Lightning flashed and then a few seconds later, thunder rolled quietly as the rain that had begun in the cemetery fell harder. Mulder rolled his neck and then stretched his back, yawning as he shook his head.
Scully hummed in her sleep and then turned over, exhaling softly. He smiled as he watched her and then stood up, stretching again.
He looked down at the notes in his notebook and grasped his hand, running his thumb across his palm.
It no longer hurt, but felt… he could not quite find the right word to give it a name that would make sense to anyone besides himself, but it was a feeling.
When he was younger, after Samantha was gone, he had horrible stomach aches. Ones that left him crying silently in the bathroom, not wanting anyone to hear him. He hated them, but grew to expect and anticipate them.
One night, it had become so terrible, he threw up blood. He had cried out for his mother and she rushed him to the emergency room, where he had been convinced that he was dying.
Tests were run and he had been diagnosed with an ulcer. Medication had been given, with further instructions to stay home from school for a week and avoid conflict situations.
His mother had not spoken on the way home about his ulcer or how they could help him be calm, because she knew, as had he, that it was impossible.
Removing his worry for Samantha, along with his secret hidden thought that she was dead, would not do anything for him as his parents fighting had escalated and was a constant occurrence. His father drank every night, ratcheting it up since Samantha disappeared, and his mother was nearly always in bed, crying or sleeping.
The conflict he needed to avoid was in the house and it was unavoidable.
As he had gotten into bed, after drinking some water and taking his medication, his mother had hovered near him, reaching to touch his blankets and then pulling her hands away. A war seemed to be waging within her to offer comfort, but unsure of either how to do it, or if he would even accept it.
"I'm sorry," she had whispered, finally touching the blanket and adjusting it to lay flat. "I'm… I'm sorry, Fox."
"I'm okay, Mom," he had told her, smiling and touching her hand, not wanting to add to her sadness. "Don't need to worry about me."
"Of course there is," she had whispered again, not meeting his eyes. "I just…" She choked on a sob and pulled her hands away. "I'm sorry."
She had left the room and closed the door behind her, but it did not stop him from hearing her tears.
He had never displayed any signs of pain or discomfort in front of her after that, never told her when he felt sick or threw up. He had suffered in silence, not wanting to worry her.
But the feeling that lingered within him, even after his ulcer had gone, he never forgot.
It was like standing on the edge of a cliff and looking down, knowing you are about to jump. The swooping feeling of excitement and fear in your stomach, but also a sense of need to deny that feeling wholeheartedly.
It was not anxiety, not stress, nor was it fear.
It was as though he was always waiting for something. Ready to strike at any time, but at what? And why?
When he had touched the headstone, his hand warm, he felt that same feeling settle in his stomach. A sense of anticipation for something he had no knowledge of, nor a plan to create in order to understand it.
It was as though he was in a state of stasis, waiting for the moment when it would all fall in line.
He sighed as he touched his hand again and then dropped his arms to his sides, shaking his head.
Turning off the light after he had used the bathroom and brushed his teeth, he pulled the covers back and got into bed beside Scully. Lying on his back, he stared at the ceiling, his mind thousands of miles away.
"Mmm," Scully moaned, stretching toward him, her feet touching the side of his calf, her hand pressing gently against his ribs.
He smiled as he turned his head to look at her, her mouth open slightly as she slept.
The first time they had to share a room, early in their partnership, she had called the front desk to get a rollaway bed for one of them to sleep on, hesitant to share a bed. She had been angry and annoyed when she was told there were not any available, but he had not been concerned.
Trying to make her feel more at ease about it, he had picked up food and they ate it at the table in the room, discussing the case.
But the distraction had only lasted so long.
She had not slept well, not at first. She had tossed and turned, keeping her distance from him before he had sighed loudly, trying another tactic.
"I can't sleep," he had said, though he had actually been quite tired. "It's too quiet, that's what it is."
"Oh. You-"
"You wanna see if there's a movie on?"
"Oh. Umm, sure."
The light had been turned on, he had gone to the vending machine down the hall returning with chips, candy, and sodas, and they had found an old favorite movie they both liked. Laughing at the same scenes, discussing what they liked best, forty five minutes into it, Scully had started nodding off.
Removing all the wrappers and extra food carefully from the bed, he had waited until she had fallen completely asleep, before turning off the light. Leaving the television on low, he had watched her as he listened to the movie.
When they had come home, he had searched for a copy of the movie and bought it for her, giving it to her before they had left the office for the weekend.
"In case you have trouble sleeping again," he had said, shrugging sheepishly.
"Thank you," she had said softly, nodding as she had looked down at it with a smile.
From then on, though not ideal, if they did have to share a room, it was not as uncomfortable as that first time. One of them, usually him, would say the title of the movie and the other would laugh.
An icebreaker offered and accepted.
"Mmmulder," she breathed and he turned on his side to face her, taking her hand and placing it beside her where she tucked it beneath her other one.
"Dreaming about me, huh?" he whispered with a smile, brushing a piece of hair off of her face and putting it behind her ear. "Hope it's a good one."
"Hmm," she hummed, one eyebrow going up.
"Stubborn and skeptical even while you sleep," he whispered, laughing silently. "Always keeping me on my toes."
He listened to her soft breathing and the rain falling steadily outside. Moving his leg, he covered hers and she sighed as she shifted closer to him, a faint smile on her lips.
"Yeah, it's a good dream," he whispered, smiling as he closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. "Goodnight, Scully."
