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   Leyla Harrison's email address has changed to: sparkle72@videotron.ca

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From: "the *enigmatic* Dr. Scully" 

Date: Thu, 05 Mar 1998 16:19:52 -0800

Subject: NEW: Beyond Fragile by Leyla Harrison (0/8)

Beyond Fragile (0/8)

by Leyla Harrison

Important Note to the Archivists: Please archive this separately as

"Beyond Fragile".  Thank you.

Summary: Scully is assaulted by a stranger and Mulder struggles to help

her deal with the aftermath.

Rating: Section one rated NC-17 for depictions of an explicit rape; all

subsequent sections rated a strong R for subject matter and language.

Spoilers: Very minor spoliers for the first three seasons, and you can

assume that this story is sometime after Melissa's death.  However, this

story exists in a universe where there is no cancer and no infertility. 

Other than that, though, there shouldn't be anything in here that you

don't already know about.

Also: I have changed one important fact -- in my world, Scully lives in

Bethesda, Maryland, not Annapolis.  It's inconcievable to me, anyhow,

that she would drive that far to work every day.  Every other location

detail should be correct.

Disclaimer: If I owned Mulder and Scully, I would be rich by now. 

Unfortunately, I'm poor, so you know what that means.  Chris Carter

probably wouldn't like what I'm doing to his characters.  Oh well.  Any

characters you don't recognize are my creation and belong to me.  Alas,

they won't make me rich like Mulder and Scully would.

Classification: SA, MSR to develop later on

Archive/Distribution: Anywhere, as long you ask me first and as long as

my name stays on it.

Author's Notes (and these are going to be slightly long, so bear with

me...):

This story was originally written back in October of 1995 at a point in

time where the subject matter was still rather new to fanfiction.  As a

matter of fact, I don't recall seeing any rape stories on the archives

before this point.  Now, however, there are an astounding number of

stories that tackle this particular subject, and there have been

numerous threads on the newsgroup regarding rape and domestic violence

stories that you had to be living under a rock to have missed.

I don't know how many of you reading this now were around when I posted

the original Fragile.  I wrote that story, then its sequel, and finally

its prequel.  Confused?  So was I when I went browsing on my hard

drive.  I decided to put this story right, once and for all.  I wasn't

thrilled with a lot of what I wrote back then.  My writing style has

changed a lot in the last two years; personal events have shaped and

changed me as a writer as well as personally.  So I decided to edit it.  

Then I decided that editing was not enough.  So I decided to do a

re-write.  

What you've got now is a story that has been completely overhauled.  In

addition, there are new sections that weren't in the original story --

things that I wasn't able to add for a number of reasons.  I'm more

educated on the topic of rape now, and so those scenes and situations

had to be added.

Oh, yeah, and I decided to do everyone a favor and edit as well.  The

bad grammar and any typos are gone.  At least I hope they are.

Why am I doing this, you may wonder?  I think that unfortunately, we

live in an age where rape is used as a plot device and I don't

particularly like that.  I also think that was my motivation in writing

Fragile in the first place.  I wanted people to understand that having

Scully get raped shouldn't be used as a way for writers to get Mulder

and Scully together, and that (unfortunately) even the strongest woman

on earth might have to deal with this in her lifetime.  

The original version of this story got a lot of feedback from people who

have been raped or know someone who has.  I think that the more we face

these kinds of issues head on, the more we are able to decrease their

power.  I know that writing this two years ago helped me face some

demons that I'm finally putting to rest with this re-write.  I hope that

it can do the same for others.

There is an element of MSR in this story.  I'm not using the topic of

rape as a plot device to bring Mulder and Scully together.  I don't

agree with those kind of stories.  When rape happens, a woman's life is

affected completely, and her relationships are included in that.  That's

why I'm inclding the MSR in this story -- to show the effect rape has on

all relationships, including sexual ones.  In my mind, and in the

fanfiction stories I've written, Mulder and Scully have always been

attracted to each other, and I'm exploring here what a rape would do to

their relationship, which currently has a high degree of sexual tension

in it.  Mulder and Scully's union is not being written as a way for them

to seek comfort because of the rape.

Acknowledgements: There is no way in hell I could have done this alone.

Writing this story was like fearing giving birth to a big, ugly, hairy

monster.  Amazingly enough, it's done and what came out was much better

than I expected.  A lot of people provided emotional support and I thank

them for it.  Thank you also to Mary Ann for technical information, to

Angie who provided a lot of feedback about some of the really

emotionally gut wrenching stuff, but most of all, one person read this

and edited it and dealt with me even though I was an incredible pain in

the ass.  Thank you, Miki, for your expertise; for understanding; for

being so patient; and for sticking with me and with this story.

Somewhere out there a young woman exists who made it through some

horrific things and managed to come out strong.  This one is for AF, who

decided to not be a victim anymore. 

One last thing: Feedback.  Send it.

That said, let's move along.  I'm planning on posting about one part a

day.  Please e-mail me for missing parts.

Beyond Fragile (1/8)

by Leyla Harrison

Disclaimer and all related info is in part 0.  This is just story.

**NOTE**: This section is rated a strong NC-17 for a graphic rape and

violence.

*******

DANA SCULLY'S APARTMENT

BETHESDA, MARYLAND

Dana Scully finished washing the last of the dishes from dinner and

headed into her bathroom, brushed her teeth and surveyed her appearance

in the mirror critically.  

You need more than a good night's sleep, she thought wryly.  You need a

vacation, Dana.

Her eyes were tired around the edges.  Too much work.  Too much chasing

after little green men.  Gray men.  People who could see dead people. 

Mysterious occurrences that had no earthly explanation.  Whatever. 

There had been too much of it.  She needed a break.

She methodically walked around the apartment and turned the lights off,

casting shadows across the living room.  She paused in the darkness and

looked out the window.  It was snowing.  The street was quiet.

Nice night, she thought to herself.  For a moment she wished that she

had someone to share it with.  Someone to cozy up in front of the

fireplace with.  She wished occasionally that she had a life -- a real

one. It was all work and no play.  No relaxation.

All work and no play made Dana a very dull girl.

Not to mention a very lonely one.

The evening had been a success only because she had enjoyed its

simplicity.  That basically meant that she had managed to sift through

her mail, pay some bills, eat dinner and watch a movie she had rented

without the interruption of a phone call from Mulder.  The calls were

always the same: he was always asking her to go running off somewhere on

some half-cocked mission of his, trying to prove that there were signs

of intelligent life in the universe other than humans; trying to find

his sister, trying to generally be the FBI's number one loose cannon and

succeeding.

Mulder.  

She shook her head and chuckled aloud.  As much as he could get on her

nerves, she had to admit that she loved working with him.  He challenged

her, which was unusual because most people bored her.  Scully usually

got bored with other people within ten minutes of meeting them.  Truth

be told, she would rather be with Mulder on one of his crazy UFO hunts

than with her family or with one of the few friends she had left.

She'd never let Mulder know *that*, though.  His ego would swell to

enormous proportions, and it was large enough as it was.

She headed for the bedroom, where she changed into her oldest pair of

sweats.  She left the light on by the nightstand and set her alarm for

the morning.  It was only 9pm.  Dinner and a movie and she still was in

bed early.  

Pathetic.

Yet amazing.

I'll bet I can even sneak in a little reading before I fall asleep, she

mused happily, and picked up the book that was on her bedside table.  It

had been sitting there for a month and she still hadn't had time to even

open it.

She was just getting comfortable in bed when the phone rang.  

"You've *got* to be kidding me," she muttered, picking up the cordless

phone by her bed.  "Hello?"

"Hey, Scully, it's me."

"Mulder."  Of course it's Mulder.  Might as well put the book back where

it was.  Mentally Scully wondered where they were headed to this time. 

What kind of clothes would she need to bring.  Where the hell had she

tossed her carry-on suitcase the last time she came home?  The back of

her closet in the bedroom?  Under her bed?

"Who else?" 

She could hear the lighthearted tone, but she knew him well enough to

hear exhaustion underneath it. "What's going on, Mulder?" she asked,

almost exasperated.  She had wanted to get through just one night

without him.  Just one night in her own bed.  Was that so much to ask?

"Who said there has to be something wrong?  I'm just calling to offer my

services to you tomorrow to drive you in to work."

"Since when do I need a chauffeur?"

"Since the Weather Channel predicted that there was going to be about

ten inches of snow tonight.  And I know how you hate to drive in the

snow."

There was a short silence, during which Scully listened to the soft

sounds of the television on Mulder's end of the phone.  Mulder had two

passions when it came to television -- his porn collection and the

Weather Channel.  More proof that he was a very strange man indeed.

