March 7, 1999
Resistance headquarters
Hallway
11:29am
* * * * * *
She is a friend of mind. She gather me, man. The pieces I am, she gather
Them and give them back to me in all the right order. It's good, you know,
when you got a woman who is a friend of your mind. --Toni Morrison
* * * * * *
"Too much, this is all too much." Mulder's mind was beginning to
overload with all of the startling, painful revelations that were coming
to light. With each item revealed, it was as if another part of him was
erased. Everything that he had known was an outright lie, more than just
a manipulation of the facts. His father... his mother... Samantha...
himself. He too was part of all of this, more so than he had ever
imagined. The Cigarette Smoking Man's words came to him. "'You were
always special Mulder. You always held a special place in the grand
scheme of things...You're part of the future, what we will all
become...'"
Nothing in his life had been real, had been the truth. His very
existence itself was a part of that lie.
He felt Scully's hand on his elbow, walking beside him as he rushed down
the hallway. No, he was wrong, he corrected. There was something in his
life that had been real. Scully. She was the only thing in his whole
goddamn life that was true.
She was the only thing in his life that was true, and he had still
managed to infect her life. Yes, 'infect' was the right word. His
insidious need, his incessant thirst for the truth had driven both of
them to this place.
If only he had looked closer for the answers. He should have known...
Mulder didn't know where he was going; he was just walking. All he cared
was that he was moving, getting away from that awful room. The room had
suddenly become far too small to contain him.
Mulder stopped abruptly. He was completely lost. Each hall looked like
the other, and he had not been paying attention as he was taking his
random turns. He felt confused, dimmed, as if a blanket had been tossed
over him. His vision faded; sounds became distant. He felt removed from
the world.
Scully could feel his hand searching for hers. Instinctively she reached
out and latched onto it, bringing him back. He squeezed her hand
tightly. If she let go of his hand, he thought he'd fly apart.
He turned to her then, his eyes both pleaded and gave thanks, and he
simply said, "Please help me."
* * * * * *
Mulder's Room
They sat on the bed Mulder had used the night before, and had woken up
from less than 5 hours ago. They sat shoulder to shoulder, thigh to
thigh, hands desperately clasped between them. Scully waited for Mulder
to speak first.
"Well." The single word hung in the silence of the room.
"Well is right." She responded as if they were just shooting the breeze.
"Is this what it feels like Scully?" He asked in a somber voice.
"Is this what what feels like?"
"Is this what it feels like to not want to believe? I can't believe.
Because if I do..." His voice trailed off and he waved his hand vaguely
in the air. The sentence did not need to be finished.
"There's a fine line between skepticism and denial."
Mulder dropped his head back down and nodded slowly, sadly.
"Mulder..." She stopped, unsure how to finish, but feeling as though
something had to be said. "Mulder... I'm sorry. About all of this,
everything that you've gone through. I don't know how I can make this
better..."
"Just stay. Don't leave me." He asked in a small, frightened voice.
For his answer, she simply squeezed his hand again.
"Do you want to talk?" She asked, lightly stroking her hand against his,
not sure what she wants his answer to be. She's afraid he will say no,
close the door behind him as he enters into a dark chamber without her.
Afraid he will say yes, tell her in a fragile, wavering voice of
terrible things, things that she will not want to hear.
Mulder was silent.
"Mulder?"
Mulder opened his mouth, but no words came out. He looked at her with
lost uncertainty behind his eyes. He couldn't find the words.
"Can you show me instead?"
He nodded, his expression of a drowning man reaching blindly for safety.
She lifted the blockades in her mind to let Mulder in. He seemed lost;
his thoughts too fragmented, disjointed, for her to read. His thoughts
swam between them, hiding under rocks, disappearing in weeds. Scully
fished for them, dangling her own like baits and lures. She was about to
give up, when she found him, or he found her.
She gasped involuntarily at the images that crowded into her. Not just
images... sensations, emotions, all pounding through her, filling her
and overflowing... and there was Mulder, and he was everywhere, and she
could see him, and the scent of him, and the sound of his voice was in
her ears... and everything was amplified a thousand times...
