Title: Fine
Author: cratkinson
e-mail: cratkinson@mail.com
URL: www.geocities.com/cratkinsonflynn
Date: December 20, 2001
Archive: Yes, please just let me know.
Feedback: Please!
Spoilers: Nothing Important Happened Today
missing scene.
Rating: PG
Classification: V, MSR, A
Keywords: MSR, Angst (Matilda's gonna be so
proud!), Mulder POV
Disclaimer: These characters are the property of
1013 Productions and Fox Television and are not
mine in any way.
Notes: So, it seems Scully talked Mulder into leaving.
(I'll leave for another time a rant about how there's no
WAY the Mulder I've known all these years would
leave his family.) I was just thinking that if Scully
*did* talk Mulder into leaving, it must have been a
hell of a conversation. And she must have mustered
every ounce of her self-control to get through it.
This isn't that conversation, though. This is just a
little bit of the aftermath.
Thanks, as always, to Heidi for beta reading, listening
services, and friendship.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Fine
by Cratkinson
~~~~~~~~~~~
"I'm fine, Mulder," she says in a flat voice, her eyes
focused on the clothes she's folding.
They're my clothes. And they're being folded to go
into my suitcases. And then I'm taking them with me
when I leave my family.
I flatly refused when Scully first told me about the
threats and her decision that I'd be safer in hiding. I
told her that I absolutely would not run away, leaving
her and our son out of my reach. And that's when she
hit me with it. That she wanted me to go because she
and William would be safer with me gone.
I stared at her set expression. Only her eyes looked as
destroyed as I felt.
I know perfectly well that she said it only to get me
to leave. That it was the only thing she could think
of. After all this time together, she knows my buttons
and exactly how to push them, although I don't think
she's ever used that knowledge before. It doesn't
matter that I could see the calculation behind every
word, movement, and expression. She was right.
They will be safer with me gone. She convinced me.
Convinced me to run, hoping the danger would
follow me away from them.
"Don't," I say, my own hands stilling as I watch her
concentrating on her chore.
"Don't, what, Mulder," she sighs, her voice just this
side of irritated at my insistence. It's not a question.
"I have to finish packing."
"Just . . . don't!" I stress that last word too hard,
almost making it a shout.
She looks at me then, her beautiful face shuttered -
closed off to me. Her raised eyebrow demands an
explanation, but her body language tells me not to
open my mouth. I've never been very good at keeping
my mouth shut.
"Don't tell me you're fine."
"Look, Mulder," she blows out a breath, tired of
going over the same territory. Tired of convincing
me. Her eyes track around the room, bouncing from
place to place and finally coming to rest somewhere
on my chest. She's looking at me, but she won't meet
my eye. "We've had this conversation. Over and over
again. We've both decided it's the right thing to do.
We can handle it. I *am* fine."
This time I really do shout. "I don't *want* you to be
fine! I don't want you to be calm and collected. I
don't want you to be able to 'handle it,' Scully! I want
you to rant and rave and throw things. I want you to
hurt as bad as I hurt. I want you to feel something."
She looks at me a bit longer and then turns back to
the pile of clothing. "I think you're doing enough
ranting and raving for both of us."
It only takes a couple of steps to get to her side and
I'm surprised to find myself gripping her wrists,
forcing her to stop her busy work. She looks up at
me, angry at the forcible restraint, but I hold on.
"I'm ranting and raving because I'm angry. I'm sad.
I'm pissed. I'm worried. I don't want to go. Don't you
feel any of these things? Can't you just be . . . just be
Scully. Just let me in." I press her palms to my chest,
needing the contact, the reassurance of her touch, but
it doesn't work this way.
She looks into my eyes, her own still cool. She
carefully pulls her hands from mine and looks down
at our feet. When she speaks, I can barely hear her.
"I can't."
"You can," I say.
She just shakes her head and turns back to the
suitcases.
"Please, Scully,"
She suddenly whirls on me and it's her turn to shout.
"I can't do that, Mulder! I can't just let go like you
do. I can't open my mouth and let any old thing pop
out. I can't do this. Don't you understand? I can't
do this! I can't say goodbye."
She stands looking at me for a silent moment and
then tosses me the pair of socks she's holding, her
mouth twisting in a poor imitation of a smile. "There.
Now I've ranted and raved and thrown something."
"Scully," I say, closing the distance between us.
She's looking at her feet again and I can only see the
shining crown of her head. I search for something to
say, something that will reassure her. That will give
her permission to talk. All I come up with is, "Will
you just hold me for a few minutes?"
She lets out a deep breath and slips her arms around
my waist. I hold her close to me, trying to wrap
myself around her and thinking that I hadn't had
nearly enough time to get used to the feel of her
pressed against me.
She shakes her head sharply back and forth and
then .. . well, then she falls apart. She shakes and cries
and clutches at my back. She whispers half-formed
phrases of love and passion and despair and fear. She
gives me what I wanted - all of her feelings right
there on the surface - and it breaks me all over again.
I can feel the sting of tears in my eyes and my throat
feels clogged. I hold her tightly and pet her hair and
whisper the same phrase over and over again into her
ear. And I wonder who it is I'm trying to reassure.
"We'll be fine, Scully. We'll be fine."
~~~~~~~
end, Fine
~~~~~~~
(
geocities.com/cratkinsonflynn)