In my field of paper flowers

By

AllyinthekeyofX

Summery – Mulder and Scully discover that John Doggett had a secret of his own. A secret that will change everything. Mulder POV

Author's notes –

This story is set in season 10. Post 'Home again' but pre 'My Struggle II'

Notes –I'm almost done. One more part after this which will be more of an epilogue. I've loved writing it. I've loved receiving the lovely reviews and the encouragement has been amazing and has spurred me on to keep writing it. I know that first person POV isn't to everyone's taste, but I love writing it. I hope I've done it him justice. – Ally x

Finally, after so many years, so many denials from the both of us, we talked.

I lost track of how much time passed, but we walked hand in hand as the sun rose high in the sky and talked in a way we hadn't talked in years. Maybe more than we'd ever talked.

The countryside that surrounds the house is beautiful in its simplicity. Endless fields filled with grasses that made no sound as we made our journey. I chose the house for us because of that remote simplicity. At a time when we both still running, the surrounding landscape meant that we could see. From any direction we could see for mile upon mile.

It seemed at the time to be the safest way to be. To ensure we could always see the danger that we were convinced was always so damn close.

But over the years I have come to appreciate that endless horizon for so many other reasons. When it storms I can sit on the porch and watch the lightening and when the storm passes I've watched rainbows paint the sky with light and colour. At night I can literally count the stars. No streetlamps to mar the inky blackness that surrounds that little house like a comforting cloak. The darkness soothes my soul. I've seen enough stark brightness to last me a lifetime.

It's a house that holds no secrets. Exposed as it is on the very edge of nature.

I think that being there saved me in my darkest days.

And Scully.

Always there was Scully.

Because even when she wasn't there with me, my past life with her clung to that house and continued to hold me up.

The memories of her. Those memories saved me.

And I owe her so much.

But slowly, I'm beginning to realise that maybe, just maybe, the weight of responsibility isn't mine alone.

That she made her own choices. That for all the years I have shouldered a blame that has slowly eaten me alive, I was actually doing this woman a great disservice. Because in doing so, I was only acknowledging my own regrets, my own pain. Never hers. By trying to protect her I have trivialised everything she chose to sacrifice to be with me. Her family, her career, her health, her future. She chose. I didn't ever force her to choose. It just felt that way to me. But I was wrong. So very wrong.

There have been no angry words. No recriminations. Just an understanding that has taken so many years to finally articulate but which needs to be spoken.

If we are to survive. If we are to move forwards.

Last night made me realise that I've stagnated within myself for far too long.

And so we talked. Finally we talked. It was surprisingly easy to open doors we had thought were closed forever.

We stopped walking after a while. And we just sat. Scully in front of me, our arms crossed together against her chest, her head is resting lightly against my shoulder and even though my back is starting to protest, I can't think of anywhere I would rather be right now. Apollo is sat by her feet, keeping guard against marauding rabbits. And it feels good. It feels kind of like family.

But there is one thing we haven't yet spoken about.

William

She hasn't asked me about him or about my reluctance to finally answer the need inside me that has lived every single day for almost fifteen years. I think maybe it's too painful for her. That she is afraid of what my response will be. Especially today when we have laid each other bare. Truths spoken finally without boundaries, without candour. I wonder if we had been able to have this day five years ago, that everything would be different.

But then again, I know that back then, the hurt was just too big. That the words wouldn't have been heard by either of us. I think that sometimes, the pain has to be allowed to burn before it can finally be extinguished. But I'm also afraid that some hurt just keeps on burning. That no matter what, it can never fully leave us.

I have no idea what the time is. My watch is back at the house. And after Scully had used her phone to call Skinner's office to leave a message that we needed to take a day away from work, that we wouldn't be coming in today, she had placed her phone next to mine on the counter. Skinner would understand. Anyone else who needed us would just have to wait.

And as we sit there, I can almost hear the essence that is Scully. I'm not sure where her heartbeat ends and mine begins. The years have fallen away and finally, everything seems right. How it should be. Except for one final truth that needs to be heard. But no matter how much I try to find a place to start, I'm afraid I won't be able to make her understand.

But for the both of us, I have to try.

I tighten my arms around her. And inexplicably, she knows, knows before I can even form the words.

"Why are you so afraid Mulder?"

She twists her body slightly, so that, as awkward it is for her, she is able to tilt her head to look at me. Even locked in the confines of my arms as I hang on to her, she is able to look at me. I loosen my grip on her just enough to free her movement. In by doing so, she is able to reach up and place her hand against my neck. I shake my head, unable to meet her eyes.

"Mulder?"

"I...because..." The words catch in my throat but Scully just remains there, not pushing, just waiting, until finally, my voice barely above a whisper "I'm afraid I won't love him."

She is silent for a moment. If she is hurt by my admission, she hides it well.

"Why? Why would you ever think that?"

I still can't bring myself to look at her.

"Three days. I knew him for three days. It was never enough...and then when I was gone...the things they did to me in that prison..."

I am a guilty man. I have failed in every respect. I deserve the harshest punishment for my crimes.

I swallow at the memory.

Of endless nights on cold concrete floors. Curled up, wracked with pain and regret and guilt. I had refused to think of my son. Refused to allow the precious memory of him to be somehow tainted by that place of fear and terror and hopelessness. To pretend he hadn't happened at all. It had been the only way to survive. To stop myself losing my mind completely. And in doing so, somewhere along the way, I'd forgotten how it felt to hold him in my arms. To feel his gentle warmth, to breath him in. To love him.

"I wanted so much to love him Scully" I whisper "but I forgot how to..."

I finally look at her

"What if I can't love him?"

I feel my eyes begin to burn. Hot tears that seem to have no end are threatening to escape their confines and even as I try in vain to blink them back, they are burning their way down my face. Scalding hot tears that mingle with over a decade of shame.

And Scully is crying too. As she scrambles to her knees and reaches out for me. Pulling me towards her with fierce intensity as she finally understands. Her fingers clutch at my hair, twisting it painfully as she forces me to look at her.

"You didn't ever stop loving him Mulder, can't you see?... You just stopped allowing yourself to."

Continued part 7