PRINCIPALS
Archive: Yes, please! Anywhere! If you could just let me know... I'd like to visit.
Spoilers: Oh, Lord, where to begin? Better beware of absolutely everything that's ever aired. I'm still working.
Rating: Ah, maybe a *slight* R for language.
Classification: MSR. Duh.
Summary: Just read it, *please*? I promise it gets pretty good. IMHO.
Disclaimer: Oh, boy, my first disclaimer and I'm bored already. They're not mine. Don't sue. I got nothin'.
Feedback: Does my dog bark at all hours of the night and wake me up? That's a yes, in case you're wondering. Flames will be used to give ol' CGB a light when next we meet...
PRINCIPALS
Shared joy is double joy; shared sorrow is half sorrow.
–Swedish Proverb
I.
October 21, 2000
Apartment of Dana Scully
2:00 AM
Even while Dana Scully didn't go to church as much as she used to, she still had an old book of hymns that she used to enjoy singing at home as much as during the services. And so she still did, though not often. She reveled in the fact that she'd been able to fool Mulder into thinking she couldn't sing back in the forest in Florida that one time when they'd escaped a team seminar. It wasn't good to have him know everything about her. But she did sing, and sang well, which was why when the mood struck her, she did not like to be interrupted. And tonight was the perfect time for it; pouring rain outside, candles burning inside… the phone rang. She glared at it, then picked it up.
"Scully." The only sound was ragged breathing, faint and far away. After traveling through God only knows how many phone lines, it was barely audible. She looked at the clock. It was two in the morning. "Hello? Who is—Mulder?" Who else? She just couldn't believe it took her so long to figure it out. And it sounded like he was in trouble. Scully blew out the candles quickly, then ran out into the storm.
After breaking what seemed like every traffic law possible, she reached his apartment. As she slid the key into the lock and pushed the door open, a strangled cry came from within. Her legs nearly got knocked out from under her as her gruesome doctor mind supplied her imagination with all sorts of wonderful scenarios she might walk in to find. And her heart was rebelling against all of it. He was ok. She knew it. What would she do if he wasn't?
Fox Mulder had long ago decided that his leather couch was more comfortable than any bed, and consequently slept there every night. Never mind that those dreams he kept having of a certain redhead continued to wake him stuck to the cushions with cold sweat, that didn't matter. The point was, he had no where else to sleep. Especially since his waterbed sprang a leak. Scully still didn't believe it had ever existed. But here he was, on the couch, clutching a pillow to his chest.
He was having a nightmare. Mulder's eyes were clenched shut and his back was already stuck to the couch with sweat… he looked miserable. His cell phone was off the hook and on the floor. Scully reached down and turned it off. He must have accidentally knocked it off the table and hit the speed dial number, on which she was the only number.
"No…" he moaned, grabbing the pillow even harder. "Scully…" Mulder's nails started to rip the fabric slightly. "Please—Scully…"
She straightened up, a bemused expression on her face, much like the one when she'd caught Sheila kissing Mulder in Kroner at the news studio. Maybe it wasn't a nightmare. Should she wake him up? Her first thought was that he was dreaming of her in a very non-platonic manner. Her eyes darkened to a as she thought of this, although it didn't seem odd; she'd had those kinds of dreams about Mulder many times. But if he was having a nightmare, her possible embarrassment came in second to his relief from pain.
Suddenly he jerked around, turning his back to her and nearly ripping the stuffing out of the pillow. His face was in such an expression of pain she felt her heart break. Enough was enough. Scully knelt down next to him, putting a hand on his arm. She felt his muscles contracting and bit her lip.
"Mulder." She tried softly. "Mulder, it's me." He didn't reply, and Scully felt her stomach clench and her hands grow cold. Mulder had always been a light sleeper—she'd never seen him like this before. "Mulder?"
"Don't!" he yelled, and she flinched back. But he wasn't awake. "If you lay one hand on Scully, then so help me God…" he gasped. Scully paled. Where was this coming from? She tried to wake him up once more.
"Mulder?" her hand returned to his arm. "Mulder, come on, wake up. Mulder!"
"Don't!" he whimpered, then stiffened. "No!" he sat up straight, eyes squeezed shut, breathing hard. A hand rose to wipe the sweat from his tortured face, then rested over his eyes so he couldn't look at the woman he knew was there, the woman he knew had saved him once again.
"Mulder?" she asked softly. He seemed not to hear her. "Mulder, it's me. Calm down. You were having a nightmare." God, I hope that was a nightmare. She thought dryly, then shook herself. This wasn't funny. "It's ok, I'm here. It's ok. Come on."
Slowly she eased herself up onto the couch where his head had been and wrapped her arms around him tight. After awhile, his breathing grew even and she removed her arms reluctantly. Mulder swung his legs down and leaned back against the cushions, looking at her.
"Mulder, these nightmares. How long have you been having them?"
"Since Donnie Pfaster came back, on and off." He confessed to his hands. She winced.
"How often?" he didn't answer. She took his hand in hers and forced him to look at her. "How often, Mulder?"
"It varies, uh… maybe once, twice a week?" he shrugged. "What are you doing here, Scully?"
"You called me when you were sleeping."
"I—did?" he stammered nervously.
"On the phone, Mulder." She said quickly, saving them both from embarrassment.
"Oh. Sorry I bothered you."
"And I—oh, Mulder. You didn't bother me. I don't want you to hesitate to call if you need help, ok?" she got up.
"Where're you going?"
"Home. Sleep. Work." She smiled faintly at him. "Try and get some rest, will you?"
"Yeah." He grinned sheepishly as she walked out, closing the door gently behind her, then locking it with her key.
Mulder fell sleep right after she left, and again began to dream. He was dirty and sore and his ankle felt as if it were severely sprained. Scully was in his arms, bleeding to death slowly from a bullet wound in her stomach. Dour voices floated around him as he felt her slipping away.
"It's the slowest and most painful way to die…"
"It doesn't look good at all…"
"There's just too much damage…"
"Mr. Mulder? I'm sorry…"
"We lost her."
Just like that. We lost her. We. Lost. Her. She's gone. Sorry, buddy, better luck next time. Game over for now.
Reload. It's over. We lost her. You lost her.
"No!" He sat up straight again, grabbing for his gun and holding it up in front of his mouth. Sure death. It was pure insanity. But if Scully were dead, what did he have to live for?
No. His subconscious berated him. It was just a nightmare. Scully's alive. But you'd better get to her before you do something stupid. Again.
The gun still glistening invitingly, though, and he was having a hard time putting it down. Who would miss him, anyway?
No! His subconscious yelled at him. You're suicidal, not thinking straight. Get out of here. Get some help.
Get Scully.
With a giant burst of willpower, he dropped the gun and raced out the door. The last thing he saw on the way to his car was the truck bearing down on him. Then there was heat, intense heat, and at last merciful darkness.
***
October 22, 2000
Bethesda Memorial Hospital
11:00 PM
"Mulder. Mulder, it's me. Can you hear me?"
"Damn." He groaned, opening first one eye, then the other. "Who super-glued my eyelids?" He knew he was in a hospital; he could smell it. But something was wrong. "Scully?"
"Yeah?" her voice came from somewhere on his left and he spun his head around, only to stare blankly at her.
"Mulder, what's wrong?"
"I can't see you. I can't—I can't see, Scully, what happened?"
She was just thankful they were alone and he, if he was serious, couldn't see her tears. Half of her wanted him to crack a wise-ass smile and proclaim he was joking. The smile didn't come. Neither did the proclamation.
"There was an accident. You—you were hit by a truck and suffered a massive concussion. The blindness must be a result of that."
"Must be?" Mulder began to really panic. Scully was supposed to be the rock, the strong one. If she didn't know for sure what was going on, who would?
"I'm sure it's only temporary, Mulder."
"Scully…" his composure slipped for a moment as he reached wildly for her hand until he found it. Tugging at her arm until he could feel her standing right by him, he begged. "Take me home."
"Mulder…"
"Please. I need you to get me out of here." He squeezed her hand even tighter, pleading with his sightless eyes. Scully saw his gaze and followed it to her chest, then caught her breath. If Mulder was looking there and not making a crack of some sort, he definitely couldn't see. This was not good at all. Scully wiped her eyes quickly with her free hand and tried to steady her voice.
"Ok. Fine. I'll be right back." A few minutes later, he heard two people walking toward him and turned his head wildly. It could be anyone.
"Scully?" he asked frantically, then berated himself mentally for showing weakness. Smokey and the gang would be laughing their heads off if it was them.
"I'm right here, Mulder." She assured him. He heard the squeaky wheels of a wheelchair running across the linoleum and gagged. He hated those things. Then the doctor was trying to pull him out of bed, into his seat. He yanked his hand away, but knew he couldn't do it himself.
"Mulder." Scully slid her hand into his and pulled him to his feet. "I won't let you fall. Trust me?"
"Always." Scully walked him two steps, turned him around, and started to sit him down. "Whoa." He reached down and felt air. Was it there?
"Trust me, Mulder." She said softly, and he calmed down. Scully wouldn't let him get hurt. He sat down and felt her hand trail up his arm and over his shoulder reassuringly. She and the doctor exchanged some medical mumblings, and Scully started wheeling him to an elevator. Mulder reached back to take her hand and clasped it softly. She bit her lip. He was going to be ok. He had to be.
