night ago when he certainly felt a lot worse. By
the way, you will come for Thanksgiving, won't you, Fox?"

     Dana saw the familiar pair of hazel eyes go wide as if from
whiplash. "Mom," she said, throwing her mother in a harsh
whisper, "you're scaring him." Dropping her voice even lower,
she added, "And you called him 'Fox'."

     "So?" Margaret said as softly, returning the hair brush to
the nightstand.

     "He hates 'Fox'. Nobody calls him that."

     "I do, it gets his attention."

     <I'll bet it does,> Dana thought with dismay.

     Margaret reached for the controls and began lowering Dana's
bed to its lowest position. "Very well, as far as Thanksgiving
goes, you can tell me later. As for now, you know, Fox, that you
shouldn't stay long. Both of you need your rest. I'll wheel you
back to your room and take the heat for your escape, but first
I think I need to take a trip down to the cafeteria. Do you want
anything? I seem to have missed breakfast this morning."

     Mulder didn't, but Dana knew her mother could come back
with an extra meal's worth just in case. That left the partners
alone. It seemed like months since it had been just the two of
them and in a place that was both safe and warm.

     Sitting in his wheelchair, clearly trying to come up with
some place to start, Mulder was nearly on Dana's level because
Margaret had set the bed so low. To Dana's eyes he looked long
and lean in the black and good enough to eat despite the odd
purples, greens and yellows of his bruises. Considering the
bland diet she had been given so far, he'd better not come any
closer. His sober expression only barely distracted Dana from
forbidden thoughts. Whatever had made her mind turn in that
direction again? Must be the drugs. The problem was that the
last time her thoughts had taken a similar turn had been in the
middle of the night only three days before, the evening after
she had virtually kidnapped him from the team briefing so that
he could get some much needed 'TLC'. She hadn't been on drugs
then.

     "How - " Both began at the same time.

     "Gentleman first this time," Dana said. "How are you
doing?"

     A shrug. "Me? No problem." To demonstrate he began to
stand, but half way up his face drained to a pasty gray.
Abruptly, he sat back down. "I just moved too quickly, that's
all," he replied, defensively, to her smug I-told-you-so
expression. "And you?"

     "Fine."

     "No, won't do." His expression was suddenly serious as only
Mulder could be.  "How bad was it really? I know they weren't
always straight with me."

     Not a time for one word answers then. Not when he looked at
her like that. "I was lucky. The bullet went through, but you
knew that. Incredibly, it only damaged the peritoneal capillary
bed which is bad enough. That's very extensive." He glared at
her at little harder. "It also nicked the small bowel," she
admitted, reluctantly.

     "And you call that lucky? I'm not ignorant that about
abdominal infections. My little 'detour' could have killed you."

     "But it didn't," Dana said putting as much emphasis into
the words as she could. "You dealt with sister Mary, you got us
out of the woods, you kept us both alive."

     Restlessly, but more slowly this time, he eased himself
over to sit on the side of her bed. "If I hadn't... in the first
place..."

     Dana made a grab for his hand but the arm she raised was
the sprained one. The other one had an IV. "Mulder, we've been
through this. You had a fever, you were in shock, delirious -"

     "Delirious people don't walk for hours in a thunder storm,
in Virginia, carrying a thirty year old woman, and thinking
they're in Martha's Vineyard and trying to find a way to take
their little sister home."

     It was Dana's turn to shrug. "So your hallucinations are a
little more detailed than most people's. Most people don't have
a brain like yours, Mulder, and shock - especially when mental
and physical stresses collide - can do strange things to
anybody. It's not that unusual for victims of traffic accidents
to be found wandering blocks away."

     "I don't have the luxury of not being perfect. I was senior
agent, I was responsible -"

     "You're not responsible for *me*!" the red-head retorted,
color brightening her cheeks. They glared at each other for an
uncomfortable time in stony silence.

     Seeing Mulder was going to be stubborn, Dana began. "Maybe
we should start again, only be honest with me this time. You
never really answered my question. How *are* you doing?"

     His lips came together thin, or as thin as they could with
the swelling. Finally, his hand went to the spot on his head
where Amos's oak shaft had hit and later the bark of the
grandmother oak herself. "Much better, honest, even after a day
of hospital food and sugar water in my veins."

