Title: A Snatch Of Tiger Lilies
Author: Emily O'Donnell
Category: S, UST, MSR, DAL,
Rating: PG-13
Summary: It is the ultimate choice, and what seems to be the last battle with an unseen enemy Mulder and Scully had long thought destroyed. . . .
Spoilers: The whole myth arc and cancer arc. Obvious spoilers for Fight The Future.
Timeline: Post Fight The Future
Archive: YES! To Legacy ( since it's already there under works in progress and all ;) Yes to Gossamer, I'll be sending it there myself. Anyone else want to archive it? Go right ahead, just tell me first please?
A Snatch Of Tiger Lilies
Started: August 5, 2000
Ended: December 31, 2000
*******
A Snatch Of Tiger Lilies
*******
chapter one
*******
"There are two of us talking in circles,
and one of us who wants to leave.
In a world created for only us.
An empty cage that has no key. . ."
~Sarah McLachlan, Circle
*******
Wednesday
September 8, 1998
Federal Bureau Of Investigation
10:13 a.m.
*******
Fox Mulder leaned back in his chair and blew out a low sigh. His crisp gray suit had been
permanently rumpled it seemed, from days like this one, sitting outside his boss's office, awaiting certain doom. At least that's how he had always described it, certain doom! His partner had always just rolled her eyes at him and told him that he was being melodramatic.
Speaking of his partner. . . he shot a glance over at her as he slouched against the fabric. She sat straight as a pin, her crisp navy suit seemed to remain crisp and wrinkle free. One of these days he swore he would figure out her secret.
Dana Scully sat seated on his left, back straight, her poise seemed the cool and confident
professional. But Mulder knew better, after six years he had learned how to read Dana Scully.
She was tense, her posture had nothing to do with looking confident, her back was stiff in anxiety. And she was nervous, fidgety, he could tell with the way she played with the straps of her briefcase. He smiled slightly at the sight, no one but he would be able to tell this about her with just a glance, for some reason that pleased him and worried him all at once.
He sat up slightly and stretched one arm out and around her shoulders. His other hand reached out to snatch her fingers that were still toying with the leather strap. He gripped her palm in his and felt her shoulders tense under his arm. She turned slightly to glance at him, meeting his hazel eyes with her own anxious blue ones. He could tell what she was thinking, not here Mulder. Let's not do this here.
"Nervous?" he asked quietly, bowing his head to hers so that she was talking directly to him. She smiled a tiny smile and he could feel her shoulders relax against him.
"A little," she confessed. "I have every right to be, don't I? I mean if we don't get the X-Files back, Mulder. . .." She trailed off and glanced away as she squeezed his hand in anxiety. She rubbed her forehead as if her head was aching and drew in a tight breath. He shook his head and moved his arm from around her back to grip her other hand, drawing it away from her face.
"Hey, don't think like that, Scully. They can't split us up, not now, not after all that's happened." She shifted her blue eyed gaze back to his and could see, in his eyes, all that he wasn't saying. They can't take you away from me, not after Antarctica, not after I went so far to get you back. I won't lose you again. "But if they did reassign us to another area? Even if we were together. . .." He allowed himself to trail off as Scully started to protest even before the words were out of his mouth.
"I told you, Mulder. I am staying here with you, that's final. I'm not going to walk away from you again."
His eyes darkened from hazel to a verdant green and he smiled. "Well if you've made up your mind. . ."
"I have," her eyes battled with his silently for a moment. "I'm here to stay, no matter how much you want to be rid of me, Fox Mulder."
Mulder chuckled softly and slid back into his seat, his fingers still clasping her slender ones. "I don't think I'll ever be rid of you, Scully, you just keep on coming back."
Scully watched as he leaned back against his seat once more, and closed his eyes in thought. She watched him silently for a moment as she silently willed her headache away, wondering how only a few short weeks ago she had been prepared to walk out of his life forever. What had changed to make her stay? The echo of his words confirmed what she already knew in her heart.
'You kept me honest, made me a whole person. . ."
She didn't know if he loved her, but his words had reminded her of how much she loved him. She had discovered in that hallway that there was a chance he felt the same way. There had been other indications of course, over the years. In that hallway after Penny Northern died, in her own hospital room when he had come out of hiding to see if she was okay. There had been plenty of indications, but she could never be sure.
She had realized in that hallway, when he had said those things to her, that if she left, she would never know for sure.
She gazed at his classic profile and allowed herself to really look at her partner for the first time. His defined cheekbones and rather 'prominent,' shall we say, nose drew first glance. Then those dark lashes that hooded those constantly changing orbs. She knew that if he opened his eyes right now, the color would be different from the lush green of a moment ago. They would be hazel, or brown, sometimes even blue. Then there was the stray lock of hair that always seemed to fall across his forehead, no matter what he did, it was always there, just urging Scully to push it back into place. Oh and lets not get started on those lips. . . his perfect lips with that perfect pouty lower lip that was made for kissing.