A gust of cold wind attacked them as the doors opened to a parking garage. He heard the car alarm chirp and felt Scully moving around to stand in front of him and open the door.
"Come on, Mulder." She took his arm and he got in the car. An orderly came and took the wheelchair back and Scully got in. "Does this mean I get to drive?"
"Oh, all right." He pretended to concede defeat. She smiled faintly and started the car.
The ride to Mulder's apartment was silent. Mulder was wishing for his vision back, so he could see Scully again. He remembered what she'd looked like after he kissed her in the hospital at the beginning of the year: slightly flushed, an almost divine light radiating out from under her skin. That had been one of the only times she hadn't stiffened or shied away when he draped an arm over her shoulder; no, she'd actually leaned into it a little, if memory served him. And boy, did it. He remembered falling through that woman's kitchen floor to encounter Henry Weems in Chicago. Ha. The look on her face earlier, when his 'hey, nice outfit!' caught her off-guard! And then the smile, that teasing smile when she played with his tie, telling him he would have to change his clothes before they left. It was almost as if she were flirting with him… nah. Then the magic trick. He pulled a quarter out of her nose. And then later, he still wondered how she'd done that rotating arm trick. He'd tried it at home later, and nearly gotten it twisted permanently. Now he envisioned the look she would've had if he actually did do it. Then his gentle smile relaxed a little as he thought of what happened then. Samantha's diary. He had been despairing, having read his little sister's diary (although not in the circumstances he would've like to (let's face it, it didn't involve threats of death by horrifying circumstances (though you couldn't really say there were many horrifying circumstances he hadn't seen yet (unless you count the ones only little sisters can inflict upon you (such as dumping nail polish in your hair while you sleep (which, incidentally, actually had happened to him once, and he was still deeply scarred (but what his little neighbor was doing in his apartment with his mother's pink nail polish had yet to be discovered (maybe aliens abducted him and put him there, but anyway… (Mulder realized he'd gotten off track and went on to what had happened after Samantha's diary (which turned out to be the first person shooter game.)))))))))) Oh, Scully. All decked out in battle gear, headed in to save his sorry ass. That's entertainment. Oh, he remembered all this, yes, but he wanted to continue to see it. Forever.
If she would put up with him forever.
Scully was trying not to think, and failing miserably. She had her own memories to shuffle through. She too remembered: Mulder, lying unconscious in the hospital while she told him about Africa. She still blamed herself for letting him go so far gone without being there for him. She was still a little sore that Diana Fowley had been the one who ultimately saved him, but then she shook her head quickly. That kind of thinking wouldn't get her anywhere. Then she turned to happier thoughts. Mulder leaning in to kiss her in the hospital after they rang in the New Millennium together. Never mind that it wasn't 2001 yet. Maybe there'd be another kiss in it for them. Definitely one her happiest memories. Huh. The ridiculous expression on his face when he fell through that woman's floor. 'Yeah, it's all right, my ass broke the fall!' How did she keep from laughing when he did that? She still didn't know. Her eyes watered, and she blinked quickly. Getting to hold him in his apartment after telling him the news of the autopsy on his mother. She'd hated to do that, but once she convinced him that she wasn't leaving him, he'd calmed down. Wonder what Skinner thought when he answered the door the next morning. Ah, forget him. Half the Bureau thinks we're sleeping together anyway. Oh, God. When he was narrating to that damn camera crew. How the hell were you supposed to get any work done with those morons hanging around behind you every two seconds? FPS, going into battle to save the Lone Gunmen. She twisted her mouth into a wry grin. First Person Shooter. Girl power.
Scully elected to take them to Mulder's apartment, thinking he'd be better off there; at least then he'd sort of know his way around the place. Maybe then he'd manage to not mortally wound himself today. When they reached the building, she got out—only to stare as her blind partner got out on his own and made his way up the stairs. As she followed, she heard him mumbling something under his breath.
"Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen…" he stopped in front of the elevator and felt the wall until he found the call button. "I used to count the number of steps it took me to get places." He said, almost to himself. "Guess it's come in handy."
"Guess so." The doors opened and Scully almost stepped forward, expecting Mulder's hand to palm the small of her back. But with bitter realization, she understood that might never happen again. She took his hand and led him in.
When they got into his apartment, Scully took his jacket and hung it with hers. She could hear Mulder stumbling to the couch. Biting her lip, she joined him.
"What happened, Mulder?" she asked gently. "Can you remember?"
He sighed. Confession time. "Right after you left last night—was it last night?"
"Yeah."
"Well, right after you left, I, uh…" he stared down at where his hands would be, fiddling with a button on his shirt. Then he closed his eyes, needing the security of knowing he wasn't seeing because he chose not to. "I had another nightmare. It scared the hell out of me, Scully, and when I woke up I was suicidal." He heard her suck in a breath and went on. "I had practically ate my gun before I realized what I was doing and went for help. And I just didn't pay attention to where I was going. I just… had to get away from that gun. I kept thinking 'why bother?', you know, and wondering if anyone would miss me."
"Don't you know I would?" her voice sounded strangely choked.
"But you weren't there. I had gotten you killed, Scully, and—" his hand held the side of her face, finding it completely by reflex. He was stunned to find it wet and slightly sticky. "Scully…" he breathed sorrowfully. "See, that's just it. I keep hurting you."
"Hurting me?" she whispered. "I'm so sorry, Mulder, I just wish you were ok."
"Hey, shared sorrow, Scully. We'll be ok." He hesitated, then removed his hand. "Is it late? I'm tired."
"It's almost midnight."
"Ok. Let me lay down." He felt her get up and stretched himself along the back of the couch. "Come here, Scully." He sensed her hesitation. "Look, there's not really anywhere else for you to sleep right now; remember, my waterbed sprung a leak? I had to get rid of it."
"I'll sleep on the floor, Mulder. I don't enjoy falling off couches in the middle of the night."
"Aw, come on, Scully. I'd catch you."
That's what I'm afraid of. She thought to herself dryly. "No thanks, Mulder. I'll sleep on the floor."
At first Mulder wanted to protest, but he'd learned long ago that only an extreme effort could change Scully's mind, and he didn't really think he was up to it. Maybe tomorrow.
As the previous night, Mulder fell asleep right away. Scully wandered into his bedroom and found a pillow. The room was large, but there was an empty space in the middle. She shook off a sudden feeling of déjà vu. There used to be something there. She'd seen it before. What was it?
"Waterbed." She mumbled. "Geez." She carried the pillow back into the living room and set it on the floor. Once she moved the coffee table over, there was plenty of room for her to lie down right next to the length of the couch. She listened carefully, but the only sound was her partner's steady breathing. Confident in knowing he was ok, she fell asleep.
***
October 23, 2000
Apartment of Fox Mulder
8:00 AM
The next morning, Scully was awakened by a sharp knock at the door. She pulled herself up and ran a hand through her hair quickly. I t was Skinner, and he did not look happy. She sighed wearily and opened the door.
"Agent Scully? What are you doing here?" he demanded.
"You weren't told?" she thought hard. Hadn't the hospital called him?
"Scully?" Mulder called from the couch. She bit her lip and closed her eyes. His vision wasn't back if he had to call to see where she was.
"I'm in here, Mulder. By the door."
"Someone here?" he got up, but Scully's pillow was still on the floor and he tripped. She was there to catch him before he hit the ground.
"Oh! Sorry, Mulder…"
Skinner stared as his rebel agent clung to Scully's arm and allowed her to lead him to a chair, where he sat and stared blankly at a wall.
"Who's here?" Mulder asked again.
"Skinner." Her soft voice replied.
"Shit."
"Agent Scully, what the hell is going on?"
"He can't see, sir." She said, standing up from her kneeling position in front of her partner. She faced her boss. "He's blind."
Skinner didn't leave for another half-hour. By then, Mulder was lying face down on the couch and Scully was sitting on the edge near him. He groaned faintly as he tried to sit up.
"Whoa, Mulder." Scully put a hand on his back. "God, you're so tense. Come on, just relax." She put her other hand near his shoulders and hesitated before beginning to massage the tension away. Slowly he began to relax as she eased away the tension. Heat radiated off his back and warmed her hands.
Stop it, stop it, and stop it right now. Scully thought frantically. She was almost relieved when Mulder spoke and saved her from herself—at least until she heard what he had to say.
"Scully? This is temporary, right?" he asked softly. It was the first sign of fear he'd shown her since all this started.
"It is, Mulder. It has to be." Scully stopped and stretched. "How does lunch sound?"
"It would sound great if I had something other than Spaghetti-O's in my kitchen."
Scully smiled. "I could go get something…" but she faltered.
"Yeah, and I'll take a shower."
"Mulder…"
"I'll be fine, Scully. If you could just put some clothes and a towel in there for me?…"
"Sure." She let out a long breath. "Ok, but I won't be gone long, so if you run into any trouble, I'll be right back."
"Yeah, Scully, you're just dying to help me out in the shower, aren't you?" he leered at the wall. Scully laughed softly, knowing all too well what he'd look like if he were looking at her.
Fifteen minutes later, Mulder stepped out of the shower and looked at the clothes Scully had left for him. He rejoiced in the fact that she'd left his favorite pair of jeans, then started. How did he know those were his favorite jeans?
Because he could see them. He dressed in record time, then grabbed his cell phone and cursed when he couldn't get the connection.
"Come on, come on, please." He tried again, dialing manually. Mulder almost did a happy dance when it went through, then prayed she had her phone with her.
