Please, just not another nosebleed. I don't want to go to the hospital anymore. I don't want to see the doctors and those sterile white walls. I don't want to cry. I don't want to die, and I don't want to be alone.
I grab tissues from the bedside table and clean my face up. The frightened part of my mind tells me that this is just dry weather acting on my senses. The rational part of my mind says that my cancer has come out of remission. When it won't stop for ten minutes I confirm more of that fact.
No, no, NO! It can not! It will not! I try to will it away, but the doctor in me tells me that this is totally impossible and just a waste of cells I could be using to do something useful.
I begin to cry. They are not angry or mournful, they are utterly frightened and hopeless tears. I know that there is nothing I can do now but drive to the hospital and have them perform more tests upon tests upon tests on me.
Of course as I sit and wait, I cry. I cry when they take the CT scan and I cry when I find out the truth. I tell my doctors that they have not helped me at all and I will not be coming back for anymore treatment. I almost feel sorry for myself, angry at myself for saying what I have just said. But I don't. I can't. Just like that. Like it's an everyday problem when you hold the information that condemns your life. And now, for the very first time, I don't have a clue what to do. Not a single clue as to how to handle this.
First, I call Mulder, tell him that I need to speak with him. It is urgent, I say. He is worried and with good reason, he can hear me crying. He offers to pick me up, but I refuse, needing some space right now. Then I call God and tell him to fuck off. The damn bastard has put me through the ringer too many damn times, I will not put up with his cruel tricks anymore.
Before I show up at Mulder's, I drive to the church, and it is deserted. It should be, not even the most devout Christian would be in St. Marks at five o'clock on a rainy Saturday morning. Once I am inside, I can smell the religion dripping off the walls.
It coats heavy in my throat. It is my religion, and I condemn it. God can't save me now, not even the god who sucks down Morleys. I'm beyond his grasp because I want to die now. After so many years, I just want it over.
Who would have thought that that fresh faced young woman who was recruited by the F.B.I. seven years ago, would want her life to end? Who would have thought that this ice-queen, bitch, courageous, kick-ass agent would be too chicken shit to kill herself. To take her own life so that He wouldn't get the pleasure. Sure He can twist the strings but she can cut them off now. In quite a literal way.
I sit in a pew, but I don't kneel. I sit because I am tired. I don't allow Him to see my weakness too long before I get up. I scream. At the top of my lungs. I scream and scream until I completely lose my voice and a priest comes out and asks what is going on.
I tell him that I'm thanking God for all that he has given me.
Now I realize that I have dying since the day I was born. And I don't want any of this crap anymore. I know that everyone's day comes but this is just not fair. I have died before, given up my daughter, killed my sister, Mulder's father, and his mother. And the person that I love the most will be blinded by finding the truth to avenge me when he finds out that I am dying once more. I want him to save me, from this hell on earth. From this permanent downfall, as I walk out into the parking lot and get in my car.
The radio is on when I put the key in the ignition. My classical station is on and a slow and sensuous melody. It is Bach I believe and it is beautiful. The strings are playing words of death and the woodwinds are fighting their iron grasp and bringing the piece back to life.
I flick the radio to a random station, not desiring to sit in silence but also not desiring to listen to the elevator music from my coffin.
I drive to his apartment and sit in the car for a full ten minutes before I come up with what to say. Might as well tell him the truth, right from the beginning. Tell him I'm dying and this time I want it to be for good. I can't stand anything anymore, I used to be able to with him, but I don't *believe* that anymore. I don't believe that he take care of me forever. I might as well just fess up and stop burdening him.
I stand in the rain, it pounds my head, and it feels good. It feels purifying even know it's just going to make me sicker. As it soaks my clothes. And all of my negative thinking has gotten to me again, and just as soon as I'm sure that I'm done crying, I start again. I don't want to die. I pretend I want to because that is the easy way out, but I don't. *I* don't think that my time here is over. I don't want it to be.
Apparently Mulder had seen me standing here and he rushes out of the house and drapes a raincoat over me. He tells me that I am convulsing. Huh, hadn't even noticed. He wraps me up tightly and I will my legs to walk, but he wants to run. I don't, so I walk as he tries to pull me along.
We make it up to his apartment and I stand stock still. It is as if time has slowed down in front of my eyes and I can see him wrap me up in his arms again and lead me toward the bathroom. He shoves a pair of my sweatpants and a tee-shirt into my hands. He gently steers me toward the bathroom and closes the door behind me.
