Mountains out of Molehills By Mary Kleinsmith (Buc252@aol.com) Rating: PG Category/keywords: Post-ep, UST, lite MT, MA Spoilers: Clyde Bruckman's Final Repose Archive: Anywhere, just keep my name attached. Written for After-the-Fact's Clyde Bruckman episode challenge Summary: Sometimes a little acorn can turn into the biggest oak tree. Mulder has to surmount his own. Disclaimer: We all know the characters you recognize aren't mine. The others are, but regardless, I'm not making money on any of them. Author's Notes: I've read all the ep fanfics I can get my hands on, and despite the great group of MT authors out there, was surprised to see that nobody ever dealt in fiction with the rather nasty cut on Mulder's hand. Here's my take on it. Enjoy! Feedback: Please? It would make my day! Mountains out of Molehills By Mary Kleinsmith (Buc252@aol.com) "C'mon, Mulder. I'm just going to drop the dog off at home, and then I'm taking you to the hospital." "I don't need to go to the emergency room, Scully," Mulder heard himself beg. He hoped she wouldn't notice. The last thing he needed after the drain of this case was to be carted off to a hospital, where he'd be treated like a piece of meat instead of a human being. "Whining will not get you out of it." It didn't work. "I stopped the bleeding and wrapped that hand, but it needs to be seen by a professional." "You are a professional, and it's just a simple cut." "Did you see that simple cut? Mulder, the bone was showing! Besides, we have to have it cleaned out properly. We have no idea what could have been on that knife before the perpetrator picked it up." Climbing into the car, Mulder looked at her in shock as she plopped the small dog in his lap. "What am I supposed to do with this?" "Hold him, of course!" "Can't we put him in the back seat?" "Are you joking? A dog that small would be at risk of serious injury should I have to hit the brakes if I just put him back there. And since it's too late to get him a doggy seatbelt, you'll have to hold him. It's not that far, so just hush up!" Being spoken to like a child had its effects, and one of them was to shut him up rather quickly. Truth be told, the dog really was quite cute, and sat obediently, even while he put on his seat belt. He ignored the fire in his hand as he manipulated the gadget. "So you're really going to keep him, huh?" Mulder asked, petting the dog's soft fur. "Have you picked a name yet?" "Well, it's not like I've had a lot of time to think about it. Maybe something from Moby Dick." She stole a quick glance at his face while she drove - or maybe she was just checking on the dog. "It only seems appropriate." "Not much of a guard dog . . ." Mulder pondered, pulling on his lower lip with the hand that wasn't holding onto the canine despite his injury. "No, but I have a gun," she smiled, and he was shocked when she winked at him. "True. So, do you intend to shoot at anything he barks at in the middle of the night?" "Why do you ask? You planning on making some late night visits?" She was enjoying this game, he could tell. Time to see how far he could push her. "Well, after all, I have no intention of dying from autoerotic asphyxiation, no matter what Bruckman predicted." His voice grew low, and seductive. "What do you say, Agent Scully? Think there's room in your bed for me the dog?" Her answer, delivered cool and collected, made him choke. "Mulder, if I ever have you in my bed, the dog's gonna have to sleep in his bed." He was accustomed to throwing out the comments, but, to be honest, he wasn't sure why he did it. Wishful thinking, maybe? He knew he loved her. Completely, and intensely, but he didn't know if she felt the same. Some day, he hoped she'd take the innuendoes seriously and see that he wanted something more than a friendship and a partnership. "Hey, where'd you go?" she asked when he didn't respond to her comment. "Sorry, Scully. Just admiring the mental picture you painted." She didn't seem to know how to react to that, so they drove in silence. It was mere minutes before she pulled up in front of her apartment building. Reaching into the car, she took the dog from him. "I'll be right back out. And dammit, Mulder, you'd better here when I do. No ditching!" "You're the boss," he said contritely. He was good on his word, and sat obediently until she returned not five minutes later. Probably not giving him the chance to run off, he thought. "You ready?" she asked, climbing behind the steering wheel. "I guess. I really wish you'd just take me home." "Look, Mulder," she said, all seriousness. "I know you're tired, and that it's been a long case. And now you're hurt, to boot. But I know what I'm talking about when I say that your hand needs to be examined and treated. Please don't fight me on this." When she was that sincere and serious, how could he resist? "Okay, I'll stop complaining. To the hospital, Driver." As they arrived at the Emergency Room, the staff knew them on sight, and he was expeditiously pushed into a treatment cubicle before he could cause any problems in the waiting room. "So what's wrong with him this time, Dr. Scully?" the familiar, dark-haired nurse asked, her pen poised over her clipboard. "He's got a deep laceration on his hand, Angelina, done by a knife of unknown origin. It could have been dirty, and the bone was showing, so I figured I'd better drag him in here." "Always a wise idea," came from the