"Scully." She did.
"Scully. I can see." He gasped.
"I'm on my way." She hung up and sped the last few blocks to his apartment. She hoped to God it was for good; Mulder didn't deserve this.
Why did everyone she loved get hurt? And once again she had an epiphany: the same one she'd had many times before. She was in love with Mulder. She didn't know when it happened, she didn't know how it happened… but it happened. But she knew she could not give in. There were rules. And besides, the X-Files didn't exactly afford either of them much free time. Imagine if they got married. They'd be chasing a suspect, each wondering if the other had left the oven on. No, this was definitely a bad idea. But even if Mulder could never know, she still loved him. And Scully knew she would do anything for him.
She would die for him.
She ran a red light.
When she walked in the door, she shut it behind herself quietly. Then she looked toward Mulder's living room and was treated to a sight she really didn't want to see.
Mulder was sitting in the chair, breathing rapidly, visibly straining to see. She'd been afraid of that. His vision was going again.
'Damn it.' He thought fiercely. He had to go and get Scully's hopes up, didn't he? Now what was he going to do? Scully watched as he finally let his shoulders sag and closed his eyes.
"Mulder?" She asked softly. If she startled him, he didn't show it.
"It's gone, Scully."
"Oh, Mulder…"
He got up and tried to tell where her voice was coming from. But as he stepped forward, he tripped over something. Then Scully's hand was wrapped around his arm, supporting him, leading him to the couch. "This way. Come on." She sat him down gently and took a seat next to him.
"What am I supposed to do now, Scully?" He leaned back and rubbed his thumb along the back of her hand. "What if this is permanent?"
"We'll figure something out." The intended use of the word 'we' wasn't lost on either of them.
Scully slept on the floor again that night.
***
October 24, 2000
Apartment of Fox Mulder
10:13 AM
"Mulder, I have to go somewhere today. I promised my niece I'd help her at her school choir practice. They've got a big concert coming up and I can't back out." The hell she couldn't. If Mulder even hinted that he might have needed her, she'd have dropped her previous engagements in seconds. She could've had a meeting with the president, and politics be damned. But it was time for some tough love; she had to start him off on his own. And it was killing her. If she thought this was best for him, she had to do it. "Will you be ok on your own?" Last chance, Mulder. If you say you're all right, I'm leaving and letting you prove it.
But he nodded. "Sure."
"And I'll take my cell phone if you need me; I'm sure you know where the speed dial button is by heart now, right?" Another nod. She had to get going. "Ok. All right." She got up. "I'll be at St. Catherine's, then. Be careful, Mulder. I'll be back as soon as I can." Well, she could give herself that much, at least.
And she was gone.
A half-hour later, Mulder was going insane. Finally, he did something he swore he'd never do. He called the Lone Gunmen for a ride. After carefully navigating the number pad with his fingers, he got their headquarters.
"Frohike, it's me. Turn the tape off."
A few minutes later, their 70's style van pulled up and Byers came to the door to lead him down to it. Once they found the school, Langly escorted him to the main office and they split. Suspicious of an elementary school. A Catholic elementary school. He loved those guys.
"Is Dana Scully here?" He asked, hoping there was someone in the room. A woman answered, elderly by the sound of her voice.
"Ms. Scully? Oh, yes, she's here for the choir. Come with me. She's in the chapel; they wanted to keep the first part of the performance a surprise." Mulder heard the secretary walking away and started to panic.
"Excuse me? Ma'am?" He grabbed at the counter. "Hello?"
"Mulder? What the hell--damn. I mean--" she gave the woman a look of apology. "Sorry. Mulder, what are you doing here?"
"Scully?" He turned around. "Where are you?"
"Turn to your right. Here." She took his arm and pulled him gently through the door. Scully walked through the halls slowly, always holding Mulder's hand while he trustingly went along. "How did you get here, Mulder?"
"Gunmen gave me a ride. I just had to get out of there."
"Another nightmare?"
"Yeah. Boredom." She smiled slightly. "I wish I could see you, Scully." He said quietly. "I'd have some reassurance that the world hasn't ended or something."
"No, it's still here. I'm still here."
"Will you be? I mean, now that I'm blind..." he stumbled over the word. "I can't work on the X-Files anymore, so what's to stop you from leaving? Getting a promotion? You could walk off into the sunset and live happily ever after." 'Say yes, Scully. Say yes and let me have the peace of mind that you're ok now, that I'm not ruining your life anymore...'
"No." She stopped walking and faced him. "Mulder, I could never leave you. Don't you know that? I never would've left you."
'Damn.' But then a faint haze appeared at the edges of Mulder's vision as she spoke. Thinks began to take shape.
"I mean, as long as we've worked together, I'm as close to you blind as I was when you could see. I meant what I said when I said we'd get through this together. I haven't changed my mind. And I never will. Ok?"
"Scully."
"Yeah?" There was something in his voice; something urgent. "What is it, Mulder?"
"I can see." He looked down at his partner joyfully as the last bits of smoke disappeared from the edges of his vision. Her eyes seemed to fill with tears, but she quickly blinked them back. She squeezed his hand and smiled up at him.
"Well, let's get you checked out."
***
October 24, 2000
Apartment of Fox Mulder
10:13 AM
A week later, Scully was back at Saint Catherine's program helping her niece's class. Mulder's vision was finally returned and all was back to normal. Except Mulder's sudden urge to tell Scully how much he loved her. He felt different now. In fact, he would even go so far as to say if he felt free after realizing Samantha was at peace, he was even more so now. That's how liberated he was.
He went once more to St. Catherine's, where Scully had again been banished to the chapel. He received directions from the secretary (who apologized profusely for not having realized he had been blind) and went straight there, only stopping when he came to hear a button pushed and a piano fill his ears. Mulder had never been one for classical music, but when it came to his partner, the only thing he could think was that classical music was slow music, and slow music led to slow dancing. He licked his lips nervously. Here goes.
He stepped around the corner and wasn't the least bit surprised to see his partner standing with her back to him, studying a piece of sheet music. Briefly he wondered exactly what Scully was doing to help with the program, then amended that there would be plenty of time later to ask stupid, meaningless questions. He really didn't care what she was doing there. She was there, and that was all that mattered. The piano still played in the background softly.
"Care to dance, Agent Scully?" He asked lowly, and she unknowingly mirrored Mulder's previously act, wetting her lips. The paper floated down to the pew she was standing in front of. Mulder approached her slowly and ran a hand up her arm, up her neck 'til it felt her face. Scully, still turned away from him, shivered at the intimate touch and allowed him to spin her around and hold her loosely in his arms. She started to look at the floor, but Mulder's hand caught her chin and lifted her gaze to his eyes.
"Does this remind anyone else of another position we've found ourselves in?" He questioned huskily as her hands started to rise to his neck.
"Were you wearing a baseball cap in this previous position?" she returned, startled at the gravelly tone in her voice.
"I might've been."
"Did I do this in this previous position?" She kissed his forehead softly, but didn't linger, then ran her hands down his face until her fingers grazed his lips. "Or this?"
"You might've. Were you thinking about kissing me then?"
Her eyes flashed for a second. "Am I now?"
Mulder breathed out quickly. "Yes. Now the question is this: are you going to?"
"No." She let her hands drop and Mulder released her face. Scully wished he would step away, and give her some space so her hormones wouldn't completely shut down all her Scully-zations that she had stocked up for this very situation. This could not happen. Oh, but he was standing right there... No, Scully. Be strong. He didn't move. "No, I'm not." She licked her lips again. Damn this man for driving her to a nervous habit that wasn't going to help at all when the weather got cold. She mentally added Chapstick to her shopping list, then cursed herself for thinking about that in this setting. "Mulder, you know we can't do this. We have the X-Files to think about, the guidelines..."
"Screw the guidelines."
"Skinner..."
"Screw him too."
"The Smoking Man..."
"Oh, definitely screw him."
"He could kill us both, Mulder."
"He hasn't yet. And I don't think--"
"But that's just it. We think. We think and we rationalize and we dodge every potentially dangerous situation that comes our way when it comes to our feelings. And--and I can't help but wonder if we should just follow our instincts."
"Follow? God, Scully, trying not to fall in love with you all this time has been against my instincts. Because it's too late. I'm already in love with you, and I can't rationalize that away." His eyes begged, pleaded with her to understand, but she closed her eyes and couldn't look at him. A small tear rolled down her face and Mulder closed his eyes as well, acknowledging the pain. He pulled her into his arms and one tear soaked into his shirt, but no more followed. Scully sighed into his shoulder and let him hold her.
"But I said--oh! I'm sorry, I..." a young woman walked in. Scully stepped away from her partner quickly, but felt as if she'd just torn off her arm. She turned away from the music teacher. "Dana, are you all right?"
"Yeah." Scully pretended she had something in her eye, wiping away the residue from her tears. She picked up the paper she'd been studying. "I'm fine." She started to leave.
"Scully." She stopped but didn't turn. "There's a case file at my apartment. I need you to look at it with me."
"I'll be there later." She said, and left him there. Good old Scully. Always the professional. If only that case file existed.
"Thou... shalt... not... bear false witness against thy neighbor!" Came a singsong voice loudly. Mulder spun around and saw an old priest come out from behind a curtain. The agent groaned. He wasn't going to have to sit through some kind of confession now, was he?
"Who are you, now?"
