Author: Circe Invidiosa
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Milagro, mentions Irresistible
Classification: S - MS/UST
Disclaimer: I make no claims on the characters. They are
property of Fox, 1013 Productions.
Archiving: yours for the asking
Summary: Post Milagro
Acknowledgments: many thanks to Carol!

--------------
Motive is never easy. Sometimes it occurs to one only later.
--------------

Scully was still lying on the floor, clinging to Mulder. She was
hysterical. She couldn't stop crying. He smoothed the back of
her hair and whispered, "Ssh, it's okay...it's okay..."

Soon Mulder's legs began to ache from crouching above her for
too long. He had to move. He spoke gently to her, "Can you get
up? I'm just going to move you to the couch, okay?"

She made no indication that she heard him. Mulder slipped his
arm around her waist, pulling her up with him. She stood with
him, completely supported by him. She still clung to his neck
and now she buried her face in his chest.

"Come on, sit down."

Mulder maneuvered her to the couch, easing her arms from around
his neck as he helped her sit down. His eyes never left hers as
he sat down on the coffee table and reached across, his hands
covering hers as she sat with them on her lap.

"Take a deep breath and you'll feel better. Can you hear me?
Breathe." His fingers touched below her jaw and gently nudged
her face up to look at him. His voice was urgent now as he
repeated, "Scully, breathe!" He felt a sense of deja vu. He'd
said these words to her before in another context.

Her eyes focused on him as she inhaled deeply but haltingly.
The gulp of air calmed her, but the tears still streamed down
her cheeks.

"Where are you hurt? Can you tell me what happened?" he asked
as he tried to wipe the tears from her face. She shook her
head.

"Okay. I'm going to get an ambulance and get you to a
hospital."

He started to get up, but reaching quickly, she pulled him back
down. He was surprised at her strength considering the state she
was in. She finally spoke, "No, no...don't..." Her voice was
small, almost childlike. She broke down in tears again.

He tried to reason with her. "Scully, you're covered in blood.
You have to get checked out. We have to make sure your injuries
aren't serious."

She shook her head, staring ahead and began to rock back and
forth. Mulder gripped her shoulders.

"Scully...stop." His voice sounded his rising concern as he
realized she was in shock. She made no response. "Scully...
Dana! Listen to me! Breathe!"

Her eyes connected with his again. She inhaled deeply. She
shivered and said quietly, "I'm cold." He reached up behind
her and pulled the wool afghan from the back of the couch and
wrapped it around her shoulders.

"I'm going to get you some water." She made no attempts to stop
him this time as he stood and moved to his kitchen. He found a
clean mug and ran the tap a minute before filling it with cold
water. He looked at his watch. He had left Padgett twenty
minutes ago. The man would be long gone by now. He had to put
an out APB on him and call for back up. He wondered if he could
get Scully out of there before they arrived.

When he returned, she was still sitting with the blanket around
her. She was no longer crying, but simply sat there and stared
at her hands. He knew she felt embarrassed. He hadn't seen a
reaction like this from her since finding her after Pfaster had
kidnapped her. He was trying to be strong for both of them.
But finding her had left him rattled too. Seeing her covered in
her own blood, unconscious, not sure if she was alive...it
brought up emotions he had kept buried for months.

He sat before her again and handed her the mug. She took a sip
as he rooted around the coffee table for his cell phone. She
looked at him questioningly and quietly stated, "I don't want to
go to the hospital."

He replied, "I know. But I lost Padgett, I have to call it in."

She nodded, and then asked, "How are we going to explain this?"
Her voice was still weak.

"You aren't."

"What?" she asked confused.

"You are going to rest. I will explain it so that you aren't
involved."

She started to protest, "You don't have to..."

"Don't argue with me, Scully. I don't know what happened here.
But you aren't in any condition to be interrogated. I won't
allow it."

She said nothing in reply but stared into the mug.

"Are you in pain?" he asked. She shook her head, "I thought
I was. But I don't feel it any more..."

