TITLE: Soliloquies
AUTHOR: Susanne Barringer
FEEDBACK: Please! sbarringer@usa.net
ARCHIVE: Anywhere okay w/ these headers intact.
CLASSIFICATION: SR
CONTENT: It's MSR, but in a very U kind of way. I'd call it URR
(unresolved romantic relationship). Kinda angsty too.
SUMMARY: Mulder goes too far and puts his relationship with Scully in
jeopardy. Mostly a relationship study, not much plot.
RATING: PG for some language
SPOILERS: Up to The Red & The Black.
DISCLAIMER: Characters owned by Chris Carter, 1013, and Fox. No
infringement intended.
____________________
Soliloquies
by Susanne Barringer
Fox Mulder believed he had loved Dana Scully since the first time she
walked into his office with her I-won't-take-any-crap attitude and spouting
off her science like it was poetry. He had been *in* love with her since the
first time he woke up in a hospital bed to see her smiling at him with a
mixture of concern, relief, and reprimand. That happened on an average of
once a year, and each time it only increased his certainty that she had
become the reason for his existence. In between the seduction of her
scientific soliloquies and her Florence Nightingale vigils at his bedside, he
made do with simply looking at her. Sometimes her beauty astonished him,
but it was just the icing on a cake of intelligence, strength, caring, honesty,
and a kick-ass agent attitude.
At first Mulder tried to convince himself that it was brotherly love, that he
loved Scully the way he would have loved Samantha if they had grown to
be adults together. It wasn't long, though, before he realized that what he
felt for Scully went beyond sibling love, beyond partnership, beyond
friendship. Most of the time, he effectively kept it in check, but every now
and then, the emotion and desire overwhelmed him to the point that he felt
he would literally combust with the power of it. He felt lucky that he had
managed to keep it under wraps enough so that Scully didn't notice. Oh,
he was sure that she knew that he loved her, as he knew she loved him, but
he would die before he'd let her know the extent of that love. Half the time
she thought he was crazy, and the other half she probably wanted to shoot
him. She deserved much better.
Most days, Mulder was content with the way things were. Really. As
much as the physical desire sometimes threatened to consume him, what he
felt for Scully was so much more than that. Her presence was sheer
pleasure, so much so that he missed her, sometimes painfully, when a room
was filled with her absence. A few months ago, she had taken a vacation
to Maine, with a mutual agreement that they should each take the weekend
for themselves. Even though there were many weekends when he never
saw Scully, the fact that she was not in town haunted him more than he
could have predicted. Sure, it was likely that he wouldn't have seen her
that weekend anyway, but the fact that he *couldn't* see her drove him
damn near insane. He had called and pestered her, even though he knew
she was annoyed, simply to hear her voice, to know that she was still there,
alive, existing. He had needed to be reassured--of what, he wasn't quite
sure. It was that weekend that he knew with certainty that Scully's absence
from his life--whether it was by death, by choice, or by "their"
manipulation--would be his ruin. Even though she was in Maine, he could
deal with not seeing or touching her as long as he could hear her voice.
Any other alternatives would be unacceptable. He refused to accept the
idea that Dana Scully could ever be gone. For good.
Mulder glanced up from the X-File in front of him which was serving as a
cover while he was lost in his thoughts. Scully looked up in time to catch
his eye. She managed a faint smile, then focused back on whatever autopsy
results she was dissecting. Mulder indulged himself a few seconds more,
then tore his gaze away from what sometimes seemed so beautiful it could
only be a vision, and returned to his file. Neither of them had said anything
for at least an hour. They did that sometimes. Mulder attributed it to
testament of how comfortable their relationship was--both professionally
and personally. They could work efficiently, sometimes even together,
without so much as a word passed between them. The silence was oddly
comforting at times, the way they could simply be in each other's presence
and that was enough. The office without Scully was lonely, so Mulder was
much more content when she was around, even if her presence was nothing
more than silence.
Finally, Scully spoke, and much to Mulder's pleasure it was to offer a
Scully observation. "Mulder, I just noticed something interesting about
this autopsy on Marcus Gallagher. His carboxyhemoglobin saturation level
wasn't noticeably high, but the low level of measured oxygen hemoglobin
and mild metabolic acidosis suggest that he may have died of carbon
monoxide poisoning. Because carbon monoxide has a high affinity for
hemoglobin, the iron cells in the hemoglobin cannot combine with oxygen
in the lungs, resulting in less oxygen available for release to tissues. The
tissues become toxic due to the attraction between carbon monoxide and
other homo-containing proteins, leading to disruption of intracellular
respiration and oxygen deprivation to the brain and other organs. Such
poisoning does not always measure in excessively high carboxyhemoglobin
saturation levels since as little as one-tenth of one percent carbon monoxide
by volume can be fatal." She finished with a flourish of an arched eyebrow.
It was sheer poetry.
"God, you're sexy when you talk like that." Mulder wasn't joking. Nothing
was sexier than Scully and her science, but he knew she would never know
he was serious. This was their usual way of doing things. Scully
soliloquized, then he turned it into one big sexual joke. Scully never
flinched, never so much as raised an eyebrow or allowed even a crack of a
smile to form. Always cool and collected, his Scully.
This time was no exception. She just steam-rolled right over him. Hardly
missing a beat, she continued. "A dangerous carboxyhemoglobin level
might account for the neurological inconsistencies that showed up in the
CAT and PET scans and the deterioration of brain tissue, suggesting
cerebrovascular disease, found in the autopsy. What do you think?"
"I think you're sexy when you talk like that." What had made him repeat it,
he wasn't sure, but it definitely caused a reaction this time. She did pause,
did arch an eyebrow, and he thought he even caught the barest fringes of a
smile. It lasted a brief moment, then she shot him an annoyed glance.
"You already used that one today, Mulder. I can't believe you've run out."
She paused briefly as if looking for some kind of reaction from him, then
continued as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. "I asked what
you thought about the possibility of carbon monoxide poisoning." Man,
that woman could retain her composure in the face of lame come-ons no
matter what.
Mulder heard himself saying it again, not even aware that he had made that
decision. "Scully, do you realize how unbelievably sexy you are when you
talk science?" Although he hadn't consciously intended it to, the comment
had taken on a new intensity, with both the words and his tone of voice.
He had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that Scully was about to go
on a rampage and his death was likely to be the result, but for some reason
he couldn't stop himself.
He saw Scully bristle with frustration, then watched amazed as she
softened as his intentions sunk in. He actually *saw* the moment she
realized that he was totally serious. She remained unruffled; anyone who
didn't know her as well as he did would never have seen that the comment
had any effect on her whatsoever. It was only about three seconds before
her face became an impenetrable mask again, but the unmistakable signs of
a blush were creeping up her neck and jaw.
