I Seee You

Disclaimer: Mulder, Scully, Skinner, and other familiar characters are not mine. They belong to Fox, Chris Carter, 1013, and all of them. I don't take credit for inventing them, or for their history, just for manipulating them for fun.

Author's Note: I'm open to suggestions of where to go from here. It started out pretty easy, but… Anyway, any kind of feedback you can give me would be deeply appreciated. Some people have commented on the fact that I refer to Mulder as he & I, and I promise it will make sense later, just be patient… And as for how Mulder has changed, that's coming too, I'm just building… THANX!! Bye!

I See You PART I

Behind the darkness, something is moving. I cannot see it, but I can feel the air shift to accommodate its size, lifting particles and carrying them to me in the dirty smell of the dust of the city. Underneath, far weaker, I can smell the apple-scented lotion that you used on your hands every morning. I hear your boots, whispering on tiptoes across the kitchen tiles, tapping and shuffling cautiously on ceramic.

The rough wool blend of your suit rubs abrasively in the silence, and I picture your charcoal gray slacks and jacket and black ankle boots. There is a tiny voice in your breaths, raspy and sweet, masking pain and tears. For a brief moment, starlight catches a thin bright spring rain green and blackness in your eyes. Even you can see the glinting sparkle of the thin stream of light and glance about anxiously, fearing the presence of something conscious.

The gentle tapping ends as your boots sink into the plush, sea foam green carpet in your living room that you were going to have replaced in the spring. Here, there is enough dim light to see a silhouette of your thin, angular face and narrow nose. Your long, clean fingers touch the tips of your hair, just below your chin. In the faint light, the white starched blouse you are wearing almost glows with deep shadows at its seams, and there is dim highlight on your rounded abdomen. The rest of you remain a dim shape, eerily backlit in silvery white.

Near the stairs, you pause, resting your hand on the white square railing to listen. Past the stairs, down the hall, the bathroom fan is still blowing. You left in a hurry this morning, but now you are tired. You'll turn it off in the morning. But there's something else keeping you there at the bottom of the stairs when all you really want to do is put on some soft pajamas, crawl under your fuzzy white flannel sheets and blue and gold worn patchwork quilt, and fall asleep, leaving behind the heaviness, the darkness and the pain of the day, to slip back to the past where everything was okay. You can barely keep your eyes open, but there's something. You sigh, turning to go up the stairs, but again you stop, one hand extending up the rail. Outside, the wind presses against the windows until they cry out in protest. Startled, you hand drops from the rail and you search the shadows. You heard him, floating in on the waves of wind, that's why you couldn't go up.  With their movement, your eyes flicker and sparkle expectantly, as you inhale the clean, but faintly wood smoke tinted air, searching for traces of movement. But the darkness is dry, stale, and thick with loneliness and loss. You shake your head because you know better. You heard nothing and go heavily upstairs, dragging a train of memories and spirits. I can't keep silent a moment longer and clear my throat and step out of the shadows.

You jump, instantly drawing you gun and training it on my shadowed figure. Quickly I reach out and flip on the lights to allay your fears. For a moment longer you continue to aim the barrel of your gun at me before shakily returning it to its place. In the light, I can see the tears in your liquid blue eyes begin to pool and then slowly slip down your smooth, paling cheeks. Your coral-colored lips tremble slightly as you take a step towards me, but you stumble, forgetting that you are on the stairs. I cannot help but grin as you struggle to right yourself and then come flying down the stairs.

"Is it really you…?"

"It's me—"

"But I thought… I mean I…"

You stop a few feet short of me, just staring in amazement. I lift a hand to touch you and you jump back. Too much.

"Mulder, do you know where I just was?"

"My funeral."

"Then how…?"

You don't wait for me to answer, instead you throw your arms around me, weeping into my T-shirt, and cling to me desperately. You are so confused. Who can blame you? I have to grin as I hug you back, caressing your back.

"I'm fine, Scully. They could never get me."

Finally you manage a weak smile through your tears as you look up at me. I wipe a tear from your flushed cheek and lead you over to the couch. I sit down and pull you down next to me. You arms drift up my neck, in awe at the sight of me. Not even three hours ago you had watched them put the last of the dirt over my coffin and stood staring at my headstone thinking that this couldn't be. I couldn't be dead. You had stood on the freshly filled hole, your hand on your child, picturing a future without me. Who could blame you for being confused?

Sniffling and wiping at your tears, you stare up at me. You smile when you realize that I'm crying too. "Serves you right, you bastard."

"Got ya', Scully."

