For Life (1/1) by Leyla Harrison <starbuck72@netaxis.ca> Classification: S, Scully angst, MSR. Rating: R for a few bad words. Summary: Post-"Never Again". Need I say more? *************************************************************** I stood in front of the mirror, looking at my reflection. I looked exactly the same. Except for the healing bruise and scrape on my face, and the fact that I had a killer headache from the concussion, at first glance, no one would have thought that I was anything but my normal self. I mean, I was used to taking a few bumps on the head every now and then. It was just one of the hazards of the job. I lifted my shirt and turned slightly in the mirror so that I could see the mark more clearly. I had told Ed that I couldn't see it, but that I felt different. And I had been right. The tattoo stood out vividly on my fair skin. If only I had been able to keep that to myself. If only Mulder hadn't known about that part. But he had. In the emergency room when I had finally fallen off to sleep after explaining the possibility of ergot poisoning to the housestaff there, Mulder had talked to the doctor. Looked at my chart. At the police records. At the photo the local cops had taken of my tattoo. So now my name would be buried forever in the Philadelphia police records. As well as in the X-Files, as Mulder had so tactfully reminded me. For the second time, he had said. A world record. Thank you, Mulder, I thought bitterly, for being so fucking sensitive. Thank you for running off on some unknown mysterious trip and for not noticing how I felt. I let my shirt slide back down over the tattoo. It would be there for the rest of my life. To remind me of the mistake I had almost made. Trusting someone I shouldn't have trusted. Taking risks I knew I shouldn't have taken. Gotten myself in way over my head. <It's not that I don't think you can handle it, Starbuck,> Ahab would have said, <but you just run off half cocked like that and you're going to get yourself in serious trouble.> Was that it? Was I so consumed with my work that whenever I did let anyone get close to me, it was someone who was like my father? He was someone I respected more than life itself. He was someone I wanted to prove myself to. He was someone I wanted to defy. Although I hadn't exactly chosen Mulder to become a part of my life, had a unconsciously lumped him in with the rest of the father figures in my life? No, I knew that wasn't true. Mulder was much more than a father figure to me. True, I did feel sometimes that I had to prove myself to him, but there was much more to it than that. Thinking about what that man did to my emotions was far too complicated for me to even begin to think about at the moment. I pushed him from my thoughts as best I could. The phone rang. I stood in the bathroom, not moving to answer it. I heard the answering machine pick up after three rings. "Hi, I can't come to the phone right now. Please leave a message and I'll call you as soon as I can." My voice sounded so young. So innocent. I had recorded that message so long ago. It didn't even sound like me anymore. "Scully, it's me. If you're there, can you pick up?" So much for trying to get him out of my head. "Come on, Scully, I know you're there. I know you aren't supposed to be driving with that concussion yet. Come on, pick up the phone." Mulder's like a dog with a bone when he wants something. He just doesn't give up. I didn't make a move towards the phone. "Listen, Scully, I just wanted to say that I was sorry." Silence. I turned, at least partways, to look at the phone, half expecting to see Mulder standing there. "Give me a call when you're up to it, OK?" He hung up. "I'm sorry, too, Mulder," I whispered to the silent apartment. I moved towards the phone and picked it up, pressing the first speed dial button, cursing myself that I was that dependent on Mulder to have him programmed as the first person I could call on my speed dial. I got his answering machine. I hung up as soon as he started speaking. Second speed dial button. His cel phone. He answered on the first ring. "Mulder." "Mulder, it's me," I said into the phone, closing my eyes. "Are you OK, Scully?" he asked, concern in his voice. "I'm fine, Mulder," I answered. Typical exchange between us. Mulder, it's me. I'm fine, Mulder. I wanted to scream. To throw the phone across the room. I bit down on my lower lip, hard, to keep from crying. He was somehow treating me differently. Wasn't he? "I was just calling to see how you were." Go ahead, Mulder, I thought. Rub it in a little more. He had done nothing but rub salt in my wounds since I had returned from Philadelphia. And then he had the nerve to be so self centered and insensitive that he had assumed that this was all about him. That it was about a desk. God, he could be so dense sometimes. "I told you, Mulder, I'm fine." There was a long pause. Then, finally, "Yeah, but you know, Scully, I don't think you always are fine. And I don't think you're fine right now." I bit down harder on my lip, hard enough to draw blood this time. And it's none of your fucking business, I thought. A little voice inside me disagreed. That voice was telling me that he cared. Yeah, well so what? "Look, Mulder, I'm tired." "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you." Another long pause. I sighed, heavily. "Where are you, Mulder?" "Circling the block around your house." "It's against the law to peep into other people's windows, you know," I informed him. "I wasn't peeping in anyone's windows. I was just driving around the block." Silence. I padded over to the window and eased the curtains back about three inches to look out onto the street below. I didn't see him. He was probably around the corner. "Mulder - " "Look, Scully, I don't want to do this on the phone. Can I come up, please?" <Do what on the phone?