Title: Three Right Words
Author: DanaFuchs ()
Rating: K+
Spoilers: 3 Words
Keywords: Mulder/Scully Romance. Alternate Universe
Archive: Yes. But let me know where, please.
Feedback: Always! I'm living for it!
Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine... They belong to Chris Carter, 1013 and Fox. I'm not making any money with this and I'm not
making any money anyway, so don't sue me, please...
I don't own the lyrics I used as introduction of the parts either
Summary: Both Mulder and Scully do some thinking after she leaves his apartment in 3 Words.

Three Right Words

Chapter 1 – A question of time
"Still a little bit of your song
In my ear
Still a little bit of your words
I long to hear"
(Damien Rice – Cannonball)

The weak light was cut as if by a blade. A muted click.
The door closes behind me. Although the sun is shining and the birds are singing, only a little bit of light falls through the curtains into the apartment.
Thankful, I let the darkness wrap around me and lean back against the door.
Slowly I close my eyes and take a deep breath, while I soak up the silence. The soft humming of my refrigerator and the ticking of the clock in the living room are to only sounds, penetrating my ear from outside.

However, I hear the voices inside my head more clearly now. The words are tangled and I don't even try to concentrate on one of the voices. I know, that the voices are asking questions. Questions that I cannot answer, questions that scare me, questions that begin with the word 'Why'.

A new question has joined the whirlwind of words in my head. "Why is it so strange?"
I cannot answer this question either, I had been expecting, no hoping, that everything would be alright when Mulder returned. I had given up that hope, at that time, when I was standing at his grave and the questions were hurting me almost as much as the grief.

The silence in Mulder's apartment had been hurting me more than I had expected, too. It had been a strange silence. A depressing silence. After all we had spent days and nights sitting silently next to each other in a car during the last years.
I long for that intimate, friendly silence.

My hand wanders slowly over my stomach, gently tracing the curve. We have to talk, I know that. What I don't know is how.
I see in his eyes that he is confused. I understand that. He isn't the only one to be confused.
He needs time to process.
But I *need* to talk to him. About the future. Mine, his, *ours*.

I'd only have to answer one question to make him talk to me. The question is written large on his face. I see it every time he looks at me. I can even feel it when he is watching me.
It is the question, which everyone wants to be answered, only that nobody dares to ask it.

Sighing, I sink down on my sofa.
I don't know the answer to the question myself. It is the question which is scaring me the most. The only question that doesn't begin with 'Why', but with 'Who'.
Until that dreadful night we found his body, I had hoped, prayed that Mulder would come back – and that he would know the answers to all the questions. That everything would be alright.
Now, I'm not even sure which answer I wish for.
It would be so much easier if I knew which answer he wishes for.

I can feel the need to reach for the phone increasing steadily. I resist.
He needs time – and if I can't give him answers, I can at least give him time.