"Have you looked at the wound?"

She closed her eyes, "No. I don't want to."

"We'd better look at it. Then we'll know whether or not you
should go to the hospital."

Mulder stood up and offered her his hand. She took it, looking
unsure if she could stand on her own. He pulled her up and slipped
his arm around her waist to steady her. Even though he was sure she
could walk on her own now, he wasn't going to let her.

He told her, "Take off your shirt. I'll find you something else
to wear. I'll be right back."

------------------

He left her in his small bathroom. She slowly looked up into the
mirror. Mulder was right. She was covered in blood. Suddenly
she wanted to be out of the stained clothing. She shrugged off
her jacket leaving it in a heap on the floor. She stood before
the mirror and slowly she unbuttoned her blouse. She looked away
from herself not wanting to see her damaged torso. Tears were
stinging at her eyes again as she remembered her assailant's hand
plunging into her chest. Finally, she looked down. Blood had
dried across her brassiere and skin, but her fingers couldn't find
an entry wound. She heard a soft knock behind her. Mulder stood
in the doorway and handed her one of his grey T-shirts. "Is it
bad?" he asked. She said in disbelief, "There's nothing." His
expression became one of confusion. He turned her around to
examine her. "But the blood..."

She felt uncomfortable by his scrutiny of her chest, but she
knew he had to see for himself. His fingers reached up as if to
trace the blood with his fingers to try to see where it came
from when he seemed to suddenly realize what he was doing and
moved away from her. He handed her a washcloth. "Try to clean
yourself up as much as you can. I'm going to make the call now.
I'll be in the living room."

He left her again. She pulled off her blouse and quickly dabbed
at her neck and chest with the cloth. She slipped Mulder's shirt
over her head. The grey material draped over her small frame.

She gathered up her bloodied clothes and made her way back to
his living room. He was washing up the blood on the floor where
he had found her. He got up when he saw her and went straight to
her side to support her.

"Do you feel dizzy or light-headed?" he asked as he slid an
arm around her shoulder. He moved her to the couch once again.

She shook her head. He asked again, "You sure you're okay?" She
nodded in reply.

He continued, "All right. I've called Skinner and back up and
they'll be here shortly. I didn't mention that you were here
or that you were attacked. They will probably do a search of the
building but it's not likely that they'll search my apartment.
Do you want to stay here and wait for me or do you think you can
make it down to your car?"

She began to protest again, "Mulder..."

"Scully," he interrupted her, "can you explain what happened
here?" She shook her head in reply and he said in return, "Then
it's easier not to explain it at all."

"What are you going to tell them then?" she asked.

"That I undertook a surveillance by myself. And I went after the
suspect when I saw him leave his apartment with evidence,
presumably to give instructions to an accomplice. But I lost him
outside of the building."

"I fired my gun, Mulder. Your neighbours will have heard the
shots."

"Okay, I fired warning shots to try to stop the suspect. We'll
trade weapons in the unlikely event they want to test that it's
been fired. Look, Scully, we are running out of time to argue
about this. Where do you want to wait for me?" His voice betrayed
his rising impatience and anxiety.

She would have to wait for him alone. The thought hadn't
crossed her mind. Eventually she would have to be left alone.
But she had to relent. Staying there in his apartment where she
was just attacked was an alarming prospect. Surely he would
have to leave the apartment to aid in the search for Padgett.
Going to her car to sit alone didn't hold any less dread. She
could be seen by anyone who passed by. Besides, she couldn't
guarantee that she could walk very far yet.

Logic began to take over her senses again. She knew she had to
overcome this fear as soon as possible. It would be ridiculous
to let fear rule her now.

She chose to stay. He nodded. Then he gathered up her overcoat
and handed it to her. He retrieved her gun from where she had
dropped it when she passed out. He gently guided her into his
bedroom. "Stay in here. I'll make sure they don't come in."

