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Candlelight 4/4 I glance at my watch and curse softly under my breath. I had imagined I had plenty of time to put this little plan of mine in to action. But the hours since I waved goodbye to Scully and left the office have somehow blended and merged together. If I didn't know better I'd swear it was a conspiracy. The missing time phenomena rearing it's ugly head and settling itself on me and me alone. All nonsense of course. It has nothing to do with missing time and everything to do with the fact that I'm just not skilled enough in the art of surprising someone. Thus far in our seven year relationship, my version of surprising Scully has been to *not* ditch her when she's fully expected me it. Of course there have been times when I've been all too predictable in that area too. It's been a source of friction for us for as long as I can remember. Me leaving her behind in an effort to keep her safe. Her being equally determined that she'd follow right behind me. Most times, when she's taken matters in to her own hands like that, she's wound up saving my ass. Even I acknowledge that much. I'm not so pig headed that I can't recognise when I've been misguided in my choices. It doesn't make it any easier, though, to have to watch her put herself in danger because of me. It doesn't make it any easier to have to live with the knowledge that her life would have turned out very differently if we had never met. But every day I thank the higher powers for bringing us together when they did, because if it weren't for Scully, I'd probably be dead by now. Maybe even by my own hand. It's a sobering thought but one which I know to be true. I once told Scully that she kept me whole. What I really meant was that she kept me *sane*. Without Scully, I'd have blown apart a long time ago. It's part of the reason I need to do this for her. I'm not sure how she'll react and, as I blow softly on the burning taper I hold in my hand, I know I'm playing with fire. Literally. It's only a few minutes before seven now and if I know Scully, she'll be just a little early. I don't have much time and I quickly run a hand through my still damp hair. I showered a few minutes ago and managed to get myself half dressed before I realised I had forgotten to put the most crucial part of my plan in to action. But that's all done now so I allow myself to cross over into my bedroom and pick up the shirt I had casually tossed on the bed an hour ago. It's a nice shirt. I like good quality clothes. Aside from chasing down aliens and putting my partner's life at risk, it's about my only indulgence in life. The dark blue material feels good against my bare skin. Not as good as Scully does admittedly, but it's an okay substitute. For now. I am just buttoning the final button when I hear the knock at the door. *Scully* I'd recognise that sound anywhere. It's amazing how I can recognise her just by the way her hand makes contact with a piece of wood. Just like I can recognise her by her footsteps, her scent, the sound of her breathing. I can feel her presence in a room long before I ever see her. I don't know how that unique insight ever came to be. It just did. One day I realised I knew this woman better than I've ever known anyone before in my life. Maybe better than I know myself. I take one last, lingering look around my living room and once again I utter a short prayer. Hoping that someone, somewhere will answer and tell me I'm doing the right thing. That I've not just stepped over that fine line that separates our work and our home life. Six weeks ago it wouldn't have mattered. Now it does. I open the door just enough for me to see her. She looks beautiful of course. Scully would look beautiful if she were wearing a potato sack. No potato sacks tonight though. Tonight she is wearing an outfit I have never seen before and for a fleeting moment, I wonder if she actually went shopping after we parted company at the Hoover building. It always momentarily rocks me to realise that out of work, away from me, Scully does all the things normal women do. It's probably difficult for me to comprehend because I could never reduce what she is in to normal terms. But whether it is newly acquired or something she's pulled out of the depths of her closet, it looks damn good on her. For one thing she isn't wearing black. It's become her trademark color recently and I hate it. Okay, it accentuates her figure in the most wonderful way but it also succeeds admirably in draining the color from her face. It's a non-color. A color to hide behind. And she's always had a knack for hiding. But tonight, there isn't a speck of black in sight. Unless you count the understated necklace that has replaced her gold cross. It's made up of hundreds of tiny, glittering beads woven together in an intricate rope and ends with a slightly larger pendant that nestles against the hollow of her throat. But that's where the black ends. The shirt she is wearing is made up of some kind of material I don't recognise. I'm a guy after all. If it's not made of cotton or wool I'm completely lost. But it looks expensive. It's almost sheer enough to see right through although there must be some kind of bodice attached on the inside because it is only the slightly flared sleeves that show promise of what lies beneath. The shirt itself doesn't appear to have any fastenings of any kind. It just flows down from her shoulders, crossing over her smooth midriff and ties somewhere around the back. The color is breathtaking even in the harsh light of the corridor. A powder blue that accentuates her eyes and adds depth to her pale skin. It's a color I have never seen her wear. It's a color she should wear more often. Complimenting the shirt is a pair of grey slacks of a very similar material to the shirt. I never realised slacks could look so damn good. They hang off her small frame, dropping gracefully almost to the ground. They are uncreased, unblemished and so fucking feminine I could cry. Scully normally shies away from anything that actually brings attention to the fact that she is indeed female. It's the nature of her job I suppose, and standing here looking down at her now, it breaks my heart. She shouldn't have to spend her life hiding. Trying to prove herself worthy of the "boy's club" especially since she is, without a doubt, the most capable Agent I have ever worked with. She is staring up at me, an statement of satisfaction on her face, well aware of the effect she is having on me. As I stand there drinking in her image, I am literally lost for