> I didn't answer. I thought about it. I thought for over a minute. I saw his car turn onto my street and slowly cruise by. At the end of the block, he turned the corner, to presumably go around again. "Scully?" he asked. "I don't think that's a good idea right now." "Scully, I just need to know something." "Yeah?" I asked idly, letting the curtain fall back into place and sinking into the couch. My eyes closed. I was too tired to deal with Mulder right now. Too damn tired. "Did you...sleep with him?" My eyes flickered open in shock. "What?" I asked indignantly. "Mulder, what the hell right do you have to ask me something like that? That's none of your business!" "It is my business when my partner jeopardizes a case. When you jeopardize your life, Scully, it is my business." He was angry now. I could hear it in his voice. And what the hell right did he have to be angry? I was the one who was angry, and I made no attempt to hide it. "Why is that your business, Mulder? Since when do I need to fill you in on every aspect of my personal life? Since when do I have to tell you whether I'm sleeping with someone or not?" "Because I --" he started, then cut himself off abruptly. "You what?" I asked, my anger still flaring. "Damn it, I love you, Scully. I love you. Do you have any idea how much I love you?" I blinked. Once. Twice. I was speechless. "Do you have any idea how much you mean to me?" "I..." "I may not always show it. I know that. And I'm sorry, Scully. So sorry for that. I can be an insensitive asshole sometimes. I know that." His voice was full of raw pain. "But I don't want anything to happen to you. I need you, Scully. I need you in my life more than I've been willing to admit to you. To myself." There was a long pause. "Damn it, Scully, let me come upstairs. Please." "All right..." I murmured, and hung up the phone, dazed. <He *loves* me?> My head was spinning. Images were free flowing through my brain, images of Ed - of kissing him. Images of Mulder and I, working. The passion that flowed effortlessly between he and I had never, not once, been there with Ed. Although I cared for Ed, I knew that he was just a diversion. A mometary way for me to distract myself from Mulder. As much as I had insisted that it wasn't about Mulder, I knew deep in my heart that it had more to do with him than I cared to admit. A soft knock on my door. I got up from the couch and opened the door to find Mulder standing there, panting, out of breath. "I ran," he admitted sheepishly. I gestured him in, and closed the door behind him. What was I going to say to him? After all that had gone unspoken between us, it seemed that it was inevitable for us to have this discussion. Although given my mood, I feared that it was going to turn out to be a confrontation, which I did not want. My nerves were shot. My body was tired. I didn't have the emotional energy to have a battle of wills with Mulder. Not tonight. Then I remembered. <I love you, Scully. Do you have any idea how much I love you?> "Look, Mulder," I started, turning to face him, but not making direct eye contact. "I know how you feel about me. I know. It's the same way I feel about you. It happens between partners." My eyes darted around the room, stealing small glances at him. His face fell as soon as I mentioned the part about partners. "We're more than partners, Scully," he reminded me. "Oh, yeah, and I was just *assigned* to you," I retorted bitterly. His remarks from days earlier still stung like fire. He had hurt me. Deeply. "Scully - look, I was insensitive. I know that now." "Damn right you were." "I was. I'm sorry." "You should be." There was a pause, then I passed a glance at him long enough to catch his expression. "So how long are you going to be angry at me?" he asked, his face softened by exhaustion. It was a look that I unfortunately knew all too well. "I haven't decided yet," I sniffed, and like a petulant child, I turned from him and went into the living room, my back to him. "Scully, look. I'm worried about you. I was insensitive before. Stupid, even. I'm sorry. I know I hurt you. I'm sorry for that too. I just didn't know how...unhappy you were." "Tell me we're not back to the desk," I groaned in frustration. "No, we're not. Scully, I didn't realize that you were, I don't know, depressed. Unsure about your life. About what you needed. Not about what Scully needed, but about what Dana needed. I wish you had talked to me, but I realize now that I didn't exactly make myself available to you." His use of my first name got my attention, as it always did, and softened me. I turned slowly to face him My voice was caught in my throat. "I don't know what to say," I confessed, unable to look at him. He put his hands on my shoulders. "Don't say anything, Scully." I was suddenly on the verge of tears. I struggled to blink them back. "Mulder, I don't know...I don't know what to say. I don't think I can handle this right now." He pulled me into his arms carefully, cradling me there. My head fit perfectly under his chin, and he wrapped his arms around my back, holding me securely. He leaned down and kissed the top of my head, his hands moving up to stroke my hair. Something about the intimacy of the gesture released the tears that I had tried to vainly to hold back. I turned my face into his chest, smelling the unmistakable smell of Mulder. I let out a muffled sob. "It's OK, Scully," he murmured into my hair. "Let it out." And I did. I cried my heart out, like I hadn't cried since Mulder rescued me from Pfaster. "It's going to be fine, Scully. We're going to be fine. Shhh." "Mulder," I sobbed, "I'm so..." I trailed off, now knowing how to explain to him how I was feeling. He nodded. "I know, Scully. I know. It's OK." And from looking at him, from looking into his eyes, I knew that he did. I hated to admit it, but Mulder sometimes knew me better than I knew myself. Which was why he had been unable to figure out what I had been doing during the last few days. He hadn't known how to deal with me because I hadn't been myself. I should have been scared by that. I shouldn't have been comforted to know that someone else knew me better than I knew myself. It should have frightened me. I had taught myself over the years to never let anyone get that close to me. But with Mulder, I allowed it. Because he loved me. Because I loved him. We didn't discuss it further, and I didn't - couldn't - tell him how I felt. Not yet. In time. I wasn't going anywhere. Neither was he. END -- "Mulder, if you had to do without a cell phone for more than two minutes, you'd lapse into catatonic schizophrenia." - Dana Scully, The X-Files