Scully smiled as she recalled that day in the hall outside of Mulder's apartment once more, the entire experience had been worth the memory of that perfect mouth brushing hers. . .
She gripped Mulder's hand gently and traced lazy circles around his thumb. He opened one eye to glance at her and grin.
"Something I can do for you, partner?"
She smiled back and cocked her head to the door Skinner had just opened behind her without turning to see whether or not it was their turn to go in. "I think it's our turn, Agent Mulder."
He opened the other eye and glanced at Skinner questioningly. The older man nodded and Mulder returned his gaze to Scully with a mischievous grin.
"Sometimes, Agent Scully, you are just plain 'Spooky. . .'"
She grinned back at him as they stood, squeezing his hand once more before reluctantly parting and heading into Skinner's office and retorting with, "I learned from the best."
He shook his head and chuckled, throwing a glance at Skinner who seemed to be watching their banter with a sort of amusement. Skinner shook his head back at the younger agent and Mulder let his hand come to rest on the familiar small of his partner's back. The two faced Skinner grimly, knowing that together, they could stand anything he threw their way.
*******
"Agents," Skinner began in a gruff tone once Mulder and Scully were both inside and seated. He glanced at their resolute faces and cleared his throat.
"This morning I received word that the X-Files were being reopened," he stated bluntly. The expressions of the two agents in front of him were visibly shocked, but their tense stature relaxed slightly and Skinner smiled.
"At first, the director wanted to assign another pair of agents to the division. . ."
"What?" Mulder leapt to his feet at the outrage. "They can't do that, Sir, the X-Files is our work!" Scullly rose to his side with a slight smile at his words. The X-Files were their work, not just Mulder's quest any longer, she was relieved to see that he finally understood that.
"Sir, Agent Mulder is right, no other pair of Agents would be qualified to do what we do. . ." She trailed off at Skinner's upraised hand halting her words.
"That's what I told him, fortunately I was able to persuade him that the two of you were the only ones who could work in the X-Files. After much debate, he gave in."
Mulder turned to Scully with a wide grin. "So?" His question was aimed at Skinner though his eyes were still locked with his partner.
Skinner shook his head at the picture the two of them made and smiled. "So congratulations Agents, you have the X-Files back." Scully broke the gaze her partner had lain on her to meet Skinner's eyes with her own smile.
"Thank you, Sir, we won't forget this."
Skinner nodded in dismissal, "You report back to the X-Files tomorrow morning."
Halfway to the door Mulder stopped and turned back, his smile was gone and his expression had turned curious.
"If you don't mind me asking, Sir, but who did the director want to assign to the X-Files?"
Skinner looked up from the stack of paperwork in front of him to meet Mulder's intense gaze. Scully turned as well, glancing up at her partner then towards their boss.
Skinner cleared his throat again and set his pen down hesitantly in front of him. "The director, wanted to assign Agent Fowley and Agent Spender to the division."
The look of horror on Mulder's face told Scully all that he thought of that decision. Skinner shook his head, "But Agent Fowley slipped into a coma last night, she hemorrhaged and died early this morning. . .."
Mulder swallowed hard and nodded. Scully's expression turned immediately to one of concern and she reached out to lay a soothing hand on her partner's arm. "I'm sorry, Mulder. . ." She began.
Mulder shook her off slightly, "Don't be, I'm all right," he turned back to Skinner.
"There's more, isn't there?"
Skinner nodded slightly, "Agent Spender disappeared around the same time Agent Fowley died. I suppose that someone really wants the two of you back on the X-Files, or they don't want the X-Files open at all, so I'd advise you to watch your back Agent Mulder."
A ghost of a smile flitted across his features and Mulder shook his head about to say something when Scully cut in.
"That's what he has me for, Sir," she met his eyes with a smile and took his hand.
"What do you say we go check out our new office, partner?"
Mulder grinned down at the woman in front of him and nodded. "Sounds like a good idea, partner." The two of them left Skinner watching them in amusement as they made their way down the hall.
They were unaware of anyone watching them. The man watched as Mulder's hand fell to the familiar spot on the small of her back and he lowered his head to hers as if to share some vitally important information.
He ran his hands through his ebony hair and smiled at the picture the two of them made.
It wouldn't be long at all now.
*******
"Well I suppose we'll never get out of the basement, huh Scully?" Mulder mused aloud as the two of them entered their new office. It was down the hall from their old office. And though that office had been destroyed over three months ago, it seemed that the acrid scent of smoke still clung to the air in the basement, a reminder of what they had lost.
Scully stepped gingerly into the new office and ran her fingers along the edge of one out of two desks that sat, abandoned in the room. She grinned slightly as Mulder voiced her thoughts from behind her.
