Semblance of Peace

Rating: K+ for references to violence and death

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters/the show, I am simply borrowing them.

Post: Orison and Closure with references to Milagro, Monday, and Irresistable

Dedication: To the Supreme Queen of all things X-Files, B. Thanks for reading my stories and writing your own 3

"I had to replace the waterbed, my super was pissed I even had it. Most nights I end up on the couch anyway, but the bed is comfortable when I make it there."

She looked towards the bedroom, where he was leading her, not registering what he was saying.

"You can stay here as long as you need Scully," Mulder turned to her as he placed her bag on the ground. Brown eyes searched hers, full of concern.

"Thanks Mulder," she quietly replied. She had barely spoken since leaving her apartment.

"Do you need anything?" He quickly scanned the room hoping he hadn't left too much dirty laundry laying about.

She shook her head, "I think I just want to rest."

Nodding in agreement, he turned towards the door, "I'm just out there," he gestured towards the living room.

The TV droned quietly but he didn't know what he was watching. Images from that evening kept flashing through his mind. Silently he berated himself for being so stupid, for not predicting that Pfaster would go after Scully.

I should have checked for messages when I got in, I could have gotten there sooner, he thought. Secretly, and not so secretly amongst the officers who had been at the scene that night, he was glad Pfaster was dead. Scully may harbour guilt about it but he regretted not pulling the trigger himself.

"Mulder?"

Bare feet had masked her steps and she stood at the end of the couch, grey pajamas having replaced the ones that were ruined.

"Hey," he quickly sat up, "I thought you were passed out. Do you want something?"

"No," she looked back towards the bedroom, "I'm sorry, you were resting, I should go back to bed," her words trailed off, no intention behind them as she stayed in the same spot.

"I wasn't asleep. I couldn't sleep," he admitted.

"I can't sleep."

He saw the exhaustion in her face, the way she held herself, so unlike the confident agent he knew, "Come here," he patted the couch and she sat down next to him.

"When I close my eyes," she started, then paused, her gaze on the floor. She took a breath, "When I close my eyes I see his face, the evil in it when he attacked me, then the shock as he.." she stopped, not daring to utter the word.

Mulder wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer, she was cold, "There wasn't really a choice Scully, he would have tried to get away, then what?"

Pfaster would have killed again, would have come back for her, she knew that. Tears welled up but she blinked them away. She swiped at her face with the back of her hand.

Mulder heard her sniffle, saw the way she tried to hide her tears. Placing his hands on her arms he gently turned her to face him.

"Don't you dare feel guilty about this Scully, don't blame yourself. You said there was something else working through you. Perhaps this higher power, whatever you want to call it, wanted him gone. Orison knew he was a monster, maybe the universe decided to get rid of him so he can't hurt anyone else."

Her skeptical self knew this wasn't a logical answer but it was the best argument yet and she had gone through dozens of scenarios in her mind. Slowly, she nodded, finally meeting his eyes.

"Do you want to go lay down and I can make you some tea?" he offered gently.

"I don't know if I can sleep, I keep…I just," she dropped her eyes, "Even though I know I'm tired," her voice broke slightly, "Mulder, I don't want to be alone tonight."

He rubbed her arms, "You can stay here, we can watch crappy infomercials," he gave her a half grin.

"Do you think," she stopped, then pushed on, "It's going to sound childish, but do you think you could come lie with me?"

He didn't hesitate, "Of course."

In the bedroom he wrapped himself around her small body, protecting her from her demons. With his steady heartbeat and warmth, she finally felt secure enough to close her eyes. Both of them drifted off, finally finding a semblance of peace.

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The night she escaped her first encounter with Donnie Pfaster she didn't sleep. After she had finished her report she restlessly paced, turning on and off the TV, replaying the event in her head over and over until the sun rose.
After Padgett, she had insisted she was fine and returned to her apartment. Part of her didn't want to be anywhere near the writer's place, yet part of her wanted to stay in the safety of Mulder's proximity. Again, she stayed up all night, reviewing the case, reliving the terror she had felt.

In Mulder's arms, curled up in his bed, she felt safe, as if the horror she had been through could no longer haunt her. She wished she had the courage to ask for this in the past instead of holding onto her strong demeanour.

They never talked about it after that night, just accepted what it was.

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His pain was palpable and she knew it well. The knife twisting agony of losing a loved one might not be fresh for her but it was there, always buried under the surface. Not having the closure of saying goodbye, never receiving answers to unasked questions, she knew that loss, yet her loved ones had not taken secrets to the grave. So she held him, letting him pour out his grief.

As his sobs subsided she reached out and gently wiped the tears from his cheeks. His expression was wretched, she knew he was emotionally spent.

"Mulder," she said softly, "You should try to sleep."

He took her hands, "Scully, will you stay with me?"

"Of course."

So he held her, his constant, his touchstone, his calm in the middle of this storm as they lay in his bed and he let sleep slide over him.

End