doctor just walking in at the time. "Angelina, please get me a suture tray and call neurology for a consult." "Neurology? Oh, come on, Doc. It's just a cut," Mulder argues. "Agent Mulder, I want to try a little test. Would you please close your eyes?" Mulder did so. "Okay, it's dark. Now what?" "I'm going to touch your hand in different places, and I want you to tell me when and where you feel it. Ready?" "Sure, let's try it." Relieved that the patient seemed to be cooperating, the doctor took his click-pen, retracted the point, and moved it around Mulder's hand. "Index finger, tip." It moved. "Palm, center." Moved again. "Ring finger, first knuckle." Moved again. Silence. Moved once again. More silence. "C'mon, Doc. Let's get on with the test." One last move. "Between my thumb and forefinger." The doctor sighed. He was definitely going to need Neurology. "Okay, you can open your eyes now." "What's going on?" Mulder asked, and before he could explain, Scully stepped to his side. The doctor figured that she was silently communicating that she should be the one to talk to her partner, asking that he excuse himself. "If you'll pardon me, I need to check up on that neurologist." Scully watched him go before turning back to her partner. "Mulder, it appears that there was some nerve damage when your hand was cut. Twice just now, you failed to have any sensation in areas of the fourth finger on your right hand." "Nerve damage?" "It could be nothing - it may heal, or a neurologist may be able to fix it. But we'll have to see one to know for sure." "Well," Mulder smiled, but she could tell it was forced. "How important is a pinky finger anyway. So what if it doesn't get better?" "Mulder," she said seriously. "You don't realize just how much you that finger. It provides guidance and counterbalance when holding your weapon, and allows you to aim." "Are you saying that I might not be able to pass the Bureau requirements if we can't fix this?" He didn't look exactly fearful, but definitely concerned. "It's possible. I can't say more right now." Her words didn't seem to calm him. "Let's not buy trouble, though, okay? Right now, you're just worrying needlessly." "I'd hardly call it needless, Scully," he responded, not realizing he was giving her his puppy eyes. She pictured her new roommate, and thought, good God, now I'll have two of them giving me those eyes. XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX Doctors and nurses came and went, the neurologist came and examined Mulder's hand extensively, but nobody seemed willing to tell them anything. "What the hell is going on here, Scully?" Mulder asked, frustrated. "They'll come talk to us when they have something to say. Just be patient." "At this rate, I could go home and they could phone in their prognosis," he groused. "You're better off right where you are, Agent Mulder," came the voice before they saw the neurologist come around the corner. Mulder looked chagrined, but Scully ran interference for him. "I'm sorry, Doctor. He's never been very good at waiting." "Especially where my career is concerned," Mulder added. "So what's going on?" "I've gotten all the results back, and I'll be honest, the news isn't completely good. There are definitely some nerves in your hand that have been severed, most specifically those that control the function and feeling in your fifth finger on that hand, colloquially referred to as the pinky finger. Now normally, that finger doesn't serve a lot of purpose, and if you drove a backhoe or delivered mail for a living, I'd recommend leaving it as it is. But with a typist, or somebody who needed to control a weapon for living - like an FBI agent - the situation is more problematic. You need to have control of that finger to do your job." "Is it possible it could come back on its own?" Mulder asked seriously. "If we sew up the wound and release you, yes, it could heal on its own, and you could get almost 100% of the functionality back in that hand. However, the odds of that are very, very slim. Picture taking two paintbrushes, putting them brush tip to brush tip, and seeing if the ends of each bristle met another bristle. And not just another one, but the right one. Otherwise, the signals your brain sends to that hand could be misinterpreted by the muscles and, for instance, instead of bending, it might straighten. The only way to be certain that hand is fully functional is to undergo surgery to reattach the nerves." "That surgery is extensive and painstaking, isn't it?" Scully asked, although she really knew the answer. "I mean, it would take several hours, right?" "Most certainly, Dr. Scully. But, in this case, I'd recommend it." "Can't we let it heal by itself?" Mulder questioned. "Then, if it didn't work, I'd come in and you could do the surgery." "I'm afraid it doesn't work that way, Agent Mulder," the doctor said. "If you were to leave it alone, the nerve endings would degenerate. A few weeks down the line, a surgical repair would be almost impossible." "You wouldn't do it?" "Oh, we would. But it would likely fail." Scully turned to her partner as if the doctor wasn't even there. "You've got to do it now, Mulder. Please?" "Scully, you know how I feel about surgeries," he responded with a wince. "I know. But I don't want to lose our partnership. We've been through too much to have it taken from us over something as stupid as this. A psychic, psychotic