GLASS COFFIN part 4
By Denise Gass (aka Kidders)

     Dana was there when Mulder opened his eyes a day later.  Breathing on
his own, still weak, but finally conscious.  "Mulder, can you hear me?" 
How often had she asked *that* question in the last seventy-two hours?
     His eyes slowly focused on her face, and he attempted a brief smile,
which was quickly swept aside by a pained grimace.  "It hurts," he rasped
in complaint, trying to breathe without moving his chest, a knack he
couldn't seem to master.
     "On a scale of 1 to 10, how bad?" Dana wanted to know, lightly tracing
the fingers of his right hand where they emerged from the tightly wound
gauze.
     He wrinkled his nose and accused, "You sound like a doctor."
     Dana raised an eyebrow, clarifying, "I am a doctor."
     Mulder lay as still as possible, afraid to even blink.  His arms and
chest were on fire, his throat felt like it had been filleted by a very
sharp knife, and his stomach was threatening to heave at the slightest
provocation.  Another uncomfortable twinge in his lower body revealed the
presence of a catheter, and Mulder squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block
out the recent image Liu Hsin had planted in his mind.  Despite his
efforts, the memory flooded into his thoughts--pain, fear, the loss of
Scully.  He was too tired to fight the onslaught, and tears sprang beneath
his eyelids, running down the side of his face.  Mulder turned his head
away, knowing he had no control, but still embarrassed even though the
reaction was justifiable.  It had been so long, and he'd kept his feelings
bottled up, buried so *deep*, no one could drag them out.  Not Margaret
Scully, not Melissa, especially not Dana.  What little he'd revealed during
the month spent in quarantine was a far cry from the truth.  The truth just
hurt too much...
     Scully saw his eyes fill with tears before Mulder averted his face,
and didn't have to be an Oxford-educated psychologist to figure out the
probable cause.  After ringing for the nurse, she gently brought his chin
around, forcing him to meet her gaze.  Running her hand across his
forehead, she offered simply, "I'm here."
     The comfort brought by her touch told him this was real, that Dana was
by his side, and he wasn't alone.  The pain receded a little, the soft,
measured strokes of her hand conveying her concern, something Hsin had
never offered in all of his illusions.  Reassured by Dana's presence,
Mulder let down his defenses, allowing emotions he'd suppressed for a very
long time find an outlet.  The tears came with surprising force, his sobs
growing louder until Mulder could barely catch his breath.  Someone came
and injected medication into his IV line, but he never saw them, aware only
of the pain and Scully's hands continually stroking his hair.  Finally, he
fell asleep to the sound of her voice.

     When Caine and Peter came to visit the next day, Mulder had been moved
to a private room.  Scully roused herself from a cot she'd had placed in a
far corner to at least greet the two, brushing self-consciously at her
rumpled hair.  
     "Well, we've got a reservation for the two o'clock flight out of
Dulles," Peter said, looking fresh, oozing charm, and making Dana fight the
impulse to slug him.  She needed a toothbrush in the worst way.  "We just
wanted to stop and say goodbye."
     "Thanks for all your help," Scully said, dredging up a smile from her
sleep-drugged brain.  
     Kwai Chang Caine took her hands and held them between his own.  "You
must follow your heart, Dana Scully," he said with penetrating wisdom.  "Do
not lose hope, or give up your quest."  He glanced at the bed where Mulder
slept peacefully, the agent's face relaxed and free from the truamas
suffered in his waking moments.  "You must question every answer, but
someday, the supreme power will speak.  Until then...realize your dreams." 
His serene gaze touched her briefly, then he followed his son out the door.
 
