Chapter 9

By the time Mulder had gotten across town to Scully's apartment building, it was close to eleven thirty. Try as he might to gather enough courage, he could not walk up to her apartment door, let alone out of his car. Sighing, he adjusted the rear view mirror so that he had a good view of his face. His weak, self-deprecating smile left on his face from his earlier self-pep talk, soon turned into a scowl as he caught his reflection.

To say the least, Mulder looked like hell. It was a wonder that the people in the park did not mistake him for a homeless man. Of course, I was not the only one in the park after ten o'clock. His hair was ridiculously disheveled, stuck to his head in some parts, while standing on end in others. He had forgotten to finger-brush his hair after he had gone swimming. His five o'clock shadow made him look dirty, and the sallow, hollow look in his eyes only reinforced that manner. The high chlorine concentration of the indoor pool gave a horrible, red tint to his already bloodshot eyes.

Knowing Scully and knowing himself, she would probably think that he had been drinking. He had to go home and take a shower. Anyway, he did not think that she would be exceptionally accepting to an apology made at midnight. She never did like his late night/early morning visits.

Twenty minutes later, a very emotionally exhausted Mulder trudged up the steps to his apartment on the fourth floor, ironically too lazy to take the elevator. He discarded his sweaty, dirty clothes as soon as he opened his apartment door, leaving a trail to his bathroom.

The pounding, hot water did wonders for his mood. By the time that he had gotten out of the shower, he felt more able to take on the task. As he sat down to tie his shoes, it hit him. He had no idea what to say to Scully. A simple "I'm sorry" seemed too trite. He sighed. He was at a complete loss.

He grabbed a pen and a yellow legal pad from his desk and made a list of everything that he wanted to correct.

It read:

Make Scully realize that I never blamed her.

Recognize her pain.

Show her my pain.

Take away her pain.

Let go of the pain.

Give her everything she deserves.

Regain our friendship.

Tell her how much I love her.

Mulder paused, staring at the last line he wrote. "Tell her how much I love her," he said aloud. "Whoa," he fell back into the worn cushions of his couch. This put a whole new spin on their relationship. It was one more thing to deal with.

Somewhere between this revelation and eight o'clock the next morning, Mulder fell asleep. With his head resting on the coffee table, sitting on the couch, Mulder was not in the most comfortable position. As streams of foreign sunlight poured through the slits, Mulder stirred.

Then he jerked awake. He was not supposed to fall asleep. He had wanted to go to her house first thing in the morning. Mulder squinted his eyes, trying to read the fuzzy face digital clock that sat on his little-used desk. It read 9:35 in neon green figures. He cursed under his breath. "The one time my insomnia fails me…"

Mulder brushed his teeth, threw on some clean clothes, and ran his hand through his hair before grabbing his keys and dashing out the door. He drove to her house in contemplative silence, glad that he had not forgotten the yellow pad of paper that now sat accusingly on the passenger seat. It almost dared him to reveal its precious contents to Scully. Mulder just subconsciously glared at the legal pad and continued down the tangling roads that led to her apartment. He pulled into the parking lot next to her apartment. Her car was nowhere to be seen.

Mulder trudged up the stairs, ironically too lazy to take the elevator. He knocked on the door. Once. Twice. "Scully?" Thrice. No response. "Scully, I'm coming in," Mulder warned, clumsily sticking the key into the lock. He opened the door and looked around the dimly lit living room. The Blockbuster bag lay where he had dropped it the night before.

After looking around the apartment, Mulder deftly concluded that Scully must have gone somewhere. He looked at his watch. It was only a few minutes after ten. He sat on her much cleaner, much nicer couch in defeat. He waited. She was probably just at…wherever she went on Sunday mornings. Mulder realized that he did not know what she did on this day of rest. That is, when Mulder let her rest and did not drag her to some crop circle that signified the middle of nowhere.

He made a note to ask her what she did on Sunday mornings.

Then he decided to wait for her to come back. She could not be gone too long, and she was bound to return sometime during the day, unless she went to her mother's house. Some force made Mulder's stomach drop, though he was not quite sure why. A dread filled his entire being, like…when had he felt this before?…like when his mother caught him doing something he knew better than to dare.

At some point, Mulder had begun to regard Mrs. Scully as a motherly figure. Mulder shook his head fiercely, ridding himself of the thought.

As if in agreement, his stomach growled. He remembered that he had exercised without eating. He was famished. He hoped that Scully had saved some of the Chinese food from last night. He grunted in satisfaction as he found the brown paper bag shoved haphazardly on the top shelf of Scully's refrigerator, but as he opened the bag and each of the subsequent boxes, he frowned. Scully had not even touched the food he brought. "Figures," he mumbled; it was just like Scully to forget to eat, much as Mulder himself did.

He grabbed the box of General Tso's Chicken and a small box of white rice. He grabbed a fork out of the right-hand drawer next to the fridge and made his way into the living room. Though he was not in the mood to watch television, he needed noise. He approached Scully's stereo system and pressed PLAY, not really caring what music blared out of the speakers. When it did begin, though, he was surprised to find himself listening to Aerosmith. He turned it low and reentered the kitchen, now bearing his food and the yellow legal pad. As he sat at Scully's kitchen table, he studied the pad in front of him. He rehearsed what to say.

