The Long Way Home 
By Laurie D. Haynes 
shannara@pnx.com 



Title: The Long Way Home
Author: Laurie D. Haynes
Category: MSR,H,Adv,Angst
Rating: PG-13
SPOILERS: "Beyond the Sea"

Summary: Follow-up to "Beyond the Sea." Mulder is released from
the hospital in Raleigh, N.C., to fly back to Washington, D.C.,
with Scully. But of course, Mulder never does anything the easy
way. Bored Mulder=big trouble. 
Oh yeah, no copyright infringement intended: 
yadda, yadda, yadda. I know they're not mine, 
I'm just playing with them for a while. 

Feedback desperately wanted.
shannara@pnx.com

     Sitting up in his Raleigh hospital bed, Mulder played with
his breakfast, pushing the powdered eggs around on his tray. He
checked his watch once again and sighed. Just 9:05 a.m., still
about another 24 hours before Scully was scheduled to pick him up
so they could catch a flight back to D.C.

     Ten days in the hospital with a bullet hole in his leg was
about all he could possibly stand. He'd slept more in the last
week than he had in the past month. The bullet had punctured the
femoral artery and fractured his femur. Mulder had nearly died
from blood loss and shock. Up until about three days ago, he
hadn't felt like doing much more than sleep.

     Sleeping any more was impossible, now, though, despite the
fact the nurses had threatened to sedate him into oblivion if he
gave them any further trouble. Just because he'd pulled his IV
out a few times and stuck foreign objects inside his cast trying
to ease the horrible itching of his healing leg. If they had no
compassion for patients, they shouldn't be in nursing.

     Mulder pushed the wheeled table out of the way and picked up
the TV controls. He had long since grown tired of channel
surfing, but there was always a chance something was on. He came
to a sports channel where there looked to be an interesting game,
but he couldn't hear a thing. Mulder increased the volume, but
still there was no sound. He kept increasing it, to no avail, and
finally became disgusted and changed the station.

     The deafening scream on the horror movie he'd turned to
startled Mulder and he dropped the television remote/nurse's call
button, which, since he had unwound it from the bed railing,
promptly swung on its cord back behind the head of the bed, out
of his reach.

      Mulder strained to reach the remote control and almost had
his fingertips on it when his heavy cast slipped off the bed,
carrying him with it. Mulder's yell joined the screaming on the
television. Two nurses and a doctor ran in the room to see who
was being murdered, only to find their patient in a heap on the
floor, muttering shocking curse words, his face white with pain.
The TV was blaring and other patients were starting to yell out
complaints.

     One nurse managed to retrieve the remote and shut off the
television while the other nurse and the doctor helped Mulder up
off the floor and back into bed. The nurses scolded Mulder while
the doctor checked him over and asked him questions about his
leg.

     "Does the leg still hurt, Mr. Mulder? Please don't tell me
you've undone my work," the doctor said.

     *It hurts like hell, but damned if I'm gonna tell this
S.O.B. They'll never let me go.*

     Instead, Mulder responded aloud, "No, no, it's fine. It's
feeling better, now, already."

     The nurses called the doctor aside and after a brief
conference and what sounded like arguing, he returned.

      "Mr. Mulder, since you're due to be released tomorrow,
anyway, why don't I have the nurse call your partner then help
you get dressed and you can go home early."

     Mulder brightened at the prospect of escape.

     His nurse helped him pull on a pair of boxers -- with Mulder
blushing the whole time -- then wrestled some oversized sweat
pants over his cast. Scully had bought them yesterday for him to
wear home. Fortunately, the pants had a drawstring so Mulder was
able to tighten them all the way to his waist. A matching Knicks
sweatshirt completed the ensemble and he slid his good foot into
one of his running shoes.

     Scully arrived a few minutes later with a wheelchair and an
orderly.

     "Hiya, Scully," Mulder said, delighted to see her. 

     She scowled at him.

       "What?" he asked defensively.

       "Do you have to make enemies at every hospital you go to,
Mulder? Would it have killed you to stay here peacefully one more
day?"

       "It wasn't my fault!"