     Dana noted the shadows swirling in his eyes and the deeper
lines in his forehead. "Still some headaches though, yes? And
dizzy sometimes?"

     He nodded, reluctantly. "No dizzier than usual, I guess."
His eyes half closed in pain as if he was having one of those
headaches now. After a moment his voice hardened. "Scully, your
trust is unfounded. I could take another walk down memory lane
anytime. Next time you may not be so lucky." His next words
started out so softly that she could barely hear them. "You can
ask for a transfer if you want. I'll give you an excellent
recommendation, though after this case you probably won't need
one."

     Dana felt her body go cold and still. How could he possibly
think that she wanted to leave now? Did he know her so little?
But the FBI? Yeah, Dana could just imagine what her reputation
was going to be like now. And for what? For killing a man.

     "Are they going to make a big deal about my shooting Amos?"
Dana asked. "Maybe I did, but I just as surely shot myself in
the process." She had finally managed to snag his arm and bent
him down now so his face was so close to hers that she didn't
need to speak much above a whisper. "Mulder, listen. I was
stupid. I really was. I didn't properly assess the suspect's
condition after he went down. I didn't check him for other
weapons. And don't forget that I blundered down that road and
blew your cover. If it weren't for me, we never would have been
taken at all." A stitch in her side forced Dana to lie back and
catch her breath. The pain had cut through the drugs but good.
When the world quit graying out she found that Mulder had inched
significantly closer. His body was taut. When she could speak
again her voice was not so loud but just as passionate. "And who
says I want a transfer? You may see yourself as screwing up, but
so did I. Except for the fact that you should have told me where
you were going to start with, you couldn't have helped what
happened. I could have."

     Shoulder hunched, Mulder turned his face towards the
window. "That's rather the point, isn't it?" He asked, his voice
mocking. "You can learn. You're not likely to ever let anything
like that happen again if you can help it. I'll never know if
I'm going to -"  He let that trail off.

     Unable to move more than inches, Dana could only
concentrate on projecting her disapproval. What she wanted was
to be able to get her hands around his neck and shake him.
"Don't confuse what happens to you when you profile, Mulder, and
what happened at Amos's. When you profile I assume it's a
conscious, though reluctant, decision to immerse yourself in a
process to get the job done. A job that's critically important.
When you were at Amos's, you had a concussion, you'd been
tortured, and suddenly you had a bleeding woman dumped into your
lap to be responsible for..."

     At her last words he turned back to her and Dana's voice
faded out as she realized what she had said. "We're rather back
where we started from, aren't we?" she noted, forcing a
lightness into her voice.

     A smile actually tugged at his swollen lips, just a little
one. "We can go around and around like this for hours, if you
like."

     Dana shook her head. "I'm too tired for that. Besides,
we're never going to agree on this, are we?"

     "Since when have we agreed on anything?"

     Dana considered that. "We don't disagree on everything."

     "Name one thing we have agreed on," he challanged, clearly
finding the humor in the situation now.

     To her distress Dana found that she had to think rather
longer and harder than she'd expected to. Finally, she blurted
out, "You didn't tell Mom that I was the one who shot Amos.
Which is just what I would have done. Thank you for that."

     His face looked stricken. "That's *all* you could think
of?"

     Helplessly, Dana grimaced.

     "That wasn't ever really very hard," he said. "I didn't
think you'd want your mother to know about - certain parts of
your job. I felt that was best coming from you." He frowned. "If
you do decide to tell her, include the part about my detour. If
you don't, I could come out sounding like a hero."

     "But you are. You tracked down Amos when no one else
could."

     "But you're the one who took him down."

     "Then we're both heroes... and even heroes need someone to
watch their back or they won't be heroes very long. Who would
you trust to do that?"

     More silence. The question hung in the air, quivering. Dana
hadn't expected an answer at all, it didn't really require one,
but then she heard his voice, directed down at the floor and
soft, but she caught the words anyway.

     "I know who I would choose to watch mine." He raised his
head to look back into face her. "Who would you choose?"