"What, can't a priest hang out in his own chapel?" The man started toward a pew, but banged his toe on the altar. "Ow... curses!" He muttered, hopping on one foot the rest of the way. "I don't know what it is about this place, but people are always in here, making out during recess and whatnot. And always the chapel! When I was their age, it was the custodian's closet." He stuck his nose in the air and flapped his robes about him before sitting primly in his chair. "I mean, I guess I should bust 'em all, but it's so cute, with their blushing and me yelling..." he jumped out of his chair and threw his arms out to the sides, yelling in a thunderous voice. "Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain!"
Mulder shifted his weight. "I don't believe in God."
"And I don't believe in aliens. But here we are."
"How do you know I believe in aliens?"
The priest widened his eyes and put a finger to his mouth, then rolled his eyes upwards and pointed to the ceiling. Then he giggled and plopped himself down in his chair again. "Park it, sonny."
Mulder found himself in one of the pews, assuming 'bench warmer' position: back hunched forward, forearms on knees, hands folded in front of him.
"What did you call me?"
"I called you sonny. What's it to ya?"
The agent scoffed. "Somehow, sir, I don't think I'm considered a 'sonny' anymore."
"Son, when you get to be 88 years old, everyone under 70 is a baby. Now come here, kid, I wanna show you something." He jumped up and practically skipped behind the curtain. When Mulder was too long in coming, he poked his head back out. "Hey. Kid. C'mon. I don't have all day."
"Yeah, yeah..." Mulder hauled himself to his feet and lifted a corner of the curtain to join the old priest. Inside was a tripod with a camera set up to film through a hole in the fabric. A small TV and VCR stood in the corner. "What is this?"
"Blackmail." The priest cackled cheerfully.
"Meaning?"
"I told you kids keep coming in here. I could prove it too, but I promised I wouldn't." he hopped over to the camera and pressed stop, then ejected the tape.
"Blackmail for what?"
The priest snorted. "Look at those windows, kid." He grabbed a tasseled rope, swung back and forth a few times for show, heaved upward, and yanked down. The curtain swung open and the priest jumped, throwing out an arm toward the windows. "Ta-da!"
Mulder stared. This guy was unreal. He was straight out of a Disney movie.
He was waiting.
"There's uh... glass?"
"An astute observation." He let the curtain fall. "What do you say when God sneezes?"
"Bl--oh."
"I'm not running a big operation here, sonny. I catch them, they clean, I keep their secrets. They get the tapes after they graduate. But you see the first answer isn't always the final one. She might change her mind."
How'd this conversation get to be about him and Scully?
"What--"
"Oops! Sorry, kid, time for me to go. Got a softball game."
"W--wait, one question." Mulder paused. "Are you always like this?"
"You mean, do I stand on my head when I say the Lord's prayer?" he grinned. "Only on Christmas." With that, he jumped, clicked his heels in the air, and ducked through the curtain. Mulder didn't hesitate to run after him, pushing through the heavy drapes.
"Hey--" the chapel was empty. Mulder sprinted to the door, looked down the hall, didn't see anyone. He checked his watch and groaned. He had to get back to his apartment before Scully did.
***
Apartment of Fox Mulder
4:00 PM
Scully hesitated before entering Mulder's apartment building. There was going to be some talking now. She doubted this case file existed outside her partner's 'beautiful mind', to quote herself. He'd forced her to be the strong one in the chapel, but if she broke down in his apartment, his ever-elusive fish were their only hope of being saved.
Problem was, she didn't want to be saved, which weakened her emotional immune system. And that scared her, because the only inoculation she could think of was Mulder. Only thing wrong with that was that her cure could eventually kill them both. She could be going to her death.
That didn't stop her.
Scully drew in a resolute breath and pulled open the door to the lobby. Her footsteps echoed through the open area as she walked toward the elevator. Sagging back against the rail, once inside, she closed her eyes and let that same resolute breath out. Then she looked in the mirror and started, slamming her fist on the emergency stop button.
Was this her?
She examined herself critically, starting at the bottom. Boots with rather high heels, but sturdy enough for her to run in covered mostly with black pants. Silk black pullover, black jacket... her mind drifted to Chicago. 'Hey, nice outfit!' Mulder.
Scully looked again at herself and saw only the soulful blue eyes of a woman in love. Damn. She was in big trouble.
Did she always have that look? Had she given away her darkest secret long ago? She contemplated this and let the elevator continue its journey upward.
She knew she must have gotten that expression in her eyes at least a few times around Mulder in the past seven years--but had he noticed?
Ding.
Little late to be thinking about it now, doncha think? But turning back was not an option. She'd told him she was coming and dammit...
Scully knocked on the door.
"It's open!" Came from within.
"Guess I don't have to say 'Mulder, it's me.'" She muttered, and pushed the door open.
Mulder was lying on the couch, looking at the ceiling, arms folded under his head. They had fallen asleep a long while ago, but he didn't particularly care. Now, though, when Scully was here, he wanted to have control over himself, and if his arms were numb with pins and needles, he might not be able to catch her if she tried to run. Shit. She might run. But he had to tell her.
"I don't have a file here, Scully."
"I know."
She knows and she came. Good sign, right? He stood and faced her, three feet away. Scully came forward slowly, stood directly in front of him, reached up to touch his face...
And peeled off a post-it that read 'Hi Foxie, call me.' She raised an eyebrow and held it up. Mulder snatched it, crumpled it, and threw it at the garbage. Ask me if I'm humiliated.
"Damn neighbor. Say 'hi' to the girl and you're stuck with her for life." He turned back to his partner. "What do you say when God sneezes, Scully?"
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"It's relevant."
"To what?"
"Would you just answer the question, Scully? What do you say when God sneezes?"
"Bless--" she stopped herself. Damn you, Mulder, this is not time for jokes. But he wasn't joking. He stepped even closer.
"You want to stay with that answer, Scully?" his voice was husky. "Sometimes the first answer isn't the right one."
"Oh, Mulder..." she shook her head and looked at his feet. "I told you."
"You, Scully, focussed on nothing but the negative. I think if you'd let this happen, you might surprise yourself."
"We can't, Mulder." Her voice was choked. "Please. Think of Samantha--" her eyes widened. "Is that what brought this on?"
"Nothing brought it on, Scully. It had to happen sooner or later, or I would wind up going insane--more insane." He corrected himself wryly, but grew serious again. "I couldn't stand it any longer. Why can't you just--"
"Damn it, Mulder." She said tiredly. "What do you want me to say? Do you want me to give you more rationalizations? More explanations why we can't let this happen? I've given you all of them, and if that's not enough to convince you, I don't know what to do." Her voice broke, but she went on, daring the tears to fall. "I'm in love with you, Mulder, you think this is easy for me?"
Mulder saw the expression in her eyes turn to shock as she realized what she'd given up. Scully turned around and almost ran out the door. Wordlessly he chased her, catching her near the exit. He grabbed her wrist, and time seemed to stop.
She looked back at him, met his dark-eyed stare. They moved together as if it had been scripted, a seductive slow dance that was known only to them. In one fluid movement, she was in his arms, face buried in his chest. They stayed there for a few minutes, Mulder's arms around her back, Scully's arms around his neck. They unconsciously understood the significance of this embrace; it was as close as they'd ever let each other get ever before, even precluding the near-kiss so long ago before Mulder's little excursion to Antarctica.
"You think you could let go now?" he whispered. Her arms loosened and she moved back until only her hands rested at the back of his neck. He stopped her. "That's not what I meant."
"I know." Her tone matched his.
Slowly his head came down toward hers and their lips fused for just a few seconds. Mulder eased himself away slowly and she nearly whimpered at the loss. He gazed at her in wonder, amazed that something so simple could produce such an effect.
"God, Scully..." he gasped, and her grip on his neck tightened and she pulled him down, kissing him forcefully.
'Sunflower seeds.' She thought dimly. 'Why am I not surprised?' Mulder's hands had moved up to her head, cradling it so his mouth could slant over hers. His fingers wove a blazing trail through her hair, enflaming her through every fiber of her being. A jolt of electricity sparked and shocked her, then a squirming mass uncoiled in her stomach and warmed her body. She was losing control.
Mulder felt around cautiously with his tongue and groaned faintly when she responded. Ice queen indeed. Those bastards didn't know what they were talking about. He'd never dared to dream this might actually happen someday, but here they were. He was still afraid he'd screw it up, one way or another, but his body was moving way too fast for his liking. He was losing control.
Scully felt the wood of the wall at her back as she was backed up against it. Mulder wasn't stopping; hell, she didn't particularly want him to, but the air was growing stale in both of their mouths. She put a hand on his chest and tried to push, but couldn't get her muscles to obey her brain's signals. Finally, he stopped of his own accord, albeit reluctantly. He cleared his throat and stepped back a little, giving them both some room to breathe freely.
"God, Mulder..." she looked at the floor.
"What? Scully..." he started to move in, panicking. Was she trying to break away again? But she held up a hand. Then he noticed her faint smile as she looked up again. "What?"
"No one can know. Especially at the FBI. Skinner, CGB Spender, no one." Mulder nodded.
"Yeah, I know. Even if we have found Sam, I don't want to lose the X-Files, and I know you don't either." She nodded silently. "So... I give you my frat pin now?"
Scully looked down again, looked up. Now she was almost laughing.
"Can this be happening?" He understood.
"Hey. Shared joy, Scully. We'll be ok."
