Summary: "We're going to lose her. I'm sorry." Lose her. Another euphemism. No one can say it. Maybe if they keep avoiding the word they can pretend it won't happen, that this isn't what they all know it is. Canon-divergent take on Redux.

Disclaimer: I don't own The X-Files or these characters or the FBI or America or anything else used in this story. Might as well cover all my bases.

A/N: Another X-Files fic! I know I'm way overdue with my Walking Dead thing, I'm getting round to it, I promise. I rewatched Redux a few weeks ago and that, coupled with Carrie Fisher's passing, led to this angsty idea forming in my mind: What if Scully had died from her cancer? I never really understood how it could be so miraculously cured in less than 24 hours, and I haven't read another take on it, so I figured I might as well give it a shot. On the subject of Carrie Fisher, that multi-chap I keep promising is happening. Eventually. And this fic is, in a weird way, dedicated to everyone's Space Mom™- I love you, Carrie. x

Maestitia

'Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live.'
-Norman Cousins

The End

He's only just left the hearing when his phone rings. Blevins left immediately. Skinner just kept looking at him in shock. No one made a move to stop him leaving, so he's left, and now he doesn't know what to do. It's over. He doesn't feel anything.

He answers the phone.

"Mulder."

"Fox?"

Scully's mother. Her voice makes him freeze and he leans to the wall for support. He closes his eyes. Not like this, please no, not like this, don't do this-

"Dana… Dana said you had a hearing but… if you're free, she wants to see you." She takes a deep breath. "She's not going to last much longer, Fox."

He wants to scream. They're not taking Scully away from him. Not his Scully, not now, not after all this. He needs to run away from it all, and he almost drops the phone right there, intent on blocking all of this from his mind and severing his last connection with her. What can he do to help her? Why does she want to see him, now?

"She's not going to…" he can't even say it. His voice splinters.

"We're going to lose her. I'm sorry."

Lose her. Another euphemism. No one can say it. Maybe if they keep avoiding the word they can pretend it won't happen, that this isn't what they all know it is.

Mulder lets the wall take his entire weight. He remembers the way her hand grasped his this morning, and the soul-crushing pain that had consumed him last night. He thinks about saying goodbye, and for a long, long moment he can't breathe.

"Fox?"

"Tell her… tell her I'm coming. I'll be right there."

He hangs up before she can reply, knowing that if he says any more he'll break down into tears and won't be able to stop. He's going to the hospital, whether he wants to or not. It's not about him anymore; it's about her.

He never told Samantha what he wanted to, or his father. If Scully goes before he can talk to her, he knows he won't be able to live with himself.

xXx

Scully's mother is sat outside her room. She looks up at him with red eyes and manages a smile.

"Bill's with her now."

Mulder takes the chair next to her. He tries to forget about his conversation with Bill. It is his fault. All of it. He knows that, but hearing it from someone else makes it worse. Maybe Scully doesn't want to see him. Maybe she does, and she just wants to yell at him and tell him he's worthless. If she does, he won't resist. If 'I hate you' is the last thing he hears her say, at least she'll have had what she wants. He'll do anything for her right now. Almost.

He'll let her hate him, but he won't let her change his own mind. He loves her, and no matter what she says or does, that is never going to change.

The door opens. Bill is crying, and he goes to his mother and she holds him, trying to comfort him while her own tears stream down her cheeks. Neither of them acknowledge Mulder.

He rises and walks in before he can think twice. Those steps, the turn, the action of shutting the door behind him seems to last forever. He can't look at her, not yet, so he stares at the door and tries not to listen to Scully's family outside. Then she says his name, and he feels the weight in his chest hit him full-on.

"Mulder."

He has to look at her, now, and when he does he's thankful. She looks the same as she did this morning- maybe paler, a little weaker, but her eyes can still focus on him, and she still looks like Scully.

"Hi," he breathes.

"What happened?"

"No. I don't want to talk about that."

An old flash of defiance lights up her eyes. "Mulder, tell me."

He walks forward. There's a chair next to her bed, and he sits right on the edge, as close to her as he can get. He wants to throw his arms around her and just cry, but she wants to know, so he's going to tell her.

"I named Blevins. I think they're all in on it somehow, Scully, but he was the leader. I didn't know until this morning, but now-"

"Where is he?"

