ReaffirmingLife

TITLE - Reaffirming Life
AUTHOR - Tammy M. Parnell
EMAIL ADDRESS: LaLapine@aol.com
DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: Anywhere, as long as my name & disclaimer are on it
SPOILER WARNING: Memento Mori, Elegy, Blessing Way
RATING: PG
CLASSIFICATION: S
SUMMARY: Mulder helps Scully deal with her fears.
DISCLAIMER: The are not mine. They belong to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, Fox Television, and the very talented actors who portray them. The piece mentioned that was found on the Internet did not have a source attached, but no infringement is intended.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I live for feedback!

Reaffirming Life
by Tammy M. Parnell

Her eyes were closed, but the sensation was overwhelming. Was this finally it? The beginning of the end?

Dana covered her eyes with the back of her hand, trying block out the early morning sunlight that flowed through her bedroom window. Her head ached, and the shrill sound of the alarm calling her to work had not helped.

You have to get up, Dana, she insisted to herself, raising herself to a sitting position. Her stomach was queasy, and she hoped her discomfort stemmed from a bout of the flu, rather than another reminder of the disease hidden within.

Her mind was still blurry from lack of sleep. She peered uneasily at the traces of dried blood on her pillowcase which had not been there the previous night. Staring at those taunting stains, unable to move for fear her stomach would betray her, the tears began to fall. All her life, Dana had been in control. There were a few exceptions, of course, but those were separate instances, not life's general rule. Now, nothing she did was in her control; as she had written to Mulder in her journal, this was an invisible enemy, more powerful than any of the suspects to whom their course of work had introduced them. Her own body was betraying her, and she was helpless to fight back. She was dying.

The tears began to flow faster now. Self-pity mixed with guilt for those she would be leaving behind. Curling up in a fetal position, pillow crushed against her, she thought of her mother, who would be losing both daughters due to Dana's involvement in the X-Files. And though they had never discussed Melissa's death in depth in terms of fault, Dana knew that at least some part of her mother must blame her for it--as well she should.

Sniffling, Dana knew she was not alone in her guilt for her sister's death. Mulder blamed himself, as well. But he blamed himself for everything; he was used to being accused of things, being the scapegoat. She had assured him not to feel guilty about Missy, but she knew that did about as much good as her mother assuring her that she was not at fault for the past events.

Almost smiling through her straggling tears, she thought fondly of Mulder. He was so earnest in his desire to find the truth. Dana loved the boyish look in his eyes when he grew excited. With a sad sigh, she realized how few those looks had gotten lately, ever since her diagnosis. He wanted so much to find a miracle cure, and a hard knot grew in Dana's stomach, imagining his disappointment at her eventual death.

I refuse to believe, he had told her. Things were so black and white for him; he either believed or he didn't. There was no in between. And he had been clear in his assertion that together, they would find their way to the truth, a cure for the ever spreading tumor. She admired his enthusiasm, his loyalty, his need to protect her, loved him for it. But she had distanced herself from his help, his comfort. She went along with his ideas, but her heart was not in them. It was so hard sometimes to blindly follow, pretending she felt his hope, when all she wanted to do was ask him to hold her, give her more strength. But that would be admitting defeat; Dana Scully did not ask for support. It would be a concession, one that meant the cancer was ever closer to killing her. She could not, would not, take away Mulder's hope.

I know what you're afraid of, he'd told her. Yes, of course he knew. But they had been too close; one moment longer in that hallway, and she would have collapsed against him. She hadn't had the energy to keep up her strength for his benefit. Hell, she'd barely made it to the car, all the time wishing she had allowed herself the comfort of his embrace after all, but not willing to admit defeat. She remembered how safe and cared for she'd felt in the hospital, after Penny Northan's death, against her partner's strong body. The fluttering hands against her face and the reassuring, warm kiss against her forehead were imprinted forever in her heart.

A fit of coughing brought Dana back to the present. When it had passed, she took a deep breath after glancing at the ever advancing clock. It was getting late. A hand on her stomach, she tried to stand; no luck. She resettled against the headboard, feeling lucky the contents of her stomach were still intact. She wouldn't be able to go to work this morning.

Fighting the urge to cry again, she took a deep breath and prayed Mulder wouldn't worry. Hell, who was she kidding? She never called in sick. Hitting speed dial, she reached his cell phone.



Hi. It's me.

Hey, Scully. What's up? You running late?

Actually... my stomach's a little queasy this morning. I think I've got a case of the flu.

There was a long pause on the other end. Then, His voice held an edge of fear.

I'm a doctor, Mulder, remember? I know the flu when I feel it. I'll be fine. I just need to sleep it off. Don't worry. She almost convinced herself with the conviction of her words.

Mulder's voice was noticeably relieved. Want me to get you anything at the store?

No, thanks. She sighed in relief. I'll probably see you tomorrow, okay?

Is it feed a cold and starve a fever or vice versa?