"Thank you. I think." A smile played about her lips, but it wasn't concrete
enough that Mulder could be sure it was actually there.
Scully looked back down at her file and began jotting down notes. Mulder
was alternately impressed and flustered by her total unflappability. She
amazed him.
Scully worked for twenty-five minutes straight without so much as a single
word to him. It was as if the previous exchange had never even happened.
Mulder, meanwhile, was a nervous wreck. He had stepped over the line,
and he had no way to judge how Scully would react to it. They had never
been in this situation before. It seemed logical that she would be angry, but
her silence didn't seem at all threatening, and she wasn't the type to go for
the silent treatment anyway. No doubt if she was mad, she would make
sure he knew it--in spades!
After those twenty-five minutes of silence, Scully suddenly stood up,
stretched her arms, and announced, "I'm going home. I'll see you
tomorrow." She was out the door before Mulder had even comprehended
what she said. But he knew something was up. They always walked out
to the parking garage together, unless one of them was staying later to
finish up some paperwork or something. Even then, Scully always asked
him if he was leaving and then waited for him if he was. She was pissed; he
was pretty damn sure of it now. She was probably on her way to Skinner's
office to file a complaint.
With a sweep of his arm, Mulder drove the pile of files off his desk,
scattering them across the floor. He cursed himself. Five years of restraint
down the drain because of one remark that he couldn't keep to himself. He
just *had* to say it more than once, just had to make a fool of himself.
Now, everything was shot to hell and he had no idea what it would take to
get out of the doghouse he had built with his own two hands.
**********
Mulder nearly ran into a tree driving home, he was so busy berating
himself. Although he had run through several possible things he could say
to Scully to try to mend things, he decided it would be best if he didn't call
her that night. She obviously didn't want to talk about it, or else she would
have brought it up. He hoped maybe she would just forget about it, forget
about what he'd said and the way he had said it. Mulder pressed harder on
the gas pedal as his brain told him that he was in denial. Scully would
never let him forget his indiscretion. They would have to talk about it if
there was any chance of repairing the damage. Still, it would be best not to
call her tonight.
After fixing himself a frozen dinner and watching the news, Mulder felt a
little better about things. It wasn't that big a deal, really; he hadn't said
anything too horrible. After all, she *was* sexy, and it shouldn't be a
cardinal sin for him to have noticed. Besides, it was her intelligence that he
found sexy--Scully should be able to understand that. Mulder had reasoned
himself into contentment rather effectively; then the phone rang. He
jumped on hearing it. His intuition told him it was Scully. All thoughts of
what he had contemplated saying to her vanished, and he momentarily
considered letting his machine pick up. No, it was better to get it over
with.
Mulder picked up the phone, his voice tentative. "Hello?"
There was a pause long enough for Mulder's heart to leap into his throat,
then "Mulder, it's me." Unfortunately, his intuition was right.
He decided to play it cool. "Hey, Scully. What's up?" Maybe she had just
called to tell him there was new information on a case, or to ask him what
he thought about some theory she had. Or maybe even to talk some more
about carbon monoxide poisoning--which might very well send him over
the edge.
No such luck. Scully cut right to the chase. "Why did you say that to me
today, Mulder?"
Mulder tried not to panic. He felt like everything was riding on this
conversation and he'd better not screw it up. Yep, nothing to panic about--
just the possibility of driving Scully away from him. Far away.
"I don't know . . . it's what I thought. It's just the truth. Is that so bad?"
There was long pause at the other end, and Mulder imagined he could
actually hear Scully gathering her armor and preparing for battle.
"We can't do this, Mulder." For a brief moment, Mulder wondered if
Scully's "this" meant what he thought it meant, but then there was nothing
else it could mean really. Just *that*. How had she gotten to *that* so
quickly, from just his one comment? Had she read his mind? Now there
was a scary thought. Mulder decided there wasn't much to lose at this
point, since they were on the subject of *that* anyway.
"Why can't we? What's stopping us? Assuming we both want this." God,
he hoped he had interpreted her "this" correctly, or else he was likely to
make things even worse than they already were.
"Our partnership. We couldn't survive this." Yes, it sounded like they
were talking about the same thing.
"How can you know that, Scully?"
"I don't need to *know* it; I only need to think it's possible. That's enough
to stop it. We can't take that chance."
She was going to stop this because of some remote possibility? That
seemed absurd, especially when the prospect had just been suddenly
dangled in front of him. He hadn't even known it *was* a possibility until
just now, and she was snatching it away from him. No way--he was going
to play this through. It was likely to be the only opportunity he would ever
get to find out if Scully wanted something for them. The idea had seemed
so distant before, and now here it was laid in front of him.
"We need to talk about this, Scully. I'll come over and . . ."
"No!" Her voice was authoritative and full of finality. "Stay away from
me, Mulder. Don't do that to me."
"Do what?"
"Make me decide, make me turn you down." Jeez, she *was* thinking
about "that" then. Mulder's mind swam with the realization; the idea that
Scully had even thought about it seemed like some sort of beacon of
possibility. Was it possible?
"That's what you'd decide?"
Long pause. "Yes." Mulder's heart wasn't sinking like he had expected it
would. Something in her voice . . .
"Are you sure?"
Long pause. "No." So, she wasn't as sure as she was pretending to be.
"Let me come over and we'll at least talk." He needed to see her, to see in
her eyes what she really wanted.
"No, Mulder." Something in her voice again . . .
"You don't want me to?"
"Yes, I do, but no."
"You're confusing me, Scully."
"I know. I'm sorry. I'm confused."
Mulder was beginning to think confused was good. After all, it wasn't an
absolute no. He decided to beat a retreat for now; there was no point in
pushing her. This was all too new, too unexpected. "No, I'm the one who
should be sorry. I'm sorry that my comment caused all this confusion."
"Don't be ridiculous, Mulder, I've been confused a long time. You didn't
cause it. Well, you did, but not today. Not *just* today."
"When? When did it start?" He couldn't help but push. Leaving well
enough alone wasn't an option right now. He had to know.
"The first day I met you. You confused me. You were so sure of yourself,
yet so vulnerable. I loved you even then." Mulder's breath caught. He
could not believe she said it.
"You loved me?"
"Yes, I did. I do."
Mulder felt dizzy. "You do?"
"Mulder, that can't surprise you."
"No, it doesn't. I just never expected I'd hear you actually say it."
"Saying it only complicates things."