End Part I/??
Archive: Yes, please! Anywhere! If you could just let me know... I'd like to visit.
Spoilers: Oh, Lord, where to begin? Better beware of absolutely everything that's ever aired. I'm still working.
Rating: Ah, maybe a *slight* R for language.
Classification: MSR. Duh.
Summary: Just read it, *please*? I promise it gets pretty good. IMHO.
Disclaimer: Oh, boy, my first disclaimer and I'm bored already. They're not mine. Don't sue. I got nothin'.
Feedback: Does my dog bark at all hours of the night and wake me up? That's a yes, in case you're wondering. Flames will be used to give ol' CGB a light when next we meet...
PRINCIPALS
Shared joy is double joy; shared sorrow is half sorrow.
–Swedish Proverb
I.
October 21, 2000
Apartment of Dana Scully
2:00 AM
Even while Dana Scully didn't go to church as much as she used to, she still had an old book of hymns that she used to enjoy singing at home as much as during the services. And so she still did, though not often. She reveled in the fact that she'd been able to fool Mulder into thinking she couldn't sing back in the forest in Florida that one time when they'd escaped a team seminar. It wasn't good to have him know everything about her. But she did sing, and sang well, which was why when the mood struck her, she did not like to be interrupted. And tonight was the perfect time for it; pouring rain outside, candles burning inside… the phone rang. She glared at it, then picked it up.
"Scully." The only sound was ragged breathing, faint and far away. After traveling through God only knows how many phone lines, it was barely audible. She looked at the clock. It was two in the morning. "Hello? Who is—Mulder?" Who else? She just couldn't believe it took her so long to figure it out. And it sounded like he was in trouble. Scully blew out the candles quickly, then ran out into the storm.
After breaking what seemed like every traffic law possible, she reached his apartment. As she slid the key into the lock and pushed the door open, a strangled cry came from within. Her legs nearly got knocked out from under her as her gruesome doctor mind supplied her imagination with all sorts of wonderful scenarios she might walk in to find. And her heart was rebelling against all of it. He was ok. She knew it. What would she do if he wasn't?
Fox Mulder had long ago decided that his leather couch was more comfortable than any bed, and consequently slept there every night. Never mind that those dreams he kept having of a certain redhead continued to wake him stuck to the cushions with cold sweat, that didn't matter. The point was, he had no where else to sleep. Especially since his waterbed sprang a leak. Scully still didn't believe it had ever existed. But here he was, on the couch, clutching a pillow to his chest.
He was having a nightmare. Mulder's eyes were clenched shut and his back was already stuck to the couch with sweat… he looked miserable. His cell phone was off the hook and on the floor. Scully reached down and turned it off. He must have accidentally knocked it off the table and hit the speed dial number, on which she was the only number.
"No…" he moaned, grabbing the pillow even harder. "Scully…" Mulder's nails started to rip the fabric slightly. "Please—Scully…"
She straightened up, a bemused expression on her face, much like the one when she'd caught Sheila kissing Mulder in Kroner at the news studio. Maybe it wasn't a nightmare. Should she wake him up? Her first thought was that he was dreaming of her in a very non-platonic manner. Her eyes darkened to a as she thought of this, although it didn't seem odd; she'd had those kinds of dreams about Mulder many times. But if he was having a nightmare, her possible embarrassment came in second to his relief from pain.
Suddenly he jerked around, turning his back to her and nearly ripping the stuffing out of the pillow. His face was in such an expression of pain she felt her heart break. Enough was enough. Scully knelt down next to him, putting a hand on his arm. She felt his muscles contracting and bit her lip.
"Mulder." She tried softly. "Mulder, it's me." He didn't reply, and Scully felt her stomach clench and her hands grow cold. Mulder had always been a light sleeper—she'd never seen him like this before. "Mulder?"
"Don't!" he yelled, and she flinched back. But he wasn't awake. "If you lay one hand on Scully, then so help me God…" he gasped. Scully paled. Where was this coming from? She tried to wake him up once more.
"Mulder?" her hand returned to his arm. "Mulder, come on, wake up. Mulder!"
"Don't!" he whimpered, then stiffened. "No!" he sat up straight, eyes squeezed shut, breathing hard. A hand rose to wipe the sweat from his tortured face, then rested over his eyes so he couldn't look at the woman he knew was there, the woman he knew had saved him once again.
"Mulder?" she asked softly. He seemed not to hear her. "Mulder, it's me. Calm down. You were having a nightmare." God, I hope that was a nightmare. She thought dryly, then shook herself. This wasn't funny. "It's ok, I'm here. It's ok. Come on."
Slowly she eased herself up onto the couch where his head had been and wrapped her arms around him tight. After awhile, his breathing grew even and she removed her arms reluctantly. Mulder swung his legs down and leaned back against the cushions, looking at her.
"Mulder, these nightmares. How long have you been having them?"
"Since Donnie Pfaster came back, on and off." He confessed to his hands. She winced.
"How often?" he didn't answer. She took his hand in hers and forced him to look at her. "How often, Mulder?"
"It varies, uh… maybe once, twice a week?" he shrugged. "What are you doing here, Scully?"
"You called me when you were sleeping."
"I—did?" he stammered nervously.
"On the phone, Mulder." She said quickly, saving them both from embarrassment.
"Oh. Sorry I bothered you."
"And I—oh, Mulder. You didn't bother me. I don't want you to hesitate to call if you need help, ok?" she got up.
"Where're you going?"
"Home. Sleep. Work." She smiled faintly at him. "Try and get some rest, will you?"
"Yeah." He grinned sheepishly as she walked out, closing the door gently behind her, then locking it with her key.
Mulder fell sleep right after she left, and again began to dream. He was dirty and sore and his ankle felt as if it were severely sprained. Scully was in his arms, bleeding to death slowly from a bullet wound in her stomach. Dour voices floated around him as he felt her slipping away.
"It's the slowest and most painful way to die…"
"It doesn't look good at all…"
"There's just too much damage…"
"Mr. Mulder? I'm sorry…"
"We lost her."
Just like that. We lost her. We. Lost. Her. She's gone. Sorry, buddy, better luck next time. Game over for now.
Reload. It's over. We lost her. You lost her.
"No!" He sat up straight again, grabbing for his gun and holding it up in front of his mouth. Sure death. It was pure insanity. But if Scully were dead, what did he have to live for?
No. His subconscious berated him. It was just a nightmare. Scully's alive. But you'd better get to her before you do something stupid. Again.
The gun still glistening invitingly, though, and he was having a hard time putting it down. Who would miss him, anyway?
No! His subconscious yelled at him. You're suicidal, not thinking straight. Get out of here. Get some help.
Get Scully.
With a giant burst of willpower, he dropped the gun and raced out the door. The last thing he saw on the way to his car was the truck bearing down on him. Then there was heat, intense heat, and at last merciful darkness.
***
October 22, 2000
Bethesda Memorial Hospital
11:00 PM
"Mulder. Mulder, it's me. Can you hear me?"
"Damn." He groaned, opening first one eye, then the other. "Who super-glued my eyelids?" He knew he was in a hospital; he could smell it. But something was wrong. "Scully?"
"Yeah?" her voice came from somewhere on his left and he spun his head around, only to stare blankly at her.
"Mulder, what's wrong?"
"I can't see you. I can't—I can't see, Scully, what happened?"
She was just thankful they were alone and he, if he was serious, couldn't see her tears. Half of her wanted him to crack a wise-ass smile and proclaim he was joking. The smile didn't come. Neither did the proclamation.
"There was an accident. You—you were hit by a truck and suffered a massive concussion. The blindness must be a result of that."
"Must be?" Mulder began to really panic. Scully was supposed to be the rock, the strong one. If she didn't know for sure what was going on, who would?
"I'm sure it's only temporary, Mulder."
"Scully…" his composure slipped for a moment as he reached wildly for her hand until he found it. Tugging at her arm until he could feel her standing right by him, he begged. "Take me home."
"Mulder…"
"Please. I need you to get me out of here." He squeezed her hand even tighter, pleading with his sightless eyes. Scully saw his gaze and followed it to her chest, then caught her breath. If Mulder was looking there and not making a crack of some sort, he definitely couldn't see. This was not good at all. Scully wiped her eyes quickly with her free hand and tried to steady her voice.
"Ok. Fine. I'll be right back." A few minutes later, he heard two people walking toward him and turned his head wildly. It could be anyone.
"Scully?" he asked frantically, then berated himself mentally for showing weakness. Smokey and the gang would be laughing their heads off if it was them.
"I'm right here, Mulder." She assured him. He heard the squeaky wheels of a wheelchair running across the linoleum and gagged. He hated those things. Then the doctor was trying to pull him out of bed, into his seat. He yanked his hand away, but knew he couldn't do it himself.
"Mulder." Scully slid her hand into his and pulled him to his feet. "I won't let you fall. Trust me?"
"Always." Scully walked him two steps, turned him around, and started to sit him down. "Whoa." He reached down and felt air. Was it there?
"Trust me, Mulder." She said softly, and he calmed down. Scully wouldn't let him get hurt. He sat down and felt her hand trail up his arm and over his shoulder reassuringly. She and the doctor exchanged some medical mumblings, and Scully started wheeling him to an elevator. Mulder reached back to take her hand and clasped it softly. She bit her lip. He was going to be ok. He had to be.