       "It never is," she sighed. "Are you ready?"
     
       "Definitely!" he replied, and stood up, balancing on his
good leg as the orderly approached with the wheelchair. Mulder
plopped down in the chair, wincing in pain as he jarred his sore
leg again.

       The expression didn't get by Scully.

       "Are you all right, Mulder? You want a shot before we go?"

       "No, no shots, it'll just knock me out and then what'll
you do?"

     Scully's eyes twinkled.
     "Don't ask! Seriously, the doctor gave you a prescription
for pain. You should take one, now, since you're going to be
moving around."

     Mulder shook his head. He hated taking anything that made
his mind fuzzy.

     "I'm fine. Let's get out of here."

     He looked up at the orderly and grinned.
     "Home, James!"

     Scully walked beside them as "James" wheeled Mulder to a
bureau car and a driver, waiting outside the front door.

     Mulder managed to painfully climb into the back seat and
propped his injured leg up on the car seat. Scully stuck a pair
of crutches in beside him.

     Mulder could have sworn the youthful agent driving them (the
guy was so green and young, Mulder swore he must have been
recruited straight out of junior high), targeted every pothole
along the way to the airport, but Mulder managed to conceal his
pain.

     It seemed like a year, but it was only about 20 minutes
before they arrived at the airport. While Scully went after a
wheelchair, Mulder waited silently with the local agent, who
insisted on telling the older man all about his love life. That
Mulder had no love life, and certainly not with the only woman he
wanted, but felt he could not have, didn't help his attitude a
bit.

     Just as Mulder was about ready to clobber the driver with a
crutch, Scully showed up with the wheelchair and a skycap to get
their luggage.

     Once again, Mulder made the painful transfer to the
wheelchair. Scully pushed him along to their gate and parked the
chair.

     "We've got about a half-hour before they start loading. I
could use a cup of coffee. How about you, Mulder?"

     "Sounds great. Make it a large."

     Scully nodded and walked off to a nearby coffee shop.

     Two kids, a boy and a girl, were quietly playing a game a
couple of seats away from Mulder. The girl must have been about
8, with long brown hair pulled back on the sides with barrettes.
The boy couldn't have been but a year or two older.

     As always happened when he saw a little girl of that age and
coloring, it reminded Mulder of Samantha and he remembered the
close relationship they had.

     Apparently, the boy won the game, because the girl started
arguing with him. The boy grinned, grabbed her doll and messed up
its hair.

     The girl shrieked and her brother got up, taking the doll
with him, and began running. Mulder was sure she was angry, but
he caught a glimpse of a quick grin as she started chasing him.
The two ran round and round the waiting area and about the time
they drew near Mulder again, their mother must have returned,
because the boy threw on the brakes, then stumbled right into
Mulder's injured leg, tripping completely over it.

     Mulder gave a shriek of his own, frightening the two
children who promptly began bawling their heads off. Their mother
came over, glared at Mulder and picked her son up off the floor.

     Seeing an opportunity to escape a scolding, the child
wrapped his arms around his mother's neck and sobbed.

     "What did you do to him?" the woman demanded of Mulder.

     "Nothing! It was an accident!" Mulder insisted, gritting his
teeth against the pain.

     The mother set the boy down, picked up a cola she had
brought from the snack bar and upended it on Mulder's head.

     Scully returned just in time to witness the scene.  

     It looked as if the woman was about to bean Mulder with her
handbag when Scully yelled out, "Freeze, lady! Federal officer!"

     The woman turned around, shocked, and saw Scully striding
toward her, flashing a badge.

     "You just assaulted a federal officer," Scully said,
seething. She turned her attention to her partner. "Mulder, are
you OK?"

     Mulder, clutching his plaster-enclosed leg, couldn't answer
right then, but nodded his head.

     "I'm sorry, I uh..d-d-didn't know," said the woman,
mortified and sure she was headed for jail. "I thought he tripped
my little boy."

     "The kids were playing, running all over the place and your
boy ran into my leg," Mulder explained, and groaned.

     "Take your children and go sit down before I arrest you for
attacking my partner," Scully ordered, glaring at the woman.

