Title: Brother Author: RM Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully belong to CC, 1013, and Fox. No fringe is intended. I wrote this before the events of Emily, so the fact that I named Bill's son Matt is entirely coincidental....weird. Brother ~~~~ March 27 Margaret Scully's 1:37 pm ~~~~ Bill was sitting tensely, his jaw aching from the grief and the pain of it, feet firmly planted on the floor. Dana Scully walked into her mother's bedroom quietly, her strong calm displaced by familiar feelings of sorrow and guilt. She glanced once to the doorway, were Mulder leaned against the frame, as if things like this happened every day. Maybe in his world. No, theirs. In their world, she thougth sadly, things like this did happen. "Bill. . ." Her brother frowned and glanced at once to Mulder, as if this new stranger was responsible for his sister's reluctance. He sat dejectedly, but patient, because he knew he could not make her talk any faster. She would tell him when she was good and ready, no matter how much he wanted to throttle her. "I have to tell you something, and I want you to promise not to be angry." "I can't promise anything right now, Dana." His eyes were cold and hard with the grief, peering right into her as if he kenw what was to come already, as if her mood had betrayed her. It'd been four months. Four months since Matt's death and the horrible time spent at the hospital, praying that his three other children would not follow. Scully took a deep breath and closed her eyes. How was she supposed to tell him that she was the cause of all his pain, of all his guilt and doubt and hurting? You couldn't just drop a bomb like that on someone. And knowing Bill, he'd want to destroy something, and the way his eyes were regarding Mulder, Scully had a bad feeling she knew who would get destroyed. Mulder came and sat down, close to Scully, his leg touching hers in the only gesture of moral support he could muster at the moment. He wanted to do so much more, but it wasn't his place. Scully opened her eyes and found Bill looking at her intensely, as if she had just professed to believing in aliens and he wanted to make sure she wasn't crazy. "Bill, Matt. . ." Just mentioning his son's name was making tears form in his yes, and Scully wanted to be anywhere in the world, but right here telling him this. "Matt was caught in the crossfire of some men who were trying for me. If. . .If I hadn't been there, then he would still be alive." Bill stared at her for the longest time, eyes focusing strangely on her, and she wanted him to do something, react in some way, even scream at her. But he didn't. Instead, he began to cry, soft rolling tears that spilled over and down his face, without fanfare or sobbing. His eyes wandered to fix above her head, staring off into space, like he had been shot and was slipping away into shock. Scully took his hand in hers, thinking that maybe he was going to forgive her, but he jerked away, as if he wanted nothing more to do with her. Scully bit the inside of her cheek and tried to get angry; she had to be strong, to show that it didn't affect her, because that was the only thing that kept her from giving in to the voice that told her to just quit and run away. Bill turned his head and put his fist in his mouth, as if to stop a threatening scream from being vocalized. "Why aren't you. . .how can this not touch you, Dana?" "It does, Bill. It does." "Then get that fake, pitied look off your face," he said quietly, dangerously. Scully recoiled and Mulder's hand shot out to her, as if to reassure her he was still there. "I feel horrible for this Bill, you know that." "You tell me my son was shot because of you, and you show no more emotion than if you had just given me the weather report. I saw you cry and sob and fall apart when you shot a lizard, Dana, a cold blooded lizard, and now nothing for Matt?" Bill was ranting, letting his frustration and anger blow up at her, and she took it. Mulder shook his head, wishing she had let him take the blame for this, but knowing she felt it was her duty. "Bill, look, don't blame it all on Scully. It was mainly my fault. I'm the one who instigated everything, got them on our trail. I knew you would be there, with Scully, and I led him there anyway. It's all my fault," he said, standing. It really wasn't, of course, but let Bill think so; he hated Mulder anyway. In fact, it had been Scully's idea to use her family as a kind of shield, certain that the man wouldn't risk firing into a crowd, especially with children present. Their plans had gone horribly wrong. Bill turned slowly, eyes dark and churning and Mulder suddenly realized that Bill was a big guy, and a lot stronger then him. His face masked into a tight bunch of fury, and Scully knew he was about to blow up, lash out