"Looks like you finally got a desk, Scully," the corner of his mouth turned up in a perpetual smirk as she surveyed the larger office and new furnishings.
"It only took six years, now I have to wait another six and maybe I'll finally get my name on the door," she turned to him and met his smirk.
He nodded and sat down in the chair behind one of the two desks, leaning back in it. "I guess you're stuck down here with me until then."
"You're lucky I like you, or else I'd end up shooting you before I get my nameplate on that door."
He grinned once more at her as he dug around in his pocket for something. With a look of triumph on his face, he pulled out a bag of sunflower seeds and plopped them on the desk.
"You forget, Scully, you've already shot me once. . ."
"And don't you forget it," she commented lightly as she sat down behind the other desk.
"I didn't enjoy it," he continued, ignoring her comment. "Now, if you want a nameplate that bad. . ." She shook her head as he cracked a shell between his teeth and grinned over at her. She ran her hands across the surface of the desk and frowned.
"Something doesn't feel right here. . .." She shook her head as Mulder looked at her curiously. She bit her lip and glanced around the room.
"I know," she stood abruptly and shoved the desk across the room so it was across from her partner's desk. Mulder raised his eyebrows at her actions and Scully shrugged.
"What? We need to put the filing cabinets somewhere, don't we?" She smiled again slightly and sat down again.
"Plus, I can't see whether or not you're actually doing any work from over there."
Mulder lifted a hand to his heart in mock hurt. "Me? Not do work? Scully, I am hurt." His partner merely rolled her eyes at him and sat back. The two of them sat that way for a few moments in comfortable silence. Scully was the first to break it.
"Why didn't you ever tell me about Diana?"
Mulder glanced up at her in surprise. "What?"
"Why didn't you ever tell me about Diana?" She repeated, she tucked an errant crimson strand of hair behind her ear and met his gaze. The sunflower seed that had been on its way to his mouth dropped, forgotten to the desktop.
"The subject never came up."
Scully frowned and furrowed her eyebrows. "Would you tell me now?"
Mulder sighed and sat up, pushing his sleeves up and running his fingers through his already unruly hair. "There's not much to tell. We worked together a bit when I was in VCU and got involved. When I found the X-Files she thought I was wasting my time. But I was fascinated by them, I didn't want to give something like this up," he gestured around the office. "I was certain that I could find the answers to Samantha's disappearance in here somewhere. I guess in the end she wanted me to make a choice, between the X-Files and her. . ." he shook his head and met her eyes. "I guess she didn't love me as much as I thought she did, because one night she just left and I never heard from her again until that day in Spender's meeting."
Scully could hear all the things he wasn't saying louder than the things he was. The X-Files had been his one chance to find his sister, and she had wanted him to give that up. She had been essentially asking to choose between his sister and her. He had chosen his sister and in anger, she had left him. Odd, it seemed that her 'dislike'(that was the kind word to use) of Diana Fowley was growing by leaps and bounds every day.
Scully nodded slowly as she processed all this. "Did you love her?"
Mulder narrowed his eyes in thought and met her eyes once more. "I thought I did at the time, but when she left, I didn't feel any real need to chase after her, to give everything up just so I could be with her."
Scully felt her throat tighten as she heard his words. The memory of a hallway came rushing back to her along with the memory of him rushing out the door, chasing after her. She cleared her throat softly and bent her head, fiddling with a stray paper clip on her desk.
"Do you love her now?"
After a moment of silence the feeling of dread began to churn once more in her stomach and she dropped the paper clip to risk a glance up at him.
His face, normally so expressionless was shocked. At her tentative gaze he raised his eyebrows and almost smiled at the apprehension in her eyes.
"Love her? Diana? You met her right? Of course I don't love Diana, she's nothing but a memory. Yes, I am sad that she is dead, she was still my friend a long time ago, but I'm not grieving for her, I have no reason to. I didn't really know her anymore anyway."
The relief in Scully's face was evident and Mulder instantly sobered. Why would she be so concerned as to whether or not he was in love with someone else?
"Mulder, what do you say that we tell each other anything important like this from now on? I'm sick of being lied to, and I don't want you to start."
He smiled slightly and nodded. "I swear that if any of my skeletons pop out of the closet I will tell you about them before I shove them back in."
Scully chuckled and shook her head slightly. "Thank you, I think."
He turned serious once again and held her gaze. "I swear that I will not lie to you anymore, Scully."
Her smile was all the response he needed.
*******
The man ran his fingers along the cool surface of the table, wincing at the memories of the horrors that he had witnessed in this very room. He glanced around the empty room one last time before retreating to the shadows.
He pulled a small tube from his jacket pocket and smiled as he peered through the golden liquid inside.
It was almost time.
