From: Moonrock66 Date: 31 Oct 1999 02:40:38 GMT Subject: NEW: Before His Eyes (1/1) Title: Before His Eyes Author: Georgia Email: moonrock66@aol.com Category: MSR Rating: PG Spoilers: Up to and including S7 rumors. Disclaimer: Sue me? I'm thinking class action suit if they don't at least kiss this season. Summary: Mulder's life flashes before his eyes. Author's notes: We've all heard about Mulder's upcoming dream sequence a la Last Temptation of Christ, It's a Wonderful Life. Instead of what might have happened if he'd never lived, I'd rather Mulder have a life review which is often reported in near death experiences. Here's my take on that. --------------------------------------- The sensation shook Scully from her jetlag induced sleep. At first she thought it was turbulence. Then she realized that the plane was quiet. Everyone around her was sleeping. It must've been a dream she thought, as she shifted in her seat, trying against the will of cramped muscles to get comfortable again. Turning to the window, Scully pressed her forehead against the cool glass, peering out into the darkness. She had hoped for light somewhere on the horizon. But it was still night. And would be for a long time from the look of it. There wasn't even a flicker down below. Damn. They were still over water. Scully shrugged the tiny pillow between her face and the window. God. She'd never wanted to get home so badly in her life. She closed her eyes at the thought of it. How she'd left him alone and sick to go to Africa and search for something she didn't even believe in. But she'd done the only thing she had known to help him. The same thing he had done when she had cancer. Pray the momentary absence, the loss of comfort and support would pay off in the end with a cure. Telling herself for the millionth time that she'd done the right thing, Scully relaxed against the pillow, willing herself to sleep. It would make the time go by faster. A moment before unconsciousness took her, the voice came again. In a wordless cry. More of a sensation, more a feeling than anything audible. But it was unmistakably his voice. The chill down her spine was sharp. Scully jerked upright in her seat, now certain what had awakened her moments before. It had happened the same way four years ago. When she'd left Mulder for dead in the New Mexico desert. His voice had called to her in the middle of the night, snatching her from a dream. Sitting straight up in her bed, she had felt his presence as if he'd been in the room with her, heard the words directly from his lips. "I have returned from the dead to continue with you. But I fear that this danger is now close at hand..." She'd known immediately that it was true. That he was alive, was coming back to her. Though she'd normally roll her eyes at such a statement, Scully was forced to admit that she and Mulder were connected in a way that somehow defied time and space. That a part of one never left the other. His voice, that had so soothed her then, now grated like nagging headache. Not full blown, but a twinge of pain often enough to remind of the problem. Scully's head sank between her knees as the knot in her stomach exploded into an all over feeling of sickness. She breathed in rapidly, hoping the nausea would pass, that the pounding in her head and her chest would stop. The clinical knowledge that she was having a panic attack did little to ease her suffering. The understanding of Mulder's message came from somewhere between her stomach and her heart. Not a thought. Only a feeling. With total clarity. No relief. No hope. Just goodbye. ----------------------------------- Her name flew through his mind like a bolt of lightening. He'd been transferred to ICU the day after she left. His brain was shorting out. Voluntary functions had all but vanished and the involuntary ones were following fast. He'd drifted into a near comatose state, unresponsive yet on some level aware of his surroundings, of the state of his body. Every hour he lost a little more of himself. First speech, then movement, now the most essential. Blood. Breath. A Beat. Panic washed over him, and like a dream where he couldn't move, he tried desperately to gasp for air, the light vanishing as he sank deeper and deeper from the surface. The sound of his flatline faded like a once struck piano key, strong and steady at first, then wavering into silence. A muffled, airy quiet surrounded him, became a part of him, Mulder almost settling into the sensation when the shrill tone of the heart monitor blared. Louder than before. And from a different direction. Mulder opened his eyes to look down on his own lifeless body surrounded by doctors. They were racing furiously, one doctor swearing that he didn't know why this was happening. The chaos of the room seemed a million miles away, happening to someone else. Mulder didn't understand their frenzy, their determination. He was happy. He was fine. Closer to peace than he'd been in his adult life. The acknowledgement came matter of factly, without a