A gust of cold wind attacked them as the doors opened to a parking garage. He heard the car alarm chirp and felt Scully moving around to stand in front of him and open the door.
"Come on, Mulder." She took his arm and he got in the car. An orderly came and took the wheelchair back and Scully got in. "Does this mean I get to drive?"
"Oh, all right." He pretended to concede defeat. She smiled faintly and started the car.
The ride to Mulder's apartment was silent. Mulder was wishing for his vision back, so he could see Scully again. He remembered what she'd looked like after he kissed her in the hospital at the beginning of the year: slightly flushed, an almost divine light radiating out from under her skin. That had been one of the only times she hadn't stiffened or shied away when he draped an arm over her shoulder; no, she'd actually leaned into it a little, if memory served him. And boy, did it. He remembered falling through that woman's kitchen floor to encounter Henry Weems in Chicago. Ha. The look on her face earlier, when his 'hey, nice outfit!' caught her off-guard! And then the smile, that teasing smile when she played with his tie, telling him he would have to change his clothes before they left. It was almost as if she were flirting with him… nah. Then the magic trick. He pulled a quarter out of her nose. And then later, he still wondered how she'd done that rotating arm trick. He'd tried it at home later, and nearly gotten it twisted permanently. Now he envisioned the look she would've had if he actually did do it. Then his gentle smile relaxed a little as he thought of what happened then. Samantha's diary. He had been despairing, having read his little sister's diary (although not in the circumstances he would've like to (let's face it, it didn't involve threats of death by horrifying circumstances (though you couldn't really say there were many horrifying circumstances he hadn't seen yet (unless you count the ones only little sisters can inflict upon you (such as dumping nail polish in your hair while you sleep (which, incidentally, actually had happened to him once, and he was still deeply scarred (but what his little neighbor was doing in his apartment with his mother's pink nail polish had yet to be discovered (maybe aliens abducted him and put him there, but anyway… (Mulder realized he'd gotten off track and went on to what had happened after Samantha's diary (which turned out to be the first person shooter game.)))))))))) Oh, Scully. All decked out in battle gear, headed in to save his sorry ass. That's entertainment. Oh, he remembered all this, yes, but he wanted to continue to see it. Forever.
If she would put up with him forever.
Scully was trying not to think, and failing miserably. She had her own memories to shuffle through. She too remembered: Mulder, lying unconscious in the hospital while she told him about Africa. She still blamed herself for letting him go so far gone without being there for him. She was still a little sore that Diana Fowley had been the one who ultimately saved him, but then she shook her head quickly. That kind of thinking wouldn't get her anywhere. Then she turned to happier thoughts. Mulder leaning in to kiss her in the hospital after they rang in the New Millennium together. Never mind that it wasn't 2001 yet. Maybe there'd be another kiss in it for them. Definitely one her happiest memories. Huh. The ridiculous expression on his face when he fell through that woman's floor. 'Yeah, it's all right, my ass broke the fall!' How did she keep from laughing when he did that? She still didn't know. Her eyes watered, and she blinked quickly. Getting to hold him in his apartment after telling him the news of the autopsy on his mother. She'd hated to do that, but once she convinced him that she wasn't leaving him, he'd calmed down. Wonder what Skinner thought when he answered the door the next morning. Ah, forget him. Half the Bureau thinks we're sleeping together anyway. Oh, God. When he was narrating to that damn camera crew. How the hell were you supposed to get any work done with those morons hanging around behind you every two seconds? FPS, going into battle to save the Lone Gunmen. She twisted her mouth into a wry grin. First Person Shooter. Girl power.
Scully elected to take them to Mulder's apartment, thinking he'd be better off there; at least then he'd sort of know his way around the place. Maybe then he'd manage to not mortally wound himself today. When they reached the building, she got out—only to stare as her blind partner got out on his own and made his way up the stairs. As she followed, she heard him mumbling something under his breath.
"Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen…" he stopped in front of the elevator and felt the wall until he found the call button. "I used to count the number of steps it took me to get places." He said, almost to himself. "Guess it's come in handy."
"Guess so." The doors opened and Scully almost stepped forward, expecting Mulder's hand to palm the small of her back. But with bitter realization, she understood that might never happen again. She took his hand and led him in.
When they got into his apartment, Scully took his jacket and hung it with hers. She could hear Mulder stumbling to the couch. Biting her lip, she joined him.
"What happened, Mulder?" she asked gently. "Can you remember?"
He sighed. Confession time. "Right after you left last night—was it last night?"
"Yeah."
"Well, right after you left, I, uh…" he stared down at where his hands would be, fiddling with a button on his shirt. Then he closed his eyes, needing the security of knowing he wasn't seeing because he chose not to. "I had another nightmare. It scared the hell out of me, Scully, and when I woke up I was suicidal." He heard her suck in a breath and went on. "I had practically ate my gun before I realized what I was doing and went for help. And I just didn't pay attention to where I was going. I just… had to get away from that gun. I kept thinking 'why bother?', you know, and wondering if anyone would miss me."
"Don't you know I would?" her voice sounded strangely choked.
"But you weren't there. I had gotten you killed, Scully, and—" his hand held the side of her face, finding it completely by reflex. He was stunned to find it wet and slightly sticky. "Scully…" he breathed sorrowfully. "See, that's just it. I keep hurting you."
"Hurting me?" she whispered. "I'm so sorry, Mulder, I just wish you were ok."
"Hey, shared sorrow, Scully. We'll be ok." He hesitated, then removed his hand. "Is it late? I'm tired."
"It's almost midnight."
"Ok. Let me lay down." He felt her get up and stretched himself along the back of the couch. "Come here, Scully." He sensed her hesitation. "Look, there's not really anywhere else for you to sleep right now; remember, my waterbed sprung a leak? I had to get rid of it."
"I'll sleep on the floor, Mulder. I don't enjoy falling off couches in the middle of the night."
"Aw, come on, Scully. I'd catch you."
That's what I'm afraid of. She thought to herself dryly. "No thanks, Mulder. I'll sleep on the floor."
At first Mulder wanted to protest, but he'd learned long ago that only an extreme effort could change Scully's mind, and he didn't really think he was up to it. Maybe tomorrow.
As the previous night, Mulder fell asleep right away. Scully wandered into his bedroom and found a pillow. The room was large, but there was an empty space in the middle. She shook off a sudden feeling of déjà vu. There used to be something there. She'd seen it before. What was it?
"Waterbed." She mumbled. "Geez." She carried the pillow back into the living room and set it on the floor. Once she moved the coffee table over, there was plenty of room for her to lie down right next to the length of the couch. She listened carefully, but the only sound was her partner's steady breathing. Confident in knowing he was ok, she fell asleep.
***
October 23, 2000
Apartment of Fox Mulder
8:00 AM
The next morning, Scully was awakened by a sharp knock at the door. She pulled herself up and ran a hand through her hair quickly. I t was Skinner, and he did not look happy. She sighed wearily and opened the door.
"Agent Scully? What are you doing here?" he demanded.
"You weren't told?" she thought hard. Hadn't the hospital called him?
"Scully?" Mulder called from the couch. She bit her lip and closed her eyes. His vision wasn't back if he had to call to see where she was.
"I'm in here, Mulder. By the door."
"Someone here?" he got up, but Scully's pillow was still on the floor and he tripped. She was there to catch him before he hit the ground.
"Oh! Sorry, Mulder…"
Skinner stared as his rebel agent clung to Scully's arm and allowed her to lead him to a chair, where he sat and stared blankly at a wall.
"Who's here?" Mulder asked again.
"Skinner." Her soft voice replied.
"Shit."
"Agent Scully, what the hell is going on?"
"He can't see, sir." She said, standing up from her kneeling position in front of her partner. She faced her boss. "He's blind."
Skinner didn't leave for another half-hour. By then, Mulder was lying face down on the couch and Scully was sitting on the edge near him. He groaned faintly as he tried to sit up.
"Whoa, Mulder." Scully put a hand on his back. "God, you're so tense. Come on, just relax." She put her other hand near his shoulders and hesitated before beginning to massage the tension away. Slowly he began to relax as she eased away the tension. Heat radiated off his back and warmed her hands.
Stop it, stop it, and stop it right now. Scully thought frantically. She was almost relieved when Mulder spoke and saved her from herself—at least until she heard what he had to say.
"Scully? This is temporary, right?" he asked softly. It was the first sign of fear he'd shown her since all this started.
"It is, Mulder. It has to be." Scully stopped and stretched. "How does lunch sound?"
"It would sound great if I had something other than Spaghetti-O's in my kitchen."
Scully smiled. "I could go get something…" but she faltered.
"Yeah, and I'll take a shower."
"Mulder…"
"I'll be fine, Scully. If you could just put some clothes and a towel in there for me?…"
"Sure." She let out a long breath. "Ok, but I won't be gone long, so if you run into any trouble, I'll be right back."
"Yeah, Scully, you're just dying to help me out in the shower, aren't you?" he leered at the wall. Scully laughed softly, knowing all too well what he'd look like if he were looking at her.
Fifteen minutes later, Mulder stepped out of the shower and looked at the clothes Scully had left for him. He rejoiced in the fact that she'd left his favorite pair of jeans, then started. How did he know those were his favorite jeans?
Because he could see them. He dressed in record time, then grabbed his cell phone and cursed when he couldn't get the connection.
"Come on, come on, please." He tried again, dialing manually. Mulder almost did a happy dance when it went through, then prayed she had her phone with her.