Scully sighed.  He wasn't being condescending.  He was right.  She hated

driving in the snow.  And the traffic.  That was going to make her

miserable in the morning.  

Scully hated it when Mulder was right.

He *was* being incredibly sincere - offering to pick her up, even though

it was out of his way.  

Scully sighed again.

"Is that a yes?"

Scully sighed a third time, indicating that she was giving in.  "I'll

see you around 7:30, Mulder," she answered.  "You bring the car, I'll

supply the coffee."

Mulder chuckled softly into the phone, a low rumbling noise that

comforted her.  "See you in the morning, Scully."

Scully hung up the phone and looked at the clock.  9:14.  She realized

that her eyes were heavy.

Good God, Dana, she scolded herself.  9:14 and you're ready to pass

out.  She set the book down on the nightstand.  Maybe I'll try it again

tomorrow, provided that I'm not trapped at the Bureau building overnight

because of some blizzard.  Or, of course, Mulder would find the one and

only flight that was flying out of Washington despite the snow and she

would be in some small town in the middle of nowhere and she would be

slicing and dicing the body of some person that she didn't know and

didn't want to know anything about.

She used to love her job.  Now, for the hundredth time, Scully wondered

why her job was so depressing.

Telling herself that six o'clock would be there before she knew it,

Scully took off her glasses and turned off the light.

*****

Sometime in the middle of the night, Scully was awakened by the sound of

a thump.  

A dream?

No.  A thump, a muffled thump, but a thump nonetheless. 

She rolled over in bed, refusing to open her tired eyes.  She waited

with her eyes closed, listening.  It sounded like it came from the

apartment across the hall, or maybe from the apartment above her, but

she couldn't be sure.  She opened her eyes reluctantly and checked the

clock.  12:55am.   

Scully was normally a very light sleeper, and could go back to sleep

without any trouble, but she closed her eyes and found that she was

still awake.  

She got out of bed to get a glass of water from the bathroom and looked

out the bedroom window as she passed it.  The snow was falling much more

heavily than it had been when she went to bed.  At least six inches were

on the ground already.  The cars parked along her street looked like

they had marshmallow fluff on top of them.

Ten bucks says Mulder will be late, she shook her head ruefully.

She crawled back in bed, and having heard no more noises, fell asleep

almost immediately.

*****

Although she wasn't sure what it was, it was definitely a different

noise that woke Scully the second time.  She opened her eyes again,

glancing over at the nightstand to look at the clock.  

2:19am.  

Her eyes were so tired.  Her body ached.  Although she was a light

sleeper, her building was very quiet and she therefore didn't often wake

up in the night, so twice in one night was very unusual for her.  

I really *do* need a vacation, she thought idly, then closed her eyes

again.

She was about to drift back off to sleep when she realized that when she

looked at the clock, her gun was not on the nightstand where she always

left it.

Her eyes flew open.

There was a man standing next to her bed.

Gasping, she struggled to sit up, but he was on the bed and on top of

her in an instant, pushing her back against the pillows, his hands

digging roughly into her shoulders.

"Don't move, bitch," he muttered, and Scully could feel the icy cold of

a knife blade against her throat.  "Don't move or make a sound or I'll

cut your throat."

She nodded her head, just barely, to let him know that she understood.  

His hand reached for the blankets, pulling them off her.

Oh God.  She knew what was coming.

"I have money...jewelry..." she said quickly, her words tumbling out of

her mouth.  

"Someone broke in.  I was sleeping."  Her words were coming out stiffly,

almost mechanically.  "He raped me.  I need you to take me to the

hospital."

Mulder felt his heart start beating again, faster, until his body was

practically trembling from its pounding.  He instinctively reached for

her but she backed away.

He had seen this before.  The investigator in him came to the surface

and pushed his emotions aside.  "Did you shower?" he asked, and she

shook her head mutely.  "OK, let's get you to the hospital.  Do you want

to get dressed?"

"I'm already dressed," she told him.  She untied the robe and for a

brief moment Mulder was terrified that she would have nothing on

underneath but bruises and cuts.  He had seen enough photos of sexual

assault victims in his life.  He didn't think he could stand to see

Scully that way.

But instead she revealed a pair of sweats and a t-shirt underneath. 

"This is what I was wearing...I guess I should leave it on."

He nodded.  At least he didn't have to see the bruises that he suspected

were under her clothes.  He could feel nausea building in the pit of his

stomach like acid.  He pushed those feelings aside.  Right now he had to

think about Scully.  Not what bruises and abrasions were beneath her

clothes.

Mulder didn't want to let himself imagine her sleeping. He didn't want

to imagine her like that.  But despite his refusal to think about it, an

image of her was still seeping into his mind.  Scully sleeping, looking

peaceful while someone crept in, held her down....

Mulder closed off his mind to that.  

He knew she loved him.  He had known that for some time.

If he had any doubts that she loved him, they were erased after the

incident with Modell.   After that, he knew that her feelings for him

were more than friendly.  More than just partners.  He had seen the love

in her eyes; heard it in her voice.

OK, Mulder, he told himself as he went into the kitchen to start the

coffee, pack it up.  Now isn't the time for this shit.  He spooned

coffee into the filter and poured water in.  

Somehow he had managed to keep his love for Scully hidden, even from

himself.  It had been easy enough to hide, he thought wryly, and now it

was just going to have to go back to its hiding place.

The coffee began to brew, and Mulder went back to the bedroom, opening

the door softly, walking over to the bed and sitting down where he had

been sleeping.  Her auburn hair was fanned out across the pillow.  The

bruising around her eye was entering its final stages and was

greenish-purple.  The gash on her face had scabbed, and her lip was

still red where it had been cracked open.  

She's still the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, he thought,

absentmindedly brushing a strand of her hair off her forehead.  He

wanted to tell her that he loved her, but the words felt strange even in

his mind.

He leaned down to kiss her forehead lightly.  Her skin was warm.

As he lifted his head, Scully stirred.  Her eyes fluttered open. 

"Mulder?"

"Good morning," he replied.

"I smell coffee," she said, sitting up.  Her hair was tousled from a

long, deep sleep.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better, if you can believe it," she said, and from the tone of her

voice, he did believe it.  "Mulder, I was thinking..."  

The jangling of the phone interrupted her.  She picked up the cordless

on her bedside table.  "Hello?"  Mulder watched her face, listened as

her responses got colder and more unaffected.   "Yes, I understand. 

Yes, I will."

She hung up the phone and stared at him.  The frozen look that had

temporarily disappeared when she woke up was back.  "Scully, what is

it?"

"They caught him.  They want me to come down to the station to identify

him."

There was no question of who she was talking about.

Mulder had a fleeting thought that if he managed to get his hands on

Scully's rapist, the police would have to identify the remains.

"Do you want me to come with you?" he asked.  She nodded.

"I also have to go to the doctor today.  Follow up," she said, and he

nodded at her.  "We can stop at the police station on the way there."

Mulder nodded.  "Whatever you want, Scully."

CONTINUED IN PART 4

Beyond Fragile (4/8)

by Leyla Harrison

*****

MONTGOMERY COUNTY POLICE DEPARTMENT

BETHESDA, MARYLAND 

SEX CRIMES DIVISION

As they entered the police station, Mulder was struck by the fact that

for once they were there in an unofficial capacity.  The lineup, which

they were so used to seeing, would almost be like a new experience for

them.

A detective named Darrow met them at the desk.  Mulder vaguely

remembered him from the Emergency Room.  He led them into the

identification room, explaining the procedure on the way.   He was a big

burly Irishman and explained everything to Scully carefully.  He seemed

to have taken a liking to Scully, a kind of fatherly protection for

which Mulder was grateful.  "Now, Agent Scully, I want you to be very

sure when you look at these men," Darrow told her kindly. "Try and

remember exactly what he looked like.  I know it was dark, and I know

you were scared, but try to remember."

Mulder looked at her face and knew from her expression that she

remembered perfectly.  Scully took the chair that was offered to her and

Mulder sat next to her.  She reached for his hand, and although

surprised, Mulder took it, squeezing it gently for support.  Then the

men were led in on the other side of the two-way mirror.

Five men walked in and lined up, staring blankly at them.  

Mulder looked them over, each of the five.  Which one of them had broken

into Scully's apartment and violated her?  Which one was he?

Scully's eyes went methodically from one to the next, carefully, one at

a time, not jumping ahead.  On the fourth man, her eyes froze.  She

tensed in her chair.  Mulder squeezed her hand gently.  "Number four. 

