Fugues of the Mind part 1/4: Introduction

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Author: Max
Rating: PG-13 (Sorta violent...)
Category: A, S, UST, MT
Spoliers: FTF
Archive: Anywhere
Disclaimer: They ain't mine. Never will be. Nuff said.
Summary: Scully is left pondering a major decision after a bad car accident
lands her partner in traction.

Author's Note: This is part one of a series that's going to have four parts
to it. (Like a good musical composition). Thanks to Jack Scott for the moral
support and for picking the mushrooms off my pizza. Thanks to Jeanette
Cowherd for teaching me everything I need to know about music.

When I get feedback I roll it up and smoke it. I get one heck of a high. I
love it, please pass some along! It's music to the writer's soul.

I hate regretting things. I really do. I have always made a decent attempt to
be content with all of my decisions and choices, no matter what the
consequences are. And normally, I succeed in this endeavor. But with Mulder,
nothing is normal.

I had no idea a single career move would have such a gargantuan effect on my
partner. Well, scratch that. Of course I knew. I'm no moron. I saw the hurt
in his eyes the first time I tried to back out of the FBI, on that strange
night in his hallway one year ago. So dropping this bombshell was even
worse.

He was supportive, at least. Even though I could see chunks of his world
falling down around him, he remained emotionally sound and practiced looking
dour.

"Mulder," I said as he packed up his things, "those who keep a stiff upper
lip find that it's damn hard to smile." He grinned. At least I got something
out of him.

"So Scully," he said as he zipped up his briefcase, "got big plans for the
evening?"

"As a matter of fact, I'm going to a clinic for a job interview." He looked
shaken.

"Good luck with that. When do you leave? I mean, when is your resignation
effective?" he said meekly.

"Next Monday." He nodded, and I swore I saw a tear slide out of his eye and
roll unnoticed down his cheek. Might have been the light. He nodded to me
and turned to leave, but at the office door he stopped.

"I'd be happy to drive you. It's on the way home." I was puzzled but I
played
along. Big mistake, Dana. Big mistake.

It was starting to rain when we left. Traffic in DC is a bitch most of the
year, and it gets worse when the weather turns nasty. Mulder was noticeably
distraught over something, as he had barely uttered a word since we left the
office. He swore a couple times as he tried to change lanes, but other than
that he drove in still silence. I broke it.

"Scully, I'm happy for you. Really, I am. You're wasting your opportunities
with me. They've got you running shit detail and you're too smart for that.
I just want you to succeed. That's all. And this is the best possible thing
for you right now. I'm sorry if I'm acting like a scorned Romeo, but this is
hard on me." I was a bit stunned at that point, but I managed to follow his
statement with one of my own.

"I know it's hard on you, but I know you can handle it. You're a strong man
and you are just as intelligent as everyone says you are, if not more. I want
you to make the most of your time without me. Be a profiler. Do what you do
best." He nodded sadly and smiled, tears shining in the corners of his eyes.
We had both enjoyed that catharsis.

I wish I could have said more, but that was where fate stepped in. Mulder
gently eased the car into an intersection, minding the fact that it was
slick. We were halfway through it when a charter bus bearing the words
"Please Drive Safely! Special People on Board!" plowed into the driver's
side.

I didn't even get scratched. I had a killer headache, but that's because my
airbag fired. Mulder's didn't.

I'm not really sure when I passed out. Maybe it was when I heard people
screaming, or maybe it was when I realized I was chest deep in blood and
none of it was mine.

I was conscious when the ambulance got there. I was clinging to my partner
for dear life, trying to will him to keep breathing. And he was doing a
pretty good job.

It's funny, during that whole eternity following the wreck I never looked at
his face. I didn't want to see what had happened to him. I knew he was alive
because I could hear the blood gurgling around his mouth and nose as he
exhaled. And when the paramedics arrived the pulled me out of the car and
set to work on my partner. As they put him on a stretcher I heard one of the
EMTs say, "This guy's just a mass of skin. How's he still alive?" Good question.

They patched me up pretty quick. The worst I'd encountered was the shock of
being involved in an accident and a pretty nasty headache.

The next 12 hours were just a blur. I really don't recall what I was doing or
what I said when Skinner got there. I do know that it took five surgeons most
of those twelve hours to put my partner back together again. All the king's
men, indeed.

The pain and terror finally set in when one of the doctors made his way out
of the OR. He was almost as bloody as I was.

"Agent Scully," he said firmly, "we have your partner on a respirator at this
time. I'm afraid he's comatose, and the outlook isn't good." I thanked him
and he left to carry out his trauma surgeon duties. The guilt hit me at a
precarious angle right at that moment. Damn it, whenever I even consider
leaving the Bureau, one of us gets hurt. I shouldn't have let him drive me. I
shouldn't have told him I had an appointment. Fuck me for living. Fuck me
for sympathizing with that man.

This isn't going to work, I thought. Be strong. Go in and see him and, support
him. He's going to need you. You got him into this, and you alone can get
him out.