     Her thoughts remaining with Mulder, Scully showered and brushed her
hair, wondering how much her partner would remember of the time she had
shared his soul.  The gateway Caine had provided left a dramatic effect on
her psyche--she recalled every single moment, all the things she'd
said...and while she regretted none of them, it might cause complications. 
Risks they couldn't afford at present.  She emerged from the bathroom to
find Mrs. Gordon hesitantly peeking through the door.  Scully approached
the woman, noting she appeared calmer than their last meeting.  
     "Mrs. Gordon, how have you been?  I was going to call you, but..." 
Dana's gaze warmly settled on her sleeping partner before returning to the
other woman.
     "I called the FBI office, talked to Dwight Henderson," Mrs. Gordon
said softly.  "I was very insistent, and he told me you were here.  I don't
mean to be a bother, it's just--"
     "You aren't a bother," Scully rebuffed in a firm tone.
     The woman nodded, a relieved sigh escaping her lips.  "Your
partner...will he be all right?"
     "Yes, I think so," Dana acknowledged with a kind smile.  "What about
you?  I know this hasn't been easy."
     "No," she agreed, still staring at Mulder.  "But, I thought...I
mean...well, your partner knew things that just didn't seem possible.  I
never told the agents that came to the house about the water throwing
business.  It just didn't seem important.  I only mentioned I'd found the
window open the next morning.  Marie's little friend, Tracy, she was the
one who told me about why they'd left it open.  It was the same day you
found her..."  She paused, sniffing quietly, and Dana handed her a kleenex.
 "Thank you.  I just wanted to come and see...if he was all right."
     Scully could see the woman was rattled by the strange experience, torn
by doubt yet wanting to believe some shred of her daughter still lived. 
"Mrs. Gordon, I can't explain everything that happened.  Some of it I don't
completely understand, or perhaps believe.  But I do know my partner would
have given his life if it could have saved your daughter's.  It just wasn't
possible.  He got there too late."
     Mrs. Gordon accepted her rationale, sneaking another look at Mulder
before saying slowly, "He did manage to bring that other little girl back
safely."
     "Yes."
     "Then perhaps Marie can rest in peace now."
     Scully nodded empathetically.  "I think so."

     "Real food, Scully."  Mulder was gazing at his hospital tray as if it
were a four star meal from one of the Capitol's finest restaurants.  "Do
you know how long it's been since I've had *real* food?"
     Hiding a smile, Dana nodded.  With his hands effectively immobilized,
Mulder was struggling to open the milk carton on his tray using only the
fingers of his right hand, prompting Scully to finally reach over and help
before the situation became any more comical.  Her fingers popped the
difficult seal without a problem, but she had inadvertently applied too
much pressure and the carton flew sideways, dispatching its contents across
the front of Mulder's hospital gown.
     Mulder glanced down at the saturated fabric and offered her a rueful
smile.  "Well, it's suppose to do a body good, though I don't think this is
exactly what the manufacturer had in mind."
     Covering her mouth to stifle a giggle, Scully stammered, "Mulder, I'm
sorry.  I didn't mean--"     The humorous sight of her partner glaring
indignantly over the spilt milk got to her, and she laughed, only to be
astounded when a green bean bounced off her nose.  "Mulder!" Dana gasped in
outrage.  He grinned like the Cheshire cat, and she drew herself up to her
full height--all five feet and two inches.  *This was war*.
     Snatching a tube of sterile inhalation saline off the nightstand,
Scully let fly and scored a direct hit in her partner's face.  Sputtering,
Mulder pulled his water pitcher off the table and threw the entire
container across Scully's chest.  The shock of the cold water nearly took
her breath away, and she shrieked with laughter, scooping up a handful of
orange jello.  Conveniently ignoring Mulder's pleading look, she smeared it
across his face with a satisfied smirk.  
     The fight escalated--anything became fair game.  Mashed potatoes,
green beans, and jello flew through the air until both agents were covered
from head-to-toe.  They laughed like two children away at summer camp,
until finally the antics were brought to a halt when Mulder started to
cough.  His face screwed up in pain, and he hugged his chest attempting to
alleviate the torture.  The door flew open to admit Mulder's nurse, who had
come to investigate the commotion.
     Hattie Williams had been an RN for almost twenty years, and never had
she seen such a sight as Fox Mulder's room--except perhaps when she'd
worked in the pediatric unit a few years back.  "What is going on in here?"
she barked, hands atop hips, brown eyes glowering with stern disappproval. 
Scully and Mulder traded equally guilty glances before settling into uneasy
silence.  The trim, black woman approached the bed, sucking in a startled
breath when her foot slipped in a glob of mashed potatoes.  "Never in my
life have I seen such a mess!" she declared, running a cursory check on her
patient to reassure herself he hadn't suffered any permanent damage, then
shooting an aggrieved look Dana's way which clearly stated she thought a MD
should know better.  Picking at the goo in Mulder's hair, Hattie rolled her
eyes in disbelief.  "What is this?'
     "Jello," Mulder mumbled, bowing his head and concentrating on
regulating his breathing.
     "Well," Hattie sighed, "you're going to need a bath and I have to
change the bed.  Housekeeping will be just *thrilled* when they get my
call."
     Mulder raised his head, his eyes shifting warily.  "But I already had
one," he protested, studiously avoiding looking in Scully's direction.
     "You should've thought of that before you enlisted, Jello Man," she
retorted smartly, throwing back the sheet.  "This gown is comin' off."
     Scully made her retreat to the bathroom, saying, "I'll just be in the
shower."  She stole one last glance at her partner, wondering about his
sudden attack of shyness.  Here was a man who remained unfazed by *public*
knowledge of his *private* video collection, yet was flustered by the idea
of a sponge bath.  It wasn't as if he'd never been in a hospital before. 
Of course, *her* presence might be influencing his behavior.  Maybe Mulder
was acting out of character because the two of them were sharing such close
quarters.  Dana smiled slyly as she shut the door, indulging in a rare
moment of fantasy: what she wouldn't give to see the look on Mulder's face
if she were to suddenly exchange places with Hattie Williams.  It would be
priceless.

