It was stifling.
One breath. Two breaths. Chest compressions.
Twenty four hours ago he'd been about to kiss her and now he had physical heat radiating from his center, sweat and exhaustion dripping from every pore as the adrenaline coursed through his veins as he tried to bring her back to life. Suddenly she was a fresh faced new partner shaking his hand, a brilliant and defiant doctor saving his life. He watched in his minds eye as she tried to sacrifice herself to save him before she died, remembered the gunshot she graced him with to save his career.
One breath. Two breaths. Chest compressions.
He envisioned every secret smile, every quirk of her eyebrow. He saw all the times she trusted him implicitly for no reason at all and all the times she demanded his trust—she never let him down. He'd follow her anywhere, he thinks. He's dragged her all over the country, he'd most certainly follow her anywhere.
He couldn't follow her here.
One breath. Two breaths. Chest compressions.
Molten lava was licking through his veins. Every movement he made, every memory he conjured was a four alarm fire coursing through his body. He'd been pulled closer to her everyday since they'd first met, no one else heard him or bothered to listen. No one could see him the way she did, she made him feel relevant. Her trust in him made him feel invincible. He didn't remember what life was like before her, he didn't care to.
He was terrified of a life without her and it was burning him up from the inside out. This partnership turned friendship turned codependency turned love…he didn't know how to survive without it.
He was certain he didn't want to try.
All of his words sound disjointed, his pleas desperate prayers to the only one he believes in. The entire world around him was melting and he was certain it was all focused on their precise point in the universe. He'd gotten too close. He had been chasing after her so hard, for so long, just hoping to be at her side that losing her now was going to turn him to ashes.
He wasn't sure he minded.
Signs of life. A cough, a sputter. She came into her own and gave him a weary, sly smile. He had expected the raging fire to temper now that he'd saved her. No more lives on the line, back to the status quo. He'd expected a rush of cool and calm to sooth his addled nerves. Even still, he leaned closer—needing to hang on her every word.
"I had you big time."
There was no saving himself, he was forever lost to this woman. He allowed himself the simplest of smiles as she engulfed him in flames.
Scully always had been the sun.