Mulder's room was in a state of disarray. He shifted a large
pile of clothes on the bed to make a small nook for her to sit in
or lie down in, if she needed to. Scully found it surprisingly
easy to let him take care of her.

She sat down on the bed. He knelt in front of her and took his
gun from his holster and placed it on the bedside table. He
slipped hers in his holster. She did the same with his. She
looked at him now with clearer vision. Her fingers brushed
across Mulder's chest. "I got blood on you," she said quietly.
"It doesn't matter," he responded. He stripped off his shirt
and tossed it past her onto the floor. Underneath, his white
T-shirt had remained spotless.

Mulder looked her over as if to see if to see if he had missed
anything. He touched her jaw just below her ear where she had
missed some blood. She realized what he had seen when he winced
and tried to rub the spot away. She pulled his hand away. Finally,
he murmured to her, "I'm going to meet them at the front of the
building. Are you sure you're going to be all right?"

She nearly told him she was fine, but thought better of it, and
simply nodded. He said, "Okay, try to get some rest. I will be
back as soon as I can."

Scully's eyes followed him as he stood. She felt small and
fragile. Normally, she could stare him down until she
he was half her size, but now she simply gave him a helpless
glance before turning away. She was uncomfortable with him
seeing her like this, but knew he felt just as uncomfortable...
just as helpless. His fingers delicately smoothed her hair
along the side of her face. She caught his hand and squeezed
it. He walked out of the room and closed the door lightly.


-------------------------

Mulder led the team through the building. He showed them his
surveillance equipment. He took them to Padgett's apartment.
He described how he fired warning shots when the suspect left his
apartment and how Padgett got on the elevator anyway. He left
out following him down to the incinerator. He told them he had
seen the elevator was going down and assumed that Padgett was
leaving the building to meet an accomplice. He stated he was
unable to find the suspect on the ground floor or immediately
outside the building. That's when he called.

They took it all in. There didn't seem to be anything out of
the ordinary in what he told them. They began their search of
the building. They didn't have to go far...

-------------------------

Scully was tense until she could hear the murmur of voices from
the next room as Mulder's apartment filled with law enforcement.
She lay down keeping her boots on. She could hear Mulder's
voice clearly. He must have been standing by his bedroom door,
inconspicuously guarding it from intrusion. Mulder's voice
calmed her. She listened as he told the story they had agreed
upon. She heard Skinner's low rumble in reply. She was lulled
by the sound of Mulder's voice and gradually began to feel
groggy. Soon she heard his voice move away until she no longer
heard it and panic seized her. She couldn't sleep now.

The apartment was now silent. They must have left to do a
search. Scully quickly slipped her boots off and wriggled under
the covers of the bed. The blankets comforted her. They
provided warmth and a shield to hide under. She covered all but
the very top of her head. She felt a child hiding from the
lurking monsters, but her feelings of absurdity did not overcome
her terror. She waited anxiously for Mulder's return knowing she
wouldn't be able to sleep until then.

It took her all of five minutes to succumb to fatigue.

----------------------------

She had been dreaming. She was being held down. Hands from
everywhere were piercing her body. She struggled but couldn't
get away.

Suddenly, she felt a hand fall softly on her head. She gasped
and grabbed at it. She woke to find it was Mulder's hand. He
greeted her, "Hey." She relaxed her grip on his hand and he sat
on the edge of the bed beside her. She noted his expression of
worry and regret. She disliked this look. It meant he was
going to play the martyr.

She sat up. "Is it over? Did they find him?"

He sighed. "Padgett's dead. They found him in the basement."

Her face registered her shock. "How?"

"Same as the others," he mumbled.

"Will there be any further investigation?"

"No. Skinner thinks it's sewn up. He's sure Padgett was the
guy and now that he's dead, there's nothing else to look for."

Confused, she persisted, "Regardless of the fact that he was in
jail at the time of one of the deaths?"

"He thinks it could be a copycat killing," he replied.

She protested again, "But..."

He interrupted, "Just let it go, Scully. It's over."