*******
Thursday
September 10, 1998
Dana Scully's Residence
11:24 p.m.
*******
Dana Scully arrived home and promptly flopped onto her couch.
Their first day back had been filled with paperwork and lectures from seemingly every superior in the FBI. Skinner had been the only kind one, he was the only one who understood what the X-Files meant to Mulder and herself.
Mulder. At the thought of her partner she smiled fondly. She knew how much he loathed
paperwork, yet he had sat in their new office all day long like a good little agent, and gotten everything done that she asked of him. She had been so surprised that she hadn't been sure whether or not she should kiss him or ask him if he was sick.
Though the former option seemed to hold the most appeal of late.
She trailed her fingertips along her lips briefly, and then her cheek. Her frostbite that she had gained in Antarctica seemed to fading, and again she was left with only a few scars and memories of this recent near death experience.
But something had happened out there between the hallway and the moment they lay, clasping each other in the Arctic snow. Something had changed, and, if it was possible, the two seemed closer than ever. It seemed Mulder would, literally, go to the ends of the earth for her. But he hadn't gathered the courage to kiss her again.
She sighed and kicked off her shoes, leaning into the soft fabric, wishing her partner was there with her. She shook away her lingering thoughts and frowned, rubbing her the bridge of her nose with cramping fingers. It felt like her headache was coming back. She unbuttoned her jacket and shrugged it off, heading into her bedroom, still rubbing her forehead.
She was not sure if she would sleep at all that night.
*******
Thursday
September 10, 1998
2:01 a.m.
*******
His phone rang with a jarring discord in the night's stillness. He shifted in his position slightly snatch his cell phone from where it sat on the seat next to him.
"Yeah," he barked softly into the phone. His voice was soft, menacing. This was not a man you would want to cross.
There was a drawn out breath from the other end and a gravelly voice flooded his ear. "It is time."
The man cursed silently as he glanced up at the dark apartment building. "It has been a year, do you think they would have noticed by now?"
"No," another small sigh as if the man was exhaling smoke. "The device was only meant to keep the inevitable from occurring, now it is wearing down. You know it is time."
The man nodded briefly as he glanced at the clock, the dim numbers the only light in the car. The clock read 2:01.
"Yes," he acknowledged with defeat coloring his tone. "It is time."
*******
Scully awoke to a pounding in her head. She rolled over and glared up at her alarm clock, whose digital numbers gleamed 2:05 into the darkness of her bedroom. Glaring at her clock, she sat up in the darkness and fumbled blindly for the lightswitch. Finding it, she snapped it on and gazed down at herself. There was blood all over her.
There was blood on her crisp white sheets, now stained an ugly, glaring crimson. She raised her hand to her mouth to quell the oncoming nausea. Her hand met a sticky warm substance, just under her nose. Scully closed her eyes and remembered the last time she had awoken in the middle of the night covered in blood. She glanced down at her hand. It was covered in blood.
"Nosebleeds. . .." She whispered softly to herself, the shock at her cancer's sudden return
overwhelming. She shook her head as if to clear it of this bad dream.
She stumbled out of bed, stripping off her blood soaked clothes on her way to her bathroom. She kept one hand under her nose to stanch the blood that kept flowing, as her other hand reached out blindly and turned the faucet.
She stood under the shower for a long time, watching her blood swirl down the drain, mixing with the water to create a sort of austere prism.
Then she slumped against the side of the tub, the hot water still pounding against her skin, blood still swirling freely in a garish maelstrom as she buried her head in her hands.
There would be no savior for her this time.
*******
Thursday
September 10, 1998
2:09 a.m.
*******
Mulder awoke abruptly, startled out of his nightmare. He glanced around in the darkness of his apartment for a brief, disoriented moment. The dream had seemed so real. The vision of Scully's cancer returning had caused him to break out into a cold sweat. He shook his head and rubbed his sleep fogged eyes, and stumbled into the kitchen, flicking the lightswitch on his way in. He dreamed often of his partner, he had long ago stopped analyzing such dreams. Some were nightmares like the one he had just had, others were a bit. . . more pleasant. . . but none had ever been as vivid, felt as real as this last one.
He ran his fingers through the spiky brown mass that he preferred to call hair, and opened the refrigerator door, pulling out a pitcher of iced tea. He smiled briefly at the sight of it. Scully had brewed it for him the last time she had been over when she had made the mistake of looking into his refrigerator and searching for something halfway edible.
Scully, his thoughts always returned to her.
With a sigh he poured himself a glass of iced tea and took a long swig, leaning his head back against the refrigerator door and staring dully at the clock.
The number flicked from 2:09 to 2:10 and he frowned. He had only gone to sleep about a half an hour ago. A person to be asleep for at least an hour for REM sleep to kick in. And you only had dreamt while in REM sleep.