     Dana found it difficult to swallow. He hadn't actually said
who - but then why was it suddenly so dry in here? "Since Elliot
Ness is unavailable, I guess I elect to maintain the current
arrangement... unless I'm not the one you want. Unless you want
me to ask for that transfer."

     His eyes widened; his lips parted; his paleness, if that
were possible, deepened. "Of course I don't." Except for his
bruises and his lips, which were still abraised and puffy from
his labor at the knots of his wrist bonds, Dana felt a wave of
deja vu. Back in his office almost two weeks before, she had
asked very much the same question and gotten almost the
identical answer. At the time she had been too angry to see its
effect on him. What she saw was something almost like panic,
which he was covering only slightly better now than before.

     "If you're waiting for me to extol your virtues in order to
convince you to stay - I'm not very good at that," he admitted,
with his usual attempt to cover uncomfortable subjects with his
dry humor. "In fact if I tried, you'd probably find yourself
favorably compared to a cross between a boy scout and a German
shepherd - neither of which I think you'd like very much." His
voice deepened, no jokes this time. "So do I want you to ask for
a transfer? No. No, I don't."

     Dana felt a flash of unusual warmth. She wondered if her
fever was spiking again. No, not that. He actually wanted her at
his back, by his side.

     As if his words were not enough, Dana saw his hand move
unconsciously towards hers, but stopped before making contact.
Maybe the IV put him off. No, that wasn't it. She realized
suddenly that she was a loss, too. An emptiness, a need to
touch and be touched, but knew as well as he that... they
shouldn't. Was that the strain that had made them snap at each
other during this whole meeting? There had been so much physical
contact between them over the last two days, it would take time
to be comfortable again with the way it had to be.

     Because she had not moved her hand to meet his, he took
that as a sign to straighten his spine. It pulled him away from
her without his really seeming to move. It served just as
clearly to reestablish that proper professional distance.
Physically, he now seemed a million miles away, but then Dana
looked into his eyes. They were the same as they had been the
day before in this room, the night before in the barn, the day
before that at Amos's when they had sat in the dust and she had
fed him cold, lumpy oatmeal. The first strands of the link had
been woven back in her apartment with the passing of the key.
Sometime in the cellar, in the dust, in the woods, or in the
barn - or maybe because of all of them - the connection had been
strengthened and now no distance could break. Each crisis since
then had only tested and reforged the link, making it stronger.
It was very like the touch of his hand only in many ways better
because it was there always.

     They sat is silence once again, only this time the quiet
was no longer complicated or dangerous. Oh, it was still
intense, but it was a different kind of intensity. His eyes and
hers.


     A knock - not loud but solid - broke the precious spell.
Two heads turned; both a little rushed; both a little guiltily.

     Associate Director Skinner stood in the doorway. Odd, Dana
thought, how Benchley, the original team leader, had faded from
the picture. Skinner certainly seemed to be the one running the
show now. Unusual hands-on attention from management at his
level.

     "Agent Scully," he nodded as he entered, "relieved to see
you looking so well this morning." Dana knew she'd talked to the
man the night before but her memories of her 'debriefing' were
a little fuzzy.

     Disapproval returning to his face, the former marine fixed
his sharp eyes on Mulder. "Agent Mulder, you have half the ward
in a panic wondering where you are"

     "I see that you managed to find me soon enough, sir."

     A twist of those broad shoulders. "Tricks of the trade. I'm
pleased to see that you're much improved also. Unfortunately,
I've come to tell you that they're ready for you."

     Mulder's face shadowed and there was a moment of obvious
hesitation before he began unwinding from his perch on the side
of Dana's bed. His body language indicated that whatever Skinner
had in mind, it was not Mulder's choice. The creases of care and
pain which had smoothed away as their eyes met deepened again
across his forehead.

     Dana's eyes flashed from Mulder to Skinner then back to her
partner. "Where are you going?" she asked with concern.

     Carefully, Mulder lowered himself back into the wheelchair.
"Local law enforcement has sent a contingent to see if I can
help them pinpoint where Mary Amos went over the cliff," he
explained, his tone flat.

     "Is that going to be so hard? You have an eidetic memory."

     "Not when it comes to finding one particular spot when you
don't know where you were to begin with. I thought that would be
obvious by now. There's wasn't exactly a McDonald's on the
corner to use as a landmark."