This laugh comes out along with a bit of a sneeze and immediately after you sniff inward. I pull you in closer and allow myself to smell your hair. Always so clean. But you have been in DC so there is still that smell of city and the subways and the grime of the atmosphere. But underneath I could still smell the herbal shampoo that you used. I placed a light kiss there, not wanting you to know.

"What happened, Mulder?"

"Wha'do you mean, Scully?"

"Who or what was in that coffin this afternoon?"

"I was."

"What?"

"You heard me, I was."

"Then, how…?"

"They exhumed me sometime around 10 PM. Grounds worker heard me screaming."

For the first time, you sit back and take a look at me. At my scars. They're still there, ugly and painful. Your fingers drift to the most visible, the ones on my cheeks, near my mouth. I moved my tongue to touch the insides of the scars on my cheeks and you jump in surprise. You can't believe what your seeing, you think it's a dream, that any moment now you're going to wake up and realize that I'm not really here. Inside you beg that this isn't a dream. You can see that my scars are terrible and you feel anger for whoever did this build inside you. You hand drops down but you continue to look into my eyes.

"So, you just…woke up?"

"Yeah. I guess. I don't really remember anything. I remember setting up equipment in the woods with Skinner and hearing something. I walked away and I saw this bright light. Then everything was dark and I was stuck inside the coffin."

I can the "Oh god" in your eyes. The horror and the fear. The emptiness of the last six months come rushing back to you. All that had happened, all that hadn't happened that should have.

"They called Skinner when they were exhuming me, and tried to call you at your apartment. Once they'd gotten me out, Skinner told me you were staying out here in his summer house. I asked him not to call and tell you so I could surprise you."

"He should have called. He knew…"

"I told him not to. I didn't want you stressing out and impatiently waiting while I made the long drive out here."

You nod, knowing it was better this way. When you look downward, it allows a single tear to escape the tension on the surface of your eye and drip down your cheek. I reach out and wipe it away, wanting to wipe away all the fear and pain that you've felt in the previous months. It's over but you can hardly believe it. You look up at me, my hand still on your cheek where your tear had been. The shimmer of your blue-green eyes sparkles in the light and you lean against my hand like a purring cat and grin ever so slightly.

The grin fades as you once again notice the scarring on my face and on my hands. They are faded and gray, but still the depth and extent of the wounds was still clearly obvious. You cannot stand the sight of the deep, dark circles under my eyes and the symmetrical gray circles and slashes which remain from my abduction. Though I've assured you I remember none of the pain, you still feel the anger inside, building as you reach out and touch the jagged indentations and swellings of the marks.

"Are there scars anywhere else?"

"All over, Scully."

The sympathy and longing overwhelm you for a moment as you caress my cheek, gently trying to sooth me. You want to tell me something. Something important as you search my eyes for it. There's something that I want to say too, but the tears in your eyes keep me silent.

"But let's not talk about that anymore." Pointedly, I look down at your rounding stomach. "Did you give up on your diet or is there something more here?"

You smile, wondering how things could be the same, after all this time, after all that had happened. You can't say it out loud yet, but it's there, in our eyes once we look up from your stomach.

"I'm due in two and half months."

"I'm very happy for you, Scully. I…I think I know how much this means to you. You're going to make a great mother."

We fall silent now and you pull out of my arms. You realize that you've been desperately clinging to me, and that you're drenched in sweat and tears and that you must look awful, not realizing that I don't care. Scooching back on the couch and away from me, you try to regain some semblance of composure as you continue to stare happily into my eyes.

"I can't believe it happened. It's just so unbelievable that I don't know what to say. I keep thinking I'm going to wake up and realize that I was imagining this whole thing. That you were here and that I wasn't pregnant and that I was going to walk into the office and find you throwing pencils at the ceiling and watching one of those videos that aren't yours."

I laugh, knowing you're right. That if I had been here, nothing would have changed. And you'd come in on the more boring mornings to just that. Now, as you lean back against the couch, sighing deeply, releasing some pent-up tension, my eyes are drawn from your flushed face to the curve of your neck, pale and smooth and my hand reaches out to stroke it.

Your head snaps up in surprise and you stare at me uncertainly. Is it there? You try to remember when you first started feeling it. Seven years ago. Unbelievable that it had been so long. And you hadn't said a word. But then, neither have I. Oh, once under the influence of powerful medication I spoke the words, but that did do enough to change things.

Seeing that it was simply a platonic gesture you lean back again and I satisfy myself with studying the curve of your jaw and throat, arched backward.

Your eyes drift closed and I wonder what you are picturing. Perhaps you're going back to New Years, when I kiss you at midnight. Or perhaps to when I lie in the hospital bed and whispered the words to you in my drugged state. Or perhaps it went back further. Or into dreams of passion and love. Or perhaps you were drifting forward, picturing your child and me and a happy home somewhere quiet. At the very least whatever you were picturing brought a faint smile to your lips as you drifted off to sleep.