"Scully." She did.
"Scully. I can see." He gasped.
"I'm on my way." She hung up and sped the last few blocks to his apartment. She hoped to God it was for good; Mulder didn't deserve this.
Why did everyone she loved get hurt? And once again she had an epiphany: the same one she'd had many times before. She was in love with Mulder. She didn't know when it happened, she didn't know how it happened… but it happened. But she knew she could not give in. There were rules. And besides, the X-Files didn't exactly afford either of them much free time. Imagine if they got married. They'd be chasing a suspect, each wondering if the other had left the oven on. No, this was definitely a bad idea. But even if Mulder could never know, she still loved him. And Scully knew she would do anything for him.
She would die for him.
She ran a red light.
When she walked in the door, she shut it behind herself quietly. Then she looked toward Mulder's living room and was treated to a sight she really didn't want to see.
Mulder was sitting in the chair, breathing rapidly, visibly straining to see. She'd been afraid of that. His vision was going again.
'Damn it.' He thought fiercely. He had to go and get Scully's hopes up, didn't he? Now what was he going to do? Scully watched as he finally let his shoulders sag and closed his eyes.
"Mulder?" She asked softly. If she startled him, he didn't show it.
"It's gone, Scully."
"Oh, Mulder…"
He got up and tried to tell where her voice was coming from. But as he stepped forward, he tripped over something. Then Scully's hand was wrapped around his arm, supporting him, leading him to the couch. "This way. Come on." She sat him down gently and took a seat next to him.
"What am I supposed to do now, Scully?" He leaned back and rubbed his thumb along the back of her hand. "What if this is permanent?"
"We'll figure something out." The intended use of the word 'we' wasn't lost on either of them.
Scully slept on the floor again that night.
***
October 24, 2000
Apartment of Fox Mulder
10:13 AM
"Mulder, I have to go somewhere today. I promised my niece I'd help her at her school choir practice. They've got a big concert coming up and I can't back out." The hell she couldn't. If Mulder even hinted that he might have needed her, she'd have dropped her previous engagements in seconds. She could've had a meeting with the president, and politics be damned. But it was time for some tough love; she had to start him off on his own. And it was killing her. If she thought this was best for him, she had to do it. "Will you be ok on your own?" Last chance, Mulder. If you say you're all right, I'm leaving and letting you prove it.
But he nodded. "Sure."
"And I'll take my cell phone if you need me; I'm sure you know where the speed dial button is by heart now, right?" Another nod. She had to get going. "Ok. All right." She got up. "I'll be at St. Catherine's, then. Be careful, Mulder. I'll be back as soon as I can." Well, she could give herself that much, at least.
And she was gone.
A half-hour later, Mulder was going insane. Finally, he did something he swore he'd never do. He called the Lone Gunmen for a ride. After carefully navigating the number pad with his fingers, he got their headquarters.
"Frohike, it's me. Turn the tape off."
A few minutes later, their 70's style van pulled up and Byers came to the door to lead him down to it. Once they found the school, Langly escorted him to the main office and they split. Suspicious of an elementary school. A Catholic elementary school. He loved those guys.
"Is Dana Scully here?" He asked, hoping there was someone in the room. A woman answered, elderly by the sound of her voice.
"Ms. Scully? Oh, yes, she's here for the choir. Come with me. She's in the chapel; they wanted to keep the first part of the performance a surprise." Mulder heard the secretary walking away and started to panic.
"Excuse me? Ma'am?" He grabbed at the counter. "Hello?"
"Mulder? What the hell--damn. I mean--" she gave the woman a look of apology. "Sorry. Mulder, what are you doing here?"
"Scully?" He turned around. "Where are you?"
"Turn to your right. Here." She took his arm and pulled him gently through the door. Scully walked through the halls slowly, always holding Mulder's hand while he trustingly went along. "How did you get here, Mulder?"
"Gunmen gave me a ride. I just had to get out of there."
"Another nightmare?"
"Yeah. Boredom." She smiled slightly. "I wish I could see you, Scully." He said quietly. "I'd have some reassurance that the world hasn't ended or something."
"No, it's still here. I'm still here."
"Will you be? I mean, now that I'm blind..." he stumbled over the word. "I can't work on the X-Files anymore, so what's to stop you from leaving? Getting a promotion? You could walk off into the sunset and live happily ever after." 'Say yes, Scully. Say yes and let me have the peace of mind that you're ok now, that I'm not ruining your life anymore...'
"No." She stopped walking and faced him. "Mulder, I could never leave you. Don't you know that? I never would've left you."
'Damn.' But then a faint haze appeared at the edges of Mulder's vision as she spoke. Thinks began to take shape.
"I mean, as long as we've worked together, I'm as close to you blind as I was when you could see. I meant what I said when I said we'd get through this together. I haven't changed my mind. And I never will. Ok?"
"Scully."
"Yeah?" There was something in his voice; something urgent. "What is it, Mulder?"
"I can see." He looked down at his partner joyfully as the last bits of smoke disappeared from the edges of his vision. Her eyes seemed to fill with tears, but she quickly blinked them back. She squeezed his hand and smiled up at him.
"Well, let's get you checked out."
***
October 24, 2000
Apartment of Fox Mulder
10:13 AM
A week later, Scully was back at Saint Catherine's program helping her niece's class. Mulder's vision was finally returned and all was back to normal. Except Mulder's sudden urge to tell Scully how much he loved her. He felt different now. In fact, he would even go so far as to say if he felt free after realizing Samantha was at peace, he was even more so now. That's how liberated he was.
He went once more to St. Catherine's, where Scully had again been banished to the chapel. He received directions from the secretary (who apologized profusely for not having realized he had been blind) and went straight there, only stopping when he came to hear a button pushed and a piano fill his ears. Mulder had never been one for classical music, but when it came to his partner, the only thing he could think was that classical music was slow music, and slow music led to slow dancing. He licked his lips nervously. Here goes.
He stepped around the corner and wasn't the least bit surprised to see his partner standing with her back to him, studying a piece of sheet music. Briefly he wondered exactly what Scully was doing to help with the program, then amended that there would be plenty of time later to ask stupid, meaningless questions. He really didn't care what she was doing there. She was there, and that was all that mattered. The piano still played in the background softly.
"Care to dance, Agent Scully?" He asked lowly, and she unknowingly mirrored Mulder's previously act, wetting her lips. The paper floated down to the pew she was standing in front of. Mulder approached her slowly and ran a hand up her arm, up her neck 'til it felt her face. Scully, still turned away from him, shivered at the intimate touch and allowed him to spin her around and hold her loosely in his arms. She started to look at the floor, but Mulder's hand caught her chin and lifted her gaze to his eyes.
"Does this remind anyone else of another position we've found ourselves in?" He questioned huskily as her hands started to rise to his neck.
"Were you wearing a baseball cap in this previous position?" she returned, startled at the gravelly tone in her voice.
"I might've been."
"Did I do this in this previous position?" She kissed his forehead softly, but didn't linger, then ran her hands down his face until her fingers grazed his lips. "Or this?"
"You might've. Were you thinking about kissing me then?"
Her eyes flashed for a second. "Am I now?"
Mulder breathed out quickly. "Yes. Now the question is this: are you going to?"
"No." She let her hands drop and Mulder released her face. Scully wished he would step away, and give her some space so her hormones wouldn't completely shut down all her Scully-zations that she had stocked up for this very situation. This could not happen. Oh, but he was standing right there... No, Scully. Be strong. He didn't move. "No, I'm not." She licked her lips again. Damn this man for driving her to a nervous habit that wasn't going to help at all when the weather got cold. She mentally added Chapstick to her shopping list, then cursed herself for thinking about that in this setting. "Mulder, you know we can't do this. We have the X-Files to think about, the guidelines..."
"Screw the guidelines."
"Skinner..."
"Screw him too."
"The Smoking Man..."
"Oh, definitely screw him."
"He could kill us both, Mulder."
"He hasn't yet. And I don't think--"
"But that's just it. We think. We think and we rationalize and we dodge every potentially dangerous situation that comes our way when it comes to our feelings. And--and I can't help but wonder if we should just follow our instincts."
"Follow? God, Scully, trying not to fall in love with you all this time has been against my instincts. Because it's too late. I'm already in love with you, and I can't rationalize that away." His eyes begged, pleaded with her to understand, but she closed her eyes and couldn't look at him. A small tear rolled down her face and Mulder closed his eyes as well, acknowledging the pain. He pulled her into his arms and one tear soaked into his shirt, but no more followed. Scully sighed into his shoulder and let him hold her.
"But I said--oh! I'm sorry, I..." a young woman walked in. Scully stepped away from her partner quickly, but felt as if she'd just torn off her arm. She turned away from the music teacher. "Dana, are you all right?"
"Yeah." Scully pretended she had something in her eye, wiping away the residue from her tears. She picked up the paper she'd been studying. "I'm fine." She started to leave.
"Scully." She stopped but didn't turn. "There's a case file at my apartment. I need you to look at it with me."
"I'll be there later." She said, and left him there. Good old Scully. Always the professional. If only that case file existed.
"Thou... shalt... not... bear false witness against thy neighbor!" Came a singsong voice loudly. Mulder spun around and saw an old priest come out from behind a curtain. The agent groaned. He wasn't going to have to sit through some kind of confession now, was he?
"Who are you, now?"