     Skinner cut in. "From the description you gave us before
the sedatives took effect last evening, Ranger Gaines is fairly
certain that he knows the approximate area but we still need
your help. The terrain's very rough. They've brought some
topographical maps and someone went out with a video camera
yesterday so they also want you to look at some footage." Hands
in pockets Skinner glanced briefly at the floor as if deciding
something. "By the way, it was... unfortunate... that our paths
didn't cross that night. By comparing your report of events and
the progress of the storm with the time of our arrival, you two
could not have been gone long."

     Since Skinner didn't phrase his request for information in
the form of a question, Mulder wasn't about to divulge a thing.
It was Dana who felt that some response was needed. "Yes -
unfortunate. If we had known help was coming we would have -
waited. But then we didn't want to hang around and run into Mary
Amos either. Guess we did anyway."  Dana refused to look at
Mulder directly but from the corner of her eye noted how, as she
talked, his expression changed from suspicious to a deep
thoughtfulness. So he had assumed she was going to turn him in
and tell Skinner the real reason for their little extended walk
in the woods from which they could both have so easily died.

     What good would it serve? Dana reasoned. If the lapse of
place and time had happened to anyone else under the same
circumstances they would have received sympathy, understanding,
and medical attention. It would be considered an acute episode.
Because this was Fox Mulder, however, the story would only mean
more fuel for the Spooky jokes and raise anew the questions
about his competence and stability. Dammit, he had risked his
life, had nearly given it. He didn't need the whispers and the
Monday morning quarter-backing. Officially, someone would have
to be told, but who? Blevins, who was still their direct report?
Not if Dana could help it. Skinner? She barely knew him. He was
stern but fairness and objectivity were the traits Dana was
looking for. Maybe... Besides, something about the way he kept
appearing the last few days seemed portentous.

     Even now Skinner's patience was commendable as he waited,
seemingly oblivious to the messages the two agents were silently
communicating to one another. He wasn't unaware, however.
Certainly not of Mulder's mild relief over what Agent Scully had
said... or not said. Good for her. Mulder needed a real partner
and not just one in name only. It looked like he'd finally got
one. Someone who would work straight and strong in the harness
next to him to keep his incalculable strength and intellect in
line. Watching these two settle down as a team would certainly
make the future interesting. At present, however, Skinner
wondered if he should let it be known all that he already
suspected about the cause of their little sojourn.

     "You didn't take your car keys, ID's, or weapons," he
mentioned almost casually. "There was a lot of sleep lost over
that." And indeed his eyes were wreathed in gray shadows. "The
FBI, National Forest Service and the DoD spent a not
inconsiderable amount of time and manpower looking for you two
and then you went and saved yourselves. I trust you were not
just going out of your way to make us all look bad?"

     Mulder's mouth twisted the way it tended to do when he was
considering something deeply. "My fault, sir. I wasn't thinking
as clearly as I could have."

     <Your fault that you forgot your ID and your weapons or
your fault that you took an injured woman into the woods not
entirely in your right mind?> To which was Mulder admitting?
Skinner considered the younger man who was attempting a position
something vaguely approaching parade rest which wasn't easy when
sitting down. The deeply sunken eyes were over-bright. If
Skinner was not mistaken, there were some new lines on that
unique and bruised face and the old ones were more pronounced.
For once Mulder looked nearly his actual age. But Skinner should
not have been surprised. He had read Mulder's chart and knew
there was more damage hidden under that concealing, black
outfit. Bruises and welts by the dozens, abrasions and gashed
knees. The MRI was conclusive for multiple concussions but
borderline for skull fracture. The doctor's exam notes combined
with the trace evidence found at the farm made for fascinating
reading. "You had a busy day, Agent Mulder. Considering the
extent of both of your injuries, a little confusion is...
understandable."

     Mulder kept his own counsel, his expression unreadable
though he must have found Skinner's support nearly as surprising
as he had Scully's.

     "By the way," Skinner added, "some more information came
out on Rivera's organized crime connections. As Agent Scully
confirmed, he was just a minnow. Now our sources find that he
was not only a small fish, but an irritating one. Irritating
even to the members of his own family. They are so happy that
someone knocked him off that word on the streets is that they're
even willing to reward the man who took out Rivera's executioner
for services rendered. Anyone interested in collecting?"

