She wakes up, her heart hammering, gulping great gasps of air into her lungs. She stares wildly into the room for a few moments until she recognises the space she's in.
She collapses back into her pillows and inhales the scent of lavender. Three drops.
To aid with sleep, she thinks wryly as bits and pieces of the dream start to come back to her.
It was a variation on a common theme. She is running, toward or away she is never sure. There is a man's presence nearby, but this one she knows is there to help and not to harm. She often has an unattainable goal; is often being chased; often reaches desperately for an unknown object. Often wakes with the sense of fear and dread as strong in her room as it is in the dream.
This one was different, in that she can name the spectre, and it has already found her.
Oh, Mom. She curls onto her side, into a pain that ebbs and flows through her days, underlining each movement with a weight that is all too familiar.
"'And if I go, while you're still here, know that I live on, vibrating to a different measure, behind a veil you cannot see through.'" She whispers the words to herself every morning now, pausing to see if they change the weight on her chest. Today, like every day, they drop meaningless into the ocean of her grief. She has no country now.
She glances at the clock, drags herself out of bed, shuffles to the bathroom. Staring into her own raw gaze in the mirror, she allows herself one more moment of sorrow. 'Three conditions are necessary for Penance...'
She lets the water flow over her in the shower, absolving her of her sins. Picks them back up as she steps out.
Her movements are quick and angry as she gets dressed. She is determined to deny herself emotion and determined to win the war with control, and she is wondering whether she has been victorious or just foolish when her front door is barraged with a series of hard knocks.
She glances at herself in the hall mirror as she goes to answer it, nods slightly at her reflection both to recognise that she passes muster and as a warning to keep it together, Dana.
"Mulder, I don't need a babysitter." She regrets the words at the flicker of hurt across the face of the man standing in front of her. She also regrets the defensiveness in her voice, because she knows that more than anything will call him like a lighthouse beacon.
"Scully, it's Sunday morning. Don't you want to shoot the breeze?" His careless tone belies the sharp, quick assessment of her, and all of a sudden something in his face makes her worry that she hasn't quite managed to hide herself well enough.
She raises a brow, gestures at her casual outfit. "Way ahead of you. Eggs?" She steps back to allow him access, grateful to have something to concentrate on for the next little while, even if it is just the routine of making breakfast.
She's denied when he sidesteps her at the kitchen door. She watches, arms crossed, as he starts pulling pans out of her cupboard. "What are you doing?" She watches the side of his mouth quirk at the annoyance in her tone.
"Feeding us. Sit down, Dana. How'd you sleep?"
"Fine. You?" She sits in a huff at the table, observes that he finds everything again easily even though he was last in her kitchen... God, three years ago.
"Me? Oh, I slept terribly. I had this dream, that a friend of mine was drowning, and that in order to save her, I had to cook her eggs. But she was really stubborn, although very beautiful, and told me to go shove my goddamn eggs up my-you-know what." He turns from her stove to meet her gaze, and she is surprised to see a hint of anger there. "Now, does that sound reasonable to you?"
She sees his point, even though her back is way up. "Depends where your friend wanted you to shove the eggs."
He doesn't smile, just turns back to the food. "We're back on the merry-go-round, Scully. I can't catch up to you if we both choose the same old horse."
She raises her chin. "Just say what you came here to say, Mulder."
He messes with her toaster, then comes over to look down at her. "Let me in, Scully."
And with those words, like a key opening a lock, she is angry. She stands to go toe-to-toe with him, feeling energy circle her body until she is vibrating with it, so incredibly angry that he would come here and say this to her.
"You're already in, Mulder. You've always been in. You need to deal with me, in front of you, like this. This is not sad Dana at the hospital, this is not organised Dana at the funeral. This is pissed off, incredibly scared Dana who doesn't know how to cope in the world without one of her anchors. This is me letting you in. You choose a different goddamn horse."
She turns to shove past him and all of a sudden she is in his arms. She stiffens, but he doesn't let go. "Okay." He breathes it into her hair. "I'm in."
She rests her forehead against his chest. Exhales a slow breath once. Twice. "You sound surprised."
She can hear the smile in his voice. "I've spent my entire life being surprised. Ten being a surprise I want and one being a batshit scared surprise, this is definitely a ten. I didn't realise this was part of it. I thought you were shutting me out, like you... the way we used to be."
Something relaxes inside of her that she can't define but recognises all the same. She squeezes his hand, and he squeezes back. "My eggs are getting cold, Mulder."
He turns to get her plate, places it in front of her. A little sprig of blue flowers is placed beside it.
It's her turn to be surprised. "Forget-me-not. Thank you."
He grabs his own plate and sits opposite her. "For your Mom." He grins suddenly, and it's the grin that would make her suspicious if she wasn't thinking suddenly how much her Mom loved this man. "Wait."
She stares after him as he exits the room. The front door opens and closes, and a large teddy hear head appears around the door way. A brown, furry arm lifts up and waves at her.
She is surprised into laughter. "What are you doing?"
He brings the teddy bear to join them at the table. She strokes its fur and he catches her hand. "You keep asking me that, Scully."
She suddenly clicks. "It's Valentine's Day today. I had forgotten."
He nods soberly. "Of course. I just wanted to kind of do something for us, too. And maybe Bucko over here will help keep some monsters at bay tonight."
She is suddenly weeping, and he grips her hand, knowing her, and still managing to sound panicked. "I can change the colour? Maybe a lion instead?"
She half laughs, half sobs. Looks at him. She forces the words out, and they come out sounding like broken glass feels. "I just want my Mom back, Fox." And finally she bows under the weight.
She is caught up again, carried to the couch, and cocooned there. Allows herself one more moment of sorrow, with him.
A/N: The first quote is Emily Dickinson. Happy Valentine's Day. Hope you're with a loved one today, in whatever form that comes.