"Why? I love you, Scully. I always have. That's simple. It's the simplest
thing I feel, the simplest thing I know with certainty. It's not complicated
at all." Now that was the god's honest truth. No beating around the bush
anymore, although he knew his words had just taken them a step further.
Scully had said she loved him generally; he had just more or less admitted
he loved her way more than generally.
"Mulder." She said it with a sigh, with frustration, almost with anger. "I'll
see you in the morning."
Not a good sign. "Wait, Scully. We have to talk about this sometime, you
know."
"I thought we just did."
Mulder couldn't help but laugh. "Right, Scully, we got everything *all*
worked out."
"What's there to talk about? You love me, I love you. We're partners,
we're friends. That's all. There's nothing else to discuss."
"Scully, there's a lot more . . ."
She cut him off. "I don't want to talk about it anymore. Ever. Just leave it
alone, Mulder. Please. Good-night."
Her tone sent a clear message: leave me the fuck alone. She hung up
before he could say goodbye. She actually hung up on him. That was a
first, and not one he was thrilled about.
Mulder hung up and released the breath he'd been holding for who knows
how long. He felt wired, confused, excited. What had just happened?
Had he and Scully been talking about the same thing? When she said she
loved him, had she meant she *loved* him? It didn't matter anyway, he
tried to convince himself, because she'd effectively shut off any possibility
of his ever finding out what she meant. She was clearly angry with him for
having brought it up at all. Mulder felt defeated, not so much from her
rejection of him but because he would never know the truth, and he
suspected that Scully was a lot more angry at him than she had been before
the phone conversation. Her tone of voice in the last few minutes of their
conversation was laden with anger and frustration, with him and at him.
He was *so* skilled at making things worse.
**********
The next morning, Mulder got to the office earlier than usual. He had
hardly slept at all, and he was so restless that he nearly paced a hole in his
rug. He'd finally decided to head to the office if only to get out of his
apartment. It felt like the walls were closing in.
In the office by 6:45, he knew he had a long wait until Scully got there. He
used the time to formulate his apology. A sincere, detailed, abject apology.
He rehearsed it a few times. By then it was only 7:15. He still had forty-
five minutes until Scully was likely to show. He revised and rewrote the
apology, then practiced it aloud a few more times.
When Scully hadn't shown up by 8:20, he knew that no apology in the
world was going to be good enough. She was never late. The fact that she
wasn't there was a pretty big clue that her frustration from the night before
had not lessened. She was probably ready to kill; he would willingly be her
target.
The phone rang. Mulder answered it on the first ring, hoping it was Scully
calling to say her car had broken down or she was stuck in traffic--
something to reassure him that she was late for any reason other than
hating him. Instead of Scully, it was Skinner's assistant phoning to say that
Scully had called in sick. By the time Mulder had replaced the phone in its
cradle, a dark dread had settled over his heart. He had screwed up big time
and it was going to cost him everything. Why had he pushed it? Why
couldn't he leave well enough alone? He hardly had time to beat himself up
when the phone rang again. This time it was Skinner.
"Agent Mulder, have you talked to Agent Scully this morning?"
Great, now Skinner was on his case too, like it wasn't enough that Scully
hated him.
"No, sir, not since last night."
"She never calls in sick. I was concerned about her, given her recent
illness. You should give her a call and make sure everything's okay."
There was no way in hell Mulder was going to call Scully. She had
obviously called in sick because she wanted nothing to do with him. He
wouldn't violate that decision. It was imperative that he leave her alone
until she was ready to face him, if she ever was.
"Call me after you talk to her," Skinner added. Now Mulder had a
problem. There was nothing to do but confess.
"Um, sir, it might be better if you called her. She, um, well, she might not
want to talk to me right now." Mulder was mortified. It was worse than
being in the principal's office. He just hoped that Skinner wouldn't pry too
much.
"What did you do, Mulder?" Skinner asked in a scolding tone. Figures
Skinner would blame him. Of course, he was right, but still, how did he
know that?
"I didn't do anything."
"I see. Agent Scully's angry with you for absolutely no reason. Does this
happen often?" Skinner's sarcasm had a sharp edge of truth to it that
Mulder felt slice his soul.
"Sir, it's just a misunderstanding. We were discussing some things about
our . . . partnership, and I said something stupid, and, well, we haven't
quite gotten it worked out yet."
"What did you say?" Skinner's voice had noticeably changed, from that of
Assistant Director to one of true concern and friendship. Mulder could
really use a friend right now, a man, someone to help him figure out how to
get out of this mess. However, Skinner wasn't it. No way could he tell
Skinner what had happened between Scully and him. He'd be out of the
Bureau faster than you could say "sexual harassment." Skinner had a soft
spot for Scully and no doubt would willingly sacrifice Mulder to protect
her.
"Just the truth, sir. Don't worry, I'll fix it."
"You'd better." Skinner was back to his A.D. voice again. "I can't have
my two best agents ready to kill each other. I'll call Agent Scully myself. I
wouldn't want you to upset her more."
"Gee, thanks." Mulder was a bit annoyed that Skinner had so little faith in
his ability to mend the fences, but it was true that calling Scully right now
was not the best idea, even if it was for reasons Skinner didn't know about.
Mulder hung up the phone and tried to concentrate on work. Scully's
absence, as usual, burned a hole in his heart. He just wasn't productive
when she wasn't around. She was his muse, he thought to himself with a
smile--his inspiration, his motivation. And she was pissed as hell at him.
**********
PART 2
Not ten minutes passed from the time Mulder hung up the phone until there
was a knock at the door and Skinner entered the office. From the look on
Skinner's face, Mulder knew something serious was going on, and his
stomach twisted with fear that Scully had told Skinner everything. He was
tempted to grab a box and start packing his things immediately so that he
wouldn't have to deal with the awkwardness of actually being fired.
"Agent Mulder, I called Agent Scully's home. Her mother answered."
Skinner's tone was deadly serious, more so than usual, and something in it
clued Mulder that it wasn't anger that Skinner was holding back. It was
something else, something darker. Mulder stood up so he could look
Skinner in the eye.
"Agent Scully was taken to the emergency room last night," Skinner
announced, taking a step closer to Mulder as if to prepare for the reaction
he expected was coming.
"NO!" Mulder's knees buckled momentarily. "No, no," he murmured,
every cell of his being telling him that it was impossible for something to be
wrong with Scully. Skinner's hand shot out to steady him. "What
happened?" Mulder finally managed to get out in between his mind's
denials.
"They're not sure. Apparently Scully blacked out last night and . . ."
Skinner visibly flinched as he stopped speaking.
"And what? Tell me, sir. Tell me!" Whatever it was, not knowing was
worse than knowing. Wasn't it?