bellboy with a kitchen knife." Mulder thought silently for awhile, and she knew well enough to let him stew on his decision. She'd said what she could - the rest was up to him. Finally, he let loose a heavy sigh. "Well . . . you'll have to bring me some things from home," he grinned slightly, but not happily. "I'd be happy to," Scully agreed, and her grin one of happiness. XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX The surgery went on for hours. Being that it wasn't major surgery, she sat alone, with none of the support from others she got when he was more seriously injured or his life was threatened. So she sat and read a magazine. And then another. Three hours later, she got hungry and went down to the cafeteria, leaving clear instructions that they were to contact her down there if Mulder's surgery concluded while she was gone. Her appetite fully appeased, she stopped at the gift shop and bought a couple of paperbacks, a magazine or two, and some gum to get rid of that "just eaten" taste in her mouth. Returning to the waiting room, she realized she'd only killed another hour. Should you say "killed" in a hospital? Being the only one in the surgical waiting room, she turned on the television and flipped through the available channels, finally leaving it on the Discovery channel. They were showing a documentary on ancient Egypt, and it had always fascinated her. Apparently, it wasn't as fascinating as she originally thought, she realized some time later when she awoke from an unwanted sleep to a tired-looking man in green smiling down on her. "Now, it's up to him." XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX Despite everything, it was hard to keep reminding herself that it up to her partner. He kept looking at her with those eyes she could get lost in, beseeching her to put an end to the torture. She couldn't help him, though. Time alone would tell just how well his hand would heal - if he'd ever hold his weapon again. If he'd ever work in the field again. Time, and hard work on his part. That work was scheduled to begin right away. Physical therapy, they called it, but she'd experienced and witnessed it enough to know that it would be hard, and exhausting, and painful . . . even for something as minor as a hand injury. It was such a simple-sounding term for something so full of meaning and intent. "What the hell is taking them so long?" Mulder said in a surly tone. She couldn't blame him; sitting still was difficult for him under the best of circumstances. He'd been in the hospital for a week after his surgery, and then he'd been released to finish healing at home. With Mulder lacking the use of one hand entirely, yet realizing the importance to his sanity of being home, she'd practically moved in, lock, stock, and barrel. She smiled as she thought of it. . . . He'd hated it, but she'd realized it had nothing to do with her. It made for close quarters, which she also realized she didn't mind. It took her by surprise that being in such close proximity to Mulder 24/7 would awaken in her what it had. She knew that, however the therapy ended, they would remain a large part of each other's lives, if only Mulder allowed it. "I'm sure they're doing their best," she responded to his original question from the seat beside him in the waiting room. The rehab center was not busy, with only two other people in the waiting room. Across the room, a mother sat quietly in a chair identical to their own while a tiny girl played with a coloring book and crayons at her feet. Barely visible under her full skirt were the child's spindly legs . . . and the braces that encased them. Scully found herself drawn to the child. "What's that you're coloring?" she asked her, smiling. The girl looked up hesitantly. "My mommy says never to talk to strangers." "Your mommy is very right. But I'd like to be your friend if that's okay. My name is Dana." She put out her hand formally, and the girl shook it with her own small one. "I'm Kristen, and this is my mommy," she said, motioning to the blushing woman in the chair. "Dana Scully, Mrs . . ." "MacDougal. Sarah," she added. "Who is that?" Kristen spoke up, pointing innocently at Mulder. "He's my . . . ." How to explain to a six-year-old what Mulder was to her was just about impossible. She settled for the closest she could come at the moment. "This is my friend Mulder, Kristen." The girl giggled and blushed. "What's so funny?" Mulder asked, but his voice was warm and teasing. "You have a funny name," she responded bravely as Mulder rose and came to them. "And you have a funny face," he said, bouncing his fingertip on her nose just once. "Do you like to color?" "Uh huh," she nodded. "Wanna color with me?" "No thank you, but I'd like to watch if you don't mind." "You can watch. My daddy says that's what he does for his job. He's a stupidvisor." Scully muffled her chuckle behind a hand as the girl's mother grinned openly, but Mulder managed to maintain his serious face. "That's a very important job," he commented instead. She nodded again. "Don't you have to go to work? Mommy always brings me here because Mommies like her work at home. Your friend brought you here; doesn't your mommy work at home, too?" Mulder smiled at the warmth and innocence. "My mommy lives very far away." "So Dana brings you instead?" "She will. This is my first time here." "'cause of the owie on your hand?" Mulder nodded. "Mr. Hanlon