fight. He was dead. A single image passed before his eyes, not with sadness nor regret, only memory. "Agent Mulder. I'm Dana Scully. I've been assigned to work with you." And the thought that he'd left her alone was his last before he fell into darkness. --------------------------- The cold splash of water did little to calm her nerves. Still shaken, Scully grabbed each seat for support as she made her way up the row from the bathroom. A flight attendant moved quietly down the aisle, stepping aside to let Scully pass. "How much longer?" Scully managed. The woman checked her watch. "About three hours." Too long. "Can I get you anything?" Scully shook her head, sliding over a sleeping woman and into her seat. She curled her coat around her like a blanket and closed her eyes tightly. I'll do anything she promised, her prayers turned into pleas. Let me be wrong. Let him be okay. Still, a part of her knew. It was too late. ------------------------------- In an instant, he was floating, flying, drifting in nothingness, light beginning to swirl around the edges, creating a tunnel of black. Coming ever closer, the light began to engulf him, to sustain him. And time no longer bearing any hold, with no rules, the images began to come quicker, flashing in an instant or in super slow reality, which ever he chose. A baseball game when he was eight. A quiet moment in his mother's lap, reading a story before bed. His father whistling as he tied his tie before work. Teaching his son to shave. A day at the beach with Samantha. Teasing. Hide and seek. Running behind to steady her bike when the training wheels came off. Each image crashed into the next, in a wave of joy that swept over him, purer than any emotion he'd ever know. Joy that he'd caused now reflected back at him. The bright light. Her cries. But God, there was no blame. No fear. Just a little sister looking up to her brother. His parents arguing. Divorce How his mother shrugged like he had cold hands when he tried to hug her. How he'd once been curious about his father's job and followed him. Basketball. His first car. Oxford. Discovering the X-Files. Feeling that his life had a purpose for the first time. Phoebe. Diana. Scully. Three names that didn't belong in the same breath. The first two passed in a split second. Almost inconsequential. The last lingered, each moment spanning into the next, just as in life, never enough. He was able to see the parallel of their lives even before they met. How her strict, uprooted childhood, made her disciplined. A scientist. Made her want to stick with things and people. To find a home, a purpose. How her faith shaded her view, made her trust in goodness, made her believe in fate. How they fit together. Were designed with each other in mind. Millions of moments. Arguments. Smiles. Laughter. Days when their minds were working in total unison. Tears. Touches. All the times he felt he'd failed her. Times that only luck had saved her. Tooms, Duane Barry, cancer, Antarctica, Ritter, Padgett. Times when nothing could. Melissa. Emily. The guilt he'd carried for years melted away, as he saw the events through objective eyes. He'd expected to feel anger from her. Regret. There was only gratitude. He felt her fear, her desperation when he'd been sick. Days when she'd had to come to his rescue. Nearly frozen and infected. Shivering in a shower. The Bermuda triangle. Felt her concern after his father died, her compassion as Roche tormented him, her delight when he walked in that Senate hearing. He remembered the first case, how she'd turned into his arms for comfort. How she'd let him hold her after Pfaster. How she cradled him when his mother was ill. Remembered the brief brushing of his lips on hers one night in the office when they were far too tired to know better. How they'd sworn afterward that it would never happen again. The passion in her eyes over a year later just before it did. So many conversations, quick come backs. "I even made my parents call me Mulder." "Not everything is about you Mulder. This is my life." "The truth will save you Scully. I think it'll save both of us." The night they had finally given in. Done what they'd promised they never would. He felt her pleasure as he slipped inside her. Felt her heart constrict with happiness as she looked up into his eyes. Understood for the first time how deeply inside her he dwelled. How much he affected her. The pact they'd made that this wouldn't change their work. That the relationship stayed at home. Secret meetings. Sweet caresses. The time they almost lost control in the basement. The way his hand still found her back. The night he said I love you. The same night that she didn't say it back. He saw it so clearly in her eyes now. Fear. Not of him. But of herself and what she might become. Irrational. Dependent. No longer in control. Denial. Their old game. Drifting apart. Lies. "I know her Scully. You don't." Christ that hurt. He felt the kick in the stomach just as she had. A sickening mixture of betrayal and jealousy. And