That's him," she nodded at his form through the glass, her voice

breaking slightly.  Detective Darrow came around to stand next to her.

"You're sure?"

Scully closed her eyes briefly, letting the memories in for only a

moment.  

He was on top of her, staring her down, his face a mix of anger and

revulsion.  She could feel him inside her, fucking her, shoving at her,

hitting her whenever she cried out.  His eyes were dark and he was about

five eleven, she had guessed, and his dark brown hair was parted off to

the right.  While it was happening she tried to distract herself by

applying her FBI training.  Looking for details to memorize.

His voice echoed in her head.  With her eyes closed she could almost

feel his body slapping against hers again.

Involuntarily, a shudder passed through her body.  She opened her eyes. 

Number four was six feet according to the height marks on the wall

behind him, and his hair was parted to the right, just as she

remembered.  

His eyes were black as coal.  Dark.  Dangerous.  

She looked at the man in the lineup, knowing he had no way of knowing it

was her behind the mirror.  And yet he seemed to be looking right at

her.  Staring right into her.

"That's him," she said again, her voice a little stronger now.  She

looked at Mulder.  "That's him."

Mulder stood up and walked to the mirror, looking at the man.  He was so

absorbed in his thoughts that he didn't hear what Darrow was saying to

Scully.  All he could think about was going into the room and smashing

his face in.  Mulder wanted to beat him until he was bloodied and

battered, the way Scully was that night.

He wanted to kill the son of a bitch.  

Scully's presence behind him startled him.  "His name is Michael

Coleman.  He's a computer analyst for a company in Annapolis.  Married. 

Has two kids.  He was arrested once about ten years ago for assaulting a

woman in DC, but the charges were dropped."

Married?  Kids?  Mulder tried to fathom this man, Scully's rapist,

tucking his little children into bed at night, reading them bedtime

stories, going back to the master bedroom and making love to his wife,

kissing her as she fell asleep, then getting up in the morning to put on

a suit and tie and take his briefcase and his coffee into the car to

make the drive to work.

It didn't make sense.  Why the hell would this man commit this kind of

violent crime?

"I'm ready to go now," Scully said, touching his arm lightly.

Mulder turned around and faced her.  "Let's go," he said, his face calm,

revealing nothing about what he had been thinking.

Mulder and Scully walked out of the room.  Her steps were slower than

his.  She walked close to him, though, and eventually once they were

outside of the building he tentatively put his arm around her as they

walked.  Without saying anything, Scully leaned her body into his

gratefully.

She was exhausted.  

Doctor's office.  Then home, Scully thought. She wanted nothing more

than to sleep.  To forget.

Scully watched absentmindedly as the raindrops beaded on Mulder's

windshield as they headed for the doctor's office.  Since leaving the

police station, she had fallen into a strange trance, in which she saw

very little and thought about even less.  She was only dimly aware of

Mulder's presence in the car next to her.  

Her mind was still stuck on the image of her rapist's face, glaring back

at her through the two-way mirror, leaning over her as he hit her, held

her down onto the bed, raped her.  

Michael Coleman.  

She wasn't remembering it as a participant anymore, but as a witness. 

She could clearly see everything that was happening to her from a

different angle.  And this angle was so different that it seemed

surreal, more frightening.  

His name was Michael Coleman.

The name meant nothing to her.  Yet his face haunted her.

An involuntary shiver passed through her.

"Are you cold?" Mulder asked her, shaking her from her thoughts.  She

looked at him, realizing that she was in the car, that she was safe,

that Mulder was there.

Realizing, suddenly, that she wasn't alone.

"A little," she said, trying to sound as normal as possible.  

She knew that was impossible.  Nothing about her felt normal.  Even her

voice sounded different to her ears.

Mulder turned the heat up and they drove the rest of the way in

silence.  It struck Scully how much time they had spent in silence since

her rape.  And as she looked over at Mulder, she wondered for the first

time what he thought about during those silences.  

He thinks I'm screwed up, she thought.  He thinks I'm fragile.  He's

afraid to talk to me, to touch me.  He's afraid I'll break, like glass. 

Scully had never thought of herself like this before, but she suddenly

imagined herself, a little Scully-statue, made of glass, shattering into

a hundred pieces.

It was obvious what Mulder was feeling for her.  She had rolled over the

night before and reached out for him in bed, and although it was not

something she was used to doing, she had felt at ease almost

immediately.  But she wasn't stupid.  She had felt him, his erection

hard against her leg.  And she had felt him shift his body quickly so

she wouldn't feel it.   

A part of her had been terrified and shocked by his arousal. How could

he be aroused, considering the situation? But at the same time there was

a part of her that was astounded in a wonderful way, amazed that he

could be aroused by her, damaged as she was.

It was strange, because she had known in her heart that she had been in

love with him for some time now.  It was something she would never admit

to him.  There was no room for a romance between them in their lives. 

The X-Files took up too much space, too much time and too much energy

for them to have anything other than the comfortable relationship -- the

partnership -- that they already had.  She wasn't sure if she could call

it a friendship.  But it was something.  Something very powerful.

But it didn't mean she hadn't thought about the relationship between

them becoming more than what it already was.  She had -- many times. 

She had thought about Mulder as more than a friend and partner so often

that she couldn't keep track of it anymore.

But she trusted Mulder so much that she couldn't deal with thinking of

him as anything else, especially not now, not after the rape.  Although,

she thought idly, it would be so nice...

Especially now.

Scully knew that her response was partially because of the trauma she

was experiencing.  She knew, had known for a long time, that she was in

love with him.  And she was grateful -- grateful for his love, even if

he couldn't express how he really felt.  The devotion he was showing her

was more than enough for her.  It always had been before.  

She watched at him as he drove.  She had no idea what he was thinking. 

His face was completely unreadable.

She had no way of knowing the thoughts of murderous revenge that were

flooding through his body.  His thoughts were so powerful that his grip

on the steering wheel had become tighter, his jaw set and his eyes

locked on the road in order to keep his feelings tightly reined in.

******

DR. ANGELA WILSON'S OFFICE

WASHINGTON, D.C.

Inside the examining room at the doctor's office, Scully was grateful

for the cotton gown instead of one of those flimsy paper things.  She

changed quickly and sat on the table, looking around the small room. 

Even before all this had happened, she had never liked going to the

doctor.  The old saying was true -- doctors make the worst patients. 

This, of course, was different.  Scully was dreading getting back up in

the stirrups, her legs open, her body exposed, yet again.

Dr. Wilson came into the room.  "Hi, Dana," she greeted her patient

warmly.  Scully nodded.  The doctor was carrying Scully's medical file

which was filled with papers.  

Stuffed, no doubt, with police documents, medical exam forms, and other

evidence that could be used later in court, Scully thought.

Her mind went over all the things they told her in the emergency room a

few days before, and the fear and anxiety that she had been able to

temporarily put aside was back in an instant.  Sexually transmitted

diseases.  Pregnancy.  HIV.  Jesus, what if this man gave her HIV?

She felt goosebumps rise on her skin.  

"How are you feeling?" Dr. Wilson asked.

Scully swallowed hard.  

Dr. Wilson was standing on one side of the exam room.  Scully's head was

in her hands, and she was crying.  Mulder hurried to her side and put an

arm around her protectively.  "What's going on?" he asked in a low

voice.  "Scully, what's wrong?" he asked her.

Scully looked up at him, tears streaming down her cheeks.  "Mulder, I

could be pregnant!"

"Dana, we can run a pregnancy test.  You also took the morning after

pill in the ER, which decreases your chances of becoming pregnant," Dr.

Wilson tried to soothe her.

"I want to go," Scully sobbed softly, "I want to go home."

He helped her stand.  "Dana, please, stay until we can draw some blood,"

Dr. Wilson practically pleaded with her.  Scully sniffled and nodded.  

"All right," she said, "but then I'm leaving."

Dr. Wilson called for a nurse, and she came in and wrapped a tourniquet

around her upper arm.  Mulder saw Scully wince at the pain, and was

ashamed that he had to turn his head away when the needle went in.

"We'll run the pregnancy test, and we'll have the results in the

morning.  The HIV testing won't be back until tomorrow as well, and

you'll have to be re-tested every three months for the first year," the

doctor explained.  She scribbled something on a pad, then ripped off the

top two sheets and handed them to Scully.  "This is for AZT.  It's

simply a preventative measure.  We also give it hospital employees when

they've been stuck by a needle.  And this one," she said, indicating the

final sheet of paper, "is for a sedative."