     Scully watched as Mulder finished most of the second lunch tray he'd
gotten, trustingly issued under dire threats of GBH if one scrap ended up
anywhere but in his digestive tract.  "Feel better?" she asked after
scrutinizing his expression.  Though some of the pain had left his face,
shadows still darkened his eyes, and Scully decided it was about time they
shook a few overdue skeletons out of her partner's closet.
     "My stomach does," Mulder admitted, his eyes evasive.
     Dana perched on the edge of the bed, her blue eyes glittering with
determination.  Since they'd decreased the Demerol Mulder had been getting
for pain, his sleep had become progressively more restless, and last night
the nightmares had returned.  She'd woken up to him screaming her name. 
"Mulder, we need to talk."
     He wouldn't look at her, a sure sign he understood her intent but was
avoiding the issue.  Rebuilding walls.  "I know," he conceded after a long
pause.  He sighed, a heavy, dread-filled sound.  No matter how hard he
tried, his subconscious wouldn't let him forget.  His past *always* came
back to haunt him.
     "Do you remember what happened in the warehouse?" Scully asked gently.
     Mulder nodded tightly.  In a low, toneless voice, he told her how he
had woken up in another hospital room with everyone, including her mother,
telling him she was dead.  That the months since November had simply been a
delusion created by his mind to cope with a truth he couldn't live with. 
"I tried not to believe, Scully.  But they...the pain got so bad, I
couldn't stand it anymore."  Misery pinched the corners of his eyes, making
his features drawn and haggard.  "I'm sorry, Dana."
     "Mulder, you don't have to justify yourself to me," she said firmly,
surprised at the betrayl he evidently felt over his actions.  "You're the
victim here."
     "But I gave up on you," he continued in the same mournful tone.
     Scully sighed, wishing, not for the first time, she was the one with
the psych degree.  "Not when it really mattered, you didn't," she reminded
him, remembering the sound of his voice as he'd spoken to her the last
night of her coma.  Somehow, she'd *heard* him, felt his presence, the
strength of his belief in her.  "You're the reason I came back, Mulder. 
I'm alive because of you."
     A smile hesitantly formed on his lips, his eyes warming with the
special glow Dana knew was reserved only for her.  Smiling in return, she
spoke the words she thought might rejuvenate the closeness and trust both
of them valued so highly.  Something to let Mulder know how much she cared,
ease his burden of guilt once and for all.  "I believe in you, Mulder.  I
always have, ever since that first case, when you told me about your
sister.  I've trusted you with my life, without regret, without hesitation.
 If I had to go back and do it all over again, I wouldn't change a thing."
     His attention glued to her face, Mulder was so entranced by the
dialogue and the affection he saw in her eyes, he didn't immediately notice
the heaviness in his chest.  Realizing he'd forgotten to breathe rectified
the problem, but another cropped to take his mind in a different direction.
 Dana's words sounded so *familiar*, as if he'd heard this very same
conversation before.  Word for word, running in instant replay.  Her tone
of voice, facial expression, it all exactly matched a memory he held of