"Too much. Too much. I can't take this any more. I need to get away
from this." But her thought was catapulted aside by his before she
could act in it. So she watched. So she experienced. And she saw it all.
-Flash-
His sister clad in braids looking up at him, playfully tugging his hand,
wearing a mischievous grin. "Come on Fox. Come outside with me"
-Flash-
Mulder looking up through the eyes of a child at the man he called
father. The older man towered from above with dispassionate eyes.
-Flash-
His mother's unfocused gaze as she spoke all too familiar words, "I
don't remember Fox, it was all such a long time ago..."
-Flash-
Samantha's shrill voice calling over and over "Fox!" The image of her
hovering in the air, motionless, like a marionette whose strings had
been ripped off.
-Flash-
Scully's face, her own face, his hand lightly stroking her cheek.
-Flash-
Her form laying prone, eyes taped shut, ventilator breathing for her.
-Flash-
A bloodied napkin held to her nose; her words again; cold, calm, and
dismissive: "I'm fine."
-Flash-
It continued, relentless. The images, the emotion...God, she could
hardly take it. Images of his life, her life. The guilt, and anger and
helplessness-- it was radiating from him, so suffocating and
overwhelming that Scully visibly flinched. She heard his voice, dim
within the cacophony of sounds reverberating within her head. "Fate.
Destiny. Whatever it's called when you realize the choices you thought
you had in life were already made..."
Another image. Her face again, this time crying. But she was smiling as
well. She felt her lips against his forehead. Her face again, leaning
in, then "Ouch." It was quiet, barely audible really, but she felt her
heart break in that moment. No...it wasn't her heart. It was his. She
was beginning to have trouble differentiating herself from Mulder's
conscious.
-Flash-
And then he was pulling away, the link broken with the force of cold
water being splashed on her face. He stood up and took a few steps away
from her. He placed his hands over his face. "I'm so sorry Scully. You
have had enough grief in your life because of me... I won't let you have
mine as well."
She stood up next to him and brought her hand up and caught his hand in
her own, drawing it down between them. "I'll be okay. I don't think that
you should keep this to yourself. And I think... I think that I'm in a
position to... understand somewhat what you have to deal with. You
didn't let me get away with ignoring it, how can I let you?"
When he turned to her, he could barely hold his head upright to keep his
gaze level with hers. "I need you too much."
"I don't think that there is such a thing as needing someone too much
any more." She said softly.
Mulder shook his head. He didn't want to believe her words.
"Let me help you." She said as she pulled him to her.
* * * * * *
"I need you Scully. Save me, make me whole again."
It was as if Scully sensed that need. Her hand moved to the base of his
neck, as if feeling the throb of his pulse. She seemed everywhere to
him: in his mind, in his soul, and when she spoke again it was with her
hot breath caressing the inside of his ear. "We'll save each other."
At this, Mulder opened his eyes and met her gaze, but this time he
didn't look away. And yet, at that moment, with all the buildup in his
mind, in his body, he didn't know that he would press his lips against
hers until he actually did. Just a whisper, the faintest touch of lip
against lip, but the light contact changed everything. He felt as if he
had been blind for his entire life and at last his eyes were open. She
was everywhere, in every pore, in every centimeter of his skin, in every
aspect of his soul she was there...
Only for a moment was the kiss a whisper before it changed and grew into
so much more. No longer a whisper, it was lips on lips, mouths open,
tongues exploring. The passion and the intensity built up from years
past, emotions and memories shared and their souls intertwined
threatened to shatter them to their core, but they refused to halt it.
Wordlessly, they leaned into each other, falling gently back against the
soft bed.
There was no need for intellectualizing, no need for deep discussions.
Nothing was said that couldn't be explained by soft, whispered words, or
by the occasional faint gasp.
Flesh and sprit, body and soul, all combined and permeated every inch of
each other. In that moment, they knew all there was to know of each
other, and instead of moving away from this fact, instead of resisting
the pull, they gave in to it completely. They complemented each other,
became each other, filling out each other's needs. And they rejoiced.