     Mulder's interest perked. "All yours, Scully, if you want
to claim it, though I don't know how you'd declare it on your
taxes."

     Skinner's expression was reflective. "On the subject of
paperwork... *Two* dead suspects, Agent Mulder? A messy though
acceptable end to an extremely difficult case. I'm afraid the
paperwork will be extensive. Internal Affairs -"

     "- has already called," Mulder sighed.

     Skinner nodded. No excuses. He approved. "Yes, I suppose
you do know the drill. I'm certain you'll help Agent Scully
through it. Other than that, for the next couple of weeks...
rest. That's my recommendation to Blevins, which will go along
with a couple of commendations. As far as the more distant
future goes, I don't suppose I could talk you two into rejoining
Violent Crimes? Come back to the mainstream?"

     Dana exchanged a quick glance with Mulder. Both had the
same idea. "Maybe when hell freezes over... sir," Dana responded
for both of them.

     Skinner nearly smiled - nearly - as he gestured for Mulder
to begin heading for the door. "Very well. Before Agent Mulder
and I leave you to your rest, Agent Scully, is there anything I
can do for you?"

     Dana didn't even have to think about that one. "Just don't
exhaust him with all your questions," she said looking over at
Mulder whose eyes were dropping a little and who was genuinely
leaning against the chair back for support now. "He belongs in
bed nearly as much as I do."

     Skinner eyed Mulder up and down and was ready to agree.
Maybe now that this maverick had had a chance to clear the air
with his partner, he'd stay put for a while. "I'll see that he
gets his nap, Agent Scully. Anything else?"

     Mulder's voice surprised them both. "Perhaps the next time
we put in a '302' for a investigative trip to someplace warm -"

     "- like Florida -" Dana hinted broadly.

     "- we would appreciate your support in getting Section
Chief Blevins to approve it."

     Arm outstretched to indicate the hallway, Skinner replied
almost casually, "I don't know if appealing to Blevins will do
any good." The two younger agents were both tired enough that
the disappointment on their faces was almost painful to see.
Skinner elaborated. "I don't know if that will do any good
because I don't know how much longer Blevins will be your direct
report."

     That left a wake of confusion. <Keep 'em guessing,> Skinner
thought, noting the raised eyebrows the two exchanged.



     As Mulder proceeded Skinner out of the room, Dana laid back
against the pillows to watch. Mulder's shoulders were bowed even
more than usual and there was no snap to the wrist actions that
sent his wheelchair forward. He looked more like a guilty child
on his way to the principle's office than the conquering hero.
Tired, Dana closed her eyes. For Mulder, the news of the
imminent loss of Blevins probably translated into no X-Files,
but Dana had been watching Skinner and listening with her inner
ear. Skinner clearly approved of them. Would wonders never
cease. She'd been so wrong... So wrong to tell Melissa that this
was just a stepping stone to a new and better position. She had
accepted this assignment expecting to be little more than an
archivist and a spy. Well, no more could she think of her
relationship with Fox Mulder as just another assignment as
temporary as most in the FBI were.  She wasn't sure what it was,
but not that.

     At that moment Dana became aware of a sense of being
watched and opened her eyes. Skinner was still paused in the
doorway.

     "I promise I'll take care of him," he reassured her.

     "We both will," she said.

     Skinner cocked an eyebrow in her direction. "You'll take
care of each other. Of that I have no doubt."  At that he turned
to catch up with Mulder, who didn't even seem to have noticed
that he wasn't being followed. Unobserved, Skinner allowed
himself a slight smile. What he had seen the last few days
agreed with everything he had heard before about these two. He
would have to talk to the Senior Director. They were currently
negotiating the scope of his upcoming Assistant Directorship. He
had been debating whether to include the X-files in that scope.
Odd stuff but under his watchful eye, and with a tight rein,
Agent Mulder and his new partner could do very well.

     Very well indeed.

End of Chapter 30 and The End - Now that the introduction is
over, on to the main part of Revelations which continues with
'The Box': A little trip to the Everglades... and a little trip
in a very small box...