"She had a nose bleed."
"Oh God. Oh God!" The wind rushed out of Mulder's lungs and his legs
gave out. He sank into the chair, his body trembling too much to continue
standing. "Is it the cancer? Oh my God, is it back?" Mulder heard his
voice but couldn't believe he had had the strength to speak. It felt like he
was dying, like there was nothing solid left to him, just air and dust and
things that barely existed.
Skinner's face was a mask of concern. "Mrs. Scully said they don't know
yet. They're still running tests. It could be something else, Mulder. We
have to think positive; we have to assume the best." He moved forward to
put his hand on Mulder's shoulder, and his voice had softened again. As
much as Mulder appreciated the support, and needed it, he wanted to
scream at the top of his lungs, throw himself out the window, slam his fist
into the wall. Skinner's presence interfered with those things and Mulder
suddenly resented it. He had done this to her. He had said those things
and it had upset her and it was his fault she was in the hospital.
"I need to go, sir. To the hospital. I need to see her." Mulder tried not to
let the panic rising in him show on his face.
"Of course, go." Skinner nodded his approval, but Mulder was out the
door before he had even finished.
**********
Mulder sprinted through the hospital hallways looking for Scully, briefly
thinking that he had done this already a few more times than any human
should have to bear. Scully's room was in the east wing of the fifth floor.
The oncology ward. When he realized that's where she was, all hope
vanished and his heart died inside his chest. The oncology ward.
Goddamnit. He thought she had this thing beat.
He finally reached Room 526 and paused outside the door, steeling himself
for the possibility that the vision that would meet him would be as crushing
as it had been the previous times he had done this--Scully hooked up to
tubes and wires, or pale and thin like a living skeleton. He opened the door
slowly and peeked in. She was sleeping, and to his relief the room was
empty of visitors. Her mother must not have gotten back from Scully's
apartment yet. More to his relief, she looked normal. She wasn't hooked
up to any monitors--just an IV-- and as he approached, he saw that she
looked good. Her skin was its normal color, a slight blush on her cheeks.
That was a good sign, wasn't it?
He wasn't sure he should stay. What if she woke up and saw him there and
was upset? She had every right to want him to stay away from her. That
must be why she hadn't called and told him she was here. Last time she
was in the hospital for treatment, he had been the first one she called. This
time, she hadn't called him at all. If Skinner hadn't tried to contact her at
home, Mulder wouldn't have even known she was here. That clearly was
what she wanted.
He was just about to sneak away and find some doctor to beat information
out of, when Scully opened her eyes and looked right at him. "Mulder?"
He moved closer to the bed. "Yes, it's me. How are you feeling?"
"Why are you here? How'd you find out I was here?" The frown on
Scully's face did not lighten Mulder's heart. Even in this time when she had
more important things to worry about, she was still angry enough with him
to not want him here.
"Um, Skinner called to see how you were, and your mom was there getting
some stuff for you, I guess. I'm sorry. If you don't want me here I could . .
."
"No," she interrupted, "I'm glad you're here."
Mulder felt a surge of relief pass over him. At least she didn't hate him. At
least she still needed him. He grabbed a chair from near the door and
pulled it up to the bed so he could sit close to her, as he had done all those
other times she had been hospitalized. As she had always done for him.
"Why didn't you call me, Scully? You know I'd have been here
immediately. Why didn't you tell me?" He tried not to let the hurt show on
his face, but by the look in her eyes he knew she had seen it.
"I'm sorry Mulder. It was late, and I was disoriented. I blacked out, and
when I woke up I had no idea how long I'd been out or what had
happened. I called mom, and she came and insisted I go to the hospital. I
didn't call you this morning because I didn't want you to worry until I knew
what was going on."
Mulder smiled to let her know that he understood, then braced himself as
he had to ask the question he wasn't sure he wanted the answer to.
"Scully, what is it? Is it the cancer?" His voice broke on the word
"cancer." If it had been anyone else but Scully, he would have been
embarrassed at this sign of his emotional weakness.
Scully reached for his hand and he reached back, squeezing hers so hard he
worried maybe he had hurt her.
"The doctor was just here with the results of the x-rays and the CAT scan.
There's no sign of the cancer."
Mulder felt tears well up in his eyes but made no effort to stop them. The
relief settled over him and soothed him in a way nothing else at that
moment could have. Scully smiled at him as he squeezed her hand again.
"Thank God, Scully. I was sick when I heard about the nose bleed. I just
thought . . ." his voice trailed off and Scully nodded her understanding,
saving him from having to finish the sentence that represented his worst
nightmare.
"They're not sure what it was, but it doesn't seem to be anything serious.
I'm still waiting for some other test results, and they're going to keep me
here for observation, but I feel fine. I had a touch of the flu yesterday and I
didn't eat anything, so that might be what caused me to faint. And I think I
probably hit my nose when I fell, either on the floor or on the bathroom
counter, and that's why it bled."
Mulder flinched with guilt. She hadn't eaten all day because he had upset
her. God, he was hopeless. "I'm sorry, Scully. I'm so sorry about
yesterday and last night on the phone. It's inexcusable, and I'm sorry I put
you here."
"C'mon, Mulder. It's hardly your fault. You know what? I'm glad you
said those things on the phone last night. I'm glad we got this out in the
open. It needed to be said, and now it has been. Now we can just move
on and go back to the way things were."
Back to the way things were? The words were like a kick to Mulder's gut,
but the relief that Scully was okay, that she wasn't dying, partially relieved
the pain of her denial of him, of what he had said to her. He could endure
that pain, or *any* pain for that matter, as long as she was okay. He hadn't
lost her--to death or to his stupid confessions--and that, right now, was the
only thing that mattered.
Just then, Mrs. Scully arrived, a small suitcase full of Scully things in hand.
Mulder rose to meet her, and she smiled as she gave him a hug, though she
looked generally pale and tired. "Hi, Fox. It's great to see you again. We
really do have to meet more often in places besides my daughter's hospital
bed."
Mulder managed a smile for her, then caught Scully's silent communication
telling him that she wanted some time alone with her mother. He realized
that Mrs. Scully hadn't gotten the good news yet about the tests, so he
worked on a graceful exit.
"Well, Scully, I better be getting back to work. I just wanted to see for
myself that you were *fine*." Scully grinned at the inside joke. He turned
to leave.
"Mulder?"
He stopped at the door and turned back toward Scully, "Yeah?"
"Will you come back this afternoon, after work?"
How could he not come back? He would be there every minute of every
day if that's what she wanted. How could he ever refuse any request of
Scully's? She so rarely asked for anything. "Absolutely." He flashed her a
grin and a wink.