He stared at the clock for a few more seconds before realization sank in. The clock in Scully's bedroom in his dream had read 2:05.
His glass dropped to the counter, falling from numb fingers and sloshing onto the countertop. He rubbed his eyes once more, to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. But the clock read the same, this was too much of a coincidence.
He hurried back into his living room, pulling a shirt on over his head along the way. He fumbled for the phone and hit speed dial one. Scully's phone on the other end of the line rang with a dull tone in his ear. Briefly he ran through the location of phones in her home. Living room cordless, bedroom? Yes, there was a telephone on a table next to her bed. He had woken her up often enough in the past to know that she should be answering.
But the phone just kept ringing, no answer. He cursed briefly and fluently at the phone before clicking it off and throwing it towards his couch. Without another thought he grabbed his jacket and keys and headed out the door.
*******
He watched from his station of his darkened car as the man hurried out of his apartment building. He shook his head and clucked his tongue softly. The man was wearing only jeans and a gray T-shirt, his black leather jacket was clasped in one hand, his keys in the other, but he could see the gun strapped to his side. He smiled tightly and nodded.
"It has begun," he whispered to himself as the other car pulled frantically out of the lot.
*******
Thursday
September 10, 1998
Dana Scully's Residence
2:34 a.m.
*******
"Scully?" He rapped on her door briefly, glancing around the hall nervously. "Scully?"
Again, there was no response and he glanced down the hall again, before pulling out his spare key and opening her door.
He stood in the darkness of her apartment for a moment, allowing his eyes to adjust. Then he heard the water running in the bathroom.
Mulder's face fell and he could feel tears sting his eyes. "Oh god," he whispered. "Please don't let it have come true. . .." He hurried his steps and burst into the bathroom. The room was filled with steam and he winced at the heat. The running water almost concealed the muffled sobs coming from the direction of the bathtub.
Almost.
He grabbed a towel off of the rack beside the sink and pulled the shower curtain aside. Scully sat inside the tub, curled into fetal position, letting the hot water scald her skin. Mulder gazed at her for a long moment as he saw faint traces of red on the floor of the tub and he shook his head.
"Oh Scully," he leaned down to touch her shoulder and she started violently at his touch. She stared up at him with wild eyes, not recognizing him.
"Scully!" he caught her arm as it swung towards him. He pulled her towards him and wrapped one arm around her back, struggling to calm her.
"Scully, it's me."
She stopped her struggles and glanced up at him, awareness slowly flooding her. "Mulder?"
He nodded in relief as she frowned and glanced down at herself, seemingly unashamed of her nakedness. She avoided his eyes as he wrapped the large towel around her still trembling form. She clutched the edges of the towel, keeping it wrapped firmly around herself. She reached up to touch her nose, it had finally stopped bleeding. She shook her head dazedly and sat down on the toilet.
Mulder squatted in front of her, eyeing her cautiously. "Scully? Are you okay?"
She looked up and met his eyes for the first time and allowed a hint of a smile to cross over her lips. "I'm fine, Mulder," she shook her head as he mouthed her words along with her. He really did know her all too well.
"You're not fine, Scully."
She glanced up at him, startled. He reached out and ran his fingers through her sodden tresses and shook his head, she saw him bite his lip as if he were in physical pain before he glanced away. "Your nose is bleeding, Scully."
She reached up with trembling fingers that came away bloody. Mulder sighed and stood, moving away from her, she almost cried out at the lack of contact. She was so cold without him, despite the steamy fog that still hung in the bathroom.
He moved to the door and grabbed her robe from where it hung. Without turning to look at her he thrust it towards her.
"Put it on," his command was a whisper, more of a plea than an order, as she was sure he had intended it to be. She reached out and took the robe and his hand in one movement.
"Mulder. . .." She found herself suddenly at a loss for words, what could she say to him that he wasn't already telling her with those tortured hazel eyes?
He held a finger up to her lips, "Not a word, Scully. I'm going to get you some clothes."
She nodded silently and wrapped her arms around herself. The thin cloth of the robe wasn't doing much to hide the fact that she was naked underneath. Scully blushed as she realized that her partner had just seen her naked and hadn't thought twice about it.
She frowned at that thought and picked a comb up off the sink counter, running it through her tangled hair that was already curling up due to the water and the steam. What was Mulder doing at her apartment at two in the morning in the first place? She didn't remember calling him.
With a sigh she shook her thoughts away, she had more pressing concerns at the moment. She set the comb down on the side of the sink and turned the faucet on, thrusting her bloody fingers under the refreshingly cold water.
She splashed the cold water onto her heat-flushed face and rinsed the remaining blood away. She stared into the mirror for a long moment, no trace of the blood remained, but the memory of it remained imprinted indelibly into her brain. She knew that something like this would happen someday, but why now? Why when everything was finally going right for the two of them?
