Author's notes: As much as I love this story, all good things must come to an end. So here it is, the final installment. Enjoy!

Knocking on Heaven's Door

Chapter Eleven

Part 1.

Mulder rubbed his hands over his face, trying to cope with the thought that Scully was probably not going to make it. They were still in the ambulance, and the EMT's had out the paddles they used in desperate attempts to shock people back to life. Mulder wasn't sure how often that really worked, but he knew Scully had not been breathing for over ten minutes now, and the chances of her coming back now were very slim.

He wiped away tears as he thought of all the things he wished he had said. Why had he been so mean? He knew that it was because he loved her so much, but did she know that? Why couldn't he just say it to her? Now she would never know.

He tried to toughen up, to steel his mind and accept that he would have to go on without her. Just another loss in his life—he had been through this before and lived through it. But somehow, it was harder to accept when it was Scully. She was more than just another person he loved. Sometimes she was the one who held him together. Sometimes when things got hard, just the thought of her locks of red hair folding perfectly around her inquisitive face helped him to make it through. The hole he was feeling in his heart right now was unbearable, like a chunk of himself had gone missing.

Then he heard a cough, and he looked up to see the slightest movement of her head, and wept openly while stroking her face. "I don't believe it…we have a pulse," the technician said in amazement.

Mulder smiled, and clutched a tuft of her hair. "Thank God…Scully, thank God you're back."

Part 2.

'Oh God, why did I have to come back here?' Scully agonized, as she felt every nerve ending flare up in an electrical overload. It literally hurt to breathe, and she had to wiggle her toes to make sure that there was at least one part of her body that was not in pain.

But all of the misery was worth it when she opened her eyes and saw Mulder's sobbing, smiling face staring down at her. The gentle fingers he used to stroke her hair were the only contrast to the stark, aching hardness contained in the rest of her body, but it was this one soothing bit of contact that helped her know that she would be okay, that she could tolerate the limits of human suffering if her reward was more of his soft touch.

Part 3.

Mulder leaned in to hear something that Scully was whispering to him. "Pain…meds…please," she said.

Mulder noticed for the first time that her hand, which had been cold, was now warm but trembling. One finger was swollen and bent out of place, but she did not complain that he was holding her hand. He asked a technician if he could get her something, and the tech took a break from working on her to comply. Once the drugs passed through the IV, her face softened in relief.

Like a car being repaired, the medical personnel in the ambulance and at the hospital worked on each part of Scully until she was pieced together again. She had to have surgery to repair the hole in her lung. When he saw her again, much of her body was bandaged, including her head.

In her hospital room after the surgery, she opened her eyes to find Mulder there, and she smiled for the first time since she came back to life. Her voice was cracked and barely audible, but she managed to croak, "You have no idea how lucky you are."

He stared at her, puzzled. He had no idea what she meant—if anyone was lucky, it was her, for being alive right now. But he figured she must be delirious from the anesthesia still, and smiled back at her, acting as if she was making sense. "Just rest, Scully," he said, hoping she did not overwork her injured lungs.

She seemed so fragile—the doctors said she had suffered a concussion, two broken ribs, a broken finger, knife wounds to her chest, and numerous cigarette burns on her arms. It was hard to believe that just yesterday she was in perfect health. He guessed her survival was a testament to the resilience of the human body. But he also knew that it was a testament to something else—her own inner strength and courage. He liked to think that another woman subjected to the same torture might not have had the will to live in the end. That was his Scully—she was a fighter.

Scully slept through much of the next few days, and Mulder used that time to brood in his own unique blend of emotions. Much of the time, he felt guilt for not taking action quicker, although it was ironic that he had felt guilty before for meddling too much. But he felt guilt for other things, as well—mainly because of the way he had treated her before she went to see Ed. If he had not driven her away…well, he could not live with himself if he dwelled on that line of thinking.

One day he entered her room with a colorful arrangement of flowers held by an adorable teddy bear. She was sitting up in bed this time, and smiling. "Ah, that's sweet, Mulder," she said, her voice back to normal.

Mulder beamed back at her. "You look like you're feeling better."

He couldn't help noticing that her eyes seemed to be twinkling. "Yeah…my ribs are still sore, but the rest of me is better."

He sat down on the edge of her bed, and they spent a few long moments staring at each other in silence. He wondered if she was thinking the same thing as him—how fortunate they were to be sitting here enjoying each other's company right now. He soaked up her energy and enjoyed the tingles he felt when absorbing it into his own.