**********
After work, Mulder stopped by the store on his way back to the hospital to
pick up a gift for Scully. He intended to buy flowers, but then he
remembered the last time he had brought her flowers. That was the day
she told him that she had cancer. He had been so concerned when she
asked him to meet her at the hospital that when he handed her the flowers
he had joked his way out of the intensity of his fear by kidding about
stealing them from a patient with a broken leg. He remembered the
beautiful, shy look she got on her face as she looked at the floor bashfully
and smiled upwards at him. Her beauty at that moment had almost
knocked him off his feet. Then, Scully had dropped the bombshell and his
world had turned upside down, degenerating from that moment of intense
pleasure to one of horror and panic.
Mulder shook himself out of the memory of that day mixed with so many
different emotions and decided against flowers. He wasn't normally
superstitious, but there was no point in taking any chances. He opted for a
giant brown teddy bear instead. He paid a small fortune for the fur and
stuffing, then wrestled it into the front seat of the car. It was almost big
enough to see over the dashboard, and Mulder momentarily wondered to
himself what in the world Scully would do with a giant stuffed bear that
was almost bigger than she was. She wasn't exactly a teddy bear kind of
woman.
Mulder arrived at the fifth floor, giant bear in tow, and entered Scully's
room. The bear was so big that, holding it in front of him as he was, it
covered up most of his face. When Scully and her mother turned to see
him enter, they both burst out laughing, and Mulder thrilled at the sound of
Scully happy.
"Mulder, what the hell is that *thing*?" Scully questioned.
"It's a get-well bear. What do you think it is?"
"Did you steal it from some poor child down in pediatrics?" So Scully
remembered the last time he'd done this too.
"Of course not. I took it from some old lady's room. She was in a coma;
what use would she have for a teddy bear?" he kidded, and Scully flashed
him a killer smile that would have felled any mortal man, or god for that
matter.
Mrs. Scully removed herself under the pretense of getting coffee, and
Mulder brought the bear over to Scully and placed it in the bed next to her.
The bear's paw rested comfortably on Scully's upper thigh, and Mulder
couldn't help but imagine himself in the bear's place. It looked far too
enjoyable. He tried to concentrate on what Scully was saying to him.
"Well, good news Mulder. None of the tests showed anything wrong, and
I seem to be doing fine now. They're going to let me go home tomorrow."
Mulder snapped out of his bear fantasy as he felt the familiar feeling of
relief wash over him for the third time that day. "That's great, Scully. I'm
so glad it wasn't . . ." Once again, he had no need to finish the sentence.
Scully nodded her understanding.
"Mulder, I need a favor." Scully was actually going to ask him for
something? Again? How spooky.
"Sure, Scully, just name it."
"Can you drive me home tomorrow? I think they'll probably release me
around lunch time."
"Of course. You know it's no problem. But what about your mom?
Won't she want to take you home and make sure you're all tucked in
properly?"
"Mom had plans to leave tomorrow morning for a visit with Bill and his
family. Of course she doesn't want to go now, but since I'm fine there's no
point in her postponing her trip. I think she might be okay with it if she
knows you'll be looking after me."
Mulder felt very . . . privileged. He was hardly a substitute for Mrs. Scully,
but if Scully thought he'd do, then he would certainly do. "Hey, whatever
you need. I'll take the whole afternoon off so I can stay and make sure
everything's okay."
"Really, Mulder, that's not necessary. I just need a ride."
"Scully, if I'm going to be looking after you for your mom, I'd better do it
right or she'll have my hide. She'd expect me to take good care of you.
That means I at least have to make sure you get settled in, that you eat
well, and that you have a few good movies to watch so you'll stay in bed
like you're supposed to and not be gallivanting around battling aliens and
whatnot."
"I think you have us confused," observed Scully wryly. She held back a
smile, but nodded her agreement with his plan. Mulder would take care of
her and make up for the mistakes he had made in the last twenty-four
hours. He'd get them back on track, no matter what it took.
**********
The next day, Mulder picked up Scully as planned and escorted her back to
her apartment. She stubbornly resisted every attempt he made to take care
of her. Rather than pissing her off and risking her asking him to leave,
Mulder decided to ease off. She didn't seem to mind him sticking around
for company, and by dinner time he had settled in quite comfortably. They
ordered Chinese food and Mulder made sure Scully ate well--no more of
those horrifying blackouts.
After dinner, to Mulder's surprise, Scully asked him to stay a while longer,
and they curled up on the sofa to watch t.v.
"Are you sure you're feeling okay, Scully? You're not feeling sick or
anything?" Mulder asked for probably the fiftieth time that day.
"Mulder, if you ask me that one more time, I swear I'll shoot you. And I'll
have better aim this time!" Mulder laughed. Every time Scully said she felt
fine, he felt the relief flow over him. He thought maybe he had never been
as happy as he was right now, tonight, here with Scully.
They were watching "Touched By an Angel," not exactly Mulder's
preferred brand of entertainment, but, oddly, it was Scully's choice. The
episode was about a young man who found out he was dying from a rare
degenerative disease. Scully watched for a few minutes, then suddenly she
swooped forward to grab the remote and switched off the television. Her
look broke Mulder's heart--pain, fear, and sorrow all mixed up in her
expressive eyes, yet her face remained a mask.
"Scully, what is it?"
"Nothing," Scully replied stoically, but she couldn't stop the sob that rose
in her throat.
"Scully?" Mulder moved closer to her on the couch and tilted up her face
so he could look into her eyes. Something was definitely wrong. "Tell
me."
Scully looked up at Mulder with so much pain; he would have shot himself
if he thought it would help relieve even the smallest portion of it.
"I think it's just hitting me now," she managed to get out, though her face
was wracked with something Mulder didn't like the look of.
"What?"
"The other night. My blackout." A look of terror suddenly crossed her
face. "Oh my God! Mulder!"
"Tell me Scully!" Mulder tried to stop the panic in his voice. Something
was very wrong with Scully. He had never seen her like this, so ripped
apart, so vulnerable. He noticed her hands were shaking, so he took one in
his own and waited.
"When I woke up from the blackout, I couldn't figure out why I was on the
bathroom floor," she began, her voice calm and steady despite the physical
signs of her emotional distress. "Then I tasted blood on my lips. When I
reached up and realized the blood was coming from my nose, I was scared.
I mean, I was absolutely terrified. You know, the whole time I was sick,
all that time in the hospital, even when I thought I was dying, I was never
scared. I was angry, sad, even depressed sometimes, but I never felt fear.
