It was their last night of vacation, and Mulder couldn't help but feel a little sad. They'd been having so much fun just being together. The smiles and laughs were just the tip of the iceberg. The best parts were the moments of silliness, the long talks, the words that she spoke without filters. He'd always felt a connection to her, but never like this. He wondered if the bond would fade once they went home.
They were staying at a hotel near the airport, so they could make their flight home in the morning. Scully hadn't wanted to leave the coast earlier, and Mulder was pretty sure she would move there if she could. She'd been quiet on the drive in, not singing to the radio as she had been for most of the trip. Maybe the constant activity had finally caught up with her.
She knocked on their joining door and poked her head into his room.
"Want to go for a walk?" she asked.
"Sure."
He grabbed his key and followed her downstairs and outside. The moon was glittering off the river, a silver sparkle that reflected in her eyes as they walked. He couldn't help but stare at her, and found his hand twitching, wanting to reach for hers.
"Mulder, I have something I need to tell you," she said, stopping on the sidewalk.
"This doesn't sound good."
She walked slowly to a bench and sat down, suddenly looking cold and tired. Mulder sat down beside her and she turned to face him.
"I don't want you to be upset that I didn't tell you earlier. I just couldn't form the words. And I didn't want to ruin the vacation either."
"Scully, what's going on?"
"We've always wondered if and when it would happen. It's been there in the back of our minds, niggling and picking, and maybe that gave it some kind of power."
"What are you talking about?"
"Mulder, I've come out of remission."
He stared at her for a moment, not sure if he had heard her correctly. She couldn't possibly have said that she was out of remission. That didn't make sense. It wasn't supposed to happen. Everything was supposed to be okay. The chip was supposed to work and this wasn't supposed to happen.
"Scully, I don't… I can't… I don't believe what you're saying."
"I didn't believe it at first either. But Mulder, I've looked at my charts and scans and test results. The doctors are right."
"So what do we do?"
She sighed and drew her knees up to her chest.
"There's an experimental treatment I can try. It'll be a lot like chemo. I'll be sick and in pain, and it might not work. I don't know if I can handle that again. And for nothing?"
"Scully."
"Mulder, I feel good now. I want to keep feeling that way. I don't want to be sick all the time. I haven't made a decision yet, but the thought of facing all of that again, possibly worse this time? I don't have the strength for that."
It was his inclination at that moment to beg and plead with her to at least try. But that was selfish. He should want what she wanted, and no matter how much he loved her and wanted her by his side, he should understand what she needed, and how she was feeling. So he did the hardest thing he would probably ever do in his life. He took a deep breath, and made a commitment.
"Whatever you decide, Scully, I'll be there."
"Thank you."
She reached over and brushed away the few tears that were falling from his eyes. He hadn't even noticed them, and the gentle act only made them fall faster.
"I don't want to lose you," he whispered, taking her hand in his.
"I know, Mulder. But let's not think about that now. For now, we are still on vacation. We don't have to think about this again until my next appointment."
"I can't just forget about it, Scully."
"Try."
There was a lump in his throat and he tried several times to swallow it. His head was bowed to his chest and he couldn't bear to look at her. He would lose it if he did. He felt slender arms snaking around him and his head came to rest in the crook of her neck.
They didn't speak or cry. They simply sat, feeling and wishing that time had skidded to a halt, and they didn't have to move from that moment until they wanted to. There had been very few moments of surrender in their partnership, and none as heartbreaking as this.
His mind flashed through the mental pictures of this week. Walking on the beach at sunset. Waking up to the sound of seagulls. The look on her face right before she took off running into the ocean. Her smile when the skee-ball game spit out 300 tickets. They way she had taken his hand and pulled him towards the swings, as if she was seven again. They way she had laughed as he tried unsuccessfully to skimboard, and the way she had fixed him up after the skimboard had scraped his leg up. The pure happiness with which she had eaten cotton candy and sea foam and salt water taffy, and the glares she had given him while rolling on the bed, holding her stomach, asking over and over again why he had let her eat so much. Her laughter skimming over the water as they danced in the surf. Her sleepy smile as she sat next to their tiny beach bonfire, resting her head on his shoulder and twirling a marshmallow over the flames.
That's what she had been doing this entire week. She'd been giving him memories to hold on to when she was gone. That realization in and of itself was more valuable than the memories, and only made him hold her tighter.
He stayed in her room that night, watching her sleep. She was curled up next to him, her head on his chest and her hand splayed over his stomach. She looked fine. Beautiful and happy and everything he wanted her to be. But it was a façade, a trick, a lie. Her body was killing her. From the inside out in the cruelest betrayal ever known.
He couldn't take it anymore. He had to escape this feeling so he could come back and be ready to help her. Ready to be strong.
He leaned down and kissed her forehead gently, then slipped from the bed and quietly changed his clothes before heading out of the hotel.
He started to run along the streets, his feet splashing through the puddles that had gathered in the concrete depressions. His body couldn't carry him fast enough and the frustration he was feeling gave him an intense energy. It felt as if every muscle in his body would burst. He ran a few miles, sobs wrenching from his chest with every step. It was taxing on his body and he soon had to stop. He fell to his knees in the soft grass, crying until he couldn't anymore.
He let himself accept the situation, and he stood up and headed back to her.
"Did you run?" she asked softly as he slid into bed next to her.
"Yeah."
"Feel better?"
"No."
"I think I would be offended if you said yes," she remarked, resuming her previous position.
He ran his fingers through her hair and planted a kiss on her temple. He wanted to catalogue that feeling, cherish it as a magician cherishes his secrets.
"I don't want to leave you," she whispered, burying her face in his chest. "I don't want to go to sleep and not wake up. I don't want to miss out on everything."
His fingers traveled up and down her spine and he held her just a little tighter. His hands were trembling and he took deep breaths. He wanted to be strong for her, but he knew that it would hurt her more if he wasn't real with her.
"I don't want you to go either, Scully. I don't want to live my life if you're not there with me."
"Don't say that, Mulder. Don't."
A tear ran from his eye, across the bridge of his nose, and dropped in her hair.
"I just don't know how I'll function without you."
She didn't answer, instead just let the tears flow. He had a feeling this was the first time she had cried since learning the diagnosis. He hated to think of her hearing the news all alone, carrying this weight on her shoulders for so long. The disease had been destroying her insides, but so had the task of carrying the burden by herself.
"Scully?"
"Yes?"
"I'm going to be right there with you. The whole time, every moment. You don't have to worry about being alone unless you want to be. I'll always be right here, just like this."
"You don't have to."
"I'd go crazy if I couldn't."
"Thank you.
"I know it doesn't fix anything or make you better, but at least it's something."
"It does more than you think, Mulder."
He held her until both of their tears stopped. Her body was limp against his, her eyes barely open, and he gently brushed a lock of hair out of her face.
"I don't want to leave here," she whispered. He nodded and rolled over onto his back, and she settled herself into his chest.
"We'll come back," he promised. "Whenever you want, we'll come back and go walking on the beach."
"I feel alive here."
"Then we'll definitely be back. I promise."
She didn't bother telling him that he couldn't predict the future. She didn't say that they might not have time. Instead, she just nodded, allowing herself to hope that they'd keep coming back here, where the wind was fierce, the water made one forget, and they could both breathe like they'd never breathed before.