He took a deep breath and looked down to find her hand and gingerly place it in his own. This was the same hand that, merely days before, had been lifeless and cold to the touch. Now the injured finger was bandaged, but it was warm and soft, and he marveled at that miracle before he began to speak. "Scully," he said, and looked up to meet her eyes. The words were suddenly difficult to retrieve. "When I thought I lost you…" He choked back tears and continued, "And over the last few days...I had a lot of time to think. I wish I could make up to you the fact that I never said this before…I know you've been miserable, and you said it's not all about me, but I know I haven't been the best person-the best man-I could be lately."

Her face started to scrunch up into the expression he knew so well—the one where she was about to cry. He was afraid to add any additional stress to her recovering frame, but he continued anyway. "I just want to say..." He shook his head. "I'm so sorry. I don't know why I act the way I do sometimes, and I know that's no excuse. But I'm going to try and think about someone besides myself for once, because…" He looked down at her hand again, unable to say the words while looking her in the eye. "Because I love you."

He felt wetness on his face, and looked up to see that her face was not exactly dry either. Wiping an errant tear from her cheek, he said, "I love you so much…I don't know why I never admitted it to you…I don't even think I admitted it to myself. But I feel this sudden compulsion to show you exactly how strongly I feel about you." He shook his head again. "I won't let you slip away again."

He held his breath as he awaited her reaction. He was taking a real chance, because he had no idea how she felt about him. There may have been a time when she would have returned the sentiment, but since she started dating Ed, Mulder had felt nothing but coldness from her.

Crying, she answered his lingering question by nodding her head while saying, "I love you too Mulder. I tried to forget about you with Ed, but I don't think I ever did."

They both sat there silently weeping and smiling like idiots for a few moments, and then Mulder saw the opportunity to finally do what he really wanted to do—he started out by leaning in and gently wrapping his arms around her, so as to not hurt her. She did not complain, and did her best to return the gesture by putting her arms around him as well. He pulled away so that he could see her, and she confirmed with the desire in her eyes that she wanted more. He moved his head forward so that his lips tenderly pressed against hers, and began exploring that sumptuous mouth that had tempted him for so long.

Part 3.

Scully marveled at how the same lips that could spew out venom so readily in the past could now cause her to melt into a puddle right here in the middle of the hospital. Unlike Ed though, she felt confident that Mulder's promises would not disintegrate into escalated violence. Trust. That was the difference—years of trust that had developed between them, after fighting together and coming through numerous dangerous incidents with only each other to rely on.

Maybe this was a honeymoon period they were celebrating, walking on cloud nine because of the near-death experience that threatened to separate them for good in this life-time. And perhaps things would go back to the way they had before, and she would find herself miserable again in six months. But Scully felt a re-awakening of sorts, reinvigorated by her new appreciation for how fragile and fleeting life really was. She felt she could handle a few stray sarcastic remarks, after pulling through the most difficult, most painful experience of her life.

And now she knew that death was not the end, either. Sometimes over the last few days, she had felt her sister's presence beside her, and she did not question it as she would have previously. What she had seen was real—and she did not need to prove it to her rational mind this time. She did not know whether the loosening of her grip on the need for scientific proof was a permanent thing, but in the case of the afterlife, it was.

She found herself staring at Mulder's glowing face, wanting more and more and more. He knew what she was thinking, because he leaned in again, and kissed her, much deeper than before.

Part 4.

"Just tell me what it is, Mulder—this is too hard to do." She was trying to walk in heels down the stairs leading to their basement office—with Mulder's hand over her eyes.

"No no! That would spoil the surprise," he said, with a boyish glee in his voice. "Okay, now you can open them."

Scully's mouth popped open at the sight in front of her. "Mulder! I don't know what to say…" She turned to face him, and one of his eyebrows shot up in a look that meant she could thank him in other ways than with words. She grabbed ahold of him in a bear hug and said, "Thank you!" And then she pulled away far enough to kiss him hard on the lips, pressing her body into him at the same time.

"Maybe we could find a way to break it in," he said, picking her up in a moment of impulse and setting her down on her present—a beautiful executive desk, facing his, with a nameplate that read, "Dana Scully" prominently in the center, which he hastily swept away so that they could use the entire surface.

The End