* * * * * *
Resistance headquarters
Hallway
11:29am
* * * * * *
She is a friend of mind. She gather me, man. The pieces I am, she gather
Them and give them back to me in all the right order. It's good, you know,
when you got a woman who is a friend of your mind. --Toni Morrison
* * * * * *
"Too much, this is all too much." Mulder's mind was beginning to
overload with all of the startling, painful revelations that were coming
to light. With each item revealed, it was as if another part of him was
erased. Everything that he had known was an outright lie, more than just
a manipulation of the facts. His father... his mother... Samantha...
himself. He too was part of all of this, more so than he had ever
imagined. The Cigarette Smoking Man's words came to him. "'You were
always special Mulder. You always held a special place in the grand
scheme of things...You're part of the future, what we will all
become...'"
Nothing in his life had been real, had been the truth. His very
existence itself was a part of that lie.
He felt Scully's hand on his elbow, walking beside him as he rushed down
the hallway. No, he was wrong, he corrected. There was something in his
life that had been real. Scully. She was the only thing in his whole
goddamn life that was true.
She was the only thing in his life that was true, and he had still
managed to infect her life. Yes, 'infect' was the right word. His
insidious need, his incessant thirst for the truth had driven both of
them to this place.
If only he had looked closer for the answers. He should have known...
Mulder didn't know where he was going; he was just walking. All he cared
was that he was moving, getting away from that awful room. The room had
suddenly become far too small to contain him.
Mulder stopped abruptly. He was completely lost. Each hall looked like
the other, and he had not been paying attention as he was taking his
random turns. He felt confused, dimmed, as if a blanket had been tossed
over him. His vision faded; sounds became distant. He felt removed from
the world.
Scully could feel his hand searching for hers. Instinctively she reached
out and latched onto it, bringing him back. He squeezed her hand
tightly. If she let go of his hand, he thought he'd fly apart.
He turned to her then, his eyes both pleaded and gave thanks, and he
simply said, "Please help me."
* * * * * *
Mulder's Room
They sat on the bed Mulder had used the night before, and had woken up
from less than 5 hours ago. They sat shoulder to shoulder, thigh to
thigh, hands desperately clasped between them. Scully waited for Mulder
to speak first.
"Well." The single word hung in the silence of the room.
"Well is right." She responded as if they were just shooting the breeze.
"Is this what it feels like Scully?" He asked in a somber voice.
"Is this what what feels like?"
"Is this what it feels like to not want to believe? I can't believe.
Because if I do..." His voice trailed off and he waved his hand vaguely
in the air. The sentence did not need to be finished.
"There's a fine line between skepticism and denial."
Mulder dropped his head back down and nodded slowly, sadly.
"Mulder..." She stopped, unsure how to finish, but feeling as though
something had to be said. "Mulder... I'm sorry. About all of this,
everything that you've gone through. I don't know how I can make this
better..."
"Just stay. Don't leave me." He asked in a small, frightened voice.
For his answer, she simply squeezed his hand again.
"Do you want to talk?" She asked, lightly stroking her hand against his,
not sure what she wants his answer to be. She's afraid he will say no,
close the door behind him as he enters into a dark chamber without her.
Afraid he will say yes, tell her in a fragile, wavering voice of
terrible things, things that she will not want to hear.
Mulder was silent.
"Mulder?"
Mulder opened his mouth, but no words came out. He looked at her with
lost uncertainty behind his eyes. He couldn't find the words.
"Can you show me instead?"
He nodded, his expression of a drowning man reaching blindly for safety.
She lifted the blockades in her mind to let Mulder in. He seemed lost;
his thoughts too fragmented, disjointed, for her to read. His thoughts
swam between them, hiding under rocks, disappearing in weeds. Scully
fished for them, dangling her own like baits and lures. She was about to
give up, when she found him, or he found her.
She gasped involuntarily at the images that crowded into her. Not just
images... sensations, emotions, all pounding through her, filling her
and overflowing... and there was Mulder, and he was everywhere, and she
could see him, and the scent of him, and the sound of his voice was in
her ears... and everything was amplified a thousand times...