and Miss Dean will make it all better. I'm gonna be able to walk soon!" She motioned excitedly to her metal-bracketed leg and then to the item propped against the wall, unnoticed. "I won't even need my crutches!" "That sure will be fun." "Uh huh. Will you push me on the swings? There's swings out back of the therapy room, and I watch the kids on 'em while I practice walking. That's the first thing I wanna do." "Then it's a date. As soon as your Mommy says it's okay, I'll push you on the swings." Suddenly, a dark shadow fell across the girl's face, her eyes growing sad. "What's the matter, sweetheart?" her mother asked. "What if you stop coming before I can be pushed? Lots of people used to come and don't anymore. They don't have to. I miss them." Her eyes grew wet. "I'll tell you what," Scully said, sitting down on the floor beside Mulder and Kristen. She reached into her pocket and withdrew a small rectangle of white. "You take this, and keep it in a safe place. Mulder's phone number and mine are both on it, and when you're ready, we'll come, even if we don't have to." Suddenly, the tears were forgotten. "Really?" "Yes, really," Mulder said with a gentle smile that Scully saw on him so very rarely. "That's neat!" Kristen exclaimed, then seemed to think again. "But maybe you should give it to my Mommy. It'll be safe there." She handed the card back to Scully, who passed it over to Sarah MacDougal. "Thank you," she said. "For being so kind." "She's a wonderful child," Scully said, dismissing the chatter that Kristen and Mulder had begun in regard to the legitimacy of coloring a kangaroo purple. "Yes, she is," her mother said proudly, taking the business card from Scully's hand. The emblem caught her eye. "You work at the FBI?" "We're Special Agents." "Wow," she remarked. "I've lived here all my life, and this is the first time I've ever actually met anybody who was with the FBI. I was beginning to think it was a fictional organization just to use up tax dollars." She grinned, showing she was kidding. "Nope, it's only too real." Scully's eyes strayed to her partner, trying to sit and play without hurting his hand. "Did he do that in the line of duty?" Sarah asked, drawing her attention after a moment. She interrupted a moment later. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." "No, it's okay. Yes, he did it on duty. He was . . ." Scully swallowed. Talking about it shouldn't be this hard, especially after the fact. "He was attacked with a knife by a serial killer we were chasing." "Oh, dear! He's fortunate his hand is all that was hurt." "It could have been much worse, that's true," Scully said. She wanted to tell the woman. Talk about her fears. Of her feelings of facing the possibility of not having Mulder for a partner anymore. But before she could get the words out, a feminine voice was calling from behind them. "Fox Mulder?" "Here!" Mulder said, rising from the floor with the utmost of care. Once on his feet, he looked down at the small girl. "Thank you, Kristen." "Why?" she asked innocently. "Because until you started talking to me, I was afraid. And now I'm not afraid anymore." "You were scared?" she asked, astonishment showing on her face. "Sure. Big people get scared too, y'know." He winked at her and she giggled. "I have to go now, but I'll see you again soon, okay?" Kristen nodded and turned back to her crayons. "Bye!" XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX "She was something else, wasn't she, Mulder?" Scully asked as they sat in a small room, waiting to be introduced to Mulder's therapist. "The kid? She was okay, I guess." "Don't you give me that, Fox Mulder. The only person more enthralled with the person they were talking to in there was Kristen. You made quite the impression, I think." "What can I say? Like minds, y'know?" "Oh, please!" Scully huffed, but she was smiling. "Can't you just admit how much you like kids?" "Nope." "Why?" "I'm not admitting that to anybody but the woman I finally have 'em with." He grinned, the devilish charm he so rarely displayed evident. That was irresistible, and Scully laughed. "Okay, okay. But not saying it doesn't make it any less true. Or less obvious." Just then, the door opened, the person who entered not bothering to knock. "Good afternoon, Agent Mulder. I'm James Book, I'll be your physical therapist." "Nice to meet you," Mulder said with a nod. "This is my partner, Dana Scully." "Hi," Book said simply. "Nice to meet you, too," Scully said. "I hope you don't mind, I'd really like to stay for the session." "Not at all, Miss Scully. Family members and 'significant others' are always welcome. As a matter of fact, we've found that patients make faster and better progress when there somebody they love nearby." Scully made a little coughing sound when Mulder didn't speak up right away. "She's my partner at the Bureau, and a medical doctor to boot," he confessed, and she'd have sworn his face looked a little sad. "Oh, now that's a double-edged sword, isn't it? Well, even medical-doctor FBI Agents are welcome to stay as long as they behave." Book winked at her, but there was no seduction behind it. "So where do we begin, Mr. Book?" Mulder asked. "Jim, please. And this first day, we're just going to try some basic movements, and I'll give you a few you can do at home. Then we'll set up a schedule for you to come back on a regular basis." "Do you think this