     The mother took each of her kids by the hand and led them to
the opposite side of the waiting area.

     Scully set the bag from the coffee shop down and sat down
beside Mulder, whose eyes were tightly closed, obviously in pain.
He opened them after a minute and regarded his sopping clothes,
sticky with the soft drink that had been dumped on him.

          "You wouldn't have a change of clothes for me, handy, would
you, Scully?" he asked mournfully.

     "No, but I saw a gift shop back down the way. I'll go grab
something in there."

     She dug the bottle of pain pills from her purse, shook one
out into her hand and gave it to Mulder along with one of the
cups of coffee.
     "Here, take this and I'll be right back."

     For once, Mulder didn't argue and quickly swallowed the
pill, washing it down with coffee.

     Scully started to leave again.
     "Oh, one more thing, Mulder. Do you think you can stay out
of trouble long enough for me to get back?"

     Mulder regarded her with an insulted expression, then
grinned.

     "Just keep those little monsters away from me, and I'll be
fine," he joked.

     "Poor Mulder," Scully said, patting him on the shoulder.
"Let a liver-eating mutant chase you, or a sewer monster grab
you, or a bad guy with a big gun shoot you, and there's no
problem. But let two little kids jump you and you beg for mercy."

     Mulder burst out laughing and Scully joined him.
  

                  *         *      *

     Scully returned with her purchases, handed Mulder the sack
and wheeled him to the entrance of the men's room.

     Mulder grinned up at her.
     "You're not going to come in and help me?"

     She flashed him the Look and he maneuvered the chair into
the bathroom. Finding a corner out of the way, Mulder set the
brake and with difficulty, managed to wrestle off his soaked
sweat pants and sodden shirt and tossed them aside. He wheeled
over to a lavatory, grabbed a handful of paper towels and
proceeded to wash the sticky soda off himself as best he could.

     *Now for the hard part.*

     Mulder managed to slip the new pants over his legs, but
getting them pulled up was a major ordeal and he bumped his
injured leg several times, having to pause each time to let the
pain pass before proceeding. He pulled the clean shirt over his
head, grabbed the dirty things and stashed them in the shopping
bag, then went out to meet Scully.

     They returned to the gate just as the call came for those
with wheelchairs and small children to board. Scully gathered up
their carry-on luggage and Mulder wheeled himself to the gate,
balancing his crutches across the arms of the chair. A cabin
attendant took the crutches and showed them to their seats. She
helped Scully get Mulder settled in a first-class bulkhead seat
that had room enough for him to stretch out his bad leg.

     He buckled his seatbelt then leaned his head back, exhausted
from the morning's activities. Scully grabbed a blanket and
pillow from the overhead bin and tucked her partner in.

     "Thanks, Scully," he said, then took her hand as she sat
down. "For everything."

     She smoothed his mussed hair from his forehead and regarded
him fondly.

     "Somebody's got to look after you. You don't do such a good
job of it, yourself," she replied.

                     *         *         *

     Mulder slept completely through takeoff and woke to see
Scully talking with the cabin attendant.

     "FBI? Really? Must be our day for law enforcement. We've got
a D.C. detective and his prisoner back in tourist class," said
the attendant.

     "What's his name?" asked Scully. "We might know him."

     The attendant shrugged.

     "I didn't catch the name. He flashed his badge when he came
aboard and I just saw it for a second. He's sitting in 17B. His
prisoner is in the window seat. Want me to tell him you're up
here?"

     Mulder shook his head.
     "Nah. I'd rather you didn't. I'm really not in the mood for
shop talk and with my luck he'd want to talk my ear off."

     The attendant nodded and moved away to wait on someone else.

     "I think I'll stretch my legs a bit," said Scully. "I'll go
to the back and see if I know the guy."

     Mulder grinned ruefully.

     "Wish I could take a walk. All this sitting and lying down
is driving me nuts."

     "Next time, don't stand out on a dock in plain view, yelling
'shoot me, shoot me!'" Scully teased.