I stare at my reflection in the mirror. I am soaking and I can feel the cold rain cutting at my skin through the heavy burden of clothing. I don't know why but I undress quickly, left with nothing on but my undergarments. I stare into the mirror again and see my eyes, all puffy and red, and then I look into my own eyes. It seems as if my soul has shied away from me. I get enraged once more and I bring my hand up with a sickening crash to the glass. My hand rips open and I fall to the floor, crying angry tears.
Mulder does not hesitate coming into the room. He looks at me in horror, and I cast my eyes away in pain. I fall totally as I left my hand bleed in my lap. He quickly, but gently pulls me up and into the bedroom. He hastily grabs a towel and wraps it around my hand, but wonders why I feel no pain when a lone glass shard cuts its way into my upper wrist. It's a blunt cut. I won't die. Not yet.
"Scully, what in God's name..." he trails off as he tends to my wounds and he doesn't seem to notice that I am not fully clothed. I shy away from him when he mentions His name.
"What?" he asks gently, almost in a whisper. "I don't want...I can't..." I trail off myself. "What?" he asks touching my cheek gently. "I can't believe in that anymore." I yell. I almost scream it. I don't care. "Who?"...."God?" he asks me. "Yes." I say shamefully as he attempts to dress me.
There is a look of horror in his eyes. He sits next to me. "You know you can tell me." he says as he takes his hand in mine.
I begin to cry again and I lean into him. I look into his eyes and confirm the truth.
"No." he says quickly and takes me in his arms. "No, no, no, no, no..." he keeps chanting as he rocks me back and forth. I sob now, somehow in Mulder's arms it seems harder to deal with.
"Not again Scully. Not again." he begins to cry, I can feel the tears well up in his chest and emerge on the surface. "Don't Mulder." I say sternly in all seriousness. "What?" he asks, pulling away to see my face. "Don't try and save me this time. I don't want you to, I don't want the doctors and certainly not God to even try because it's hopeless. I lost my soul with that first treatment and I never got it back. I want to die now." I say, not believing one word that comes out of my mouth. "No, I won't listen to that." "Mulder, I want to die, I want to die, I *want* to die!" I scream as I stand up. "Scully..." he stands up and I walk to him quickly and bury my head in his chest. "I know that you don't mean that." he strokes my hair. "I do, I'm sick of being fucking sick. I'm through with having things wrong with me." "Not now, you're not meant to go now." he says softly, as he lifts my chin up so that my eyes can see into his. "I am. I know I am. I can feel it. My soul is gone. I'm not me anymore." "Yes you are Scully. I have proof. I do."
I give him a questioning glance. He smiles slightly and touches his lips to my forehead.
"I know that your soul is there. I wouldn't be able to fall in love with you if it wasn't. It wouldn't be possible."
I smile and rise up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. I don't know what else to do. I just settle back into his arms.
After awhile he speaks, in a mournful tone. "My reasons for keeping you alive are selfish. I don't...I don't...know if I can function without you. I never have tried to, I don't want to. And I don't want to have to go through that again. I hoped that I wouldn't have to. I prayed, and that bastard won't listen to me either. I don't think he ever has. But there is too much tragedy in our lives, there has been too much. And I want it to end. With you." he breaths into my hair. Now I'm crying again, and he makes one languid movement with his lips to kiss the tears off of my cheeks.
"I know that you're scared. But no more of that now. Now we live each day to its fullest potential. You and I together. And I will make you better. Even if you have to have my soul. You will not die. Not while there's so much that we have to do together. And those things will take forever. We never had a chance against them Scully. I'm beginning to realize that now."
I hug him tighter.
"I really don't want to die." I sigh, as he continues to kiss my head, and then bends to kiss my neck.
"Mulder, you know that we can't be doing this." I say and sigh again as he suckles the skin on my neck. I am receiving the most intense feelings right now. I used to call something like this a religious experience, but now…
"I don't want to say this, but we're running out of time Scully. I need you, and I want you and I'll love you and I don't want to have to let you go. I don't want to have to. Because you know the I'll come for you anywhere. You won't go alone." he says as he tenderly kisses the tip of my nose. "I have to stop talking, I'm making an ass of myself." He laughs, realizing just how tacky he sounds, but I understand what he is trying to say to me.
"I'll live for you Mulder, only for you."
I think for a moment and say: "Maybe for me too." He smiles, just as small smile, one that mirrors mine.
He smiles and slowly presses his lips upon mine. I wrap my arms around his neck and pour my pain into this kiss. He swallows it hungrily. I give it up willingly. There is no passion in this kiss, it is a test of our faith in the unknown, it is a testament for the love that we love for each other.
He stops. He knows. He takes the pain away.