Keeper of the Rock 8/8 By Riptide ------- * * * ------- Part 8 They made their way back slowly. Scully tried to keep Mulder moving. She knew his wet clothes were stiffening in the cool air, and that he was beginning to really feel the bumps and bruises. It amazed her that he was moving at all. Once inside, Scully set the heater on HIGH. She dragged a cot out into the kitchen and put it in front of the heater. Retrieving a shivering Mulder from the doorway, she sat him on the cot and began to strip off his wet clothes. Mulder brought his hands up to try to help her with his shirt. He worked on the first button, both hands shaking, the left one scraped raw and bleeding. Scully sat back, frustrated with his progress. She knew that he would give up soon, but she let him try anyway. He was probably feeling helpless and wanted to do something. After two more fumbled attempts, she could stand it no longer and pushed his hands out of the way. She needed to get him warm, but she also needed to take care of his other injuries. He didn't object when a couple of buttons went flying. Once shirt and t-shirt had been removed, she opened up the sleeping bag that was on the cot and wrapped it around his shoulders. Pushing him gently on the chest to get him to lie down, she went to work on the jeans. It seemed to take forever. Cold, wet jeans were a bitch to remove. Mulder did not say a word to her the entire time. This was both a relief and some cause for worry. She had expected some kind of comment from him. When he remained silent she began to wonder if he had hit his head and had a concussion. She shouldn't have worried. "Scully, I know you've been waiting for years to get me naked and helpless. I do feel like I should warn you about..." "Mulder, say another word and I will slap you silly." Inside, Scully was smiling. He was going to be fine. "Mulder, I have to clean those cuts before I can bandage them. I'll need some warm water. I think I'll change my clothes while the water is heating. Other than the cuts and bruises, you don't seem to be too seriously injured. How do you feel?" "Sore. I wrenched the left shoulder. My hand hurts like hell, but I'll live." "It's a good thing it's not January, Mulder. I don't think you would have lasted much longer if it was. Are you feeling any numbness anywhere?" "Not anymore. My fingers and toes are letting me know they are alive and well. It hurts to move them, but I think everything's fine. Go change your clothes, Scully." When Scully returned, Mulder was curled up on his side, covered head to toe by the sleeping bag. He sat up when she came over, then held out his hand for her to inspect. Putting the first aid kit on the floor, she looked at his hand. It had some nasty scrapes, but other than that, it looked fine. She rotated his shoulder, and he winced. She was surprised he hadn't dislocated it. He would probably still need a sling. After pouring water into a small basin, Scully went to get a couple of towels. She saw him shiver a couple of times, but his coloring was better, so she stopped worrying about his body temperature. Scully cleaned the cuts on his hand and wrapped it in gauze. "Lie down on your stomach, Mulder. I want to check your back." He did so obediently, and she pulled the sleeping bag back to get a better look. It wasn't too bad. She worked on getting the cuts cleaned and applying bandages where they were needed. She kept the sleeping bag on the areas that weren't being worked on to keep him warm. He hissed in pain a few times, but remained quiet for the entire ordeal. Saving his face for last, she applied bandages on a couple of nasty cuts, one on his cheek, the other on his chin. "Well, that's it. Good thing, too, Mulder. I was running out of bandages. Mulder? Mulder, are you okay?" "What? Oh... yeah, Scully. I was just thinking." "About what you saw?" "YOU saw it, too, Scully. Yes, I was thinking about what it meant. I mean, how would you describe it, Scully? Would you call what we saw a miracle? Two souls finally finding each other after a hundred years. I think the man in the boat was her father. He would have been the only one that could have convinced her that it was okay to leave this place. I wonder...if it will take me that long to find Samantha." Scully cupped his cheek in her hand. She didn't like talking about Samantha with Mulder. She wanted to be supportive, but it was hard for her to get past the anger she felt. How much more pain and suffering was he going to put himself through before accepting the fact that she might never be found. Mulder was never going to allow himself any kind of life until his sister was a part of it again. Or at least until he knew for sure that she would never be. "What we saw this morning; I can't help but wonder if I was seeing my future. If I don't find Samantha in my lifetime, will my soul keep searching? I don't know if I find that a comforting thought, or if it chills me to the bone." "Mulder, why not see it the way I did? What I saw was evidence that nothing can keep you from your loved ones forever, not even death." "I don't want it to come to that, Scully." "I know you don't, Mulder." Looking into his eyes, she expected to see pain and loss reflected there. Instead, they were shining bright, and he was smiling softly at her. "Sometimes I worry that my search for my sister will cause me to lose sight of what I have right in front of me. You amaze me, Scully. Your strength. Your friendship. I just want you to know that I appreciate it." Mulder reached over and grasped Scully's hand. Bowing his head, he held her hand to his stubbled cheek. His skin was still cold against her warm fingers. Scully put her other hand on his head and rumpled his hair that was stiff with salt. It stood up in spikes, refusing to give in to her attempts to smooth it down. "I am here for you, as you are for me, Mulder." He seemed surprised by her words, then grinned. "Now that, Scully, is what *I* call a miracle." ------- * * * ------- Epilogue *** Two Days Later Apartment 42 3:41am //He walked down the path, white sneakers stepping through the tall grass. Coming to the opening where the path ended and the cliff lay before him, he could hear the surf, pounding on the rocks below. She was there, sitting on the grass, feet dangling over the edge. Her pigtails swung back and forth as she sang a song to herself. ''Samantha, how long have you been here?'' ''A while. I've been waiting for you, Fox. Did you find it?'' ''Find what?'' ''What you were looking for. You said you'd find what you were looking for at the lighthouse. Did you?'' ''No, I didn't, Samantha. I wasn't ready. I think I will be soon. Come on, Samantha. It's time to go home.'' She held her hand out to him, and he grabbed it, pulling her up from where she was sitting. They walked away from the cliff and the sea, holding hands and singing some song he hated, but she loved, so he sang it anyway, just happy to hear her voice. THE END *** Thanks for reading. Feedback much appreciated at: riptide_isle@yahoo.com Author's Notes: The character of Sarah Tolman was based on the real life Maine heroine Abbie Burgess. Her story had a happy ending. If you would like to see what Matinicus Rock Lighthouse looks like go here: http://www.capecod.net/~gbenoit/me/w/matinicuspage.htm If you would like to see what Matinicus Island looks like go here: http://www.midcoast.com/~howen/ I would like to thank the following people for their help with this story: Lenore Howard- You are awesome. You kept me on track with the characterization and canon. Your kind words helped me to keep going, and you came to my rescue when I was in a jam. I appreciate all the help you gave me. Medusa- Thanks for being the first person to look this over for me. Thanks for the advice, and for pointing out a couple of those mistakes concerning the plane. I hope I fixed that. Sarah- I'm so glad I had you check it over. I was only completely happy with it once you gave me a couple of helpful suggestions and told me I could safely do more trimming. I appreciate your taking the time to help me out. Abigail- Thanks for helping me with the grammar and for getting me to think about how the characters would react in certain situations. The scene depicting what it is like landing on an island on a windy day was not exaggerated. It is actually scarier than how I wrote it.