is going to work?" "You mean, will you be able to go back to being a field agent? I can't make any promises, but we're going to do everything in our power." "And until then, I'm stuck at home?" Mulder sounded like it was more a certainty than a question. "Why ever would you think that, Agent Mulder? You can work just fine, as long as you do it from behind a desk." "That's almost as bad," Mulder said under his breath, but both Scully and Book were able to hear him clearly enough. "Would you rather warm your office chair, or warm your sofa? Make up your mind," Book said, and it was clear that he was set to take no flack from this most stubborn of patients. "Okay, okay. I think I'm going to need it in writing before they'll let me back, even for desk duty." His words were solemn, but there was a sparkle in his eyes. Even reading X-Files was better than having nothing to do with them at all. "That's not a problem - I'll give it to you before you leave today. Now, let's get down to the nitty gritty." The session went well, with Jim Book's experience obvious as he talked Mulder through the times when he felt the pain. Scully beamed with pride over his performance as they left the session, Mulder's note for Skinner and their appointment schedule tucked securely in her pocket. She'd made it her mission to make sure he made it to each and every one of those appointments, even if she had to handcuff him to do it. As they got into the car, Mulder sighed deeply, sinking into the passenger seat. "It's just one hand. Why the hell am I so exhausted?" "Healing takes a lot of effort, Mulder. Even just healing one part of your body. You just need to be patient." "I can do patient," he said, and Scully burst out in a single guffaw. "Okay, I can't do it , but I can do it." "Well, since it's too late to go into the office, how about we go over to my place and I'll cook you dinner." "Scully, I don't need a nurse." "I'm not being a nurse," she said. "I'm being a friend." He nodded acceptance of her invitation and spent the time on the road doing his Beginner range-of-motion exercises. She could tell that he wasn't happy with the lack of movement in his fingers. "Hang in there, Mulder. It's going to be okay." XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX It seemed like he'd gone through half the unread X-Files over the next two weeks, spent at the office rather than in the field where he wanted to be. He'd even offered to type up their last few expense reports, just for a break, but was surprised to learn that Scully had already done them. That left him nothing else to do but to read. And read some more. Having the telephone ring on the afternoon of the third Monday was like the sun shining through the clouds. He never realized just how boring reading files about which you can't do anything was. "Mulder." He hadn't lost it, he thought. "Oh, Agent Mulder. I'm sorry to bother you at work, but I'm just so worried. I wasn't sure what to do, and you were so nice, and I just thought that you could help . . ." "Wait, wait, wait," Mulder said to the obviously distraught woman. Her voice was familiar, but he couldn't place it. "First of all, who is this?" "Oh, I'm so sorry," the woman said. "This is Sarah MacDougal, from the therapist's office?" "Of course, Sarah. What can I do for you." There was a hitch in her breathing before she spoke. "It's Kristen. She's . . . she's missing." "Missing?" he repeated, concerned. His tone brought Scully to his side immediately. "Who's missing?" she whispered. Mulder covered the mouthpiece of the phone. "Kristen MacDougal. It's her mom." "Oh, my God," Scully sighed as he turned his attention back to the phone. "Now just tell me exactly what happened, Sarah." "Kristen was in the back yard, practicing walking. It's more of a challenge because of the uneven terrain, but she was determined to make two circuits of the yard before time for supper. I went inside for five minutes to put the roast in the oven, and when I came back out, she was gone. I looked all over, checked the neighbors yards, but nothing. There's no place she could have gone. Willingly, anyway." "Are there any signs that somebody was in the yard?" "Not that I know, but I'm not the expert. I was hoping that you and your partner could. . ." "We'll be right over," Mulder said, making writing motions with his awkward hand. Scully understood, and immediately picked up a pad and pencil. As Sarah gave him the address, he repeated it aloud and Scully jotted it down. "Okay, just hold tight," he said into the phone again. "Bye." Jumping up, he reached for his jacket. "Mulder, what do you think you're doing?" "Somebody took Kristen, Scully. We've got to get over there." "I agree, somebody from the Bureau needs to go check it out. A kidnapping can happen so quickly, and the sooner it's investigated, the better. But aren't going anywhere, Mulder." "Did you miss what I said, Scully?" he asked incredulously. "That little girl's life is in danger. And dammit, I won't let it happen." "Again." "What?" "Again. You won't let somebody take another little girl . Even when you don't say it, you say it." "This has got nothing to do with my sister," he said, slightly angry. "Okay, maybe that was out of line. But Mulder, you're not going to do her any good going after whoever took her as . . ." she stopped, unwilling to go on. "As only half an agent?" he asked, finishing her thought. "As