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AUTHOR'S NOTE
Here it is, my second fanfic...and it's the requisite hallway scene fic, too! Oh well. Note my lack of creativity in regards to my title. In any case, hope you enjoy!
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Hallway Scene
by Jessa Forsythe-Crane
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"I gotta go," Scully mumbled, and left the apartment.
Mulder’s face tightened. She was leaving. She was leaving, and turning her back on far more than his messy apartment. His mind raced; he only had a few seconds before she reached the elevator. Should he go after her? How could he not? How could he let his only source of strength and support fall out from under him?
He knew he was selfish when it came to Scully. He had mistreated and used her from the beginning, calling on her when he needed her and ditching her when he didn’t. How their solid friendship had formed out of that, he didn’t know. He could only thank whatever gods there were that she had stuck by him so long, through abductions and hospitals and - oh God - cancer. He was to blame for all the pain in her life, he had accepted that, and had been forgiven for it. Beyond all reason, she had forgiven him for every time he had pushed her before him into death and darkness. Their partnership only grew stronger with every setback they encountered. But never before had they encountered such an obstacle as this. Whatever else Mulder had seen in Scully’s eyes in times of trial - fear, pain, desperation, sorrow - never, never before had he seen defeat. He knew Scully, and Scully didn’t quit.
Suddenly, he was enraged. Enraged at Scully for wanting to leave now, of all times, when they were on the brink of uncovering that which might justify all the suffering he had put her through. She couldn’t leave him now. He wouldn’t let her. And his few seconds were almost up.
"You want to tell yourself that so you can quit with a clear conscience, you can," Mulder shot, storming out of his apartment, "but you’re wrong." Scully, who had turned at the sound of his voice, looked so grief-stricken at his declaration that he felt his anger cool and crack into shame.
"Why did they assign me to you in the first place, Mulder?" she asked, hopelessness naked and raw in her voice. "To debunk your work. To rein you in, to shut you down." Tell me I don’t rein you in, her eyes pleaded. Tell me that I help you. Tell me that I matter to you. Stop me from leaving you. Mulder saw the desperation he felt mirrored on her face.
"But you saved me," he cut in. "As difficult and frustrating as it’s been, your goddamned strict rationalism and science have saved me a thousand times over." He stared directly into her wide eyes, praying that she believed him, that she could hear this admission for what it was. He continued, stripping away his protective armor to reveal to her truths that he himself had only seen shadows of before this moment in time. "You’ve kept me honest." His voice broke with intensity. "You’ve made me a whole person." He could see the tears starting to form in her startled eyes, the realization that he had needed her slowly setting in. I still need you, he thought savagely. I will always need you. "I owe you everything…" he paused, keeping her gaze locked in his, "…Scully, and you owe me nothing."
He let his voice drop as he continued. "I don’t know if I want to do this alone. I don’t even know if I can. And if I quit now, they win." As the last words left his mouth, he silently berated himself. Oh, great. Make it about yourself. Always about yourself. But as he looked at Scully, he saw that the most important part of what he had just said had registered. He had told her, in no uncertain terms, what she had been needing to hear for years. He had admitted to her, and to himself, that alone, he was but one half of the whole that comprised his entire world. She held the other end of his rope, and if she let go, he would fall. But he knew now, by her crumbling face, her tear-filled eyes, and her halting steps into his arms, that just as he was unable to let her fall, so was she unable to let him fall.
He held her, his arms wrapping around her body, and felt more than heard her shuddering sigh of relief and release. She turned her head and rested it against his chest, and he could feel the silkiness of her smooth hair against his neck. He could feel the slight trembling of her body, and closed his eyes as she reached up, wrapped a hand around his neck, and pulled his head down to lay a soft kiss on his forehead. She rested her head against his for a long moment, and he felt an insane protectiveness and affection rush through him. He took her face in his hands, and lightly moved his thumb over her pale skin, his heart aching at the single tear that ran down her cheek. She was his partner, his angel of mercy, his Valkyrie, his equal and his opposite and his strength. She was his, and no one, not AD Cassidy and her stern faced review board, not Cancerman and his lawless colleagues, no one and nothing could ever take her from him. He would rather die than do without her.
In that instant, Mulder felt something change between the two of them. He knew what he was about to do, and he knew that it would change their relationship irrevocably.
There had always been a tangible tension between them, hiding itself in their bantering words and moments of physical contact. It had escalated to a frightening degree over the last year and a half, the catalyst being when Mulder had burst in on Scully about to kiss a man she believed was himself. He had had many questions he left unasked about that night, but it was that night that started him thinking - thinking about Scully’s feelings, thinking about his own feelings. Thinking in a dark forest, held close to a warm body, that it might not be bad thing to hear that tuneless voice and feel the warmth of that body every night of his life. Thinking, as he offered her his hand, to the sound of Cher singing in the background, how it would be to dance with her on New Year’s Eve, at the annual FBI banquet, in his apartment, under the stars. Thinking, as she burst into his hospital room with gun brandished, shooting at what she supposed the nightmares of his imagination, that no one knew his nightmares so well, or could chase them away so completely. And now he thought, coming so close to losing her, he never wanted to risk her again. She meant too much. She meant everything. And he didn’t want to deny that any longer. He didn’t want to resist what was in his heart to do.
He saw her expression change from gratitude to shocked realization as she read his intent in his eyes. He cupped her face tenderly, his eyes searching for any indication that she wanted him to stop. He saw no such indication. He moved slowly, slowly closer to her - and miraculously, incredibly, she didn’t move away. He let his gaze fall to her slightly parted lips. My one in five billion, he thought, closing his eyes and letting instinct take over, trusting her to not let him fall. Closer and closer, her warm breath gentle on his face, and then, dear God, her soft lips-
"Ow! Jesus!" Scully bent in pain and guilt hit Mulder like a punch to the stomach. It wasn’t right, it was too soon, he had rushed her, he had hurt her -
"Sorry," he whispered.
"No, something stung me," she said, straightening up in his embrace and showing him the dying, wriggling bee in her hand. Relief and concern washed over him, and he pulled the shirt from the back of her neck, looking for the sting mark. "It must have gotten in your shirt," he told her remorsefully, rubbing her neck and stroking her hair.
"Mulder…"
"Hmm?"
"Something’s wrong."
He froze. "What?"
"I’m having….lacerating pain in.."
"What?" He stooped down to catch her breathless words.
"…in my chest…" She faltered forward suddenly, clutching at him, and he gripped her back, supporting her. "Scully…"
She gasped, and stumbled forward, falling in his arms. "My motor skills are being affected…." she murmured as he caught her, fear and anxiety stealing the breath from his own lungs. He could barely choke out her name as he lowered her carefully to the floor. She continued to murmur to him, but her eyes were clouding over and her voice growing gradually weaker and weaker. "I have a…..a funny taste in the back of my throat." she struggled to say. Mulder knelt over her, his voice gravelly with worry.
"I think you’re going into anaphylactic shock."
"No, Mulder, I have no allergy …." Her eyes were unfocused and her chest heaving as she fought for breath. Mulder felt panic descend in a haze, but he swiftly got to his feet and ran to his apartment, ran to the phone. And as his fingers hit "9-1-1," all he could think, over and over again, was dear God, not again. Don’t you let me lose her. Don’t you let me lose her again.
FIN
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