She laughed lightly at him. Those are old wives' tales, Mulder.

Well, in any case, take some medicine or something, drink juice, eat chicken soup--

Okay, okay, Doctor. I'll see you tomorrow.

Bye, Scully.

She hung up the phone, feeling a bit better for having talked to her partner. She eased down on the bed and imagined him alone in their cluttered office, trying to sort through the latest x-files. She smiled to herself at the image, trying to ignore the guilt she felt for lying to him and the fear that was growing within her at her invasive illness.

Stomach flu or not, her discomfort reminded her of her vulnerability and how easy it would be for the cancer's effects to sneak up on her, weakening her bit by bit, until there was nothing left of her but the disease.

Curling up once again, Dana tried to sleep.

***

Every sound echoed tenfold in her head. She could hear the kitchen clock tick the seconds by, neighbors arriving home from work, and the key turning in her lock. She wondered briefly where her gun was, but relaxed as a familiar voice called softly, It's just me.

Damnit, what's he doing here? she thought to herself, even though part of her was glad for his company. She tried to smile as he peeked into her room.

Can I come in?

You already did, she pointed out, motioning to the side of the bed as she sat up. Boring day?

Just finishing up some reports for Skinner, he affirmed. I think he was in shock when I handed them in.

I'll bet, she returned his grin but watched his expression turn serious, his hand brushing hers as he sat down.

How you feeling?

she said truthfully. The contents of her stomach had disappeared late that morning when she'd gotten up to use the bathroom. Once back in bed, she seemed to be all right.

He nodded, relieved. Her face looked slightly flushed, though, so he brushed the back of his hand against her forehead. You feel warm, he stated.

Is that the technical way of taking someone's temperature, Doctor? she said, her eyebrows raised.



I have a fever, yes. It happens when you have the flu. I'm going to be okay.

He held her gaze a moment. She had lost weight since her illness. As tough and professional as she could present herself to the Bureau and suspects, she was also small and sensitive. Even though she rarely let him see her weak and vulnerable, they'd shared many long stakeouts and free time during investigations as friends. They would joke around and talk about various things. They knew each other inside and out. And Mulder knew that even if this really was just the flu, her red-rimmed eyes showed it was bothering her. Hell, it was bothering him, too.

He nodded slowly, accepting her decision not to share her fear. Have you eaten anything?

She shook her head. I feel nauseous when I get up.

Guess we'll skip the soup I brought.

She raised her eyebrows once again. You brought soup?

He grinned. Campbell's. Mm, mm, good.

She shook her head with a smile. I think I'll pass for now.

Want to watch TV? he queried.

Dana realized he planned to stick around for awhile, but decided that wasn't such a bad thing. She shrugged. I can try.

Oh, well, I could bring it in here.

No, hold on a minute. I haven't tried to get up since this morning. I'm probably fine now. Move over.

Mulder stood as she threw back the covers and swung her feet over the bed. She made it to standing before the queasiness grew to be too much. She rushed past her partner to the bathroom, muttering a quick before covering her mouth with her hand.

You shouldn't have encouraged her to get up! Mulder accused himself. He waited a few minutes, wanting to go to her but knowing she'd want to be alone. But when the toilet flushed, and she still hadn't reappeared, his worry overcame his better judgment. Tentatively, he opened wider the slightly ajar bathroom door.

His stomach dropped at the sight of her slim body in the corner of the room, her eyes moist, a stained Kleenex clutched in her palm. The lump in his throat prevented him from speaking, so he went to sit beside her, a tight squeeze, but she posed no objection.

Her face hid nothing from him as she spoke. I'm not scared of being dead, Mulder. It's the dying part that scares me.

He looked at her tenderly, settling an arm around her and pulling her close beside him, his head resting atop hers, his hand stroking her auburn hair.

A long time they sat there, each lost in their own thoughts while taking comfort from the other's presence.

With a sigh, Dana finally pulled away. Mulder followed her lead, helping her to her feet, looking at her questioningly.

My stomach's okay, she assured him, knowing it could not get any emptier. It's getting late, though. You'd better go home.

They were in her bedroom again now, and Mulder paused in the doorway. Maybe I should stay here.

I'm fine, Mulder. It's just the-- she halted in mid sentence. That little display in the bathroom had proven that she feared more than the flu was at play. I'll be okay, she said more gently. I'll call if I need anything.

Please, Scully? I'd feel better if I were here.

She sighed, too tired to put up much of a fight, and admitting to herself that she, too, would feel better if he stayed. She relented. Go ahead. You know where the sheets are. His answering grin was reward enough. Good night, Mulder.

he answered, happy to have won this small victory. Turning to go to the living room, her voice stopped him.



he looked at her questioningly, watching her curiously as she approached him, her arms wrapping snugly around his middle. He was a bit taken aback at first, but his smile grew wider as his arms returned her gesture, happy to be able to hold her warm body against his. It was something they both needed.