somebody not fully physically capable of doing his job?" "You know exactly what I meant, Mulder. You need to stay here and somebody from Violent Crimes has to go and investigate this case." "But, Scully . . ." "Even if you were fully healed, I'd still fight you on this. Mulder, you're too close." "What the hell does that mean? I talked to her for ten minutes in a waiting room." "Mulder, I've come to realize that with you, that's all it takes." He still looked angry, and she knew she couldn't fight his anger with her own. Instead, she spoke more softly. "You're the most amazing judge of character I've ever seen. With very few exceptions, you have the ability to deem somebody able to be trusted and to get close to them almost instantly, and you're right on the money nearly every time. But that makes you vulnerable because you feel for them, Mulder." Mulder knew that she was right. "Just 'nearly,' Scully?" he chuckled. "Well," she smiled. "Maybe you're not so good with Scotland Yard investigators." "Now is an understatement. But, Scully . . ." "Look, how about this. . ." She was about to make a suggestion, and he tried to focus on that rather than what could be happening to an innocent six-year-old at that very moment. "What?" "I'm going to call Szczesny in Violent Crimes and arrange a team. While he's assembling his force, we'll go over to Sarah's. Be there for her, and run interference so the other agents don't frighten her so much. Okay?" "She did sound afraid. . ." Mulder agreed. "That's the only way I'm letting you go over there, Mulder," she said, although they both knew that there was no way she could stop him if he wanted to go anyway. But he couldn't argue her wisdom. "Okay, so what are you waiting for? Make the call, time's a-wasting." While she did so, he kept repeating to himself that aliens had nothing to do with this. By the time she hung up the phone, he almost had himself convinced. XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX Despite their best intentions, by the time they made it to the scene, the small, suburban house was crawling with people who were very obviously FBI Agents. In the midst of it all, Sarah MacDougal sat in the center of her front porch swing, appearing to make herself as tiny as possible amid the maelstrom. "Damn," Mulder muttered as he took in her predicament before the car had even pulled to a stop. "They had to come right away," Scully reminded him. "In a case like this, time is of the essence." "I know. It's just . . . I remember how hard it is on those . . ." "Left behind?" Mulder nodded silently. "She doesn't need this." "Szczesny is a good man." "Yes, but a good man with a job to do. A child to save. The feelings of the family have to come second, by necessity." By this time, they'd reached the steps and began to climb. Sarah's face was buried in her hands, her breathing unsteady, but she didn't seem to realize they were there. "Sarah . . ." Scully whispered softly. She raised red-rimmed eyes in a tear-stained face to take in the two before her. "Agent Mulder! Agent Scully!" she said with as big a smile as she could probably manage under the circumstances and hugged them each in turn. They joined her on the swing, and she seemed to calm as they sat silently. Scully made quiet conversation with the woman, but Mulder heard none of it beyond that her husband was out of town on business. His Profiler's eyes were studying the house, the yard, and every detail of the neighborhood. He itched to be out there. Investigating. Digging up facts, finding possibilities. They couldn't let another child become a victim. An innocent child. To look at the house from the front, you'd never have known there was a six-year-old here. There was no bicycle in the driveway, it's training wheels spinning in the breeze. No baseball and bat sitting propped up against a corner of the house. No jump rope in the driveway waiting to be run over by Dad or Mom's car. No, this child was special, and her presence was much more subtle. Pink lace curtains on a downstairs window. A piano by another window with a beginner's instruction book propped up on it. An area on the front porch that sported a small mat ordained with the Powerpuff girls. He could clearly envision her mother working with her on her therapy exercises, hoping against hope that the girl's legs would grow strong and the crutches would no longer be necessary. Wait . . . . crutches. . . . "Sarah," he said, unintentionally interrupting the women's conversation. "Have you seen Kristen's crutches?" "Not since she . . ." she sniffled. "Why?" "It would be a very unusual kidnapper who bothered to take her crutches. Have you encountered anybody suspicious lately?" "There was a man . . . in the grocery store the other day. He kept looking at Kristen, smiling at her. It made me nervous because he seemed to be following us." "Do you think you could identify him if we brought in a sketch artist?" Scully asked. "Absolutely," Sarah said determinedly, seeming to find more strength in being able to do to help. "Mulder, would you see if you can get Szczesny over here? He'll have to make the request." "I can do it, Scully," Mulder remarked, slightly irritated. "No, you . You're not here." "Gee, I feel like I'm here," he said, looking down at himself jokingly. "Officially, no, you're not. And I'm not going to risk your getting another mark in your file because you were