A/N: This is a cancer arc fic, set during Redux II, when Mulder comes into Scully's hospital room and cries at her bedside.
The X Files doesn't belong to me.
Mulder holds her hand. It's cold, but he can feel a pulse; thank God there's a pulse. Her breath is labored and it's so frightening that he begins to cry again. He feels her hand twitch and looks up to see Scully's eyes open. "Mulder?" a hoarse cry.
"I'm here, Scully, I'm here."
"God, what are you doing?"
He can't answer that question. He doesn't know at this point. Her shaky hand caresses his face, and in the dark he can see her eyes glisten with tears. She looks vulnerable, in every sense of the word. Translucent skin, dark circles under her eyes, which are a dull, glassy blue. Scully is so sick. "Why are you here?" she asks.
"I just needed to see you," he says. I need you, Scully.
"Come here," Scully whispers, and he joins her in the tiny hospital bed, careful, but getting as close to her as he can. "I'm cold," she admits, and he wraps his arms around her. She sighs and closes her eyes, his arms a greater comfort than anything. She can feel his heartbeat against her.
Neither know what to say. "Talk to me," she says. "Ask me questions."
"Hm, okay, twenty questions," his lips brush her hair. "What's your favorite Christmas song?"
"O Little Town of Bethlehem. What's yours?"
"Blue Christmas."
She chuckles. "I should've figured that one out."
"What's the most scared you've ever been?" he asks, continuing their little game.
"When I first got cancer," she says, in a matter-of-fact tone. "I was scared out of my mind. Not so much anymore."
"You're so brave," he kisses her cheek, his lips lingering for a bit. She nuzzles into his neck and he forgets briefly about their situation, thinking only that he waited too long to hold her in his arms like this.
And she's a little happier too as he asks her questions and she answers. "Who was your first kiss?"
"His name was Tom, and we kissed at the homecoming dance," she chuckles weakly. "It was sort of awful, but we were fourteen. Who was yours?"
"A girl named Kiki..."
"Kiki? God, that's a name..."
"She was sweet!" he protests. "We went to see a movie and it was kind of boring so the next thing I know I'm kissing her. It was nice."
"Sounds better than my first. We were all sweaty and gross." she admits. "Did you date her?"
"No, we just stayed friends. She went and found another guy. I was too nerdy for her."
"Aww, poor Mulder," she teases. "Who was your first girlfriend, then?"
"Well, I had a few dates, but I didn't really get into relationships until college...remember Pheobe?"
"God, no," Scully groans. "Are you serious?"
"Yes. She wasn't too bad, really."
"I'm sure she wasn't." for awhile, they spend the time whispering questions and answers, little things that may not have been important, but they wish they had done this earlier.
Soon, Scully's eyes are starting to droop. She snuggles into his arms and closes her eyes. "I'm tired. Are you going to stay here with me tonight?"
"Do you want me to?"
"Yes, please." she doesn't care that he could be in big trouble if he was caught. Having him with her makes her feel a little better; maybe not any less sick, but less dreary. "Will you be here when I wake up?"
"I don't know...I'll try to be. But I'll visit you tomorrow night."
"Mmm, okay," she closes her eyes.
Minutes pass, and Mulder holds her close, not wanting to ever leave. He can't lose her; of all people, not her. "Scully?"
"Yes?"
"Can I ask one more question?"
"Sure."
"Do you love me?" his voice is small, quiet, nervous.
She hesitates, though she knows the answer. "Yes. Do you love me?"
"Yes. I have for years now." Mulder confesses. "I don't want to lose you."
She takes his hand that's laying on her stomach and kisses it. "I can't promise anything."
He knows. It's killing him, but he knows. She's beginning to fall asleep, so he doesn't say any more, only kisses her head. He loves her; he loves her so much that his heart aches because he's not sure she will be there for much longer. He's praying to something, whatever it is that's out there. He prays that she will be okay, that she'll be cured and finally be healthy and happy. And there's a selfish part of him that prays that he'll be able to hold her in his arms, in his bed, every night.