     "It wasn't like that," grumped Mulder. "I just saw a light
under the tarp on that boat. I yelled for whoever it was to
freeze and BAM, he shot me. No time to duck even if there was
anything to duck behind."

     "I know," replied Scully. "But I almost lost you and I
really didn't want to have to break in a new partner. Just be
more careful, next time, OK?" 

     She squeezed his hand then put it to her cheek.

     Mulder gazed into her eyes with wonder.
     *She really cares.*

     He tried and failed to remember anyone else that he
sincerely thought gave a damn about him -- not since Samantha,
anyway.  Well, at first he thought Phoebe cared, but it didn't
take long to find out she was just using him.

     Scully got up and strolled to the back of the plane. As she
approached Row 17, she glanced over at the cop and his prisoner.
As she did so, the cop's image was suddenly superimposed with
that of her father. His mouth moved as if he was trying to say
something to her.

     Scully shook her head and the vision cleared. She continued
to the back to the galley and asked the attendant there for an
iced tea and a root beer.

  As she passed back by the cop, she looked at him again, but
the vision was not repeated. She also realized she did not know
the officer and went on back to the first class cabin and Mulder.

     Scully still couldn't bring herself to tell Mulder about her
visions of her father. She decided she just hadn't gotten over
his death, yet.

      *But when I saw him that first time, I didn't know he was
dead. Maybe... he really was contacting me. But why now in the
middle of a plane flight?*

     Scully shrugged and handed Mulder a bottle of tea and a cup
of ice, before sitting down herself.

     Mulder thanked her.
     "So, did you know the cop?"

     Scully shook her head.

     Noting the troubled look on her face, Mulder asked her if
she was all right, but she assured him she was fine.
  
               *         *         *

     About 15 minutes later, when both Mulder and Scully were
dozing, they were awakened by a shout from the back.

     The two of them exchanged glances and Scully got up to peer
through the curtain separating the first class cabin and the
tourist section.

     Her eyes widened.

     The cop she had seen earlier had his arm around the neck of
a terrified cabin attendant and a gun pointed at her head. The
man they had thought was his prisoner also had a gun and stood
beside him.

     "Just put your money and your valuables in the bag my
partner is passing around," said the one who had posed as a
police officer.

     Scully immediately moved to the cockpit door and opened it,
intending to tell the pilot to radio the airport. The crew turned
their heads to look at her. Before she could say anything,
though, the first man threw the dividing curtain open and yelled
at her.

     "Just sit down, lady, and you won't get hurt! Dig out your
cash and jewelry. We're taking a collection."
     
     He walked into the cockpit, pulled the radio mike loose from
the control panel and threw it aside.

     "Cooperate," he told the crew, "and everything will be
fine."

     Mulder noted the suspicious-looking flight bag slung over
the man's head and shoulder and elbowed Scully who had returned
to her seat.

     "We've seen their faces. I hardly think they'll be turning
us loose," he whispered.

     Scully nodded. She also worried what would happen when the
two found out she and Mulder were FBI.

     "Mulder," she whispered. "Our guns are in my bag. I'm going
to get up and talk to them. You get the guns out."

     Scully took her purse and walked up to the robber. She
pulled out her wallet, flashing the bills in front of him, while
Mulder sneaked one gun into the waistband of his pants and
another under the blanket and between their two seats.

     The phony officer grabbed Scully's money and watch and
ordered her back to her seat. She looked Mulder in the eye and he
blinked once, slowly at her and glanced between the seats. Her
hand slipped under the blanket and found her weapon.

     "Try not to fire if you can help it," Mulder told her
quietly and she nodded, understanding the danger of piercing the
airplane cabin.

     Mulder grabbed his crutches and stood up, moving out into
the aisle.

     The crook pointed the pistol at him.
     "Sit down!"

     "Hey, I gotta take a leak. You wouldn't want me to do it
right here would you? C'mon, man, I'm about to bust! Here. Take
my money," Mulder said, thrusting a wad of bills at him.

     The man nodded and allowed Mulder to move to the back to the
restrooms. The second man eyed him, but let him pass when his
partner gestured to do so.