at anyone and anything. "Bill. . ." she warned. It was exactly like when they were children. Bill stood right next to Mulder, and then pulled back his fist and belted him in the stomach, all his anger and sorrow fueling that one punch. Mulder doubled over in pain and tried to suck in his breath, but it just wouldn't come. He backed away as the man got closer; it was like a scene from one of his nightmares. Where her brothers came and beat him into the ground for getting her killed, or lost, or abducted, or pregnant, depending on the dream. "Bill! Stop. You're going to hurt him," he heard Scully say sternly, along with some other words that his ears didn't catch because Bill chose that exact time to box them in. He shook his head to keep the ring out of his hearing, but that made his vision swim and he really waned to karate chop the guy, but it was Scully's brother, and what was he supposed to do? Especially when he couldn't see straight? "Bill! Stop!" Bill was not going to stop, and when Mulder looked in his eyes, he saw that with clear certainty. Mulder backed away and tripped on the night table and fell to the bed, almost landing on Scully. He held up his arms for defense, and as the huge man barrelled into him he thought he would die right there, all because he was trying to take the heat for Scully. Die right there in her lap, after all the horrid adventures they'd unravelled. It didn't seem so amusing. "William Evan Scully!" came a loud commanding voice, and it made Mulder want to snap to attention. He lowered his arms to see Mrs. Scully in the doorway, face frowning and a little shocked. He understood where Scully got her "I'm going to count to three" looks. Bill stopped pummeling Mulder and turned to face his mother, his eyes blank and dead. Scully straightened up from her attempt to block Mulder's body from Bill's fists and stood. "It's his fault Matt's dead. It's his fault." Bill said blankly. The look on Mrs. Scully's face made it evident she didn't believe that and she led him from the rom, muttering something about getting down the wooden spoon after all these years. Mulder was grateful for that Scully skepticism. Scully went back to Mulder and touched his forehead. "Oh, Mulder. You shouldn't have said anything. You've only made it worse. . ." "You don't have to tell me. . .I'm the guy he sucker-punched." She shook her head, heart heavy and twisting in her chest. "But he won't let this go, Mulder. If it had just been me, then he wouldn't have really believed it and he could have forgiven me, but you, you're not part of the family to him." Mulder's head was swimming and he really didn't want to think right then. Mrs. Scully came back in and went to them, concern and a little bit of shame on her face. "I'm so sorry Fox. Bill's had a lot to deal with but that doesn't excuse his behavior." Mulder attempted to show no harm done, but a wave of nausea overtook him with such force that he wobbled on his feet. "Ah, could I just lay down. . .for a second?" he said. Scully was holding him up and she nodded. "I'll take you to my old room, Mulder. It's the furthest from Bill, and has a bathroom." He saw great potential for a bathroom, especially at a time like this, when he felt like puking all over Scully's nice shirt. Margaret helped them to Dana's room and said, "Dana there's a first aid kit out in the hall closet." She peered anxiously at Mulder and then said under her breath to Dana, "Bill had bruises on his hands and the skin was split; don't let Fox try to say he's all right." Scully nodded and her mother left. "Mulder?" she asked; his eyes were closed. "This yours?" he said, indicating with his chin the bedroom. Scully smiled and looked around the room. "Yeah, it's mine." Mulder cracked an eye open and looked around, admiring the view from the big bay window, with its small wooden seat. He saw star charts and posters from another era, long hanging prints and a soft blue chair. Personal touches that reminded him of her when she'd been that fresh faced kid at his door. The closet doors were shut, probably immaculate inside, he thought, and the wall held stenciling just at the base, each one different and handmade, he noticed. A big desk dominated the room, perched on it was an old microscope, the kind you could purchase from the science department of universities second hand. A jar with marbles inside completed the desk's top. "Approve?" she asked. "Sure," he said. "I especially like this bed." His eyse closed and he did not notice her eyebrow go up. "Mulder, I'm sorry," she said after a minute, and sat down beside his head, touching it lightly. Mulder felt his body relaxing and he kept his eyes closed, letting her heat and voice lull him past the aching ribs and ringing ears. "Not your fault," he whispered, about ready to nod off. "But it is. The whole thing was my fault. And I have to take the blame for it." His eyes opened, he heard the sudden decision made in her voice. He tried to turn but her hands kept him still and she frowned at him. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do Scully," he said, warning. "No, wait, don't do anything I *would* do." She smiled at him, trying to ease his mind. "I'm not going to do anything Mulder." She stood and got the first aid kit from the closet, pulling out neosporin and some band-aids as she did. After patching up the cut along his temple, she sat back down by his head and let her fingers slowly circle across his forehead. It was putting him to sleep. "Dana," came her mother's voice. "I have to go to church to help with their community Easter Egg Hunt, all right? I should be back by five o'clock. Tara and the kids are coming with me." "All right, Mom," Dana yelled back. For some reason, this seemed like an awfully bad idea to Mulder, but his head was too fuzzy to figure anything out. Who wasn't going? Him and Scully. . .and Bill. . .and--no one else. They were alone with Scully's brother. Her fingers were putting him to sleep and he couldn't make this register enough in the action part of his brain for him to get up. He was falling unconscious. Scully stood and left him, searching for her hurting brother. Mulder never felt her leave. ~~~~ When he woke from a nightmare in which he could hear Scully screaming, his hair was spiked with sweat and matted with his uneasy sleep. He could taste the fear of her on his tongue, her screams as he raced around in his dreams to find her. It was the old nightmare from the days after her abduction, and it had gone away after her recovery; he wondered why it was now back. As reality filtered back, he heard loud voices, angry words, coming through the house and the walls. He sat up, his head swimming and his visions jiggling with the blood rushing. It cleared for a moment and he could concentrate again. He heard a slap and Scully's cry. Mulder rocketted off the bed and slammed his shin on the night table but kept hobbling for the door, working out the stiffness as he ran into the hall. He could hear her and Bill's voices, but he couldn't find them. It was his dream again. He found Melissa's room, packed away from the time she had spent with Mrs. Scully awhile, and then there was a door to a bathroom, but no Scully. His frustration mocked him and he felt his head spinning again, but moved faster, jerkier through the house. He needed to hear her again, just her voice, then he could orient himself-- Another cry and he rethought his prayer. No more sounds from her would be better, as long as it meant she wasn't getting hurt. He twisted wildly in the hall and saw a door beside the linen closet he had missed before. The sounds came louder from below and he realized it led to a basement, so he opened the door and crept forward. He could heard Bill doing the yelling, Scully trying to reason with him. What had she done to make Bill angry with her? Hadn't Mulder taken the blame? "Scully?" he called, pitching down the stairs like a drunkard. He saw her in the harsh overhead light, backed against the wall, fear in her eyes and a gun in Bill's hand. Mulder, without a second thought to his own unbalanced state, whipped out his gun and shouted to her. "Scully!" Scully's head shot around to see him, the faint craziness in his eyes that told her his head was still not clear, the list in his gait as he clumped down the stairs. "Mulder, no. It's okay. I promise. Put the gun away, Bill isn't going to do anything." Mulder was confused; he couldn't quite remember why his head throbbed so painfully and every effort at catching his those elusive memories made the throbbing louder. And that kept him from concentrating. But it was Bill's fault, he did know that, and Bill was mean and big, towering over Scully just like his nightmares showed him Duane Barry towering over her. He came down the stairs slowly, gun in his hand very steady despite the shakiness in his mind and legs. Something was very wrong, but he couldn't tell what. Bill didn't seem to care that Mulder held a gun, and he stayed right in front of Scully. Mulder pivoted and saw Scully's face. An angry red mark shouted to him and he frowned. "Is he hurting you, Scully?" he said, with a voice that seemed very small and misled. She shook her head and looked to Bill, as if to say 'see what you've done?' "No, Mulder. It was dark down here and I ran into the staircase. It's okay, put the gun down." "But he punched me, and it hurt, and now he's hurt you. I can't let him do that." Mulder turned and cast a suspicious glance to Bill. "He's got a gun, Scully. On you." "No, Mulder. I came down here to--" Mulder's hands were steady pointing the gun at Bill. Her