You're a good friend, Mulder, she said quietly against his chest. His throat inadvertently choked up, and with one final squeeze, she pulled away, smiling up at his serious expression. No snoring or you're history.

He laughed, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face.

Good night, Mulder.

'Night, Scully. Happy, he went to the couch and turned on the TV, using his arms as a pillow as he stretched out. Dana watched him get comfortable before shutting her bedroom door, leaving it open a crack.

***

She awoke in the early morning hours, coughing harshly. It subsided after a few moments as she drank water from the glass on her nightstand. It was happening more and more often, these coughing fits, and it scared her. Sometimes she found it hard to regain her breath. She'd meant to get an inhaler to see if it would help, but she'd kept forgetting. Somehow, it didn't seem as serious in the bright daylight hours as it did when curled up in her dark bedroom. Neither did the nosebleeds--until they interrupted her workday, and Mulder shot her one of those worried looks. Though, he dared not say anything at those times for fear she'd bite his head off.

Mulder. As she sat against her headboard, shivering from more more than the cool temperature in the room, she realized she would have waken him up. Is he laying there wondering if I'm okay? Is he debating whether or not to come check on me? Is he afraid that I stopped breathing? She knew it was her fault that he felt afraid to come see how she was.

In a quiet, clear voice, she said,

Only seconds passed before he was tentatively pushing the door open. So he had been wondering. She motioned to the side of the bed and waited till he was seated next to her, his hand over hers, before she spoke. This was hard for her, but she needed to tell him, he needed to hear it. I'm afraid it's starting, she released the burden from her chest that had been weighing on her since the previous morning. There was no need for clarification; he understood. He was afraid, too.

He stroked her hand gently, their eyes locked. She spoke again. Stay here.

He nodded, scooting beside her, settling down on the mattress. His right arm rested beneath her neck, and his left covered her back as she rested her head against his chest with her right arm wrapped around him. She felt safe and had little trouble drifting off to sleep in her partner's arms.

Mulder lay awake long after her breathing had turned steady and slow. His heart swelled at her closeness, her trust. Sometimes he wondered how he could deserve such a friend, though he knew Scully would berate him for such thoughts. But he felt them just the same, and he also felt he owed her more than friendship. He owed her a cure.

Mulder tightened his hold on his sleeping partner, wondering if that black-lunged, son-of-a-bitch would stick to whatever deal it was Skinner had made with him. He could only pray he would and keep his ear to the ground for word from the Kurt Crawfords in case any new developments occurred.

Sighing, Mulder felt Scully's body move slightly with each breath. He tried to match this pattern with his own breathing, slowly drifting off into a rare, peaceful sleep.

***

Dana had been up and dressed when Mulder awoke, ready to face a new day, happy that most of the previous day's discomfort had, in fact, been some twenty-four-hour bug. She felt famished when she had awakened beside her partner and decided to surprise him by making breakfast before work.

He wandered sleepily into the kitchen with a yawn.

she greeted him with a smile and a cup of coffee.

You look better, he commented as he stretched his long arms and legs before sitting at the table.

I feel better. It was just the flu.

Still, he watched her carefully. He'd seen the tissues in the bathroom wastebasket. The flu didn't cause bloody noses.

By the time breakfast was over, Mulder had come to the conclusion that the previous night was not going to be brought up again any time soon. But he was wrong.

I'll stop at my place to change, then meet you at the office, he told her, reaching for his coat.

Okay. But hold on a sec.

He looked at her curiously. She held out her hand. Surprised, he took it, letting her lead him to the couch. She knelt in front of the coffee table, motioning for him to follow suit. He did, and as she clasped her hands before her, he also clasped his.

She looked at him to explain. I found this on the Internet this morning. A kind of prayer, I guess.

Mulder simply nodded as she bowed her head and closed her eyes. He did the same as he listened to her clear, strong voice affirm their hope.

As I rise up today, I give thanks for the opportunity to be on this Earth.
I give thanks for my mind and body,
I give thanks for my life.
May I rise up strong today,
May my body and soul radiate love.
May all impurities be cast from my mind, my heart, my body.
May every cell of my being be filled with light and positivity.
May my body and mind both be illuminated with joy
And gratitude for all of the beauty in the world.


Mulder echoed after a moment, a slight smile on his face.

I haven't given up, Mulder, she said, a reassuring hand on his knee. I may be afraid, but I'm not going to go without a fight.

He nodded, smiling. That's my Scully, he said fondly, running a hand gently along her hair. She blushed slightly at the comment, and he stood, holding a hand to help her up as well. She accepted, squeezing it slightly before letting go.

I'll see you at work, she told him.

Okay. I can't wait to show you what I found yesterday.

Oh no, she groaned good-naturedly as he opened the door to leave. Animal, vegetable, or mineral?

None of the above, he winked as he shut the door behind him.

she sighed, shaking her head with a fond smile. That's my Mulder, she thought to herself, feeling better than she had in a very long time.

THE END