She brought her knees up to her chin and sat hugging her legs to
her body. They sat quietly like this for what seemed like
forever.

He didn't ask, but she knew he wanted to, so she told him about
her attack. She told him that the man was there when she opened the
door. She told him the man looked exactly like the photo in the
file of Ken Naciamento. She told him how the man pushed her back
into the apartment and threw her on the floor. She told him he
pinned her before she could react. She told him how she watched
as the man drove his fingers into her chest. She told him about
the searing, gasping pain. She told him how she had shot the man
and emptied her gun into him, but it had no effect. "...And when
the pain became unbearable, I began to pass out. I can't explain
what happened next..."

His hand covered hers as he nodded, urging her to continue. She
inhaled deeply, and went on, "As I started to black out...I
swear, Mulder...he disappeared."

He nodded again but continued to say nothing.

"I couldn't have imagined him," she said.

He agreed, "No, you didn't. Padgett did."

"How can that be, Mulder? That man was here. I saw him. I felt
his hand. He was real. We should be searching for him. He's
obviously not dead. He probably killed Padgett."

"Padgett killed Padgett, Scully. Unlike the other victims,
Padgett's heart was in his own hand," he watched the surprise
register on her face. He tried to pacify her, "Look, Scully, if
Naciamento is alive, and if it was him, he will attack again and
we'll find him. But I don't think he is. You were right,
Scully. Padgett not only imagined it, he made it happen; he
brought it to life."

"That's not possible," she argued, "How can anyone's imagination
be that strong? To bring a fictional character to life? To make
what he wrote actually happen? What could possibly give him that
kind of power?"

"Obsession," he answered her. "We underestimated him. He wasn't
just a lovelorn Romeo or a secret admirer. He was fixated on
you. I should have seen this more clearly. It was all about
you."

She asked puzzled, "Mulder, what are you talking about?"

"I was with Padgett before I found you and I glanced at the last
pages he wrote before I heard the shots. It was a textbook case
of love obsession stalking. I can't believe I didn't see it. It
explains...everything. The charm, the milagro...stalkers often
give their victims gifts to make contact with them and attempt to
woo them. And the book was his way of capturing the relationship
he fantasized with you...by making it reality he was trying to
live out his fantasy..."

"Mulder, that's crazy. It doesn't explain the deaths of those
people. It doesn't explain how he could make fiction a reality."

"Scully, Padgett destroyed his book. He threw it in the
incinerator after I left when I heard the shots, and that would
be around the time that you say the man disappeared... He told
me that Naciamento told him how to end the book in his apartment
just before he went to the basement."

"But there was no one there...he was alone," she said slowly
still letting Mulder's words register with her. She swallowed
hard and asked, "How did it end?"

He leaned forward and held his face in his hands. She could
tell he didn't really want to tell her, but knew that she would
insist, so he continued, "Basically, that he misjudged your
interest in him... that he felt you were in love with someone
else and therefore couldn't love him...then out of desperation,
jealousy, humiliation...he described Naciamento's attack on you
exactly as you just described it to me. He could no longer live
out his fantasy with you because you weren't following his script.
Obsession stalkers decide that if they cannot be a positive part
of their victim's life, they will be part of their life in a
negative way. The evolution of the stalker's thought pattern
progresses from, 'If I can just prove to you how much I love you,'
to 'I can make you love me,' to 'If I can't have you, no one else
will.' He played it all out in his book..."

Scully had turned away from him long before Mulder had stopped
talking. She blushed when Mulder described Padgett thinking
she was in love. Padgett hadn't said with whom, but he must
have assumed she was in love with Mulder. He hadn't seen her
with anyone else. It didn't occur to her at the time and she
had wondered who it was Padgett could have meant and initially
thought he had the audacity to imagine it was himself. She
should have known. Often she and Mulder had been mistaken for a
couple, and today that mistake almost fatal. She had momentarily
indulged in the flattery and attention that Padgett had paid her
dismissing it as a harmless crush on her, and nearly paid for
that indulgence with her life. What had she been thinking? She
became overwhelmed with thoughts of her foolishness and began to
weep silently.