words. She has obviously taken a tremendous amount of trouble with her appearance and right now I am dry mouthed with terror that I might have seriously fucked up here. "You look nice," I finally manage through lips that seem to be welded together and she rewards me with a smile so dazzling I am tempted to simply step out in to the hallway, grab her arm and take her the hell out of here. But that would be the coward's way out and it isn't what she needs. Instead I step aside to allow her entry. The minute she steps over the threshold though the smile dies on her lips. It's replaced by a look I know all too well. It reminds me of how a rabbit would look caught in the headlights of a fast approaching car, knowing there is nowhere to run. Actually no. Screw that. This look is more like a rabbit who has been *tied down* in the road by it's adoring and trusted owners and left to it's fate. But it's okay. I was expecting this. I take her arm gently, circling my thumb against the material of that beautiful shirt that I can now recognise as being made of silk. It's meant to reassure her, but instead I feel her tense beneath my touch a millisecond before she rounds on me, her eyes huge in her face, the image of the candles I have spent hours collecting and lighting, burning on their surface. She's as mad as hell. I've seen her like this more times that I can count. Whether directed at me or at others it's a sight to behold. An angry Scully is a dangerous Scully. I should know. I've been on the receiving end of that anger enough times to know. But this time I can clearly see that the anger is a front. It's a way to hide what she's really feeling. It's a way to mask her fear. Fear not only of the physical presence of those flickering flames but also from her knowledge that I've discovered her secret. That I'm making her confront it in the cruelest way. Oh yeah. I'm a bastard, Scully. Haven't you realised that by now? She shrugs my hand off angrily. "What the hell is this, Mulder?" she tries to sound calm, detached even and I might almost buy it if it weren't for the tears that have collected in her eyes. They haven't spilled over though. At least not yet. I feign innocence. "What's *what*?" I'm baiting her and she knows it. She knows that her reaction is inappropriate to the moment. That any other woman who was confronted with a darkened apartment suffused in the golden glow of a hundred candles would be captivated. Enchanted even. Hell, it's the stuff that trashy romance novels are supposedly made of. I should know. My Mother read enough of them. She waves her hand vaguely at the scene before her. "This! As you damn well know," she hisses. "What the hell is going on here, Mulder?" I step toward her. "What's wrong, Scully?" She doesn't answer me. I don't expect her to. She is shaking now. I don't need to feel her to know. I can see it with my own eyes and just for a fleeting moment I wonder if I've pushed her too far too fast. She takes a stumbling step backwards, back towards the door and I know that she's no longer here with me. That she's trapped in nightmare world where Pfaster plays a starring role. And that the only thing that matters to her is to escape. But I'm taller and I'm faster. Not to mention the fact that I already know where she's heading. I reach the door a split second before she does and I catch her in my arms before she can escape, flinching as she hammers her small fists against the front of my shirt. But the pain means nothing to me. All I'm conscious of is this women who is disintegrating before me. Shattering in to pieces right in front of my eyes. *I* did this to her. I brought her here under false pretences and made her confront something I am now desperately afraid that she wasn't ready to see. That she will never forgive me for. She is crying out now. In between the wrenching sobs that are threatening to tear her apart she is screaming. And despite being the only one here, I sense her screams are not directed at me. That I no longer exist in her nightmare. "You fucking asshole bastard! How could you do that to me! What gave you the right to mess with my fucking *mind*, you sorry piece of shit!" I've never heard Scully scream like this. I hadn't realised that she even had the ability to let go of her emotions this way. And it's frightening the living hell out of me. I pull her more firmly towards me, holding her against me as she continues to sob in to my shirt. Her voice is muffled as she sags against me but I can clearly hear her words. Repeated over and over. I don't think she will ever stop. "howcouldyouhowcouldyouhowcouldyou....." Until finally there is nothing. Just the sound of her ragged breathing as she just stands there, leaning in to me, her arms hanging limply by her side. It's as though all the strength has simply been bled from her but I know that the worst is over. I allow myself to tentatively reach up and place my palm on the back of her head, stroking her hair gently as I whisper in to it. "Sssshhhhh, Scully. It's okay. It's okay." I am rewarded by the feel of her arms snaking up my sides, softly at first until she finally slips them behind my back as I rock her gently against me. It transports me back in time to another place. A place where we got to her just in time. Where, even as I untied the bindings around her wrists, she still proclaimed to me that she was fine. So early on in our partnership and I already knew that I loved her. That I would die for her. It makes me shudder to think how close I came to losing her. Too many times where I have come so close to losing her. But not this time. This time she is still here with me. She eventually lifts her head, locking her eyes with mine as they glisten in the candlelight. They glisten with a hundred unshed tears. Tears that will come later. Of that I have no doubt. But the fear is gone. It left her when she screamed out to him. When she beat her hands against his chest, attempting to inflict the same hurt on him that he had inflicted upon her. When in her mind I *became* him. For just a few seconds, I was replaced by that man who has tortured her mind for so long. Until she came back to me. And later I will look deep into her eyes and admit all the things I should have told her weeks ago. I will cry with her as I admit that much as I played all this out for her tonight, I also did it to save myself. To rid myself of the sight that has plagued me for so long. Just for once I will be straight with her. It's enough for me to know that, somehow, we will be all right.
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