It was all the proof that she needed. No dead body had any reaction to
light. The only way a pupil could react to light was if they were alive.
Every other sign of the body was dead, but that was proof enough for her.
There was something there, even if she didn't know what it was. Even if it
was just the body reacting on a primal level, on an instinctual,
animalistic level, he was still alive.
Then she saw it. Out of nowhere, a pen scribbling on a piece of paper. A pen held my no one. A piece of paper that appeared from nowhere. She couldn't help but beam at the empty air, knowing that something, anything was there. Something related to him.
"Scully, it's me." The piece of paper read. It was his familiar narrow scrawl. She reached for the empty air around the piece of paper, but found nothing but cold air, air much colder than the area around it. air so cold it made her shiver, but she couldn't help but be happy at the same time.
"Mulder!" she all but shrieked. The knowledge that he was alive, that he could communicate to her, even if she couldn't see him. he was there with her, he was comforting her. "What happened?" she asked the air. She felt stupid talking to thin air, but if it was the only way she could talk to him, it would have to do.
He started scrawling a reply, and she crossed back to the body on the silver table. She brushed a lock of hair aside, and looked from the body to the space where the pen was flickering across the paper. She checked the body over, and found absolutely nothing, nothing had changed since the day before.
****
It was so hard for him to write out what had happened. So much had happened. But he couldn't remember much at all. it was a blur to him, it was just a combination of random sequences. He had almost no memory. Everything he could remember had to do with her, and nothing else.
A flash of blinding white light. That was the one thing he remembered most. The light, and how it shone in his eyes, how it had blinded him. he remembered trying to shield his eyes. And that was it. he remembered hitting the ground, and the next thing he knew, he was waking up to the sound of Scully sobbing over his body, believing him to be dead.
He tried to express this through words, but he found words to be failing him. he watched her examining him, feeling odd, to be watching his own body. He looked down at the paper, and rapped the pen loudly against the desk to get her attention, before he held up the meager amount of things that he had written down.
"A white light.then nothing. Help me Scully." Was all he had managed to write. He was desperate to find out what had happened to him. it was so odd, so foreign to be forced to sit on the sidelines not able to do anything, not being able to say things, not being able to do much of anything. He wanted to know what was wrong with him, what made him a ghost. And most of all, he wanted to know how to turn back.
Scully was the only one that could help him now. she was the only one who knew that he was still at least partially alive. She had to help him, she had to do something. His Scully, the one he'd loved for so long, was the one who had to help him. it was then that he realized what he had just thought. He loved her. and he didn't realize it until he couldn't do anything about it.
Then she saw it. Out of nowhere, a pen scribbling on a piece of paper. A pen held my no one. A piece of paper that appeared from nowhere. She couldn't help but beam at the empty air, knowing that something, anything was there. Something related to him.
"Scully, it's me." The piece of paper read. It was his familiar narrow scrawl. She reached for the empty air around the piece of paper, but found nothing but cold air, air much colder than the area around it. air so cold it made her shiver, but she couldn't help but be happy at the same time.
"Mulder!" she all but shrieked. The knowledge that he was alive, that he could communicate to her, even if she couldn't see him. he was there with her, he was comforting her. "What happened?" she asked the air. She felt stupid talking to thin air, but if it was the only way she could talk to him, it would have to do.
He started scrawling a reply, and she crossed back to the body on the silver table. She brushed a lock of hair aside, and looked from the body to the space where the pen was flickering across the paper. She checked the body over, and found absolutely nothing, nothing had changed since the day before.
****
It was so hard for him to write out what had happened. So much had happened. But he couldn't remember much at all. it was a blur to him, it was just a combination of random sequences. He had almost no memory. Everything he could remember had to do with her, and nothing else.
A flash of blinding white light. That was the one thing he remembered most. The light, and how it shone in his eyes, how it had blinded him. he remembered trying to shield his eyes. And that was it. he remembered hitting the ground, and the next thing he knew, he was waking up to the sound of Scully sobbing over his body, believing him to be dead.
He tried to express this through words, but he found words to be failing him. he watched her examining him, feeling odd, to be watching his own body. He looked down at the paper, and rapped the pen loudly against the desk to get her attention, before he held up the meager amount of things that he had written down.
"A white light.then nothing. Help me Scully." Was all he had managed to write. He was desperate to find out what had happened to him. it was so odd, so foreign to be forced to sit on the sidelines not able to do anything, not being able to say things, not being able to do much of anything. He wanted to know what was wrong with him, what made him a ghost. And most of all, he wanted to know how to turn back.
Scully was the only one that could help him now. she was the only one who knew that he was still at least partially alive. She had to help him, she had to do something. His Scully, the one he'd loved for so long, was the one who had to help him. it was then that he realized what he had just thought. He loved her. and he didn't realize it until he couldn't do anything about it.