I wasn't afraid of my illness, and I wasn't afraid of dying. But when I woke
up on the bathroom floor and thought that my cancer had come back, I was
sick with fear, with the horror of the knowledge that I was going to die. I
can't even explain how terrified I was. I thought I was going to die right
there on the bathroom floor. I was scared in a way that I have never felt in
my life, not ever, not even with Donnie Pfaster or those Chaco cannibals or
anything. It was a fear that I felt in my veins, in my soul, and I thought I
would literally die of it. Oh God, it was horrible, Mulder."
Tears were floating down Scully's cheek, and Mulder reached over to brush
them away. He had just barely touched her when she pulled away and
shifted slightly to put more distance between them, even letting go of her
grasp of his hand. Oddly, what Mulder felt was not disappointment, not
rejection, but sadness. He hurt for Scully that even now, at this most
vulnerable of moments, she would not allow anyone, even him, to get close
to her. It broke his heart that she could be so alone, so self-reliant, that she
could accept nothing from him even when she most needed it.
"I'm sorry, Scully. I'm sorry that you had to go through that alone.
Maybe, though, you needed to be scared. Maybe you've been repressing
that. Maybe you had to let it out and let it go, and now you can go on with
your life again." He really wanted to add but his restraint was
in full gear tonight. It had to be. He couldn't afford another slip up.
Scully was crying fully now, and Mulder felt his own eyes filling with the
pain she was suffering.
"You're probably right, Mulder. I know it isn't normal to not be scared of
cancer, of dying. Maybe I just wasn't facing it." God, she needed
comforting, she needed him. He knew it. Why wouldn't she take it?
Mulder raised his arms and tried to slide closer to Scully without calling
too much attention to it. He placed his hands on her upper arms, then
moved them to her shoulders. He felt Scully tense under his touch, but he
didn't pull back. If she didn't want this, she'd have to do the work. It
seemed an eternity before either of them moved. Then, to his surprise,
Scully sunk forward in a fit of sobbing and fell against his chest. He
wrapped his arms around her and held on, tight, and let her sob away her
fears in his arms. He said nothing, just let her grieve for herself and for all
she had lost. He knew that she had never allowed herself to grieve
properly. Not for any of it. Not for her sister, or for Emily, or for her
cancer, or for the children she would never have.
Scully sobbed off and on for a good hour, and Mulder began to worry that
she would cry herself right back into the hospital. He held on to her; there
was no way he would let her go. Not ever. Not as long as she needed him.
In the back of his mind, though, he knew that as soon as she got through
this one small moment of grief in a life that had recently been full of
tragedy, she would pull away and, once again, he would only know she
needed him by instinct rather than by any direct request from her. That
was Scully, and he had to continue to resign himself to that facet of her.
Finally, Scully's tears dried and the trembling ceased. They hadn't moved in
over an hour; Scully was still wrapped tightly in Mulder's arms. Even after
she regained her composure, she stayed put. Mulder finally realized that
she had cried herself to sleep. He seriously contemplated not moving--just
letting her sleep there all night. But the tightening muscles in his back and
arms suggested that the position wouldn't be all that comfortable for Scully
either, so his better judgment ruled over his desire to hold her forever. He
carefully untangled himself, then scooped her up and carried her to the
bedroom. She felt so light in his arms, lighter than he expected. Funny
how you could know someone so well for five years and have no sense of
what she feels like, all of her, gathered up into your arms, supported only
by your own strength.
Scully barely stirred as he carried her, then set her gently down on the bed.
He pulled the covers over her and tucked them up under her chin. Unable
to resist, he planted a kiss on her flushed forehead, then on her cheek
where the tracks of her tears were still evident. Mrs. Scully would
approve, he thought, of his mothering.
Mulder thought it was best to stay overnight, although he wasn't sure how
Scully would react if she found him there in the morning. In the end, he
decided her welfare was more important than him being in the doghouse
again, so he grabbed a pillow from Scully's bed and settled in on the sofa.
It would be better for him to be here, just in case she woke up upset,
though whether it was better for her or for him he wasn't really sure.
************
PART 3
Mulder woke to the smell of breakfast and something soft tickling his nose.
Taking a minute before he opened his eyes, the events of the previous night
came to him and he remembered that he was in Scully's apartment. He
opened his eyes slowly to find the source of the tickling; Scully's bear was
lying next to him, the top of its head resting comfortably under his nose.
Mulder experienced a brief moment of joy at the thought that the bear
resting next to him had just yesterday been in Scully's arms, then laughed
inwardly at his own sentimentality.
He sat up just as Scully stepped out of the kitchen, the smell of a wonderful
breakfast wafting behind her.
"Hey Sleeping Beauty," she murmured as she took a seat next to him and
began folding up the blanket he had pulled off the back of the couch. "Did
you sleep okay? This couch isn't exactly comfortable."
Mulder was more than mildly surprised at Scully's calm acceptance of the
fact that he had spent the night without her permission, but he figured it
was best just to ignore it and try not to tick her off.
"How'd Bruno get here?" he asked, motioning to the bear now sitting next
to him.
"Not Bruno!" Scully giggled in a way Mulder imagined she must have
when she was a child. "Fox. His name is Fox," she said with a smirk.
"You can't name a bear Fox," Mulder replied practically. "He's a bear."
"So? You're a person and you're named Fox," she said in a little-girl voice
that charmed Mulder to no end. This conversation was going nowhere
fast. He knew Scully was just egging him on.
"So how'd *Bruno* end up sleeping in my bed?"
Scully rolled her eyes in frustration. "I put *Fox* there. You looked
lonely. I thought you might like some company." Mulder had to bite his
lip to keep from touching that one. Scully seemed not to notice that he
hadn't pounced on the opening she'd left him. Actually, the image of just-
awakened Scully standing over him and watching while he was sleeping did
something weird to him, something warm.
"So, you want some breakfast? Waffles are waffling as we speak." She
rose to head back into the kitchen.
Well, this was seeming very . . . homey. Mulder guessed she must be okay
with the whole scenario or else she would have drop-kicked him out of
there as soon as she woke up and saw him making himself at home on her
sofa.
"Scully, you shouldn't be making breakfast. You should be resting. You
just got out of the hospital."
"Mulder!" Scully's head popped out of the kitchen and her annoyed look
matched the tone of her voice. "Don't baby me," she warned, as she
flashed him the killer look of reproach that made Mulder surrender every
time. "The doctor said to take it easy; he didn't say I needed to be an
invalid. I'm fine."
Yes, well, it did sound as if Scully was very back to normal. Mulder
decided in this case, as usual, Scully probably knew best.
