Chapter Eleven:

March 3.
Carson City, Nevada
Motel
9:00 p.m.

Mulder reached for the pillow and adjusted it behind his head in an effort to get comfortable on the lumpy mattress, which constituted as his bed. It didn't work. In earnest he threw the pillow aside and quickly stood. Deciding that the small wooden chair by the window would do him justice, he headed in its direction and took a firm seat. Scully, who was talking on her cell phone, arched a brow as he passed. Giving her a weak smile he reached for the outdated magazine that rested on the table and flipped through the flimsy pages. Every once in awhile he would glance in Scully's direction in hopes that she would hurry up and finish her conversation then update him on the case. Maybe if he were persistent she would get the hint and get off the phone.

It worked.

With a snap she closed her cell and discarded it onto the bed. Placing her hands back onto the mattress she wiggled herself up so she sat on the end of the bed with her legs dangling off the side. Damn she really was short; he thought but didn't voice this, knowing Scully wouldn't think twice about pulling out her gun and shooting him. She gave him an indulgent look but remained silent allowing the suspense to kill him. Finally unable to take anymore, he shrugged his shoulders. "So what's going on?"

She brushed a few loosen strands of hair back into place and took a breath. "The labs are back." She spoke modestly. "It was determined that Sara died from cerebral hemorrhage; bleeding in the brain. It occurs when a cerebral blood vessel ruptures and blood seeps into the surrounding neural tissue and damages it. Due to the lack of oxygen in the brain she suffered a stroke. The operation on her brain killed her, Mulder."

He sighed and leaned back into his chair closing his eyes. "So the procedure that Dr. Keats preformed to absolve her cancer only resulted in her death?"

Scully shook her head in slight confusion. "That's just it. The labs show that Sara didn't have cancer. The procedure actually cured her."

His eyes narrowed for a moment. Something wasn't quite adding up. "Perhaps Sara never had cancer to begin with." Mulder stated as he leaned forward resting his elbows on his legs; a new theory was already taking formation.

She was silent only for a moment then promptly debunked his speculation. "I'm a doctor, Mulder. I saw Sara's medical records. She had a tumor in the brain much like mine."

He stood passively rubbing a loose hand over the muscles of his neck then walked over to the window. The sky was quite dark; only a few stars burnished the heavens. He wondered, only briefly, if stardust could expire. If it could fade away; its light only a distant reminder of all that it had been; all that it could have been. And then he thought of Scully. He thought of the cancer, which was invading her body, causing her to fade away, to expire. Her once light that filled him so often in life; now the only reminder of all that she had been—all that she could have been. He spoke softly, "Scully, if this true then Dr. Keats did cure Sara's cancer. She died from hemorrhaging of the brain, not a tumor. He was telling the truth. He was trying to save her."

Scully moved closer behind him. He could feel her presence, but did not turn to watch her. Instead he continued to stare out the window. She spoke to his back. "His intentions might have been well founded but he still played a role in her death." Her small fingers reached up and brushed along his shoulders causing him to shiver in the process. "I'm sorry, Mulder. I, ah, talked to the local police and Dr. Keats will be facing murder charges. He doesn't practice medicine anymore. He had no right to operate on her."

Mulder turned glancing over his right shoulder at her. "So our work here is done?"

Her eyes lowered to the floor; fixated by some invisible thread within the carpet. "I've already booked us a flight back to D.C. We leave tomorrow morning."

He turned back to the window crossing his arms against the panes of glass and rested his forehead along the flesh of his arms. "I was so certain, Scully." He acknowledged. "So damn certain that a cure for your cancer existed somewhere within this case."

"Wh—what?" She asked, surprised. Her hand gently squeezed his shoulder as she spoke. "Mulder, there is no cure for my cancer. And it certainly doesn't exist in the pages of some X-File. You have searched enough. What's happening to me, Mulder, it's not your fault."

He spun around taking hold of her shoulders with such a force that she moaned in surprise and quickly took a step back. Noting her response, he instantly loosened his grip, but did not let go. "It is my fault, Scully. Don't you see? It's because of me that this is happening to you."

She reached up cupping his jaw; her small fingers touching the stubble that resided there. He closed his eyes and instinctively leaned closer into her touch. "No, Mulder," she reinsured. "It's not your fault. Never your fault." Her lips brushed against his forehead then lowered subtly to rest upon his nose. Her hands braced his face as she parted to look up at him briefly. Then to his surprise her lips brushed against his. Soft at first, but when he complied parting his lips slightly; the kiss became more hungry and desperate. She brought her hands up locking them around his neck and he placed his around her small waist lifting her up off the ground.

He rotated their stance, turning slightly so her back could rest against the wall. In this position he was able to lift her leg; wrapping the limb around his hip. The slight arousal from the movement caused her to tilt her head up; leaving her neck vulnerable to his kisses. His lips assaulted the creamy flesh of her skin; leaving no area untouched. She tasted like sugar: sweet and addicting. And if she consumed him now it still wouldn't be enough.

He tilted his head slightly in effort to place kisses along her chin when the case folder on the table caught his attention. Cancer. She was dying from it. He shouldn't be doing this. He pulled back pushing her away. She moaned from the lost of contact. He rubbed his hand over his swollen lips. "What are we doing, Scully?"