"I don't know. Your mom rang me pretty much as soon as I got out, and I came straight here."

Scully exhales. Up close, the pallor of her skin and the trembling in her breath is almost too much to cope with. No wonder Bill left in tears. Mulder clenches his fist hard to stop himself from crying. He's here with her, and that's what's important, now. If he thinks about the future or the past too much he won't be able to do this.

"I'm scared, Mulder."

He can't stop it any longer. The tears escape and roll down his cheeks, spurred on by her tone and her words. She's never scared.

"You're never scared."

"I am." He can't look at her. "I'm scared about what comes next, and about mom and Bill and Charlie. I'm scared that I'm not going to be here when they need me, and I can't tell them what I want to. Mulder… Mulder, I'm so scared for you. This deal, and the FBI, and the conspiracy… Mulder, I can't leave you." She lets out a half-sob. "I can't."

"Shh," he wipes his own tears away and looks at her. "Don't worry about me. I'm going to be fine."

There's a long moment of silence before she gives him a watery smile. "I needed you to be here. I needed to tell you that none of this is your fault, and that I don't blame you." She reaches for his hand, and he takes it automatically. "Mulder, I want you to stay with me."

It's too much to take in. He knows what she means, but he can't. He can't stay here with her, not until the end, he can't be the one to tell her it's all going to be okay somehow and watch as she closes her eyes for the last time. But she's looking at him, and her skin is so cool against his, and despite everything she's looking more beautiful than ever, and he hears himself agreeing.

"It's okay, Scully," he squeezes her hand. "I'm here."

She looks about to cry again, but instead she pulls weakly at his hand and edges back a little. He understands.

Keeping her hand in his, Mulder carefully lies down on the bunk with Scully, pressing his legs against hers and pulling her close. It's uncomfortable, and the bunk smells of hospital scrubs. He wants to get her out of the room and take her outside, just once, so she can see the sky.

"Hey," he whispers against her ear, "look out the window."

She rolls onto her back, still cocooned in his arms, and he feels her take a deep breath as her head moves to the side. She doesn't speak, so neither does he; they lie there in silence while her pulse weakens beneath his fingers and her breathing becomes more and more shallow.

He wants to tell her everything he's been meaning to, but he can't let himself, not now. His mind can't make sense of his emotions, after all; it's stuck on repeat like a broken record, and over and over again: don't go, not now, I don't want you to leave me, I can't let you go yet, stay with me, stay with me, stay with me.

He doesn't know if she believes in heaven and hell, or any concept of life after death, but he doesn't have a choice anymore. Scully can't ever leave this world, not fully. The world wouldn't be the same if she just ceased to be. He thinks of her up above, meeting her father and her sister, or God, and finally, finally, being free. He smiles, even though his heart is still breaking at the thought of losing her. He loves her, more than words can describe.

"Love you, Mulder." She says it simply, without any hesitation, as if she says it every day, like it's the easiest thing in the world.

Mulder kisses her cheek. His throat's seized up, but he knows that she understands somehow, that he doesn't need to say it. He brushes the hair off her forehead, pulling away just enough to see her in full one last time, before she has to go. Her eyes are closed, her skin paler than he's ever seen it, and he can barely see her breathing anymore. He knows it's going to be soon. He lowers himself back down and wraps his arms around her again, pressing his cheek against her hair and inhaling her scent, desperate to remember it for as long as he can.

"See you soon, Dana," he finally manages. He's surprised the tears aren't back yet, but he's glad for it.

"Scully," she corrects with the trace of a smile in her voice.

He kisses her again, keeping his lips pressed against her skin as he feels her muscles relaxing.

"Scully," he agrees in little more than a whisper. Her name has never felt so perfect and right on his lips.

Tears stream down his face and onto hers, but he stays where he is. He knows she wants to feel him there, so he's not going to leave until someone makes him. The heart monitor next to the bed must stop at some point, but he doesn't notice.

She's gone now, she's somewhere far away from here, and she's happy. He has to believe that, and he does, with the same unfaltering, total belief that he takes everywhere.

The doctors come in and pull him away, and he lets them. The body lying next to him isn't Scully, not anymore, and he's said his goodbyes, or as close as he can come. He can't look at her, though, and keeps his eyes down as he leaves the room. Bill shouts something after him, but he doesn't know what, and he doesn't care. He knows what he has to do.