"All right then, I'm starving. What the hell's taking so long with
breakfast?" he chided with mock indignation. Scully emerged from the
kitchen again and hurled a bagel at Mulder's head.
**********
After breakfast, Mulder knew that he probably ought to leave before he
overstayed his welcome, but being with Scully was so comfortable that he
was reluctant to abandon it. She didn't seem to mind, and that gave him
hope that maybe all the destruction he'd caused recently hadn't done
irreparable harm.
Scully loaded the breakfast dishes into the dishwasher while Mulder sat at
the dining table watching her. He had tried to help, but she had shooed
him out of the kitchen and told him to relax. Truth be told, he was
enjoying watching her, the way her arms moved back and forth as she
rinsed the dishes under the tap, the way her hips moved as she twisted to
place a glass into the dishwasher. Only Scully could look sexy doing the
dishes.
She finished quickly, then came back out to the dining room while drying
her hands on a dishrag. Without speaking, she sat down across the table
from Mulder. Their silence was their usual comfortable one, but Scully
was wringing the dishtowel in her fists, so Mulder knew something was
going on in that incredible mind of hers. Maybe she wanted him to leave?
Just as the thought crossed his mind, she spoke, dragging the issue out into
the open.
"Mulder, about last night. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I lost it on you."
Mulder couldn't believe her words, apologizing for something so basic, so
needed. "Scully, don't ever apologize to me about your feelings. There's
nothing to apologize for." He felt so much love and desire swelling up
inside him at Scully's fear of her own vulnerability. As much as she
detested it, he loved her for allowing him to see it. "I'm glad I was here for
you. That's all."
Scully hesitated, but didn't break eye contact with him. "I'm glad you were
here too, Mulder. I'm glad you stayed. Thanks for taking care of me."
God, he wondered if Scully had ever said that before to anyone in her
entire life. She hated being taken care of--or maybe she just wanted people
to think that.
"No problem. I'd be here for you anytime, Scully. You must know that."
Scully nodded and smiled, but Mulder swore he saw the sign of tears in her
eyes. "I do." She snapped her head a little, as if trying to pull herself
together. "I know, Mulder. I know it all."
Mulder wasn't sure what she meant at first. It sounded like she was hinting
at some secret, something he thought she didn't know. With the
understanding that came only from years of knowing Scully, it suddenly hit
him. She was talking about their conversation of a few nights ago, when
he had told her he loved her. She knew what he really meant.
"Last night," she continued, "I needed you. I needed you here with me,
although I didn't know it until you were actually here. All those things I
said, about my cancer, had been eating away at me. Last night was the first
time I ever really faced them, faced the idea that I had come so close to
dying. That's something I couldn't have done without you."
Mulder simply nodded. Now was a time to listen, not to talk. Recently,
talking seemed to get him into trouble anyway. Besides, this was the first
time Scully had ever opened up to him about needing him, needing his
support, and he wasn't going to ruin it by sticking his foot in his mouth.
Suddenly her demeanor changed. The moist softness in her eyes
disappeared and her face took on its hard Scully edges again.
"But Mulder, we can't make a habit of this. We have a job to do, you and
I, and we can't allow our feelings for each other to get in the way of that.
Last night was an extreme circumstance--I was sick and scared--but it's not
the norm, and we can't let it be. This . . ." she motioned to the two of them
sitting at the table, "can't happen."
So, they were right back where they started. Mulder felt anger rising up in
him. Oh, he understood perfectly what Scully meant, but he was so sick
and tired of her distancing herself from him. He knew now, or he was
pretty damn sure, that the feelings he had for her were at least partially
returned. That was the only explanation for her attitude, her whole
"theory" that things *couldn't* happen. Mulder felt like his emotions had
been stretched to the limit over the past couple of days, and even though he
was the one who had started it, he was beginning to resent Scully's
constant pounding into the ground of all his good intentions. He said
nothing, but naturally Scully sensed the storm brewing underneath his cool
exterior.
"C'mon, Mulder, not now. Not after all this time. It doesn't make any
sense at this point. We've been doing fine, our partnership is in top form,
we're back on track again to finding the truth. This is not the time to
experiment with changes. We need something constant, reliable. *I* need
something constant and reliable. I'm not up for the upheaval."
Something inside Mulder snapped at that word. He had had it with all her
rationalizing, all her analyzing. This was the stupidest thing he had ever
heard.
"Upheaval?!? That's what you call our relationship? That's what you call
my love for you? Well, thanks a whole hell of a lot, Scully. I'm glad you
think so highly of my feelings. And, by the way, we have *not* been doing
fine. Sure, you sit over there being all standoffish with your 'We're fine'
attitude like we can just go on forever without anything changing. Well, I
have news for you. We are not fine. I am not fine. I sit in our office every
damn day watching you, wanting you, feeling like I'd sell my soul just to
touch you once, and all you do is push me away. Well, you know what?
I'm sick of it. I'm sick of pretending like we're just partners. I'm sick of
you always shutting me out. You need a life, Scully. You need to quit
pushing people away and pretending like you don't need anyone. You just
suck me dry when you do need me and then toss me out like yesterday's
trash. You either need me or you don't, but you can't have it both ways
anymore!"
Somewhere in Mulder's mind it registered that he was out of control, that
his rampage was both inappropriate and ill-timed, but he couldn't stop the
surge inside him. His emotions had festered far too long, and now they
were exploding out of him.
Scully didn't move. She just sat there and took every word of his verbal
beating without flinching, without a reaction of any kind. For some reason,
that ticked off Mulder even more.
"You know what? I'm outta here!" he screamed, and was out the door
before he even realized what he'd done.
**********
By the time Mulder got to his car, he had already berated himself nearly
into oblivion, but the realization that he had made a very stupid mistake
was beginning to drown out his self-pity. He slammed his fist onto the
car's hood and cursed loud enough that Scully's neighbors could probably
hear. How had things gotten so out of control? How had he managed to
take five years of rationality and lose it all in the course of five minutes?
He knew he had to go back up there and get this thing worked out NOW.
Before he could talk himself out of it, he turned around and headed back
toward Scully's apartment. He knocked gently and was surprised when
Scully opened the door within a few seconds, like she was expecting him.
She merely opened the door, then turned her back on him as she moved to
sit on the sofa. Mulder stepped inside and shut the door behind him. He
took a seat in the armchair closest to where Scully was sitting cross-legged
on the sofa. Neither of them spoke. Scully finally turned toward him, her
eyes glistening with hurt, and looked at him. Still they did not speak. They
simply looked at each other, communicating what needed to be said in
soliloquies of silence.