I went to stand up, but the shift was enough to rouse you again and you snapped into an upright position.

"I'm sorry, Mulder, I didn't mean to drift off like that. I really want to talk to you, it's just been a really long day and…"

"It's all right, Scully. Why don't you lay down and get some sleep. It can wait til morning."

"No, it can't, Mulder. You're back from the dead. My god, if I'd let them perform an autopsy…"

"But you didn't. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. For that matter, I've got no where to go. It's over."

"But there's so much to tell you. So much has happened since you… Since you disappeared."

"Hope 'bout you just start telling me. If you fall asleep, you fall asleep, no hard feelings. Deal?"

"Deal."

"So what have you been doing since I left. I hope you haven't gone and met someone else."

I felt you twinge slightly at the mention. You lie down, with you head in my lap and I stroke your hair as you begin to talk.

"Well, after you left DC, I was working on something with the gunmen and I passed out. They took me to the hospital. They ran some tests and they determined that it was nothing more than morning sickness."

"It was that soon after I disappeared?"

"They treatments worked, Mulder."

"Oh… Oh my god. That's great. I'm glad I could help you."

"Anyway, after you disappeared, there was a massive search for you. A man named John Doggett was assigned to help me find you."

You body tensed as you told me this and I looked down at your eyes which were searching mine for my reaction. When I just continued to watch you, you continued.

"We searched. God, did we search. Do you have any idea how it was for me? How it was to know that you were missing and there was nothing I could do but wait?? Sure, we looked for you, but I knew you would be back until they were ready to let you come back."

"So you believe in aliens now, Scully?"

"Not necessarily. I just believe that whoever took these people, whoever took me and you, wasn't going to return you before they were ready. But something did change. With you gone, I felt the need to compensate for you absence. So whenever a case came up, I made a point to look at it like you would. To find the least scientific explanation. I was bad enough that I frightened Doggett. Poor man. He reminds me of myself seven years ago. Afraid to anything not scientific, not by the book. He follows FBI protocol to a 'T' and can't accept what cannot be supported by facts. And I think that scared the higher ups. That I was becoming you."

"Never."

"Yeah. Or I was trying to, anyway. I failed miserably I'm afraid."

Stroking your cheek, I whispered to you gently, "You could never fail miserably. You just approach it differently. You have your own, unique perspective. A mix of science and faith and observation. You simply changed slightly. You're having more faith in what you've seen, in what you've experienced, beginning to doubt science just a little bit, and admit that it too has limits of intelligence."

The combination of my words and my touch puts you at ease. The reality of these moments are setting in. Your eyes drift shut and I smile down at you.

"You know when you disappeared this time, I was sure it was real this time. I don't know why it was different. Perhaps because I was pregnant. Perhaps because they assigned me a new partner. Perhaps because there was no real suspect. There was no real place to begin looking. I don't know. But it was different. When we went to where they found the first returned abductee, I was prepared to find you dead. I prepared myself because it was easier. If we did find you alive, then it would be a pleasant surprise. I knew I was going to need a long time to get over you, Mulder. I needed a head start."

You pause for a long moment, drawing in a deep breath, feeling like the world was slipping away and that we were here together in some parallel universe. It couldn't be real.

"But you know the worst part, Mulder?"

"Hmmm?"

I gently stroke you hair again, grateful that your eyes remain closed because I can watch your soft features as you speak. "The worst part was that it didn't help. When I saw you… When I say you lying there… you know… I went crazy. I completely lost control. I was screaming and raving. I mean, you were DEAD, Mulder. Probably had been for at least a couple of days. Your skin was gray and cold. There was no pulse, no breath and you'd begun to get stiff. You were almost completely discolored. But it still wasn't real. It wasn't real. It wasn't re— "

You roll to the side slightly, raising your head to bury it in my stomach. I hug you as best I can from this position, feeling your silent sobs as they wracked your body with tremors. I didn't speak, allowing your tears to come, accepting them. I can never understand, so I must simply help you know reality.

It seems like hours before you body stops shaking and you slowly drift off to sleep. Gently I ease myself from under you, propping your head on a pillow. I pull the afghan from the chair next to the couch and drape it over you. I pull the chair up so that it faces you and settle into it to watch you as you sleep, peacefully.

I reach out and hold onto your hand, allowing myself to drift off to sleep.

END PART I

*************There is more coming, this is just all I could get typed in for the day. Anyway, I probably post about everyother day, sometime more frequently. There is a reason Mulder is both I and he. And  as for how he's different… Well, you'll just have to keep reading.