He falls asleep a few hours later, but just as the sun rises he hears nurse's shoes coming down the hall and gets out of there as discreetly as he can. He worries about her all day, but when he walks into her hospital room and sees her paler and more sicker than ever, his blood goes cold. "You're here," Scully says.
Mulder immediately crawls into the bed with her. "I'm cold," she whispers hoarsely. "And I don't feel too well..." it's a huge understatement, but they both know what it means. He notices the glint of the cross necklace around her neck; it was previously just sitting on the nightstand. "Mulder, I'm getting tired. I just want to go to sleep." He knows what she means by 'sleep', and it scares him.
"Why, Scully?"
"Because I'm not scared anymore. I'm very sick, and the doctors have told me it may be my time. My mother came by to say goodbye."
"Why are you giving up so easily? That's not something the Scully I know would do."
"I cannot fight what is meant to be, Mulder."
The words break him. "Scully..." He doesn't cry; he's done too much of it lately.
She turns to face him and caresses his face comfortingly, as she did the night before. They don't say anything, but their lips meet in a soft kiss. The anger in Mulder dissolves. "I don't want to leave you," she whispers as she pulls away. "I'm just so tired."
"I know. I wish I could take this all away from you." he kisses her forehead.
"Just hold me for now." she says. He does, and as they lay in silence he notices how shallow her breathing is. "Could you promise me something?" she asks.
"Sure."
"I want you to keep searching for the truth."
He wants to, as well, but he's scared that he won't be able to without her by his side. He's afraid he'll be lost again. "I always will be...but I don't know if I can without you. You are the one who's kept me on the ground, you are my one constant. I wanted to find the truth with you. I wanted you to find it, too."
"I've found it in you." she says. Mulder pulls her closer, so her head is on his chest and their body heat is shared. "Please stay with me." she whispers. "I don't want to go alone."
He wants to promise, but he doesn't know if he can. It's no because he's afraid a nurse will find him and yell at him; he doesn't want to awake and find her body cold and lifeless next to him. But he pushes that all away for a moment and says, "I'll stay."
More silence. Her hand lays on his heart. She's comforted by the steady rhythm. It's lulling her to sleep. "I love you, Scully." he promises, the one thing he knows for sure. He wants her to know that before she drifts off to sleep.
She gathers the energy to lift her head and kiss him deeply, one more time before she falls asleep.
Mulder finds that Scully's still breathing when he wakes up in the morning. "Scully..." he nudges her awake.
"Mmm?" She cracks and eye open. In the light, he's able to see how sick she truly looks.
"I'm gonna have to leave again."
Her face falls, but she nods. "I understand," she replies hoarsely. "Come back for me if you can..."
"I promise." he kisses her.
"I love you," she whispers.
"I love you, too." another kiss, and then he slips out of the room.
Mulder gets a call from Skinner later that day. "Have you seen Scully?" his boss asks.
"Yes...she's very sick."
"Yes, I know. I just saw her yesterday afternoon. I'm sorry you're going through this." Mulder thinks he should be thankful for Skinner's concern, but instead it just bothers him.
"Don't be sorry for me," he mumbles.
"I am, Mulder. And I'm giving you the next week off, no exceptions. You and Scully are in my thoughts." Skinner ends the call with a simple goodbye. He knows they love each other. Seeing his concern for her during her sickness had just proved it to him. He could've nattered on to them about 'rules' and not getting in too deep, keeping their relationship professional. He probably should've done that. He wasn't going to, though, because their relationship was nothing like he had ever seen before in his many years of being an assistant director. It was beautiful, in its own odd way.
Sometime during the evening, Mulder is awoken from his half-conscious half-asleep state by a call from Maggie Scully. She's crying.
He feels himself breaking into tiny pieces, falling on the floor, waiting to be stepped on. Everything that had been holding the pieces of him together has just been taken away from him. The pieces he had been trying to pick up himself for years. He gives all the condolences to Mrs. Scully that he can and ends the call.
For the past five years, during nearly every difficult decision, nearly every hard time in his life, he has called Scully. It's his natural instinct now; he could dial the number in his sleep. So, still feeling like it's not real, he dials the number and as he's listening to the dial tone, he realizes.