Scully took the prescriptions silently.

"I know you think I don't care, Dana," the doctor said, "but I do.  I

know that you're having a rough time.  Try to go home and get some

rest."

The doctor and the nurse left the room, leaving Mulder and Scully

alone.  She had stopped crying.  

"I just want to go home," Scully said again, not looking up at him.

"I'll wait outside while you get dressed," he said, and reached out to

touch her shoulder gently.  

Scully visibly shrank back from him.

Shit, he thought, are we back to this?  

Mulder smiled at her weakly, in case she looked up, but she didn't.  He

left the room and stood in the hall.  Leaning his back up against the

wall, he closed his eyes.

Scully hadn't told her family what had happened.  She had called her

mother, but told her that she was sick and wasn't up for company.  She

had told Skinner that she had the flu and was dehydrated, although he

wasn't sure if she had taken any measures to make sure that her case

wasn't cross-filed to the FBI.  Sooner or later, she would have to go

back to work.  And she would have to face her family.  Somehow, she had

to pull it together.  And soon.

Why the hell did she want to keep this a secret?  Why?

He knew her mother would be nothing but supportive.  He knew that

Skinner wouldn't tell anyone.

He was starting to feel like he wasn't doing enough for her, and in a

way, he was starting to feel like he was in over his head and he wanted

someone to help him carry the burden of what had happened to her.  It

didn't lessen how much he cared about her.  He just felt like he needed

help knowing how to deal with this and how to actually be a help to

Scully at the same time.

Scully came out of the exam room a few minutes later and they silently

walked to the car.  It was now raining heavily, but Mulder deliberately

measured his steps slowly so that Scully could keep up with him.  They

stopped at a pharmacy and Mulder turned off the car.  "Why don't you let

me run in and fill those for you."

"I can do it myself," she said, and got out of the car without saying

anything else.  He watched her walk through the door and then punched

the steering wheel angrily.  

As a psychologist, Mulder knew that Scully was going to move forward and

backward in her emotional progress before things started to get better,

but the fact that she put barriers up again made him frustrated all the

same.

A few minutes later she returned and got into the car.  Mulder looked at

her but didn't start the car.  "Did you get them filled?" he asked.

"Let's go, Mulder," she said, "I'm freezing."

"Scully, did you fill the prescriptions?"

She looked at him pointedly.  "Why are you interrogating me?"

"I'm not," he protested.

Scully turned and stared out of the car window, silent.

"Scully," he began, but she cut him off.

"Someone in there was looking at me.  They saw that I had been beaten

up," she said, still not looking at him.

"Who cares what anyone thinks?" Mulder snapped, his voice raised, and

Scully whipped around in her seat to look at him, her eyes blazing.

"I care, Mulder," she shouted at him.  "I care!"

"Did you fill the prescription for the sedative?"

"No," she said sharply.

"Why the hell not?"

"I don't need a fucking sedative!" she practically yelled.  "What I need

to is to forget that this ever happened!  I need to stop worrying that

I'm going to get pregnant.  That I'm going to get HIV or God knows what

else!"

Mulder didn't think he had ever seen her so enraged.  He was partially

relieved to see Scully having such a strong reaction, even though it was

catching him off guard.

"The morning after pill assures that you won't get pregnant.  They gave

you that in the ER."

"But I wasn't on *any* birth control.  My chances of getting pregnant

are high.  I can't face it, Mulder.  I can't face being pregnant.  Not

this way.  What the hell would I do?"  Scully sounded desperate.

He put his hand on her leg, then drew it away when she looked up at

him.  

Even though he understood her reticence to being touched, it still

frustrated him.  

There was only so much concern he could show with his eyes.  He wanted

to be able to touch her, and he wanted to tell her why. "I'm sorry," he

said, "I was just trying to show you, you know, tell you...."  He

paused, unsure of his words, "that I care about you.  I was trying to

comfort you.  That's all I've been trying to do."

"I know," she said, looking up at him, her eyes filling with tears.  The

anger was gone.  "I just don't know what I'm doing, Mulder.  I don't

know anything right now."

His anger for her rapist came to the surface again when he saw her

tears.  It was his fault, he thought.  He pushed down the white hot

feeling in his throat and put one hand up to gently stroke her face. 

"I'm sorry I yelled at you," he whispered.  "I'm so sorry, Dana."

Michael Coleman, Mulder thought, I hope you know what you're in for. 

You sick bastard.

******

Back at Scully's apartment, Mulder went to the bathroom and shut the

door behind him.  He looked at himself in the mirror.  He felt like he

had aged a year in the last few days.  There was so much to think about.

Scully's rapist was in jail.  Mulder was in love with her.  There could

be a few very disturbing medical repurcussions from what that bastard

did to her.

Wonderful.

Mulder needed to hold her, and he couldn't.  He couldn't touch her.  He

couldn't hold her close to his body without her being terrified.

Why now, he wondered?  Why not a year ago?  Why did these feelings have

to surface now?

Now that he had a little more time to think about it, he understood a

little more about Scully's fears about the medical consequences of the

rape.  Her Catholic upbringing would likely make it hard for her

emotionally to have an abortion, even though Mulder thought that even

the most devout Catholic would probably forgive Scully for aborting a

baby that was created in such a violent way.

Trying to distract himself from his thoughts, he opened the medicine

cabinet without thinking and looked inside.  He saw a case of birth

control pills.  The date on the prescription was almost two years old. 

He saw the standard medicine cabinet items--cotton balls, Tylenol, a

thermometer.  He glanced, interested, at the apricot facial mask.  He

wondered if that was the source of the sweet smell of her skin.

He closed the medicine cabinet and looked down at the counter.  Scully's

toothbrush, and his own.  Toothpaste.  A bar of soap.  A bottle of

perfume.  He picked that up and smelled it.  Closing his eyes, he could

smell her, wearing the perfume.  The bottle was almost empty.  He

quickly memorized the name of it, reminding himself to buy her another

bottle.  He looked in the mirror again, rubbed his eyes.

He was so tired.

*****

In the bedroom, Scully had changed into sweats.  She sat down on the

edge of her bed and pulled her feet up under her.  She should feel safe

in this place, in her home.

But she didn't.  Even with Mulder here, there was still a part of her

that was frightened.

There was so much for her to absorb, to deal with.  She didn't know

where to start.

Pregnancy.  Disease.  

Reputation.  She hadn't thought about that one.  Eventually she would

have to go back to work, and then...

Oh, God, she thought, my reputation at the Bureau will be destroyed. 

Everyone will know that I couldn't defend myself.  What kind of FBI

agent am I if I can't even defend myself?  Everyone will know that I

can't protect myself.  

Somehow, she understood that she was having a natural emotional response

to what had happened to her.  She had seen other rape victims and seen

what they had gone through.  But she couldn't help but feel like a

woman, not just an FBI agent.

They'll think that I need Mulder to protect me.  Mulder will think that

he has to protect me.  He'll think I won't be able to do anything alone.

She closed her eyes and laid down, trying to calm herself, trying to

relax on the softness of the bed.

The bed.  The scene of the crime.

She thought that maybe she could recall the events of that night without

losing it.  Go over it in her head.  Make it less terrifying.  

Yes, she could do that.

She could remember every detail vividly, from the moment she woke up to

the sense that someone was standing over her to when he heard a siren

outside -- which had turned out to be an ambulance and not a police

cruiser -- and got scared and left.  

As soon as she had realized there was someone there, she had scrambled

to get her gun from the bedside table, which wasn't there anyway, but he

was faster than her and had climbed on top of her, straddling her body

with his legs, pinning her arms down.  He hit her in the face, hard

enough to stun her but not hard enough to knock her unconscious.  Held

the knife to her throat, whispering threats of using it if she didn't

stay quiet.  She realized that no matter how much she prayed, that he

was going to rape her anyhow, and that there was nothing she could do

about it.

He pulled at her sweats, yanked viciously at the waistband of them.  She

felt the elastic burning her skin, and she knew then that there was

going to be no stopping him.  She could see it in his eyes.  Feel it in

the hardness of his erection pressing into her groin.

"Mulder!" Louder this time.

He came running into the room, having heard her terrified cry from the

bathroom, and came to her side immediately.  "It's OK, Scully," he said

soothingly.  "I'm right here.  Nothing's going to happen to you.  You're

safe."

The phone rang.  Scully jumped, startled, and then whimpered.  "Please,

Mulder, can you answer it?"

