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Outside, Mulder was having similar thoughts.  He wanted so badly to yell at Scully for not telling him.  He wanted to be angry with her.  He wanted to tell her that it was irresponsible and selfish of her not to tell him.  He felt as if she really didn't know him at all if she thought it was best not to tell him.  But he still loved her and he couldn't remain angry with her for long.  He realized that just as she hurt him, he had just hurt her with his words.  He had said some awful things to her; things that he knew must have gotten under her skin.  He wondered how she would ever be able to forgive him, but yet she did because she was Scully.  He thought about how much he could really take.  Could he really sit back and watch her die right in front of him like he had promised?  He promised he would stand by her and her decisions but what if she decided that she just couldn't live with the pain anymore?  What if she asked to stop treatment or not to be resuscitated if she lost consciousness?  Mulder wasn't sure if he could support that.  He did know one thing, though.  No matter what, he loved her and he knew she loved him back.       The next morning, Mulder awoke to the sound of a busy city outside.  A dog barked, cars drove by, and the sounds of people walking and talking to each other floated in through the thin walls.  He looked at his watch and saw that it was almost eight o'clock.  It was a normal morning for most people of the world but for him, it was the beginning to something that he wasn't quite sure if he was ready for.  He stood and quickly stretched his neck.  He was used to sleeping on a couch at his own apartment but for some reason is body never got used to the torture.       Mulder silently walked over to Scully's bedroom and checked on her.  She was still sleeping.  He indulged himself in the moment.  Secretly, watching her sleep had always brought him great joy.  She always looked so peaceful and beautiful when she slept.  He felt like there were no worries when he watched her sleep but he knew he was wrong.  There were always nightmares of the past that haunted both of their minds.  Mulder couldn't count the number of times that they had woken each other up because one of them was having a bad dream.  It was a constant sign of love, caring, and respect that they had always practiced, long before they had even admitted their love for one another.       He stood in the doorway for a moment, not willing to take the chance that she would wake if he stepped closer.  Instead, he retreated back towards the kitchen.  Mulder rummaged through the refrigerator, trying to find something that he could make for breakfast without making too big of a mess.  He finally took out a carton of eggs and some milk and placed them on the nearby counter. As he turned, looking for a pan, he noticed something behind a bag of chips.  He pushed the bag out of the way to reveal three pill bottles.  He picked up one of them and looked at it more closely.  Although he couldn’t quite pronounce the name he knew what it was for.  It was pain medication.  He read the names on the other two bottles.  They were also for pain.  The only way Scully had been making it through the last weeks was because she was on medication.  Mulder didn't know whether to compliment her strength or yell at her for being so proud.  If she could just admit that she was sick and that she needed help, they might not have been in the predicament they were in but that was part of who Scully was and he would never be able to change that.      Fifteen minutes later Mulder had finished preparing scrambled eggs.  He was actually surprised that he had done such a good job with both preparing the eggs and cleaning up after himself.  He found a tray in a nearby closet and placed two plates of eggs on it as well as two glasses of orange juice.  He picked up the tray and headed for the bedroom.  He placed the tray on the bed stand that was next to Scully's bed.  He pulled a chair from the corner of her room so that it was right next to her bed.  He sat down and watched her sleep, being careful not to make a sound.  He used his right hand to sweep a strand of hair that had fallen on her face.  He smiled, realizing that some of the color had returned to her face from the previous night.  He laid his hand over hers.  She moved her head slightly and moaned.  Her eyes fluttered open and she looked at Mulder.      "Morning."  He said.      "Morning."  She whispered, giving him a weak smile.      "How are you feeling?"  He asked, letting go of her hand.      "Tired but better."  She answered quietly like before.  Mulder was concerned.  He expected her to at least be looking and sounding better especially since most of her color had returned.  He knew that she had done this many nights, taken chemo, woken up the next morning, and then gone to work without anyone noticing that she was as sick as she was.  He couldn't understand why she wasn't like that now.  She tried using her arms to lift herself up so that she was at least in a sitting position but she couldn't.      "Here, let me help."  He offered.  He stood and was about to lift up her torso when she stopped him.      "I can do it."  She insisted.  With some pain and a lot of strength, she finally managed to get herself into the position that she wanted.  "Did you make that?"  She asked, pointing to the eggs.  Mulder nodded as he sat back down.  "You didn't have to do that."      "I wanted to."  He responded.  He reached over and handed her one of the plates of eggs.  He took the other and placed it in his lap.  They ate silently.  Scully pushed her plate away once she had taken a few bites.  She didn't want to hurt Mulder's feelings by telling him that she wasn't hungry so instead she managed to keep a few spoonfuls down.  She was almost surprised that she didn’t throw the food back up.  The last time she had eaten anything, she couldn't keep it in her stomach.  "You don’t want anymore?"      "I appreciate the gesture, Mulder, I really do but I just haven't been very hungry lately.  I'm sorry."      "No, it's okay.  I understand."  She looked at him, sincerely sorry that she couldn’t eat more.  She knew that Mulder wasn't big on cooking and that when he actually did cook it really meant something.  Scully knew she wouldn't make it through the morning, no matter the day, if she didn't get some pain medication in her soon.  She could already feel her head pulsing and her whole body ached.  She attempted to push the blankets off of her body to get up but she stopped when she felt Mulder's warm hand on hers.  "What do you need?"  He asked with a tender voice.      She honestly didn't want to tell him.  How could she really explain that for the last weeks the only was she was surviving was because she was on pain medication?  She knew that the idea of her in pain would only hurt him more.  But she couldn't lie to him, not any more.  He had asked for her to tell him everything, and she wasn't going to start pushing him away by lying.      "I need my medication."  She said.  "I'll get it."      "No."  He responded.  "I got it."  He picked up her plate and his own and stood.      "It's on the kitchen counter behind…"      "I know."  He interrupted.  She gave him a puzzled look.      "I came across it while I was cooking this morning."  He answered, not needing to hear the question.  Scully and him had always been that way.  They never really had to speak to really hear one another. MORE COMING SOON!