     Mulder looked back over his shoulder and saw Scully move
into place behind the first crook.

     As Mulder turned clumsily, the phony prisoner looked up. 
Not having time to draw his gun, Mulder clobbered the man with
a crutch, knocking him to the floor. Balancing on his good leg,
Mulder pulled his gun at the same time the man aimed his at
Mulder. 

     Both fired simultaneously.

     Mulder fell back with a searing pain in his upper right
abdomen, just as he saw the other man's chest explode in blood. 

     As he lay there, Mulder couldn't decide which hurt more --
his side or his leg. Worried about Scully, he shook his head and
tried to sit up, only to see her kneel beside him.

     "Scully?" he asked weakly.

     "Damn, Mulder!" was the reply as she grabbed a nearby
blanket and quickly folded it into a compress.

     "The other one?" asked Mulder and groaned as she pressed the
compress against his wound.

     "He's out cold and handcuffed back in first class," Scully
told him.

     Consciousness fled once he knew Scully and the others were
safe.

     Two cabin attendants, grimacing, dragged the body of the
second robber into the galley and out of the way, throwing a
blanket over him to hide the gruesome blank stare of his dead
eyes.

     Scully checked Mulder's pulse, relieved to see it was weak,
but borderline acceptable. But she also saw blood leaking out
alarmingly from the top of his leg cast.

     "Mulder, don't you ever do anything halfway?" she muttered
and sent one of the attendants for her medical bag.

     Directing a nearby passenger to maintain pressure on
Mulder's side, Scully extracted a pair of strong scissors from
her bag and cut away the cast to reveal what she had feared.
Mulder had reopened his wound and from the looks of it, had been
bleeding for a while. She guessed the fall when he was shot a few
minutes ago finished the job of bursting open the stitches that
the little boy had begun back at the airport.

     She bandaged the leg tightly and the blood flow seemed to
stop. With the help of the cabin attendant she managed to pass a
bandage around Mulder's torso and the blanket compress near his
stomach. The attendant handed her an oxygen mask which snaked
down from above a nearby seat and Scully placed it over his mouth
and nose. She sat back and wiped her forehead with the back of
her hand.

     Scully jumped as someone touched her shoulder from behind.

     It was just the navigator.
     "We fixed the radio and called the BWI tower. The pilot
increased our speed and we should be arriving in about 10
minutes. We've got landing priority when we get there and a Med-
Link chopper and a squad car will be waiting," the crewman told
her.

     "Thanks," she said and he returned to the cockpit.  "Hear
that, Mulder? You'll soon be ensconced in your favorite hospital.
Just hang on, partner," Scully told Mulder, monitoring his
slowing pulse.

                         *         *         *

     As promised, they were soon on the ground. The pilot ordered
the passengers to remain seated as airport police and ambulance
attendants boarded.

     Scully accompanied Mulder's stretcher to a waiting air
ambulance, which flew them into D.C. to Northeast Georgetown 
Medical Center as she requested.

     The scene in the emergency room was all too reminiscent of
10 days ago at the hospital in Raleigh. After a quick examination
and X-rays, Mulder was rushed into surgery.

     Scully waited outside for word. She sat exhausted in the
waiting room, her hands covering her face.

     "Scully?"

     She looked up to see Assistant Director Skinner standing
beside her and she stood up.

     "Sorry I didn't have time to call you, sir."

     "The airport police called me, you had other things to worry
about," Skinner assured her. "What's the word?"

     "He took a bullet in the abdomen and reopened his leg
wound," she reported. "He lost quite a bit of blood. They'll know
more after they finish operating."

     Together they waited while Scully filled Skinner in on the
events in Raleigh as well as what happened on the plane.

     Scully jumped to her feet as she saw a doctor emerge from
the operating room and approach her.

     The doctor smiled and Scully sighed in relief.

     "We have every reason to believe he's going to be fine,"
said the surgeon. "The bullet took an upward trajectory, nicked
his lung and lodged against a rib. We went in, repaired the lung
and removed the bullet. We had to go back in and repair the
femoral artery again, which was seeping, and reset the leg. He's
young and strong so should recover just fine. I'm sure they told
him in Raleigh, though, that he's got several months of physical
therapy ahead of him for that leg."