She knew why. In her heart, she knew that they would never be left alone so long as they remained on the X-Files, she recalled Skinner's words from the previous day. Watch your back. He had been talking to Mulder, but this was happening to her now, not Mulder.
Instantly she cursed herself for her thoughts, the cancer affected Mulder as much as it affected her. In the hospital a year ago, he had risked his life, just to make sure that she was safe. Just so he could see himself if she was still alive.
Scully stared at her reflection for a long time, watching as her hair, left untended by her, started to curl up and the steam dissipate from the room. She raised one hand to calm the unruly strands and bit her lip. The woman in the mirror stared back at her, her expression was cold and impassive. Scully wanted to scream at her, to tell her to express some emotion.
But she remained in a silent staredown with her reflection, silently battling with herself as to whether or not she should go back into her bedroom and face her partner.
With a sigh, she pulled her robe tighter around her and opened the door.
She froze at the sight that greeted her on the other side. Mulder had thoughtfully stripped her bed of the bloody sheets and replaced it with clean ones, she felt her throat tighten a bit at his thoughtfulness. But he sat on her bed, clutching the bloody sheets in one hand, the other arm was propped up on his leg, his hand covering his face. Soft noises came from him and it took her a moment to realize that he was crying.
She approached him cautiously, her heart breaking at the sight of him crying for her. She knelt in front of him and reached out a slender, pale hand to pull his own away from his face. His hand came away easily, but his eyes remained squeezed shut, as if he was afraid of what he might see if he opened them.
"Mulder, we don't know that it's my cancer. . .." Her reassurance of him sounded hollow even in her own ears.
He opened his eyes, those tortured hazel eyes, to meet her clear blue ones. The underlying strength and determination he saw there was the same as he saw every day. She really didn't seem to comprehend, or care, what happened to her.
He shook his head, unable to speak and Scully felt her heart wrench again. He cleared his throat and gestured towards the chair.
"Your clothes are over there," his voice was gruff, hoarse and grating over tear thickened vocal cords. Scully glanced at him one last time then walked over to pick up a pair of jeans and a sweater. She cocked an eyebrow and glanced at him.
"You expect me to sleep in these?"
He shook his head, avoiding her gaze. "Of course not, we are going to the hospital," he raised a hand at her impending protest. "Not a word, Scully. I'm not going risk anything this time." He furrowed his eyebrows and glanced at her, the pain in his eyes evident and she wondered again at what had possessed him to drive to her apartment at two in the morning.
She swallowed hard and nodded as he silently exited the room.
She stared at the door for a long moment after he was gone, praying, more for his sake than her own, that her cancer was not back. She didn't think he would be able to handle her death. She shook her head slightly and glanced down at the clothing in her hands. A faint smile passed over her lips as she noticed that he had picked out her favorite sweater and most comfortable pair of jeans, he just knew her too well.
She pulled on her clothes reluctantly and tossed the blood stained robe aside, she ran her fingers through her rapidly drying hair once then pulled open her door.
She found him standing at the window in her living room. The pale golden glow of the streetlights illuminated his features as he leaned his forehead against the cool glass. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of him and she just stood for that moment, watching him.
The pain in his face was evident, and she realized, not for the first time, that he hurt just as much when she was hurting. The lines in his forehead seemed deeper in the harsh glow and his eyes gleamed with that perpetual sadness in the darkness.
Scully approached him quietly from behind, "Mulder, we can go to the hospital in the morning, why don't you get some sleep?"
He didn't move. He just shifted his eyes from the street to her face. He watched her silently for a moment as the silvery starlight and the pale golden lamplight shone from the outside and into the room, enlightening her worried features and causing flames to flicker upon her hair. Her fearless beauty struck him and for a moment, he ceased to breathe. She was not afraid of death, he had learned that a long time ago. He feared her death more than she did.
"No Scully," the soft inflection in his voice made her heart ache with a fierce longing that she had long thought buried. "We're going, now."
He picked up his jacket and slung it around her shoulders, leading her out the door.
*******
Thursday
September 10, 1998
D.C. Hospital
3:12 a.m.
*******
Scully sat in the stiff plastic chair of the hospital waiting room, listening to her partner converse quietly with several of the nurses. Being the doctor, she knew she should be the one talking to them, but knowing Mulder was taking care of her was oddly soothing. She was so tired, and all she wanted right now was to just sit here, wrapped up in her partner's soft, sweet smelling leather jacket and sleep.
Well, actually she'd rather be at home asleep, her partner replacing the jacket currently wrapped around her body. . . but that was a different story.