He nodded and reached for the cordless.  "Hello?  Yes, Detective

Darrow."  Scully shook her head, indicating that she didn't want to talk

to him.  "Can I take a message for her?"  Scully watched his face,

trying to calm herself.  "You've got to be kidding."  Mulder's tone was

stunned, angry. "No, I'll call you back.  Thanks."

He hung up the phone.  "What is it?" Scully asked him, terrified of what

his answer would be.

"They let him go," Mulder told her, trying to remain calm himself for

Scully's sake.  

"What?" Scully asked, her voice anguished.

"He was released on $100,000 bail.  They don't think he'll run.  They

told him not to leave the area."

"They told him not to leave the area?" Shock and terror pulsed through

her body.  "Mulder, he could come over here and..."

"He's not going to get near you," Mulder said firmly.  "He won't get

into this house."

"Oh, God, Mulder.  He could come back here!  He could -- "  Her voice

was rising, panic infused through it.

"No, Scully, he won't," he assured her.  I'm not letting you out of my

sight for one second, Mulder thought.  He'll be dead before he touches

you again.

Scully closed her eyes.  "This won't end, will it?" she asked.  It came

out more a statement than a question.  

Mulder helped her lie down on the bed and he sat down next to her,

stroking her hair and her forehead.  He whispered to her softly,

soothingly.

Finally, after almost an hour, she fell asleep.  He got up, went into

the living room to check the locks on the front door.  He checked all

the windows.  He checked his gun, making sure that the clip was fully

loaded.  He went back into the bedroom and sat down on the other side of

the bed, next to Scully, and watched her.

Scully awoke a few times.  She tossed and turned in her sleep,

whimpering softly.

The nightmares were back.

He wanted to hold her, but couldn't bring himself to take her in his

arms.  He watched her, knowing that she was going through incredible

pain, and that he was not able to help her.  As he watched her, the pain

within him surfaced, and he finally understood why he felt it.  

Anything that hurt her, hurt him.

Mulder felt his throat getting tight, and his chest ached from unshed

tears.  He cleared his throat softly, trying not to wake her, but didn't

succeed. Scully stirred, opening her eyes to look at him.  

She saw him sitting there, on the bed beside her, his face filled with

sadness.  She realized suddenly how lucky she was to have him in her

life.  

"Mulder," she whispered, "thank you for being here."

His eyes filled with tears, and he didn't try to stop them from

falling.  Scully sat up and he hugged her tightly to him, crying

softly.  "I'm sorry I wasn't here that night," he managed to get out,

but she quieted him.

"You can't watch over me every second," she answered.  "I don't blame

*you* for what happened to me."

He pulled from their embrace to look her in the eye.  "I feel like I let

you down," he confessed.  She shook her head, her eyes filled with

disbelief.

"Why?" she asked.

"Because I couldn't protect you.  Because it happened, and I didn't

protect you."

"Mulder," she said, feeling her own tears coming back, "you couldn't. 

It's not your fault, for God's sake."

"I know," he said, his tears slowing.  "But it doesn't stop me from

thinking that I should have been here.  If I had been here..."

She shook her head.  "You couldn't be here, Mulder, and that's not your

fault.  It happened.  I have to deal with it."

"No, Scully," he answered her with conviction.  "We're going to deal

with it.  I'm here for you.  Whatever you need."

She squeezed her eyes shut, keeping the tears at bay.  When she opened

them again, she smiled at him weakly.  "I love you so much," she blurted

out without thinking.  She immediately clapped a hand over her mouth,

stunned that she had said what she said.  "Oh, God," she cried out, her

words muffled by her hand.  She couldn't look at him.

He took her hands, one at a time, gently, in his.  "It's OK," he

murmured to her.  "I know."  He was silent for a long time.

She finally looked up at him.  Minutes had passed.  "We're going to get

through this," she said tentatively, and he nodded, seeing the potential

hope on her face that maybe she could in fact get through it.  It gave

him faith.

"And you're going to be fine," he added.  "You always are, Scully."

CONTINUED IN PART 5

Beyond Fragile (5/8)

by Leyla Harrison

FBI HEADQUARTERS

WASHINGTON, D.C.

Three days had passed since Scully had seen the doctor and Michael

Coleman had been questioned by the police.  The DNA testing came back. 

Michael Coleman's semen matched the traces that had been found on

Scully's body.  The police had gone to arrest him, but he took off out

the back door and escaped on foot.  He was on the run.

Despite all of this, Scully finally went back to work.  Her bruises were

almost gone, and on the surface, at least, she was almost back to her

old self.  

Underneath, her demons were hard at work.  Mulder made sure the agents

only worked on paperwork, reports -- anything that would keep them in

the basement, where he could keep an eye on her.  And where no one else

would see her, just in case she wasn't ready to be under the microscope

of public scrutiny.

Mulder watched her, trying to be surreptitious, but he wasn't sure that

it was working.  Scully kept shooting glances back at him.  He couldn't

tell if she was irritated or amused with him.

Mulder had stopped sleeping at her apartment the day before.   His last

night there was the same day that the locksmith came by.  The locksmith

installed two new locks on the front door and more on all the windows at

Scully's insistence.  Mulder left that night with her promise that she

would call if she needed him, and that if she called, he would come

right over, no questions asked.

Mulder knew she was putting on a front at work.  He could see the dark

circles under her eyes and knew that she hadn't been sleeping enough.  

The phone in the office rang, startling them both.  Mulder answered it.

"Yes, sir.  We can be up there --"  Mulder paused, then glanced at

Scully.  "Oh.  Yes, sir, I'll tell her."

He hung up the phone and Scully looked at him, one eyebrow arched.

"Skinner wants to talk to you.  Alone."

Scully took a deep breath and looked down at her desk.  

"Do you think he knows?" she asked quietly, not looking up.

"I don't know, Scully," Mulder answered her honestly.

There was a long moment of silence and then finally Scully pushed her

chair back and put her jacket on, her ID badge swinging slightly. 

Scully Battle Mode, Mulder thought absently.  "I'll be back as soon as I

can," she said, heading for the office door.

"Scully." Mulder said her name just as she was about to cross the

threshold.  

Scully turned and looked at him.  "Yes?"

"I'll be thinking about you.  Hang in there."  Mulder could have kicked

himself.  What a stupid thing to say.  I'll be thinking about you?  

But Scully surprised him when the corners of her mouth actually lifted

into a half smile.  "Thanks, Mulder."

*****

Scully stood outside Skinner's office for a moment before going in,

brushing back her hair nervously with her fingertips and taking a few

slow, deep breaths.  Finally, she pushed open the door to his

secretary's office.

"Agent Scully," Skinner's secretary looked up from her computer. 

"Assistant Director Skinner is expecting you.  Go on in."

"Thank you."

Scully went into Skinner's office.  He was at his desk going over some

files.  He looked up when Scully walked in.

"Agent Scully."  His tone was neutral, as always.  "Please have a seat."

Scully couldn't help it.  She was nervous.  She crossed the carpet and

took the chair she always took, sitting down and trying to appear as

calm as possible.

"Is something wrong, sir?"

"I think I should be asking you the same question, Agent Scully."

There was a long moment of silence as they regarded each other.  

Skinner lifted a file from his desk and held it in his hand.  "This was

forwarded to me this morning.  It's from the Bethesda PD."

Scully nodded, knowing what it was, and unsure of what to say.

"Last time I checked, Agent Scully, any assault on a officer of the law,

especially a Bureau officer, is a federal offense.  Is there a reason

why you didn't report your assault through the proper channels?"  He

wasn't interrograting her.  Just asking.

"Sir, I...I don't know what to say," Scully faltered.  "Since the

assault was somewhat...personal in nature, I thought it best to be kept

within the confines of the local authorities.  They are pursuing the

case."

Skinner set the file down again and stood up, taking his glasses off. 

He walked around his desk and paced nearby, rubbing the bridge of his

nose.  Scully fought the urge to turn around to look at him.  Having him

out of her range of sight was making her slightly uneasy.

"You and I both know, Agent Scully, that the case might be solved more

rapidly with the assistance of Federal resources."

"Sir, I don't know what to say," she said honestly.  "I just

thought..."  She closed her eyes for a moment.  "I don't know what I

thought." Her voice had softened a great deal.  She let out a deep

breath, not sure of what else to say.

Skinner was next to her and reached out to touch her shoulder.  Scully's

eyes jerked open and she jumped in her seat.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly, softly.  His apology was genuine.

He came over and sat next to her, in the chair that Mulder usually sat

in.

"I didn't mean to frighten you, Agent Scully."

"I'm fine, sir."