her, but from where?  Trying to recall more detail only brought
frustration, so Mulder switched tracks and concentrated on the dreams he'd
been having.
     Not the nightmares--those were obvious enough--other dreams with vivid
scenery and strange conversations with Scully.  About death, soul travel,
her sister Melissa.  There was more, he was sure of it, something very
important he should remember.  What was it Scully had said...?
     "Mulder, are you okay?"
     He snapped out of his reverie, putting on his best cool exterior and
hoping his face didn't reveal how insecure he felt at the moment.  Probably
wasted energy, as Scully could usually read him like an open book, but
Mulder didn't want her thinking he was even more spooky than his usual
off-the-cuff personality.  *If I tell her this stuff, she'll really believe
I've gone off the deep end*.  "I'm fine," he insisted, silently cursing the
quiver in his voice.  Never had been able to lie worth a damn.  "I, um,
thanks for telling me how you feel.  It means a lot...I mean..."  He
trailed off, totally losing the train of thought.  Confused, and not
knowing why, he said, "You don't have to worry, Scully.  I'll come around
eventually."  The nightmares would continue for awhile, then fade to
occasional terror-filled lapses whenever her life happened to be in danger.
     "Okay, Mulder, I'll make you a deal," Dana contended in a tone that
brooked no argument.  "You stop blaming yourself for my bad luck, and I'll
stop psycho-analyzing you."  He doesn't remember anything about the Bardo,
she was forced to conclude.  But am I relieved or disappointed?
     "You've got yourself a bargain, Dana Scully."  Mulder gave her one of
his silly, full of mischief smiles.  "I will try not assign blame where it
isn't deserved."
     She knew otherwise, but played along in the spirit of the game. 
Folding her arms, she smirked teasingly, "'Try' won't get you the price of
ribs in Kansas City."
     Mulder leaned back on his pillow, wishing he could scratch the healing
gash on his knee, which had chosen to itch madly at this very instant. 
Scully's eyes held his, and Mulder found his mind wandering to a
distraction far more pleasant.  "I promise," he amended with deadpan
delivery, his imagination doing amazing things with the snug fitting
t-shirt and striped vest she was wearing.  She didn't reply, merely stared
with expectant tolerence.  "I *promise*," Mulder repeated with greater
feeling, "cross my heart and hope to--"
     He suddenly froze, the words echoing in his head, the thought
completing itself without conscious imput and ending in a voice not his
own.  A very *familiar* voice.  Mulder felt his face grow hot, and
stammered, "Scully, you didn't..."  He tried to see past the dancing blue
eyes.  "...did you?"
     "What's the matter, Mulder?  Cat got your tongue?"
     Slowly nodding, Mulder couldn't get one smart remark past his lips,
Scully's voice ringing in his head with perfect, unmistakable clarity. 
Drawing him to fire that was her soul.
     Dana grinned and stuck out the anatomical part in question.  "Luckily,
it doesn't have mine."

The End...or is it?

"Tie two birds together and they *can* fly, if they become One.
                                             --David Carradine, "Spirit of
Shaolin"

Author's note:  a few of the other quotes I use for Kwai Chang Caine can be
found in this book.  Very good reading, if you like Eastern philosophy.