Author: thexendxgame
Summary: Picks up right after the incidents in "Milagro." Padgett had said Scully "was already in love" and Mulder wants to know what he meant.
Disclaimer: I do not own Scully, Mulder, or any of the other X-Files characters mentioned in the story below. I only own the situations in which I put them. Thank you.
She was still sitting on the sofa.
Her knees were drawn up to her chest and she stared blankly at the images on the muted television.
"How are you feeling?"
She looked up at him. She could tell her partner was worried about her. The look on his face hadn't changed since he'd walked in and found her laying on his floor.
Scully shook her head. "I'm okay Mulder." She felt her hands shake as she reached for the glass of water he'd offered her. "Just kind of sore."
He responded with a nod of his head.
She looked so small, drawn up on his sofa, wearing one of his t-shirts.
The police had only left about 45 minutes before. After they'd taken the agent's statements and processed Padgett's body; Mulder had helped his shaken partner into his bedroom.
Her hands had been shaking too badly and she was having trouble with the buttons of her blouse.
"Let me help."
She'd moved to protest but the way he was looking at her made her stop.
Gently, he undid the buttons of her blood stained shirt.
She shivered as his fingertips brushed the bare skin of her shoulders. He pulled the shirt away from her and let it fall to the floor.
He grabbed a t-shirt out of his dresser and pulled it down over her head. Once the shirt was on, he drew his fingers through her hair; freeing it from the collar of the shirt.
She followed him back into the living room and settled onto the sofa.
She's been sitting there ever since.
He was watching her now. He hadn't been able to take her eyes off of her.
He'd thought she'd been dead. The fear that had gripped his heart had yet to subside.
What would he have done if she really had been killed?
The thought left him ill.
"Scully?" He broke their heavy silence.
She glanced up at him, eyebrows arched. "Hm?"
"What did he mean Scully?" He asked. "What did he mean when he said you were already in love?"
Surprise wasn't really it. Shock probably.
Looking away, she scrambled for something to say.
"Mulder," She began quietly. "It's been made quite obvious that Phillip Padgett was a disturbed man with a very colorful imagination." Her hand rested over her heart. "There's really no telling what he was talking about."
He studied her for a moment, taking in every perfect feature.
Her beautiful hair gently framed the softness of her face. Her nose was still tinted pink from her earlier crying.
His mind drifted back to the few hours prior and he could again see her there, laying on the floor. He could see the fear, the terror in her eyes when she'd come to. He could feel her clutching to him tightly, pulling him desperately closer.
And he'd held her back. With everything in him, he clung to her.
His mind raced. What would he have done? What if Scully had been killed?
"Oh." He bit his lower lip. "I just thought he'd meant something else." He ran his hands through his already messy hair. "Maybe-"
Butterflies were flittering in her stomach. What was he doing? Was this really happening?
"Maybe what?"
He took a deep breath before turning to her; now sitting face to face. "We've been through everything together." He said. "You're so much more than just my partner, Scully. You're my best friend."
She remained silent.
"I've told you before," He continued. "What you mean to me."
He shifted, seeming suddenly nervous.
"I guess I just thought-" He reached for her tiny hands and held them tightly. "Hoped-" He corrected. "That he'd gotten something right about you."
She wasn't exactly sure how to react to him.
He could be so open with her. Why was she having such a hard time being as open with him?
She took a deep breath, still searching for a response.
Scully locked eyes with her partner. Her heart thumping hard in her sore chest; she opened her mouth to speak.
"He did." She looked away quickly. Her eyes drawn to the union of their locking fingers. "I do care for you." She whispered. "Love you."
"Then why are you afraid?"
A bitter laugh, one she hadn't know was even there, escaped her throat. "Because." She sniffed. "We're partners Mulder."
"And?"
"And falling in love with you, confessing to it, would ruin everything we have."
"Why? Why would it ruin anything?"
"Because, Mulder, you love me back." A tear slipped down her cheek.
He scoffed. "And that's a bad thing?" He asked.
"Yes," She pulled her hands away from him. "What am I supposed to do Mulder?" She glanced up at him. "Tell you tat I love you but have to continue only to work with you, pretend like I have no feelings for you?" She took a deep breath. "Or tell you, develop a relationship, and then be separated by the Bureau?"
Mulder sank back on the couch and let out a heavy sigh.
"It'll be easier," She said before he could respond. "To just act like this never happened, like neither of us said a thing."
Mulder stood from his place beside her. He looked angry.
"How can you say that?" He snapped. "Everything we've been through, all the times we've face losing each other, and it would be easier to act like this never happened?" He glared down at her.
"No, it wouldn't." She stood and moved to stand beside him. "I just don't know what to do." She grazed his fingertips with her own. "I'm afraid of losing you."
Mulder's eyes softened to her. He understood what she was feeling, what she was afraid of.
He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it softly. He moved his lips to her wrist. Placing a kiss on the bare skin of her neck and then her cheek, he smiled weakly. He finally moved to her lips and lingered there a moment.
"We can make it work, Scully." He kissed her forehead. "I think we're worth a shot."