Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, settings and song lyrics are property of their lawful owners. This story is written for entertainment purposes only and no profit is made. No copyright infringement intended.

CHAPTER 7: River Lea

I should probably tell you now before it's way too late
That I never meant to hurt you or lie straight to your face
Consider this my apology, I know it's years in advance
But I'd rather say it now in case I never get the chance

NAMELESS MOTEL SOMEWHERE IN THE US, OCTOBER 2002

The digital alarm clock on the bedside table is a little broken, like most things in this motel room, the occupants included. It's ten past something, but the first number on the clock has three horizontal lines and one vertical, in the lower right corner. Either a three or a five, he thinks to himself. Or maybe an eight if the clock is as big of a mess as I am.

Only light in the room is the eerie cold glow of the streetlamp being filtered through the little tears in the curtains. Not even a hint of sunrise in the horizon, as far as he can tell, so three seems like a more likely guess. Not that it makes any difference.

Scully is curled up against his chest, naked under the thin sheet that covers them. Her even breaths hit that one spot on his chest that she has somehow claimed as hers over the years. It's at eye level for her when they are standing face to face in flat shoes, and somehow she always gravitates towards that same spot when they cuddle as well. She's starting to shiver, as the sweat from her nightmare slowly cools onto her skin. He reaches over her slowly, doing his best not to jostle her as he grabs a hold of the comforter and pulls it over them. At least he managed to calm her down from the dream without waking her up this time.

Two main feelings constantly battling in his head are guilt and gratefulness. Never has he been more grateful about having Scully by his side but at the same time, never has he felt more guilty about dragging her into this mess.

It is an odd thing, the life of a fugitive. It pushes them closer together and pulls them further apart than anything ever before. They are together twenty-four-seven most days, because they don't dare to leave the other one without backup and they are all the backup they have.

Trust no one.

All that is real is the two of them in a bubble of lies they have built around themselves, and they must rely heavily on each other to maintain a sense of right and wrong, a baseline to their existence. But at the same time the only distance they can put between them is on the emotional level, so they have started to keep secrets. It's a coping mechanism, but it's also tearing him apart.

"I'm sorry, Scully," he whispers into her hair, softly enough that she sleeps right through his words. He's uncertain what he's apologizing for. All of it, maybe. For pulling her into his world, because it has caused her so much pain and she has lost so much. But he's also apologizing for the things yet to come.

No one goes through the things he has gone through and ends up as a sane, reliable grown-up. He is always tainted with the mess he's gone through and he leaves a mess behind. Sooner or later he hurts the people he loves the most. And though he has already brought more pain on Scully than he wants to think about, he fears there is more to come at the end of this new life of theirs.

"So sorry, Scully," he sighs and nuzzles the top of her head.