At ten forty-five, Mulder was ready. He had finished his cold Chinese take-out and cleaned up the remnants of his meal, including the stray grains of rice that had undoubtedly fallen from his fork to the tabletop en route to his mouth. He knew exactly what he was going to say to her. He had stashed the yellow pad in his coat. Confidently, Mulder stood in front of Scully's front door, willing it to open. Five minutes he stood like this, grinning stupidly at the back of a door.

He frowned. This was not working. On a hunch, he dialed a not-so-familiar number. It rang once…twice… "Hello?"

********************************************************************************

After failing to determine the identity of the mysterious women in the balcony of St. Francis Xavier's Church, Scully left with wavering confidence…a woman on a mission. She drove to Mulder's apartment, easily shaving twenty minutes off the return trip. When she approached Mulder's door, though, her fist refused to obey her commands to make contact with the door. She sighed.

Dana had been in such a rush to get to his door that she never stopped to ponder that maybe he would not answer the door. She knocked twice and waited. She did not hear him shuffling to the door. She placed her head closer to the door. She could not hear the water running. A feeble "Mulder?" followed her fourth knock. She quietly slipped the key into the lock so not to wake him, though no part of Scully believed for an instant that he was sleeping, or even there.

Scully proved herself correct, though she wished he were there. The anticipation and anxiety of coming face to face with him and the horrible letdown drained her of all of her energy. She fell back into his sunken leather couch.

"I'll just sit here for fifteen minutes and then I'll go home. If he isn't here, he probably isn't ready to talk about this," she thought. She closed her eyes and groaned inwardly. The lack of sleep was quickly catching up to her. Her thoughts raced as her body slowed. She had no idea what to say to Mulder. Scully did not know whether she should reveal her "encounter" at the church.

She wondered if this was (forgive the cliché) the straw that broke the camel's back. After all they had fought against together- flukemen, a modern Dr. Frankenstein, garbage monsters, flesh-eating insects, Mexican goat-suckers, aliens, and God knows what else. Would something as everyday as mortality and natural death be the end of their relationship? "I hope he's okay," Scully said.

The shrill ringing of the telephone interrupted her thoughts. She wondered briefly whether she should pick up Mulder's phone. Who could it be? Frankly, she did not care. If Mulder asked her why she answered his phone, she would merely say she was waiting for him and hoped it was the Lone Gunmen. She picked it up on the third ring with a hesitant "Hello?" as she scrambled to pick up the Caller ID box, rotating it so that the light would hit it so that she could read the incoming caller's phone number. The batteries were dead.

*******************************************************************************

"Scully?" an equally hesitant voice replied.

She breathed the air she did not know she was holding in her lungs. "Where are you?"

"Uhm..at your apartment," Mulder fumbled.

"Well, I think we need to talk. Face to face," Scully said, her instinctive stiff telephone manner barely covering her discomfort.

Mulder did not reply.

"Mulder?"

"Yeah, we do. I'll come over there."

"No, I'll come over to my apartment," Scully replied. "It won't take me that long."

"Okay. Be careful," Mulder said quietly.

"I will."

"Bye, Scully."

"Bye, Mulder."

The tense situation either made Scully and Mulder forget their normal phone conversation-ending habits or resort to old, pre-FBI habits.

Scully arrived in thirty minutes. Since he had hung up the phone, Mulder had resumed his post in front of her entrance, smiling stupidly, fearfully, at the back of Scully's front door. As she opened the door, she jumped. "You scared me, I didn't know you'd be right there," Scully tried to cover her nervousness.

"Sorry."

They stood awkwardly for a moment, and then the both started towards Scully's couch simultaneously. Each sat at opposite sides of the couch. They were both silent for a moment.

"Mulder, I don't know where to begin," she whispered.

Mulder looked into her eyes. "I'm scared I'm losing you, Dana. We should be able to get through this."

Tears started pouring down Scully's face as she began to speak. Mulder reached for and held her hand in his own. She lowered her head, focusing on their hands rather than his face. "I don't understand what has happened. So many things have happened in the past few months, we haven't had time to catch up. I'm sorry for blowing up at you like that," she nervously glanced up to his face, "last night. I should never have said those things. They aren't true. I…I guess I was just angry and hurting and I wanted you to feel my pain. I know that's petty, and I'm sorry."

"Scully, Dana," Mulder searched out her eyes until they locked with his, "I know. I did the same thing to you. I guess I became bitter and resentful that…that you were shutting me out. I didn't realize that I was shutting you out as well, and my bitterness only made it worse."

Dana began to sob as Mulder enveloped her in his arms. "I….I've already…. lost my ….chance at mother-…hood. And…that hurt…a lot." She sighed and calmed herself down. "But what hurt the most. Was that I let you down." She paused. Her voice cracked as she continued, "I can't stand to disappoint you."

"No, no. You could never disappoint me."

They sat like that for a few minutes. "Never, Dana."

"Never," he repeated as he kissed her hair.

"I'm sorry I shut you out," she mumbled into his T-shirt.

"No more apologies. Everything's forgiven."

"Okay."

They were quiet. Scully mumbled something inaudible into his shirt.

"Hmm?"

"I love you, Mulder."

"I know. I love you, too."

"Are we gonna be okay?"

"I have no doubt."

XX THE END XX

********************************************************************************

a/n: DONE!!! DONE, DONE, DONE!!!!!!! Well, I hope you liked it as much as I LOVED writing it!! Please review. And I wanna write a sequel, but only if you want one!!!