"What, can't a priest hang out in his own chapel?" The man started toward a pew, but banged his toe on the altar. "Ow... curses!" He muttered, hopping on one foot the rest of the way. "I don't know what it is about this place, but people are always in here, making out during recess and whatnot. And always the chapel! When I was their age, it was the custodian's closet." He stuck his nose in the air and flapped his robes about him before sitting primly in his chair. "I mean, I guess I should bust 'em all, but it's so cute, with their blushing and me yelling..." he jumped out of his chair and threw his arms out to the sides, yelling in a thunderous voice. "Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain!"
Mulder shifted his weight. "I don't believe in God."
"And I don't believe in aliens. But here we are."
"How do you know I believe in aliens?"
The priest widened his eyes and put a finger to his mouth, then rolled his eyes upwards and pointed to the ceiling. Then he giggled and plopped himself down in his chair again. "Park it, sonny."
Mulder found himself in one of the pews, assuming 'bench warmer' position: back hunched forward, forearms on knees, hands folded in front of him.
"What did you call me?"
"I called you sonny. What's it to ya?"
The agent scoffed. "Somehow, sir, I don't think I'm considered a 'sonny' anymore."
"Son, when you get to be 88 years old, everyone under 70 is a baby. Now come here, kid, I wanna show you something." He jumped up and practically skipped behind the curtain. When Mulder was too long in coming, he poked his head back out. "Hey. Kid. C'mon. I don't have all day."
"Yeah, yeah..." Mulder hauled himself to his feet and lifted a corner of the curtain to join the old priest. Inside was a tripod with a camera set up to film through a hole in the fabric. A small TV and VCR stood in the corner. "What is this?"
"Blackmail." The priest cackled cheerfully.
"Meaning?"
"I told you kids keep coming in here. I could prove it too, but I promised I wouldn't." he hopped over to the camera and pressed stop, then ejected the tape.
"Blackmail for what?"
The priest snorted. "Look at those windows, kid." He grabbed a tasseled rope, swung back and forth a few times for show, heaved upward, and yanked down. The curtain swung open and the priest jumped, throwing out an arm toward the windows. "Ta-da!"
Mulder stared. This guy was unreal. He was straight out of a Disney movie.
He was waiting.
"There's uh... glass?"
"An astute observation." He let the curtain fall. "What do you say when God sneezes?"
"Bl--oh."
"I'm not running a big operation here, sonny. I catch them, they clean, I keep their secrets. They get the tapes after they graduate. But you see the first answer isn't always the final one. She might change her mind."
How'd this conversation get to be about him and Scully?
"What--"
"Oops! Sorry, kid, time for me to go. Got a softball game."
"W--wait, one question." Mulder paused. "Are you always like this?"
"You mean, do I stand on my head when I say the Lord's prayer?" he grinned. "Only on Christmas." With that, he jumped, clicked his heels in the air, and ducked through the curtain. Mulder didn't hesitate to run after him, pushing through the heavy drapes.
"Hey--" the chapel was empty. Mulder sprinted to the door, looked down the hall, didn't see anyone. He checked his watch and groaned. He had to get back to his apartment before Scully did.
***
Apartment of Fox Mulder
4:00 PM
Scully hesitated before entering Mulder's apartment building. There was going to be some talking now. She doubted this case file existed outside her partner's 'beautiful mind', to quote herself. He'd forced her to be the strong one in the chapel, but if she broke down in his apartment, his ever-elusive fish were their only hope of being saved.
Problem was, she didn't want to be saved, which weakened her emotional immune system. And that scared her, because the only inoculation she could think of was Mulder. Only thing wrong with that was that her cure could eventually kill them both. She could be going to her death.
That didn't stop her.
Scully drew in a resolute breath and pulled open the door to the lobby. Her footsteps echoed through the open area as she walked toward the elevator. Sagging back against the rail, once inside, she closed her eyes and let that same resolute breath out. Then she looked in the mirror and started, slamming her fist on the emergency stop button.
Was this her?
She examined herself critically, starting at the bottom. Boots with rather high heels, but sturdy enough for her to run in covered mostly with black pants. Silk black pullover, black jacket... her mind drifted to Chicago. 'Hey, nice outfit!' Mulder.
Scully looked again at herself and saw only the soulful blue eyes of a woman in love. Damn. She was in big trouble.
Did she always have that look? Had she given away her darkest secret long ago? She contemplated this and let the elevator continue its journey upward.
She knew she must have gotten that expression in her eyes at least a few times around Mulder in the past seven years--but had he noticed?
Ding.
Little late to be thinking about it now, doncha think? But turning back was not an option. She'd told him she was coming and dammit...
Scully knocked on the door.
"It's open!" Came from within.
"Guess I don't have to say 'Mulder, it's me.'" She muttered, and pushed the door open.
Mulder was lying on the couch, looking at the ceiling, arms folded under his head. They had fallen asleep a long while ago, but he didn't particularly care. Now, though, when Scully was here, he wanted to have control over himself, and if his arms were numb with pins and needles, he might not be able to catch her if she tried to run. Shit. She might run. But he had to tell her.
"I don't have a file here, Scully."
"I know."
She knows and she came. Good sign, right? He stood and faced her, three feet away. Scully came forward slowly, stood directly in front of him, reached up to touch his face...
And peeled off a post-it that read 'Hi Foxie, call me.' She raised an eyebrow and held it up. Mulder snatched it, crumpled it, and threw it at the garbage. Ask me if I'm humiliated.
"Damn neighbor. Say 'hi' to the girl and you're stuck with her for life." He turned back to his partner. "What do you say when God sneezes, Scully?"
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"It's relevant."
"To what?"
"Would you just answer the question, Scully? What do you say when God sneezes?"
"Bless--" she stopped herself. Damn you, Mulder, this is not time for jokes. But he wasn't joking. He stepped even closer.
"You want to stay with that answer, Scully?" his voice was husky. "Sometimes the first answer isn't the right one."
"Oh, Mulder..." she shook her head and looked at his feet. "I told you."
"You, Scully, focussed on nothing but the negative. I think if you'd let this happen, you might surprise yourself."
"We can't, Mulder." Her voice was choked. "Please. Think of Samantha--" her eyes widened. "Is that what brought this on?"
"Nothing brought it on, Scully. It had to happen sooner or later, or I would wind up going insane--more insane." He corrected himself wryly, but grew serious again. "I couldn't stand it any longer. Why can't you just--"
"Damn it, Mulder." She said tiredly. "What do you want me to say? Do you want me to give you more rationalizations? More explanations why we can't let this happen? I've given you all of them, and if that's not enough to convince you, I don't know what to do." Her voice broke, but she went on, daring the tears to fall. "I'm in love with you, Mulder, you think this is easy for me?"
Mulder saw the expression in her eyes turn to shock as she realized what she'd given up. Scully turned around and almost ran out the door. Wordlessly he chased her, catching her near the exit. He grabbed her wrist, and time seemed to stop.
She looked back at him, met his dark-eyed stare. They moved together as if it had been scripted, a seductive slow dance that was known only to them. In one fluid movement, she was in his arms, face buried in his chest. They stayed there for a few minutes, Mulder's arms around her back, Scully's arms around his neck. They unconsciously understood the significance of this embrace; it was as close as they'd ever let each other get ever before, even precluding the near-kiss so long ago before Mulder's little excursion to Antarctica.
"You think you could let go now?" he whispered. Her arms loosened and she moved back until only her hands rested at the back of his neck. He stopped her. "That's not what I meant."
"I know." Her tone matched his.
Slowly his head came down toward hers and their lips fused for just a few seconds. Mulder eased himself away slowly and she nearly whimpered at the loss. He gazed at her in wonder, amazed that something so simple could produce such an effect.
"God, Scully..." he gasped, and her grip on his neck tightened and she pulled him down, kissing him forcefully.
'Sunflower seeds.' She thought dimly. 'Why am I not surprised?' Mulder's hands had moved up to her head, cradling it so his mouth could slant over hers. His fingers wove a blazing trail through her hair, enflaming her through every fiber of her being. A jolt of electricity sparked and shocked her, then a squirming mass uncoiled in her stomach and warmed her body. She was losing control.
Mulder felt around cautiously with his tongue and groaned faintly when she responded. Ice queen indeed. Those bastards didn't know what they were talking about. He'd never dared to dream this might actually happen someday, but here they were. He was still afraid he'd screw it up, one way or another, but his body was moving way too fast for his liking. He was losing control.
Scully felt the wood of the wall at her back as she was backed up against it. Mulder wasn't stopping; hell, she didn't particularly want him to, but the air was growing stale in both of their mouths. She put a hand on his chest and tried to push, but couldn't get her muscles to obey her brain's signals. Finally, he stopped of his own accord, albeit reluctantly. He cleared his throat and stepped back a little, giving them both some room to breathe freely.
"God, Mulder..." she looked at the floor.
"What? Scully..." he started to move in, panicking. Was she trying to break away again? But she held up a hand. Then he noticed her faint smile as she looked up again. "What?"
"No one can know. Especially at the FBI. Skinner, CGB Spender, no one." Mulder nodded.
"Yeah, I know. Even if we have found Sam, I don't want to lose the X-Files, and I know you don't either." She nodded silently. "So... I give you my frat pin now?"
Scully looked down again, looked up. Now she was almost laughing.
"Can this be happening?" He understood.
"Hey. Shared joy, Scully. We'll be ok."
End Part I/??