"You've reached Dana Scully, I'm not available right now. Leave a message..." then a piercing beep. Those are the last words he'll hear from her. "I'm not available right now", what irony. How funny, in the most morbid way.
He almost laughs.
She's in the newspaper the next morning, next to so many 90 year-olds, 100 year-olds. She was in her early 30's, and these people were almost a century old. She wasn't even half a century old.
"Dana Katherine Scully, M.D. died peacefully in her sleep after suffering from cancer. She was a daughter to Maggie and William Scully..." he doesn't bother reading the rest. In her picture, she looks so serious, especially in the harsh black and white of the newspaper.
His week goes by silently; he barely eats or sleeps. Skinner checks in by phone now and then, and he sees through Mulder's lies that he's okay, but he leaves him alone. The assistant director needs some time alone himself.
There is a sense of deja vu that's hung in the air for the past week. He has the same slow, sinking feeling that only gets worse every day; it's just like when he was twelve. It's just like Samantha, all over again. It took him years and years to find joy again after Samantha. How long will it take this time?
Mrs. Scully asks him to speak at the funeral, but he declines. He doesn't know what to say. He could talk about little things that he loved about her: the way she always sat cross-legged on a bed, how she sang along to the radio (and her cute little singing voice), how she had the biggest sweet-tooth that she only indulged when she got shakes during their pit stops, how she loved children and animals, how her kisses-the few ones they got to share-how they tasted like sweet apple cider. All the things he's thought about while he's tried to sleep everything off, staring at the ceiling. No, he doesn't want to share it in front of people who don't know him, in front of her family. He didn't really matter. He was just her partner in the FBI.
At the funeral, Maggie Scully looks so tired and sad that Mulder had to hug her. "I'm so sorry you've had to go through all this."
"She loved you," Mrs. Scully declares.
"I know. She told me."
Tears fill the woman's eyes. "I'm so glad she did. She never told me outright, but I knew. And I know you loved her back."
He loves her back. Her being dead-yes, dead, he can say it to himself now, doesn't change anything. He hopes she's in heaven. He hopes there's an afterlife. He thinks he probably won't be joining her when he's gone, but knowing that she's somewhere beautiful and joyful is all he wants.
Weeks pass by. Months. A year. Mulder works on the x-files alone. Skinner has proposed getting another partner for him, but he protests against it. He thinks of her every single day, but he's doing a lot better, as long as it took him, as many times as he thought about ending it himself. He doesn't want to talk about the past year; it's not worth it. He has his low days and his high days. Today is a high day.
Skinner walks into his office. "You should go home," he chides.
"I will in a sec." he shuts down his computer.
"It's quiet in here." the bald man murmurs, more to himself than anyone else. "Sometimes I'd pass by and hear things that...lead me to believe something...unprofessional was going on."
Mulder chuckles as that. He's glad to be laughing again. "Really? I know we got loud sometimes with our arguments, but I didn't realize someone would think...that."
"You two were unlike any other partnership I've ever seen, that's for sure." Skinner says. "Go home, Agent. Get some sleep." he gives Mulder a smack on the back hug.
When he gets home, he sees a letter from the Gunmen in his mailbox.
Mulder-
I know it's been a year since she's been gone. We're sad, too, but we found these pictures that Frohike snapped when you two weren't looking and they brought back some good memories. Hope they bring back some for you, too.
-Byers, Langley, & Frohike
PS: And you said you didn't gaze at her!
In the envelope is a series of pictures of them working together in the Gunmen's lair. In some of them, they are serious, in a few, he's looking at her with loving eyes. I guess I did gaze at her, he thinks, laughing to himself. In the last one, they're looking at each other and smiling.
The next day, he tacks the picture by his 'I Want to Believe' poster.
It makes him smile. It feels good to smile.
A/N: I didn't want to end it devastatingly sad, but I didn't want to end it too sappily-happy either. This was hard to write...and I'm not sure how I feel about it, but I'll put it out there. Apologies for clogging up the archive with my stories lately; hopefully the plot bunnies leave me alone now. Thanks for reading!
-Lulamae