Just something short I wrote after I started wondering how Mulder found out about Scully's cancer going into remission! Post Redux II.

Fox Mulder felt exhausted beyond words as he walked into the hospital following the hearing at FBI Headquarters for the murder of the man in his apartment. The movement almost a muscle memory now, Mulder pressed the button for the elevator without even really seeing what he was doing, lost as he was in his thoughts. Despite walking away free of a murder charge, he felt only a murky sense of relief, overshadowed by the bitter anger he had for the people who had sought to destroy him for years through Scully. Though he didn't put the cancer there himself, there was a part of him that persistently felt that he was to blame for her suffering; not just now, but, as her brother had said, in her abduction and the loss of her sister as well. If he hadn't pulled her into his quest for truth, she wouldn't have gone through half of what she had. It didn't matter what his intentions were, or that he broke in to the Department of Defense in an attempt to find a cure for her; it didn't change the fact that she crept closer toward death every day.

The elevator was shockingly empty when it opened in front of Mulder. Stepping in, he leaned against the far wall with a heavy sigh and closed his eyes. A headache throbbed between his eyes, and the smell of antiseptic was already strong in his nose, but he wanted nothing more than to be at Scully's side. God knew that every time he left her bedside could be the last. No clasp of their hands or kisses to her cheek could change that.

As he stepped out of the elevator onto her floor, he saw her doctor leaving her room down the hall. Too far away to see his expression, all Mulder could see was the way the man shoved his hands into his lab coat pockets and walked briskly away from the room.

Time seemed to stop for a sickening, horrifying moment. Mulder paused in his movement toward her room as the lights suddenly seemed blinding, the smell of antiseptic dizzying. There was a ringing in his ears. What kind of news had the doctor just delivered to his partner? A prognosis of days? Hours? The fear in his chest and throat was suffocating, and it took everything in him to keep standing upright.

Mulder forced a steadying breath into his lungs. The lights stopped glaring quite so brightly and the noises around him no longer sounded as if they were muffled by water. With another breath, his vision cleared. Although his fingers still shook at his sides, he stepped forward and continued on his way to her room.

He paused once more outside her room with one hand on the doorknob. Taking a moment to compose himself, he closed his eyes and leaned his head against the cool wood of the door. Once he opened it, he knew there would be no turning back. A definitive timer would be set for her life, and he didn't know how he would bear it.

But he had to be strong. He had to put on a brave face, at least for her. It would only hurt her more to know how painful this was for him.

He opened his eyes and pushed open the door.

Scully was hunched forward in the bed, a hand pressed to her mouth. Her blue eyes were wide as she stared, unseeingly, at the blanket in front of her. Beside her, her mother was in tears, both hands clasping Dana's free one.

At the sound of the door, Mrs. Scully looked up and met Mulder's eyes. At their contact, she gave a wobbly, watery smile before rising and moving from the room. As she passed him, she squeezed his arm with a shaking hand. But she spoke no words as she closed the door behind her.

Once more, Mulder felt the world tilt around him. Keep it together, keep it together, he thought to himself as he slowly approached the bed. His mouth was dry and there was a rushing in his ears. He wasn't ready to hear it, he wasn't ready to lose her, he wasn't ready for a last kiss on the cheek goodbye. He wanted more, so much more.

But he forced himself forward until he was close enough to sit on the edge of the bed. Scully finally looked up as the mattress shifted, and the sight of her fractured his heart in a million places. She looked so pale and gaunt, the dark skin beneath her eyes in stark contrast to the pallor of her skin.

"Mulder?" Confusion laced her tone. "You're here?" Her gaze, which had seemed a bit distant and dazed when he first came in, seemed to focus as she realized what his presence meant. "What happened?"

"I followed my gut, called out Section Chief Blevins." Mulder pressed a kiss softly to her knuckles, gaze cast downward. "They dismissed me from the room pretty quickly after I did. They said that in light of such a serious accusation, and in consideration of the apparently unsanctioned surveillance of me and my apartment, this entire matter needed to be reviewed at a separate time with the care and investigation that such a crime would warrant."

"Mulder, that—that's great, they're dismissing the murder charge—"

Her voice trailed off as he ducked his head, pressing his forehead to her fingers.

"It doesn't mean a damn thing, though, Scully," he rasped, unable to meet her eyes. For all the intent he had had not to break down in front of her, there he was, doing just that. "Blevins, the Cigarette Smoking Man, and who knows how many other people—they've evaded justice for so long, who's to say they won't slip away again? And in the end, you'll still be—" His voice choked off with a sob, and he turned her hand to press a kiss to her palm. She felt tears against her skin.

"Mulder—"

"I'm so sorry, Scully. So sorry." Soft sobs shook his chest and a piece of hair dropped down to cover the wetness in his eyes.

"Mulder, look at me. Please."

With a ragged breath, he lifted his eyes to her face. He didn't dare to hope for forgiveness; he didn't deserve it, and he would tell her as much. Maybe he expected her resolute strength, or her quiet faith, if anything positive for him was to be found in her eyes at all.

What he found instead was a smile. A happy, bewildered smile that lit her blue eyes and made her pale skin seem to glow.

"S-Scully?" he asked, something beginning to loosen in his chest. Did he dare think…?

"I don't know how, Mulder—there's no scientific reasoning for it, no basis, no evidence for why, but my cancer…it's gone into remission." She reached over to rest her free hand against his cheek, her thumb brushing away a streak of tears. "They want to keep me another night to be sure, but I get to go home. Alive."

For a long moment, all he could do was stare at her uncomprehendingly. Could this be yet another deception? Another lie that would be ripped away at the cruelest possible moment? But yet, against all reason, he hoped. In all his years of searching and digging for hidden truths, he had never wanted to believe a story more. "Are…are you sure?" he asked, voice hoarse.

"Yes, Mulder. They ran the tests multiple times, and I looked at each of the results."

With a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh, Mulder shifted and took Scully into his arms, holding onto her as tightly as he dared with the lingering frailty of her body. Almost immediately, she reached her arms around to embrace him back. He could feel the breath rising and falling from her body as she breathed, and it was enough to bring fresh tears—those of relief—to his eyes. He pressed a kiss to her hair and laid his cheek on the top of her head. Despite the days and days of her being stuck in the hospital, her distinctly Scully smell wafted into his nose beneath layers of antiseptic. He closed his eyes and breathed it in deeply.

"You're still here. You're still here." His murmurs of amazement, spoken more to himself like a mantra to help him believe, of course reached her ears.

She pressed him a little closer, her cheek against his now-rumpled shirt. "I'm here, Mulder," was her reply. "I'm still here."