--------------------

Mulder had stopped talking. He realized he sounded like he was
lecturing. He turned to look at Scully. She had turned away
from him. He was afraid she was crying again. The sight of her
shaking shoulders confirmed his suspicion. He stood up and
moved to the other side of the bed. He swept the large pile of
clothes to the floor. He slid onto the bed beside her, pulling
her to him. He cradled her in his arms and let her cry. His
chin rested on top of her head.

When her tears subsided, he quietly spoke, "I'm sorry."

She sniffled before asking, "For what?"

"For not recognizing what was happening in time. I should have
seen what he was, I should have known..."

"Don't, Mulder," she interrupted, shaking her head.

"Don't what?" he asked looking down at her.

"Take responsibility for this. You've done enough for me tonight
without trying to blame yourself for this."

"Is that what you think I'm doing?"

"Aren't you?" she asked, eyebrow raised.

"Yeah." He grinned at her sheepishly.

She smiled for the first time that night. It was a sign to him
that she was going to be okay. Before he could, she brushed the
tears from her cheeks and wiped her eyes, absent-mindedly using
the sleeve of the shirt she wore. She remained in his arms,
making no effort to move away from him. She rested her head against
his chest. He was sure she would try to disentangle herself from him
and was surprised when she nestled in closer. He started talking
again to distract himself from her proximity.

"Seriously though, Scully, if I hadn't been so adamant about
pinning the murders on him, I would have seen his motives more
clearly. The murders weren't about the victims. He was trying
to get your attention with the murders. You were his target.
I should have seen how far gone he was. I guess I just thought
he was infatuated with you."

"Yeah, me too," she mumbled in agreement.

He pressed a kiss on the top of her head. "Yeah, but who's the
profiler here?"

She chuckled softly. She was beginning to relax. He continued,
"Well, it bothered me. His infatuation, that is. Maybe that was
what blinded me: my dislike of the guy. It's not that I couldn't
imagine someone having a thing for you. Maybe I just couldn't
imagine someone else having a thing for you. I don't think I
realized it until I found you. I can't even imagine what I would
have done if you were...hurt. When I saw you lying there, I
thought...I don't know what I thought. If anything irreparable
had happened to you...Scully?"

She had fallen asleep. He couldn't tell when she had drifted
off but he was somewhat relieved. He wasn't doing very well
trying to explain his feelings and remorse. She must have been
absolutely exhausted from the stress of the day. He looked at
her and marveled at how she could just fall asleep to the sound
of his voice. He stroked her hair and pushed it from her face.

His thoughts continued where his voice had left off. How did it
end? The question spun around in his head. It ended with
exactly what he found in his apartment after leaving Padgett.
It ended with her end.

When he saw her seemingly lifeless on the floor, he thought he
had lost her. He couldn't imagine how close he had come to
losing her today. And what if he had? For months he had cut
himself off from her out of anger over her skepticism no matter
how legitimately placed. The guilt he would have felt would have
been enormous...overwhelming. He would never have survived it.
And her death would have been his fault. He hadn't seen
Padgett's motives because of his cloaked anger with her. He was
sure of that. He knew he'd have to work to remedy this situation
before another incident like this occurred. He couldn't take the
chance of losing her without her knowing...

He told himself he would continue to hold her until he could no
longer bear her weight. He would hold her until she was deeply
asleep and any movement from him wouldn't disturb her. He knew
if she woke, she would insist on leaving and he would insist on
her staying. He would make her take the bed while he would
sleep on the couch. He would find one of his never-used pajama
tops for her to use.

And if he relented and let her go home, he would make her
promise to see a doctor in the morning and insist on
driving her home and stay until he knew she was okay. He
thought out all the scenarios until he was satisfied that he
would be with her most of the night.

But for now, he would just hold her and cherish the feeling of
her against him...