Comments, complaints and just plain talk to sheryl_martin@tvo.org
Summary: Mulder ponders options in his relationship with Scully.
Dark Voicesby Sheryl Martin
He thought he could hear her sometimes in the night - hear the low crying; the nightmarish groans of pain from her room. They always tried to get adjoining rooms, a common habit for partners anyway; but much more important to them both lately. And he swore he could hear her staggered breathing in the darkness and see the sweat run down her face when they came to haunt her in her sleep.
His own demons paled next to the ones he knew she faced every night; the terror of not knowing being the worst of all. And Mulder wondered, not for the first time, what she would do.
What would she do if he went to her door and opened it with the extra key they both exchanged at the front desk; walked to the side of the bed and watched her writhe in the painful sleep of the tormented. If he climbed up and knelt down beside her on the bed and pulled her close; smoothing the soaked hair from her face to wrap his arms around her and hold her tight. If he lowered his face; his mouth to those scarlet lips just once, to see how sweet they tasted in the dark. If she would let him whisper softly to her; murmuring thoughts of love and promises of happiness and of never being afraid to fall asleep again.
If she would let him.
If he would let himself.
He had wanted to do it almost every night since her return; the need increasing as the danger rose. Pfaster; the clones; New Mexico...
Sometimes he wanted to bash on her door with his fists until she opened it, wide-eyed with gun in hand; to drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness for what he had done to her. To plead for mercy at what he had done to her family and her life because of what he hunted at the cost of everything else.
Maybe Scully would look down at him and laugh; shaking her head in acknowledgement of her role in this macabre play. Maybe she'd pull him to his feet and take his hand and tell him that it was all right; that she knew the risks and dangers and that he wasn't responsible. That sly upturning of her mouth to signal her unspoken agreement that their mission was going to be finished by both of them; not Mulder alone.
Maybe she would reach down and hit him; striking out at the man who had brought so much pain into her life and caused the murder of her sister. Maybe her hand would smash across his face with the anger of the wronged; spit on him and kick him off his knees and out of her life forever with no hope of redemption for either one of them.
He didn't know if he could deal with that. The mere thought terrified him beyond all others. But just as quickly as it rushed through his mind in a dark sweep of sadness; it vanished.
Getting to his feet, he walked to the door and opened it; stepping the few feet down the corridor to the other hotel room. Putting his ear to the door, he listened intently.
Nothing.
Wait.
He could hear it.
Gentle breathing; peaceful and quiet in the night. A soft sigh as she turned over; maybe in response to hearing him at the door. That was all.
But that was enough.
Padding back to his room, Mulder stripped and climbed into bed. Reaching for the light, he listened again for one last time before flicking the switch.
At least one of them would sleep well tonight.
************"There is no such thing as a problem without a gift for you in its hands. You seek problems because you need their gifts."Richard Bach -- Illusions