brother backed away, realization in his face. The lunatic thought he was going to shoot his sister. "Scully, come here. Get away from him." Scully sighed and stepped in front of her brother. "Mulder, he's not a danger to us, trust me." Doubt flew into his eyes and he came out of his shaky stance, eyeing her. His gun wavered and he glanced to Bill. He didn't like that Bill was right behind her, but he lowered the gun and shook his head. "Good." Scully breathed. "Come on, Mulder. You hit your head pretty hard. Let's go back to bed before you shoot anyone." Mulder blinked and looked once more to Bill. "You weren't going to hurt her?" he asked, with all the innocence of a child. "No, Mulder, I wasn't." In truth, he'd been threatening his own life, not hers. Mulder frowned and let Scully lead him back up the stairs, wondering why his head so firmly believed she'd been in danger. He thought he'd heard her get slap and a cry, but of course, he had jumped to conclusions again. Scully had kept him from making another collosal mistake. "Mulder?" Bill said softly. "Thanks for taking care of Dana. She needs it, even if she doesn't admit it." Scully frowned at her brother, and Mulder simply stared. In Bill's eyes he saw the same fierce protectiveness that stared him down in the mirror each morning when he thought of her. The idea that he could shield her from the problems, the monsters, his own demons, it was the same thing he saw in Bill's eyes just then. He understood the man, the way death and blame twisted all inside until nothing made sense anymore. He let Scully lead him back to her bedroom, and he sunk into the comforter with relief, his head letting loose a thump of pain before settling a bit. "Sorry, Scully. I thought he was hurting you," he murmured as she traced the frown lines on his forehead. "Mulder, he was about to kill himself," she said flatly. Mulder jerked up. "Go-!" "No, he's okay. I had just talked him into putting the gun down when you came in, and I think your show reminded him how dangerous he was being. Your shock showed him he was what he was capable of doing, and it made him realize what was important. . .his thanks at the end, Mulder, that was his way of apologizing--" "I know," he interrupted. She went silent and he felt himself growing drowsy again. She stopped tracing the lines of his face, lost in thought. Her hand moved away, as if she had suddenly realized what she had been doing, and he felt the loss. "Scully?" "Yeah?" "Don't stop." He could feel her smile and her fingers came to rest on his forehead once again. "How could I say no to you, Mulder?" "Like this--No." he said, a faint smile touching the corners of his mouth, his eyes still closed. "It's not that easy." He opened his eyes and the brown intensity of it melted her. "Just why can't you say no to me?" She smiled and looked away. "If you don't know your own strength, I'm not about to tell you." He pouted and circled her wrist with his fingers. "If you don't tell me, then who will?" She raised an eyebrow. "Exactly." He sighed and closed his eyes, letting them droop slowly shut and losing that power for an instant. The spell was broken and Scully began to worry about her brother. Then his face shifted and she was lost again. It was unsettling. "You'll tell me eventually," he said and put his hand in hers firmly. She squeezed it and touched the bruise appearing on his forehead, remembering his pathetic words as he tried to 'save' her from her brother, concerned for her safety. "Mulder?" she said quietly, lips close to his ear. His face twitched and he mumbled something. She could tell he was almost asleep. "Thanks for looking out for me," she said, and continued to circle her fingers along his forehead. Hus mouth moved like he wanted to respond, but couldn't. She lightly kissed his forehead and sat back up, watching him sleep. He was better than a brother to her, and she was grateful to have him by her side. She loved him, she knew, but it wasn't sexual, it was. . . Something. She could wait to decide on what that something was later. She tangled her fingers in his hair and stretched out beside him, laying down carefully so as to not wake him. Her thumb stroked the side of his face and she was glad for this moment of solitude. All she wanted for now, all she wanted was for him to be beside her. He was too. Every second of their partnership, even while they were apart, they were together. It was enough, satisfying enough, and she didn't need more than his friendship. . .or whatever it was that held them together. He stood by her. He tried to protect her. He laughed with her, and trusted her and put his faith in her, his unconquerable, never ending, knows-no-bounds faith. And for him, from him, that was more than she deserved, more than enough. ~~~~ end adios RM