working while on medical down time." When it came down to it, Mulder realized, she was right. With a nod, he rose from the swing and approached the SAIC of the case. "Szczesny, Agent Scully wants to see you over with the mother." "You got it, Mulder," the man said, slapping him on the back before trudging off towards the house. Mulder knew that he should return to Scully and Sarah. Sarah needed a friend, and Scully needed her partner, on the record or off. But something drew him to the yard. Call it the "call of the profiler," but he just couldn't let it go. He couldn't sit it out either. Instead, he wandered into the back yard, drawn by he knew not what. Here there were stronger nuances of a child's presence. A swing set painted bright red, blue, yellow, and green. A sandbox with a string of sand huts obviously made from a small bucket. The yard was bordered by flower gardens, where the most intensely pure roses alternated with simple daisies and Queen Ann's lace. He could imagine mother and daughter planting the flowers side by side on a warm spring day. They were beautiful. All except one tiny patch at the very rear of the yard. There, barely visible, some stems were bent, and some petals had fallen and were lying crushed into the ground. No, it wasn't possible. . . Her mother had been so sure . . . But he couldn't leave this stone unturned. It truly didn't occur to him that he needed backup or that he should at least let Scully know where he was going. The woods behind their house went on for miles, and it was more likely that he'd get lost in there than find a six year old girl who probably wasn't in there in the first place. But the flowers had been undeniable. He walked for what seemed like miles, following he knew not what to he knew not where. A fleeting thought said he should call Scully and let her know where he was, but the truth was, he didn't where he was anymore, and besides, he'd left his phone in the charger at the office in the rush to come to Sarah's aid. An unfamiliar sound tickled his eardrums from far off to his left, and while he couldn't identify it at this distance, he felt sure it was something he should follow. It only took five minutes to reach the source, but when he did, he froze in horror. Kristen lay on the ground on her side, as still as the trees around her, yet her eyes were wide open and shone with horror. There was no wondering the reason why. Less than a foot in front of her, a rattlesnake was coiled to strike, shaking his rattle for all he was worth. Whether she was still from horror, or she was hurt, Mulder knew it was a blessing in disguise. The snake was less likely to strike if she didn't move. But he knew she couldn't stay that way forever. She was an active six year old, despite her disability. "Don't move, Kristen," he whispered, but loudly enough that he knew she could hear. "It's Agent Mulder. I'm going to take care of you, but you have to be very still." He heard her begin to whimper, and added, "and very, very quiet." There was no response from her, which was the best he could have asked of her, but he prayed that she understood what was about to happen. She could be permanently traumatized otherwise. Before he knew it, his gun was in his hand. It felt strange and awkward after all this time. "Please let me be able to do this right," he whispered to himself and anybody else who was listening as he drew a bead on the deadly creature. Kristen jerked and yelped as the explosion of the gunfire ripped through the peacefulness of the woods. The snake lay, nearly decapitated and thoroughly dead, nearby, where she stared at it in horror. "It's okay, Kristen," Mulder said, holstering his gun and dropping to kneel beside the girl. "You're safe now." She was sobbing into his chest in moments, her little arms encircling his body. She was trembling, but he didn't know if it was from fear or shock. "Are you hurt?" he asked her, finally pulling away to examine her tiny face. "No, I'm okay. Is it dead?" "Yep, it's dead. How did you get out here? Your Mommy is worried sick about you!" He tried to emphasize concern without sounding like he was scolding the child. "Mommy went into the house and I was practicing walking. There was a bunny . . . I wanted to pet him, like the one in my class at school, but every time I got close, it ran away. I thought bunnies only hopped!" she added, slightly indignantly. "They've been known to run when they're in a hurry. What happened next?" "I kept tryin' to catch up to it, and it would sometimes hide behind a tree, like playing hide and seek. It was fun. Then, all of a sudden, the bunny was gone and I was lost. I didn't know which way to walk, an' then I remembered what Big Bird said." "What did Big Bird say?" Was he really sitting here talking to a six year old about Muppets? "Big Bird says if you ever get lost in the woods, to stay where you are and let somebody else come find you. So I sat down by the tree. When I woke up, the snake was there. And then you came." "I'm glad you're safe. How about we both find our way back to your home?" She nodded her agreement. "You ready?" A sad look overcame her features. "What's wrong?" "I don't know where my crutches are." The dilemma took him off guard. He hadn't realized before that the metal implements were nowhere in the area where she had been lying. Glancing around the wooded area, he finally spied the sun glinting off steel