Minutes passed--then Mulder finally looked away, feeling like any more of
this was going to kill him. As much as he loved Scully, her accusatory
glare could bring any man to his knees begging for forgiveness and he
began to resent it. This wasn't *all* his fault. If Scully wasn't so damned
closed off, they would have talked about it when it first happened, not
now, when things had taken a turn toward the irreparable.
Mulder's eyes roamed about the room as the silence became heavy. He
noticed Fox the Bear was sprawled face-down on the floor near the far
wall, and Mulder suspected that he had landed that way after being flung
across the room in a fit of Scully anger.
"What happened to Fox?" inquired Mulder nodding in the direction of the
carnage. It was the first thing either of them had said since he had returned
to Scully's apartment. He hoped that using the bear's correct name would
signal a truce of sorts.
Scully crossed the room and picked up the bear to hug it in her arms. "I
decided his name's not Fox anymore," she pouted. Mulder figured he
deserved that. The bear seemed to have become a metaphor for their entire
relationship. Scully returned to her cross-legged position on the couch, but
she held the now nameless bear in front of her. They returned to silence.
"Mulder," she finally said, and he knew by her tone that it was time to talk.
"What do you want from me?"
Mulder hesitated at the question. He wanted nothing, everything,
something. "I just want the truth, Scully. I want to know what you really
feel, and I want to know why you won't talk about this. About us." He
didn't think that was an unreasonable request. "We've been dancing around
this issue long enough," he added to be sure she clearly understood what he
was asking from her.
Scully frowned and squinted. She seemed to be thinking seriously about
what she would say. "Okay," she announced quite suddenly and the frown
was replaced by a look of resignation.
"This idea, of us," she motioned with her hand a connection between the
two of them, "is not new to me. You're right; we've been dancing around it
forever. Truthfully, I was content with not having to face it. It wasn't until
you said that thing the other day, about me being sexy, that I realized how
scared I was of the possibility of having to deal with what's between us. It
was much easier just to accept that I had feelings for you than to actually
have to examine them--or to deal with yours."
Mulder nodded his understanding. He understood all too well.
"To be honest, though, I think we're better off staying how we are. That's
what I want. I don't want to take this any further right now, no matter how
tempting it is." She smiled at him with just a touch of suggestiveness.
Mulder felt a mixture of disappointment and desire.
"We're close, Mulder. We're so close to the truth, to the conspiracy. I
know you feel it too. We're on the verge of breaking this thing wide open,
but it's going to take time and a lot of hard work. We can't be distracted,
not by anything. Remember on our first case, when you told me that
finding Samantha was the only thing that mattered to you?"
"That's not true anymore, Scully. There are other things . . ."
"I know," she interrupted. "Believe me, I understand that more than you
realize. But finding out what happened to me has become my Samantha. I
need to find out what happened--both with Duane Barry and on that bridge
in Pennsylvania, and what the story is behind this damn chip in my neck.
These things matter to me; they're the most important things in my life right
now. We're close to it, Mulder, closer than we've ever been. I can feel it.
And, for the first time, we both agree that it's there, we're both seeking the
same answers. The only way we'll get there, though, is to continue as we
are. Things would change if we . . . got involved."
Mulder's heart beat a little faster at her words; it was the first time either
one of them had directly said what they were talking about. Scully seemed
to stumble over the words, in fact, as if they were still too new. She
hesitated only a moment, however, before continuing. "We'd have too
much to deal with. I don't have the energy or the inclination right now to
work through those things. For the time being, we both need to
concentrate on finding the truth."
What she was saying made sense. Sort of. "Maybe you're right, Scully,
but why should we put off our lives because of 'them'? Shouldn't we at
least try to get what *we* want? We don't have forever." He knew those
words would mean something to her.
"The right time will come, Mulder," she assured him. "I think I've always
believed that."
"That's a little too fairy-tale for me, Scully. Sometimes you have to
*make* the right time. If you wait for things to be perfect, it'll never
happen."
"Okay, then. We'll make the time. But not now."
"When?" He knew that sounded pathetic, but Mulder had the feeling that
Scully could put this off forever if the issue was really about being
distracted by the other things in their lives.
"I don't know, but you have to admit that we'll never make it work if we're
not committed to ourselves first. Do you understand this, Mulder? I need
you to understand. I need it maybe more than anything else I've ever asked
of you." Her voice was steady, but her eyes begged him.
"I think I do understand, Scully, at least I'm trying to. Thank you for
telling me, for being honest. I just needed to know. I didn't like that you
weren't telling me the truth."
"I know. I'm sorry about that. It's hard for me, you know?"
"I know."
They were silent a long time again, just looking at each other and into each
other. It was like when Mulder had first returned to the apartment, but this
time the silence was a comfortable one again. It was a necessary silence--
one to reaffirm their connection, to say what hadn't been said.
Eventually, Mulder knew it was time to leave. "I guess I'd better go,
Scully. I'll see you Monday?"
"Wouldn't miss it. Aliens, conspiracies, cover-ups--just another day at the
office." She walked with him to the door, carrying Nameless Bear with
her.
"No, not just another day," Mulder corrected. "A new day, with a new
start," he commented, thinking that even though the decision had been
made not to change anything, *everything* had changed.
"Yes," she murmured smiling up at him with the first truly sincere smile he
had seen in a while. Mulder opened the door and stepped out in the hall.
Just before he was going to walk away, Scully reached her hand towards
his and held on for a brief moment.
"Thank you for understanding," she whispered. Mulder smiled and looked
at her, reveling in the connectedness of their last moment together. "Fox
and I both thank you," she grinned, giving the bear a little wiggle.
Mulder stepped away and Scully closed the door behind him. He lingered
in the hallway for several moments, sorting out what had just happened.
Had anything changed? He was still going home alone. In a way, though,
he felt different. There was something wonderful about letting go of pent-
up emotions and secrets. Something wonderful about letting a woman
know you love her and finding out that she loves you, even if it doesn't
change anything. At least nothing substantial. For now.
Mulder walked to the car. Monday would be different, he had no doubt
about it. He also knew that there were things that he could count on, that
he could predict, that would never change. Scully was right that it was
comforting to have something in his life on which he could rely no matter
what, especially since their lives were so unpredictable these days.
Scully would be there Monday, with him, in the office, brightening up his
space and inspiring him--and, no doubt, soliloquizing more beautifully than
any poetry ever written. But something would be different. Now there
was a promise in their future. The truth would bring them much more than
the answers they sought. It would bring them the freedom to finally live
for themselves.
THE END
___________
All my fanfic is available on my webpage:
http://www.oocities.com/Area51/Dreamworld/2442
sbarringer@usa.net
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