She leaned back in the chair and rubbed her neck idly, closing her eyes as a wave of fatigue washed over her. Why were all of the hospital rooms full at 3:00 in the morning anyway? It just wasn't normal. She sighed and burrowed her nose into the butter soft leather of Mulder's jacket, breathing in his distinct spicy scent. She felt the tense muscles in the back of her neck relax slightly at the comforting and familiar redolence. It filled her nostrils and overwhelmed that sharp tang that she naturally associated with hospitals; the smell of cleaning products and sickness and of death. As a med. student she had always disliked hospitals, simply because of how they smelled, they reminded her of death.
There had been some twisted irony in her becoming a forensic pathologist, seeing as how she hated death so much. . .
No, it was in the last several years that her hatred for hospitals grew. There were many memories that she did not wish to recall that had occurred in this same hospital, or one just like it. She had only a few happy hospital memories, and even those had been bittersweet.
One of these moments had been outside of Penny Northern's hospital room, when she had told Mulder that she was going to return to work, return to him.
There were moments when she could still feel her arms around her, still feel his lips on her skin. In the midst of all that chaos, Mulder had maintained his unwavering belief that she would fight her cancer, he had been her faith in the dark months that had followed. Those few months had been the hardest of her life, she wasn't sure if she could go through all that again, she wasn't sure if she could put Mulder through it again. . .
Her musings were interrupted by a slight touch on her hand. She opened her eyes to meet the hazel depths that belonged to her partner. Mulder crouched in front of her, his forearms resting on his thighs, his hand covering hers partially. The anxiety in his eyes was evident and she managed a weak smile to try to reassure him.
"You manage to wake every doctor in the hospital up, Mulder?"
He grinned weakly, "Nah, just the ones we need. They have a spot up in neurology for you," he swallowed hard. "They want to take some x-rays," he trailed off quietly, as if it was painful for him to even consider the thought of her cancer returning.
She moved her other hand out of the long sleeves of the jacket to grip both of his hands. "You should go home, get some rest, I can stay the night here without you, you don't have to stay for me."
His eyes darkened and she could see his nostrils flare slightly as if shocked that she would even suggest it. "I'm staying Scully, I would never be able to rest at home anyway. . ."
She smiled gratefully and squeezed his hands. It was the closest thing to a genuine smile since she had woken in a pool of blood. He glanced down at their intertwined hands a moment as she did the same. She leaned her forehead against his, blowing out an exhausted breath and reveling in his nearness.
"Doctor Scully?" a soft voice broke through the tranquillity of the moment and Mulder and Scully both turned to glance up at the doctor, their heads still leaning against the other.
"We can take you up to neurology now," she gestured towards the wheelchair in front of her and Scully pulled away from her partner long enough to shoot him a look.
"I'm perfectly capable of walking on my own," she informed the doctor. The doctor only shook her head, dark curls bouncing slightly.
"I know, but it's hospital policy Miss."
Scully shot Mulder a look that seemed to say 'You'll be getting it for this later' and sighed her acquiescence with a small bob of her head as she slid into the wheelchair.
"Rick," the doctor waved over a male nurse, with lighter hair and a weary expression.
"Take Doctor Scully to neurology, I want to be informed the moment her results are in." The man nodded and began wheeling the chair down the hall. Scully's fingers slipped from her partner's as she moved away and he stepped back into the shadows of the brightly lit corridor.
"I'll be waiting for you here," he called to her softly, she merely nodded slightly in response, her eyes locked with his. After a long moment the contact was broken, and she turned her head away.
Mulder slumped back into the plastic chair with a heavy sigh as the doctor regarded him with a curious glance. "You know, we have several rooms with semi decent beds, the residents usually use them when on long shifts, but I'm sure there is one open that you could use until your wife gets back."
Mulder glanced up at her with a thin smile, not bothering to correct what she had said.
"Thank you, but all I really need is some coffee, where is the cafeteria?"
"Second floor, right down the hall from neurology," she winked at him so slightly it could have been a twitch.
"Thank you," was his automatic response before moving down the hall towards the elevator.
The doctor watched him go with a puzzled discordance.
*******
Thursday
September 10, 1998
4:10 a.m.
*******
He sat in the stark cafeteria, arms folded on the table, head resting on his palms. The cup of coffee he had poured an hour ago for himself sat cold in front of him, the clouds of steam swirling away and dissipating under the harsh fluorescence of the overhead lights. His leather jacket was sprawled across an empty chair to his side, the soft brown edges gleaming from the dim starlight that filtered in through the window beside him. Scully had handed his jacket back to him before she had slid into that wheelchair and headed up to neurology.
That had been an hour ago, he had promptly come up to the cafeteria, poured himself a cup of coffee and collapsed into the chair, he hadn't moved since.
The gentle patter of the rain that beat steadily against the window soothed his raw nerves slightly as his thoughts whirled round and round in his head, focusing only on one thing.
Scully.