Skinner was silent for a moment.  "The fact is, Agent Scully, that you

lied to me when you told me that you had the flu. And then I get this

report on my desk...it takes me out of the loop, which is a feeling I

don't like."

"I'm sorry, sir.  I don't know what to say."  Scully was feeling

increasingly foolish.  She should have told Skinner at the very least,

even if she hadn't wanted to report it as a Bureau matter.  She knew

that it was a mistake, but at the time she hadn't been thinking

straight.  She didn't want anyone to know what had happened to her. 

Keeping it from Skinner, from the Bureau -- that just went along with

that.  Now she was regretting her irrational behavior.

Skinner rested his arms on his knees, leaning slightly closer to her. 

"Agent Scully.  I'm very sorry that you were...that this happened to

you.  I would like to pursue this as a Bureau matter only because I

would like to ensure that the person who is responsible for this crime

is caught quickly and punished to the fullest extent of the law."  His

voice was low, and Scully could sense a protective tone in his voice. 

She had never heard that from him before.  "In no way do I want anyone

here at the Bureau to find out about this.  This is a very private

matter and I understand that."

Scully nodded.

"Agent Scully, I would like it very much if you would trust me in this

matter."

He wasn't issuing his usual orders.  He was asking.

She stared at him.  Could this be the same Assistant Director Skinner

she thought she knew? No.  This was Walter Skinner.  Human being.

"Please," he said.

Scully felt her eyes filling with tears.  

She cleared her throat, and nodded her head.  "All right," she managed

to get out.

Skinner nodded his head too, looking down and back up at her.  "Is there

anything that you need?" he asked.  "Time off?"  He was still leaning in

towards her, very slightly, his face gentle, his expression comforting.

"No," Scully answered, trying to pull herself together.  "I'm fine,

sir."

"If you need any time off because of this, just let me know.  I'll take

care of it."

"Thank you, sir.  Thank you."

Skinner stood up and went back to his desk, putting his glasses back

on.  Then he looked over at Scully.  "That will be all, Agent Scully." 

His tone was back to business.  Back to being AD Skinner.

Scully got up, smoothed out her skirt.  "Thank you again, sir."

Skinner nodded at her, and she left his office.

*****

Scully looked exhausted when she got back to the office.

"It wasn't that bad," she told Mulder.  She knew that what would be bad

was what she had to do over lunch that afternoon.  She had to tell her

mother.

Scully was nervous.  Her mother had been through so much.  But she owed

her mother the truth, regardless of whatever her fears were.  It was her

mother, after all.  She was going to support her no matter what

happened.

The lunch went as well as could be expected, Scully reported back to

Mulder later in the day.  She said that Margaret Scully had dissolved in

tears.  There wasn't much more the woman could bear.  To lose her

husband and her daughter, to have thought that Scully was dead, and now

this.  But she said that her mother was supportive, as Scully had

expected her to be.  

The phone rang again that afternoon.  Scully was closer to it.  She

answered it and spoke for a few moments.  "Really?" she asked, her voice

sounding genuinely better than Mulder had heard it since the rape. 

"Thank you so much."  She hung up the phone and turned to face Mulder.

"I'm not pregnant."  She was smiling broadly.  "And the initial HIV test

was negative, as were the other cultures." 

Mulder crossed the office and hugged her impulsively, and he was

thrilled that she didn't push him away.  In fact, she hugged him back.

"Of course," she said as he released her, "I have to be re-tested, but

at least the first tests came back negative.  That's a good thing."

"Damn right," Mulder agreed.  

We should celebrate, he thought.  He wanted to take Scully somewhere --

to dinner, anywhere.  Just somewhere that didn't have anything to do

with work for a change.  Somewhere nice, so that she knew how happy he

was for her.

But Scully didn't say anything about celebrating, and so Mulder stayed

quiet.  It's too soon anyway, he told himself.  Maybe in a week or so.

Mulder went upstairs to the vending machines about an hour later to get

a can of soda.  "Want one?" he asked Scully before he left, but she

shook her head.  "I'm in the middle of this expense report," she said,

pointing at it.  "When you get back you'll have some explaining to do,

Mulder."  Her voice was cheerful, almost light -- she was back to the

light banter that they did so well, and it thrilled Mulder.  It seemed

like the old Scully was resurfacing.

"Then I'll make sure to hurry back," he said, throwing her a smile and

gathering some loose change from his pencil drawer.

*****

When Mulder returned, he found Scully with her head down on her desk. 

He rushed to her side, kneeling down to get closer to her level.  He

touched her arm hesitantly.  She didn't draw back. 

"Scully?  What's wrong?"

She lifted her head and stared out into a dark corner of the office. 

For a minute, she didn't answer him.  Her eyes were distant and

unfocused.  "He's dead," she finally said.

Mulder breathed deeply.  Dead?  Not caught?

"He raped a woman in Virginia," Scully answered, turning to look

directly at him.  "Someone heard her screaming and called the police. 

When the police got there, they chased him...they told him to drop his

weapon and it looked like he pulled a gun on them.  One of the officers

fired at him and killed him.  He didn't have a gun.  Just a knife." 

Scully's voice was flat as she recited all the facts and then she

repeated, dully, "He's dead."

 "When did this happen?"

"Early this morning," Scully answered.  "The woman was pregnant.  Her

first child.  She miscarried early this morning."

"Jesus," Mulder breathed.

Scully got up and headed for the coat rack, taking her coat and putting

it on.  

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"I just need some air," she replied.  Mulder got up and hurried over to

her before she got out the door.  He took her arm.  

"Scully--"

She turned around to look at him.  "I'm OK.  I really am.  I mean, I

wanted him caught, you know?  Punished.  But I guess knowing that he's

dead..." she trailed off.  

Mulder couldn't answer.  He couldn't tell Scully that he was glad the

man was dead.  His only regret was that he wasn't the one who'd pulled

the trigger.

"I'm just going to get out of here for a while.  I'll be fine."

"You sure?  Do you want me to go with you?"

She pondered this for a moment, and then shook her head.  "No, really,

I'm fine.  I just need to get some air."

Mulder hugged her. Scully relaxed into his arms easily, closing her

eyes.  What a day this had been for her.  He stroked her hair gently,

thinking about everything she had gone through since the rape.  He was

continually amazed by her strength.  It was one of the things he loved

about her.  And maybe, someday, there would be a chance for them.  He

knew that he could wait, though.  He would wait for her for as long as

she needed.

He released her after kissing the top of her head softly.  "Drive

carefully," he said to her and smiled.  She smiled back.

"Thank you for everything," she said, her voice a little unsteady.  "I

don't know if I thanked you before."

"You did." 

"Well, thanks again.  Thank you."  Her voice was definitely wavering on

the brink of tears now.  But she was controlling it well.

"Anytime, Scully."

She hugged him again impulsively, quickly.  She was up on tiptoe,

whispering in his ear.  "Thank you for not thinking I was fragile.  I

love you."

And then she let him go, and she left the office without letting him say

another word.

******

FAIRFAX HOSPITAL  

FAIRFAX, VIRGINIA

ROOM 316

Scully stood outside the door of the room for a good five minutes.  She

didn't know if she had the right to be there, to even do what she was

thinking of doing.  She hadn't intended to come to the hospital when she

left the FBI building, but after 20 minutes of driving around aimlessly,

she had ended up there, realizing it must have been where she wanted to

go in the first place.

Finally she knocked softly on the door and entered the room.  The woman

lying on the bed was about Scully's age, with dark blond hair.  Her name

was Allison Westfall.  She had an IV with fluids and a blood trasfusion

piggybacked in through the same line.  Scully had looked at her chart in

the hall and noted that her hemoglobin was very low, likely from all the

blood she had lost from the miscarriage.  The woman's skin was chalky

white, except for the dark bruises on her face and arms.  Her eyes were

open, and she stared at Scully.

"Who are you?" she asked.  It was obvious she had been crying.  

"My name is Dana Scully.  I just wanted to talk to you," she began.  

"Are you a doctor?" Allison asked.

"Yes," Scully replied, "but that's not why I'm here.  I'm here

because....the same man who raped you last night raped me as well."  

Allison turned her head towards the window.  Scully looked at the floor,

wishing for a moment that it would swallow her whole.  "I'm sorry.  I

shouldn't have bothered you," she apologized, and turned to leave.

"No, wait," Allison said, turning her head back to Scully.  She was

crying, large tears falling down her cheeks, but no sounds came from her

lips.  Her face was still.  "Please, sit down."