     Scully nodded.
     "When can we see him?"

     "He's in recovery and should be coming around in an hour or
so," the doctor said. "Then we'll put him in an ICU room. If he's
doing well tomorrow evening, though, we'll move him to a regular
room."

     "I'd like to be there when he wakes up," Scully said. "So he
doesn't worry about where he is."

     The doctor relented and allowed the two of them to go into
the recovery room.
  
                      *         *         *

     Awareness gradually returned to Mulder and he heard voices
murmuring near him. He recognized Scully's voice and his eyes
fluttered open. 

     She gave him a dazzling smile and would have hugged him if
Skinner had not been there. She settled for holding his hand.

     "Hey there," he mumbled.

     "Hey, yourself."

     Mulder looked around and realized he was in a hospital. He
groaned in frustration.

     "Awww. Shit! I just got OUT of the hospital, Scully! Is this
really necessary?"

     "I told you before, Mulder, if you wouldn't make a target
out of yourself you could escape these indignities."

     "From the looks of your medical bills, Mulder, I think
Scully has the right idea," Skinner said, moving into the agent's
view. "How do you feel?"

     Mulder was genuinely surprised to see the assistant
director. He thought the man hated his guts. Maybe Skinner was
here to reprimand him.

     "Like crap," Mulder replied honestly. "Look, sir, I'm sorry
about the incident on the plane. I screwed up, I know."

     "That's not what I hear," Skinner told him. "Everyone is
singing your and Scully's praises. Come to find out, the robber
who posed as a cop had a flight bag full of explosives and he 
and his partner had a couple of parachutes in backpacks where 
they had been sitting. He's singing in exchange for a reduced
sentence. They picked that flight because they knew there were
several jewelers attending a buyer's convention down there who
would be flying back to the Baltimore/Washington area. They
planned to escape with the loot by jumping out of the plane at a
prearranged location where an accomplice would be waiting. But
before they jumped, he was going to start the timer on the bomb
to take the whole plane down. They figured it would be blamed on
foreign terrorists and the robbery would be covered up. You both
did a great job and commendations are going on your records."

     Mulder was speechless, but Scully could tell his eyes were
watering and she didn't think it was from pain, considering the
amount of drugs being pumped into him.

     "Thank you, sir," she said. "We were just doing our jobs."

     "A lot of agents wouldn't have the guts to break up that
armed robbery," Skinner said. "They would have believed the men
and sat there and let the whole plane be blown up, themselves
aboard it."

     Mulder tried to speak, but emitted only a croak. Scully
picked up a cup of ice chips from the bedside table and fed him a
couple of spoonfuls. The melting chips felt wonderful to his
anesthesia-parched throat.

     He tried again and was able to address Skinner in a weak
voice.

      "When they took no pains to disguise themselves, we figured
pretty quick they didn't intend to leave any witnesses behind. I
wasn't sure what he had in the flight bag, but was afraid it
might be a bomb. Scully says I'm reckless, but I don't have a
death wish."

     "As little self-regard as you seem to have for your own
safety, I often wonder, Mulder," Scully retorted.

     Skinner chuckled and got up to leave.

     "Well, I just wanted to check on you personally and commend
you two for your work. Take the next week off, Scully, and keep
your partner in line."

     Skinner said his goodbyes and left the room.

     "Scully?"

     "What is it, Mulder?"

     "Surely, you could look after me at my place as well as they
can, here. How about you talk to the doctor and...."

     "Forget it, Mulder. You're not going anywhere for at least a
week, if not more."

     He started to protest.

     "Give me any trouble about this and I'll tell them you need
to stay two weeks!"

     Mulder tried to shift positions and groaned as pain stabbed
through him.

     Scully squeezed the on-demand control for pain-killer. He
sighed as the pain began to float away. Mulder opened his mouth
as if he was going to continue the argument, but his eyes drooped
shut and he fell asleep.

     Scully smiled, then bent over and kissed him on the
forehead.



END