about twenty feet from where they knelt. "Be back in a second," he said, clipping her affectionately on the chin. Thankfully, the two crutches hadn't gotten separated. He scooped them up and returned with them to Kristen's side. "How did they get way over there?" Mulder said with a grin. He suspected he knew. "I don't remember. I was too busy chasing the bunny." "Y'know what I think?" he winked. "What?" "I think that you walked without them! You were so excited about the rabbit that you forgot all about having to depend on them." "I did?" She beamed with pride and excitement, wanting confirmation. "Yes, I think you did! How about that?" "Yayyy!" she squealed, hugging Mulder again. "My legs are fixed and your hand is fixed, too!" At that point, Mulder realized for the first time that she was right. He'd drawn his weapon and killed the snake as easily and instinctually as he done since joining the FBI Academy. If the mobility of his hand was impaired in any way, it wasn't noticeable. The deadly accuracy of his shot was testament to that. "Wow, I guess you're right! Wait 'til we tell your Mom!" "And wait 'til we tell your Dana, too!" Mulder couldn't help but chuckle at her choice of words. "His" Scully indeed. "You want your crutches for the trip back, or do you think you can just walk out of here?" She looked thoughtful and so serious for just a moment, then her face beamed. "I think I'll need them for a little while, but . . ." "But what?" "Would you give me a piggyback ride?" The girl giggled with glee as he smiled and turned his back to her so she could climb on. They talked a lot on the walk back to her house, mostly about her family. How her Daddy gave her rides just like this sometimes and how she wanted a baby brother or sister. And Mulder noticed how very astute she was. She commented on how her mother looked sad sometimes at her therapy sessions, and how the adults around her whispered when they watched her walk with her braces and crutches. "That's why I like you," she concluded. "You never stared at me. When you talk to me, it's like how the teacher talks to the rest of the kids in class. Like I'm no different than the rest." "Nobody likes to be too different. I know that." He hesitated as he looked ahead. The trees were clearing, and they were nearly home. "Almost there, Kristen. Think if we hollered loud enough, your Mom and Scully could hear us?" "I bet Mr. Book could hear us!" Kristen said excitedly. Calling out the names of their loved ones as they emerged from the woods into the light of day, they had to laugh as they saw Sarah and Scully race from around the corner of the house. Scully was wearing those damnable high heels, so Mrs. MacDougal got to them first, sweeping her daughter into her arms and holding her tight. As Scully drew up to him, he could see in her eyes that she wanted to do the same to him. "Where in the hell have you been, Mulder?" "We're home, Ma. Don't I get a hug, too?" Scully cocked an eyebrow at him and he grew serious. "Something bothered me about the way the flowers were growing. I wondered if she'd wandered off, and went looking." By now, Sarah had loosened her hold on her daughter. "He saved me from the snake!" she said, breathing heavily with excitement. "What?!" both women shrieked. "I got lost, and fell asleep. When I woke up, there was a snake. It was gonna bite me, Mommy! But Mulder shooted it. Bang! Dead. Then I wasn't ascared any more." "Oh, thank you, Agent Mulder!" Sarah said in gratitude. At the same time, Scully's eyes grew in shock. "You fired your weapon, Mulder?" "What was I supposed to do, Scully? Let it bite her?" "No, of course not! I didn't mean that as a criticism. But you did it!" Her smile grew. "You fired your gun. You fire your gun. And with deadly accuracy, too." Mulder smiled, too. He couldn't help it. "It's been sort of a day for breakthroughs. Kristen, think you can show your Mom?" The girl nodded her head energetically. "Mrs. MacDougal, why don't you go stand over by the sandbox for a minute. Is that too far, Kristen?" "Nope!" Sarah MacDougal stood, twitching nervously, from her place halfway across the yard as Kristen turned and then let her crutches fall to the ground one by one. Scully stepped forward, intending to pick them up and return them to the girl, but Mulder held her back. "It's okay, Scully. Just watch." Amazingly, it was with little hesitancy that she took the steps necessary to bring her to her mother's side. They were slightly unsteady, but strong enough to complete the task. He didn't know about the braces, but the crutches would very soon be a thing of the past. Kristen's mother was weeping as she held her daughter. The agents looked on in wonder, and Scully laid a hand lightly on Mulder's arm. "I know how they feel," she smiled up at him, and he grinned his agreement. "Let's go tell Szczesny that his team just got the rest of the day off." "And us?" "We, my dear Agent Scully, have an appointment with a certain therapist." XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX A week later, Mulder, Scully, and AD Skinner put in an appearance at the practice range, and nothing made the AD happier than when he could tally up his agent's scores and declare him officially back on active duty. As the partners left, side by side, he could barely hear their words. "Welcome back, Mulder." "I never doubted it for a moment, Scully." A laugh. "Liar." The End