Scully came to her bedside and sat down in a chair that was pulled close

to the bed.  "I'm assuming you know about my baby?" she asked.  Scully

nodded.  "My husband...he was away on business.  He's on his way back. 

The police called him."

Scully couldn't understand what Allison was feeling.  She was married,

having a normal domestic life.  She had been pregnant, and now the baby

that had been growing in her was gone.  She couldn't imagine the pain.  

Then Scully stopped and reminded herself why she had come in the first

place.  She *did* understand.  "If I can help, in any way, please..."

she stammered.  Scully realized that she was crying silently.

Scully reached her hand out and Allison looked at her for a moment. 

Then she reached her hand over the edge of the hospital bed and took

Scully's hand and squeezed it gently.  Scully squeezed back.

CONTINUED IN PART 6

Beyond Fragile (6/8)

by Leyla Harrison

FBI HEADQUARTERS

WASHINGTON, DC

ONE MONTH LATER

Scully entered the office to find Mulder mulling over a file.  "Anything

interesting?" she asked him.

"Not a thing, unless you feel like going to Tampa to check out a

reported UFO sighting."  

Scully hadn't gone anywhere that required an overnight stay since the

rape, choosing instead to work on cases in the Metro DC area.  Mulder

didn't think that he could convince her to take on a case that was

outside the area, and so he pushed aside X-Files and shelved cases that

weren't within a hundred miles of DC.

He knew what her answer would be.  He knew she would say no.

"When do we leave?" she asked, her voice light.  Mulder could hear the

forced casualness in her tone, but he didn't care.  She was making an

effort.  She was trying to get her life back to the way it was before.

Mulder stood up and smiled broadly at her for the first time in ages. 

"Tomorrow morning.  There's a 7am flight.  I can pick you up if you

want."

"Just like old times," Scully murmured softly, so softly that Mulder

almost didn't hear her.

Mulder nodded imperceptibly.  Scully was not focused on him and was very

obviously thinking about something else -- about a time when having him

pick her up on the way to the airport was routine; about a time when

everything was routine.

He didn't want to disturb her thoughts.  He would love to have that

routine back himself.

****

SLEEP-EASY MOTEL

TAMPA, FLORIDA

Mulder opened his eyes.  For the first time in ages, he had been

sleeping peacefully.  Scully had the adjoining room to him, just like it

used to be.  The neon hotel sign was blinking slowly and steadily

through the thin curtains of his window.  

What woke him?

A noise.  He wasn't sure what it was.  Noisy hotel guests from the floor

above him?

No.

It was Scully.

Mulder turned on his side, feeling the old exhaustion creep in.  He

listened.  She was crying.  Was she awake?

He got up and padded across the room as quietly as possible to the door

that connected their rooms.  He leaned his ear to the cool surface and

held his breath.

"No..." Her voice was filled with pain, both physical and emotional. 

"No..."  Another moan.  

Mulder closed his eyes.  He would do anything to take her pain away. 

Anything.  But it just wouldn't fucking go away.

Mulder reached for the doorknob to open the portal that would bring him

into Scully's world.  

Please, Scully, he prayed, let it be unlocked.  Please trust me enough

to have left it unlocked.

It was unlocked.  The doorknob turned easily in his hand.  The door

opened with a soft swish as the bottom edge dragged across the carpet. 

Mulder left the door open and crept to Scully's bedside, where she

tossed and turned in her bed.

How many times had she come and watched him while he was moaning like

this?

Mulder had left his door unlocked time and time again over the years

they worked together.  Mulder knew that Scully couldn't have slept

through all of his nightmares.  She must have come into his hotel room

and lingered at his side just as he was doing now with her.  

What did she do?  Did she smooth her cool hand over his forehead?  Did

she whisper soft comforting words to him?  Mulder only remembered two

times that he had woken up to find Scully next to him, but he knew that

it had happened more often than that.  He would sometimes smell faint

traces of her perfume lingering in his room the next morning.

He stood there now, helplessly, not knowing what to do to lessen her

distress.  The rape was moving farther and farther into her past, yet it

continued to wreak havok in her mind while she was awake -- and even

more so while she was asleep.

Mulder knelt beside the bed, found her hand tangled in the sheets and

reached for it, lacing his fingers through hers, squeezing lightly.  

"It's OK, Scully," he whispered awkwardly, hoping that it would soothe

her soft groaning.

Scully's eyes snapped open and Mulder froze, holding her hand still, his

eyes locked on her face.

"Hi," he said softly.

Scully's mouth stayed open, her lips forming an O, her breath caught in

her throat.

"What are you doing in here?" 

"You were having a nightmare.  Your door was unlocked -- "  Mulder

struggled for an explanation.

Scully closed her mouth.

"You left your door unlocked."

Scully nodded.

"Bad dream?" Mulder asked.

Her head went up and down again.

Scully pushed herself up onto her elbows, but Mulder stopped her by

dropping her hand and gently pushing her back down on the bed, careful

not to be forceful in any way.

"Lie still," he said softly.  "Let me help you get back to sleep."

He closed his eyes for a moment, cursing himself for how badly that had

come out and how it had sounded.

He opened his eyes again to find Scully looking at him with a strange

mixture of gratitude and sympathy.  

"Thank you," she said.  Her voice was steady, but Mulder could swear he

saw tears glistening in her eyes.

There was a long moment of silence.  Mulder moved to release Scully's

hand but she tightened her grip around his fingers and so he held on,

too.

"Can you...come up here?" she asked.

Mulder hesitated.

Just like before.  Just after the rape.  She wanted him close by.  So

she could feel safe.

"Just until I fall asleep," she amended.

Mulder wordlessly got up from where he knelt on the floor.  Scully

scooted over in the double bed and Mulder crawled in beside her, careful

not to let his body touch hers.  Her back was to him and he stared at

her shoulders, her neck, her hair.

In the moonlight her skin was pale white, her pajamas pale blue.  

"Mulder?" she asked, then turned over to face him.  

Their faces were inches apart.  There was a moment of stillness, of

silence, where they said nothing and simply breathed in each other's

breath.

Then Scully reached for him, pulled him closer, and kissed him.

Her mouth touched his lightly at first, hesitantly.  He sought her lips

gently, feeling the warmth of them against his own.  He wrapped his arms

around her waist, carefully, slowly pulling her to him.  She responded

by wrapping her arms around his neck, kissing him with less hesitance,

with more passion.  And he returned the kiss.

After all the years they had both spent dreaming, fantasizing about this

moment, it was now upon them.  The hotel room, the case -- hell,

everything -- faded away as they kissed, as they explored each others

lips and mouths. Scully sighed against him, and he reached his arms up,

his hands catching her face, holding her face, moving down to her neck,

caressing her there, feeling the smooth skin of her neck--

Scully suddenly reacted violently, tearing her lips from his and shoving

him away as if he were on fire.  "Don't touch me like that!" she cried,

and Mulder backed away, frightened.  

"Scully!" Mulder was shocked by her reaction.  "Scully--"

Her face was contorted with pain and rage, and fear.  She was trembling

visibly, on the verge of tears.  

"Scully--" Mulder tried again.

"No!" she cried, and pushed him even farther away, her breathing fast

and erratic.

Mulder got up and watched her warily.  He was torn -- he wanted to

comfort her but was unable to get close to.the bed.  He didn't want to

upset her any more than she already was.  He knew exactly what was going

on.

Flashbacks.

The counselor from the rape crisis center had talked to him about them. 

She had warned Mulder that they could take weeks, months, even years to

surface, but that when they did, they would be terrifying for both

Scully and whoever was around her.

She was right.

Scully had buried her face in the pillow for a long moment, sobbing

uncontrollably.  She finally looked up at him.  "Mulder," she managed to

get out between tears, "please, help me."

******

They were on the first plane back to DC in the morning.  Mulder knew

that Scully didn't want to go back, but he wanted her somewhere safe,

somewhere she could talk to someone.  Someone who knew how to help her

with what she was going through.

Mulder pulled up in front of Scully's apartment building and turned off

the engine.  She got out of the car, shouldered her overnight bag from

the backseat and closed the door.  She went over to the driver's side

and regarded Mulder through the open window.  She had dark circles under

her eyes and she seemed to be glad to be home.

"Do you want me to walk you in?" he asked.

She shook her head.

"I have an appointment with one of the crisis workers at noon," she told

him.  "When I'm done, I'll meet you at the office."

"Scully, you don't have to come in today.  Take the rest of the day off

--"

"I don't need to.  I'll be in when I'm finished, Mulder.  I'm fine."

Mulder bit down on the word.

Scully turned and walked up towards her building without another word. 