He had no idea what he would do if she was sick again. The last time he had nearly killed himself in the process of finding a cure for her, which would have been preferable to living without her anyway. If the chip had for some reason stopped working, he had no idea how to fix it, or cure her again. And the thought of her death was something that balled into dread at the pit of his stomach and gnawed at him. Why did this have to happen now? Just when everything was going close to something resembling okay for them.
His thoughts were interrupted rudely by the scraping of the chair across from him rasping across the hard ceramic tiles of the floor. Mulder shook away his fatigue and glanced up, fully expecting to see his partner standing across from him prepared to deliver the dreadful news.
Instead there was a slim man seated in the chair across from him, sipping his coffee delicately. His slender, pointed nose wrinkled at the offensive taste and he set the beverage down on the table so lightly that there wasn't even a ripple in the liquid.
"Offensive stuff really," the man informed Mulder, his low voice colored with a quiet British accent. "I personally don't see how people can stand it."
Mulder raised an eyebrow in a gesture that his partner would have been proud of and cocked his head to one side. "Are you here for a reason? Or just to insult my taste in coffee? Or were all the seats at the popular table taken and you got stuck with me?" He nodded to the cafeteria which was empty save for a few stray med. students struggling to stay awake or study.
The man fixed his cold ebony eyes on Mulder and shook his head. "You're in danger Agent Mulder," the straight matter of fact tone in which he stated it sent chills up Mulder's spine.
"So?" Mulder asked, a skeptical inflection seeping into his tone. "I'm always in danger, next you'll be telling me that you have been watching me for 'quite some time now.'"
"I've been watching your career for quite some time now," the man continued, seemingly
unperturbed by Mulder's interruption. Mulder snorted and wrapped his fingers around the cold mug for a lack of anywhere better to place them.
"Yeah? Apparently lots of people have, so get in line. . ."
The man fixed him with a cold stare that halted the next words coming out of Mulder's mouth. He stroked his thin mustache idly and narrowed his eyes, as if seeing Mulder for the first time.
"I know you know why I am here. It is no secret anymore that all of your previous contacts have worked for them, at one point or another," his tone had taken on a slightly apathetic resonance. He traced the pattern on the tabletop lightly with nimble fingers.
"I won't lie to you, Agent. I have been sent specifically by them. I'm here to warn you."
Mulder felt his hand go instinctively for his gun at the man's words, but one slender hand clasped over his own and he met the man's dark unfeeling eyes again.
"Warn me about what?" He spat, moving his hand back to the tabletop.
"I think you know why I'm here, Agent."
Mulder nodded wearily, rolling his head from side to side to ease the stiff cramps there. "Scully," the pain in his voice was thinly concealed at the mention of his partner and the other man nodded.
"I can get you the cure -- the real cure that is."
Mulder leveled his gaze with the other mans bottomless dark eyes. "What happened to the chip?"
"Exactly what you were afraid would happen, Agent. It disintegrated, stopped working."
Mulder drew in a sharp breath. "But why?"
The man's eyes finally flickered something that could have been remorse, but the emotion was gone as quickly as it had appeared.
"They no longer need her, she is merely an expendable now. They know she is your greatest weakness, but also your greatest strength. They will not kill her. . . not yet anyway. . . They want you to watch her die, they want you to lose hope in the quest. They figure that this is the best way to kill you, they know you cannot live without her."
Mulder bit his lip and narrowed his eyes at the other man, "you say it like you know it's true. How do you, really?"
The man shrugged, his dark clothing masking him in more shadows than Mulder would have thought possible in the bright room. The man seemed to wear shadows as a second skin, never revealing too much about himself. "I don't know. But I have seen you two together. . . and if you didn't care for her, why would you be here at," his dark eyes flickered to the clock above Mulder's head. "Four thirty in the morning? Have you asked yourself that, Agent?"
Mulder sighed heavily and scrubbed at his eyes with his fist. "All right, tell me about this cure of yours. Why are you giving it to me? What are the conditions."
The man stopped tracing circles onto the tabletop for a moment and raised his eyebrows as if in thought. "That's simple. Transfer out of the X-Files. You are no longer a threat to them, and neither is she. They would have no reason to kill her then. . ."
Mulder stared back at the man as it all fell into place. They had killed Diana, probably killed Spender by now as well. All because they had wanted the X-Files closed. Why had he been foolish enough to think that they would stop there? He cursed himself for not have seeing this coming.
The man stood from his chair gracefully and stroked his mustache once more. "Think about what I have said, Agent Mulder. I will contact you again."
"Wait," Mulder called to him softly as he began to move away. "What's your name?"
The man smiled tightly, more of a grimace than a genuine smile. "You can call me Benedict," was his simple response, and then he was gone.
Mulder sighed again, and turned his face to the window, watching as the drops of rain slid slowly down the pane. He shook his head and dropped his head to his hands, folded onto the table.
*******
end chapter one
*******