"Too much. Too much. I can't take this any more. I need to get away
from this." But her thought was catapulted aside by his before she
could act in it. So she watched. So she experienced. And she saw it all.
-Flash-
His sister clad in braids looking up at him, playfully tugging his hand,
wearing a mischievous grin. "Come on Fox. Come outside with me"
-Flash-
Mulder looking up through the eyes of a child at the man he called
father. The older man towered from above with dispassionate eyes.
-Flash-
His mother's unfocused gaze as she spoke all too familiar words, "I
don't remember Fox, it was all such a long time ago..."
-Flash-
Samantha's shrill voice calling over and over "Fox!" The image of her
hovering in the air, motionless, like a marionette whose strings had
been ripped off.
-Flash-
Scully's face, her own face, his hand lightly stroking her cheek.
-Flash-
Her form laying prone, eyes taped shut, ventilator breathing for her.
-Flash-
A bloodied napkin held to her nose; her words again; cold, calm, and
dismissive: "I'm fine."
-Flash-
It continued, relentless. The images, the emotion...God, she could
hardly take it. Images of his life, her life. The guilt, and anger and
helplessness-- it was radiating from him, so suffocating and
overwhelming that Scully visibly flinched. She heard his voice, dim
within the cacophony of sounds reverberating within her head. "Fate.
Destiny. Whatever it's called when you realize the choices you thought
you had in life were already made..."
Another image. Her face again, this time crying. But she was smiling as
well. She felt her lips against his forehead. Her face again, leaning
in, then "Ouch." It was quiet, barely audible really, but she felt her
heart break in that moment. No...it wasn't her heart. It was his. She
was beginning to have trouble differentiating herself from Mulder's
conscious.
-Flash-
And then he was pulling away, the link broken with the force of cold
water being splashed on her face. He stood up and took a few steps away
from her. He placed his hands over his face. "I'm so sorry Scully. You
have had enough grief in your life because of me... I won't let you have
mine as well."
She stood up next to him and brought her hand up and caught his hand in
her own, drawing it down between them. "I'll be okay. I don't think that
you should keep this to yourself. And I think... I think that I'm in a
position to... understand somewhat what you have to deal with. You
didn't let me get away with ignoring it, how can I let you?"
When he turned to her, he could barely hold his head upright to keep his
gaze level with hers. "I need you too much."
"I don't think that there is such a thing as needing someone too much
any more." She said softly.
Mulder shook his head. He didn't want to believe her words.
"Let me help you." She said as she pulled him to her.
* * * * * *
"I need you Scully. Save me, make me whole again."
It was as if Scully sensed that need. Her hand moved to the base of his
neck, as if feeling the throb of his pulse. She seemed everywhere to
him: in his mind, in his soul, and when she spoke again it was with her
hot breath caressing the inside of his ear. "We'll save each other."
At this, Mulder opened his eyes and met her gaze, but this time he
didn't look away. And yet, at that moment, with all the buildup in his
mind, in his body, he didn't know that he would press his lips against
hers until he actually did. Just a whisper, the faintest touch of lip
against lip, but the light contact changed everything. He felt as if he
had been blind for his entire life and at last his eyes were open. She
was everywhere, in every pore, in every centimeter of his skin, in every
aspect of his soul she was there...
Only for a moment was the kiss a whisper before it changed and grew into
so much more. No longer a whisper, it was lips on lips, mouths open,
tongues exploring. The passion and the intensity built up from years
past, emotions and memories shared and their souls intertwined
threatened to shatter them to their core, but they refused to halt it.
Wordlessly, they leaned into each other, falling gently back against the
soft bed.
There was no need for intellectualizing, no need for deep discussions.
Nothing was said that couldn't be explained by soft, whispered words, or
by the occasional faint gasp.
Flesh and sprit, body and soul, all combined and permeated every inch of
each other. In that moment, they knew all there was to know of each
other, and instead of moving away from this fact, instead of resisting
the pull, they gave in to it completely. They complemented each other,
became each other, filling out each other's needs. And they rejoiced.
* * * * * *