Mulder watched her until she was in the building, then put his head down

wearily on the steering wheel.

His eyes were tired.  

His head ached.

What the hell were they doing?

What the hell was he doing?

God, he knew he shouldn't have kissed her.  He should have stopped her. 

There was no way that she was ready for something like that.  He knew

that she was trying to be strong.  He knew that she was trying to get

back to her old self, the Scully that was fine all the time, the Scully

that didn't need Mulder to walk her in, or to hold her hand.

But he knew that expecting her to do that -- to be that person -- was

damn near impossible for her now.  She was still recovering from the

assault.  It was a process that took time, that took emotional strength

and courage.  It wasn't just something that she could just forget about

and move on.  As much as she wanted to just push the feelings down below

the surface, she couldn't.  

And neither could he.

******

"You kissed him?" Jeannine asked.  She was the crisis worker who had

counseled Scully in the emergency room the night of her rape.

Scully nodded miserably.

"You mentioned that there had been an...attraction between you two long

before the rape."  

"Yes," she said, bowing her head for a moment, then lifting it back up. 

"I don't know why I did it.  I don't know."

"You kissed him because you were attracted to him, Dana.  There's

nothing wrong with that.  You have every right to be attracted to

someone -- and someone has the right to be attracted to you back. 

There's nothing wrong with that.  It doesn't mean that he's going to

force you to do anything."

"I know.  It wasn't Mulder I thought was going to rape me.  It was him. 

It was like I saw his face.  I felt his body pressed up against mine. 

It was like it was happening all over again."  Scully bit her lip. 

"Maybe I'm not ready for this...with Mulder."

"Maybe you're not.  You need to move at a pace that seems right for

you.  You need to determine that for yourself.  And it sounds like

Mulder is willing to move at whatever pace you want."

Scully bowed her head.  "He's been wonderful."

"So give yourself time.  Give yourself space, if that's what you need. 

From what you've said, it sounds like Mulder will wait for you.  For you

to be ready.  In the meantime, there's something I think you should

think about."

*****

"Mulder."

Mulder balanced the phone on his shoulder, aimlessly doodling

meaningless designs on a piece of paper.  It was past three and Scully

still hadn't come in.  He'd started to worry about her.

"Mulder, it's me."

Mulder lifted his head.  "Scully.  How are you?"

A pause.  "I'm fine, Mulder."

"OK," he said, not sure of what to say next.

Silence.

"I'm not going to come back in today."

"OK," Mulder said.

"I'm going to take a few days off."

Silence again.  Mulder wanted to say something, but he wasn't sure which

words to use.

"I've already let Skinner know."

"Scully, are you all right?"  The words tumbled from his lips before he

could stop them.  He knew that she was closing her eyes, biting back

tears that formed as soon as she thought he thought she couldn't take

care of herself.  

"I'm fine, Mulder," she said, her voice strong, surprising him.  "I just

need some time, you know...time to think."

Mulder nodded his head stupidly -- stupidly because he knew she couldn't

see him.  "If you need anything, Scully -- "

"I'll call you, Mulder.  You'll be the first one.  The only one."

She hung up the phone before he could reply to that.  She wasn't angry. 

She just needed some control back.

Mulder put the receiver down and tried to remember what it was like to

work without her.

CONTINUED IN PART 7

Beyond Fragile (7/8)

by Leyla Harrison

TWO DAYS LATER

CONFERENCE ROOM 108

GEORGETOWN UNIVERSITY HOSPITAL

Scully quietly slipped into the room and sat down in one of the plastic

chairs that was arranged in a loose circle.  Conversation in the room

stopped.  Ten pairs pairs of eyes focused on her.  Scully swallowed

nervously.  

"Glad you made it, Dana."  

Jeannine's face was the only one Scully recognized.  Scully smiled at

her, grateful for the familiarity.

"This is Dana, everyone."

There were murmurs of hellos.  Scully looked at everyone and nodded

hello back.

"Feel free to jump in anytime, Dana.  In the meantime, Christina, why

don't you go on with what you were saying."

Scully suddenly noticed one more face she recognized.  Allison

Westfall.  The young woman who had lost her child, the other woman that

Michael Coleman had raped.  Scully caught her eye.  Allison's were wary,

but she tipped her head slightly to one side, acknowledging Scully, and

conversation picked up again.

****

It had been an interesting way to spend the afternoon.  Scully had never

been to a support group before, and although she had felt somewhat

uncomfortable at first, she was considering going back.

She put the key in the top lock of her door and turned it, hearing the

deadbolt turn.  She twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open.

A light was on the living room.  She could see a light on in the kitchen

as well, and she heard water running.  The hairs on the back of her neck

stood on end and she felt her heart rate quicken.  

Oh, God, someone's in my apartment.  

Panic rushed through her like roaring rapids.  She let her purse strap

slide off her shoulder and it fell to the floor softly as she drew her

gun from the holster at the back of her waistband.

Scully slowly advanced into the apartment, toward the kitchen.  She

could see Michael Coleman's face in front of her, as she had opened her

eyes that night to find him over her bed.  This time, I'm going to

surprise whoever this fucker is, she thought, but her actions were not

as sure as her desires.  The gun trembled in her hand.

The water stopped, and she could hear someone walking across the kitchen

tile floor.

Come on, she prodded herself.  Just walk in there.

She tightened her grip on the gun and took a deep breath before going

around the corner.  "Freeze!" she screamed, tightening her finger on the

trigger, ready to shoot.

In front of her, Mulder spun around and dropped the glass mixing bowl he

was holding.  It shattered on the floor at his feet.  "Scully, it's me!"

he yelled.

"Oh my God! Jesus Christ!" she swore, lowering her gun, trying to get

her breathing back to normal.  Her heart was pounding so hard that she

could feel it pulsing painfully in every vein in her body.  So close,

she thought, closing her eyes for a brief moment.  I almost shot him. 

She opened her eyes and looked Mulder over.  "What the hell are you

doing here?"

"I was trying to make you dinner," Mulder murmured apologetically,

looking down at the glass shards at his feet.  "Surprise."

Scully felt like kicking herself.  With a quick glance around the

kitchen, she could see pasta beginning to boil on the stove and the

simmering pot of sauce on the other burner.  In her fear, she hadn't

noticed the tempting aroma of the herbs and spices.  The surprise meal,

the broken glass, and the knowledge that she had almost shot Mulder were

almost completely overwhelming.  Scully could feel hot tears prick

behind her eyelids, but she pushed them back.

Mulder sensed her agitation, and came to her and hugged her.  Once his

arms were around her, he gently slipped the gun from her hand.  She had

only been back to work for a few weeks since they'd returned from

Florida.  

"Why don't you get changed," he suggested, releasing her, "and I'll

finish making dinner."  Scully looked helplessly at the broken glass on

the floor.  "I'll get it, don't worry."  Mulder gave her a gentle push

in the direction of the bedroom.

After her panic attack in the hotel room in Tampa, her visits to the

rape crisis counselor had seemed to make her more at ease.  

Until, he thought as he watched her head for her bedroom, she had almost

shot him just a few minutes ago.  He was worried about her -- about

them.

******

Scully emerged from her bedroom fifteen minutes later, feeling better. 

She had changed into jeans and a loose cabled sweater and had cried

silently in the bathroom for a few minutes, then washed her face,

feeling the comfort of the cool water on her skin.  She had pressed a

washcloth on her eyes, willing the puffiness to go away.  She didn't

want Mulder to know that she had been crying, although she suspected he

would notice anyhow.

The powerful smell of the spaghetti sauce drew her toward the table. 

Mulder had set the table, but there was no soft music, no candles. 

Scully gratefully blessed whatever it was that had kept Mulder from

adding those touches to the evening.  He had somehow known that it would

have made her more uneasy.  As Scully looked up, Mulder appeared as if

by magic in the doorway.  In one hand he held a bowl of spaghetti, and

the other held a pottery bowl.  Scully could see the red sauce steaming

from it.  He stopped when he saw her.

"Could you grab the wine from the kitchen?" he asked, trying to sound

casual.

Scully nodded and returned a moment later, pouring the wine into two

glasses as Mulder spooned the piping hot spaghetti onto two plates.

Being here with Mulder, in this kind of setting, felt almost

unbelieveable to her.  When did this all happen?  She and Mulder,

sharing dinner on their off-duty time. "Since when did you learn how to

cook?" she asked him suspiciously.  

He smiled back at her.  "I know how to cook one thing," he admitted. 

"My mom taught me how to make her spaghetti sauce."  He lifted his glass

of wine to toast hers.