with that image can a flood of memories riding the same emotion. The hurt centering on two themes. The many times he'd run off on his own and abandoned her. To places as far as Hong Kong and Russia. And in moments as personal as her cancer. Ed Jerse might never have happened. And Diana. The two of them holding hands. The night he left Scully with Gibson. Just days ago when Diana answered his phone. He felt how her breath caught each time. How for one split second she began to doubt him. To believe they meant nothing to each other. That everything they'd built was a lie. And worse, she began to doubt herself. To feel unworthy of his trust. Like an unneeded co-worker instead of a friend. A partner. And he'd done that to her. In the beginning he'd left her as protection. That much he felt no guilt for. But over time, she had come to mean so much to him. More than he'd ever mean to her. Diana was nothing more than an attempt to make her jealous. To hurt Scully like she'd hurt him. For not opening up. For not saying that she loved him. For pushing him away. And now, he'd never get the chance to tell her the truth. "There's no place here for self-pity," a man's voice interrupted. Mulder glared into the light ahead, making out the shape of a man he didn't recognize. "Who are you?" Mulder asked. The man simply nodded, his movement somehow mesmerizing, drawing Mulder to him. Mulder's mind swirled in a haze of confusion. He didn't know this man or this place. He didn't understand. "Do I know you?" he tried again. "You may not recognize me," the man said. "But we've been together many years." Mulder looked closer, the man's face coming into a blurry focus. There was something familiar about him. "I was with you when your sister was taken. The months that Scully was gone. When your father died." "Well you're a regular party hopper." The man chuckled. "Not just bad times. I've seen you through a thousand moments of joy. Remember the first time you trusted Scully? That night she came to your motel room? Remember how you felt when she was returned to you? When her cancer went into remission? "Will she be okay now?" Mulder hesitated. "It's not up to me," he paused. "Would you like to see her?" Mulder nodded and in a flash he saw Scully on her knees in a hospital bathroom. He saw the tears on her face, felt the sick, emptiness in her stomach, the pain in her heart. He watch her pull herself to her feet and return to his bedside. "The choice is yours. There are others who can help you decide," the man motioned over his shoulder. In the distance, Mulder could see a line of people approaching, none recognizable at first. Then the faces came clearly into view. The same as before. His father. Deep Throat. "The group has grown since you were last here. When your other half shot you." He blinked as X, Melissa, and Emily took their places in line. The last member of the group was a complete shock. Albert Hosteen. No one spoke for a moment, Melissa finally breaking the silence. "She needs you Fox. Go back." "Son," his father spoke up, "you can't stop what's coming. Save yourself the pain." "She has much to tell you," Albert urged. "Let me show you what it will be like if you stay," the man interrupted. "All the answers, truth, everything you've been searching for." He was immediately taken into the light. But not before Emily's small voice filled his heart. "She loves you." Then he was overcome by conciseness. Wrapped in knowledge, utter bliss coursing through him, tied in unity to all things. He saw new shades of color raining down, felt the intensity of red and green. His soul burned from the inside out as he stopped fighting and relaxed into the warmth. He felt every molecule of himself vibrating faster and higher, being pulled toward the others. But even in the midst of perfection, it struck him that something was wrong. Unfinished. And his heart made the decision void of mind or body, the light disappearing as he drifted back into darkness. ---------------------- This gentle circling of her hand on his arm was the first thing he became aware of. Incredible pain and the tube down his throat were the next. He groaned, still not opening his eyes. "Mulder?" she asked with a voice almost afraid to hope. "Mulder?" she tried louder, standing to lay a hand on his forehead. His eyes fluttered open, squinting against the light to take hold of tear filled blue ones hovering about him. This light seemed dim to him now, but burst of color in her eyes struck him anew. Scully began to cry open tears of relief, apparently unable to stop her hand from touching his face. He need to tell everything. A grunt was the best he could do. "No Mulder. Don't try to talk." She slid a hand over his heart. "Let me get the doctor." --------------------------- A few seconds later Scully returned with the doctor. He gave Mulder the once over, just as confused as ever over his patient's condition. Satisfied that Mulder was safe for the moment, the tube was removed. Scully's hand clutched Mulder's during the entire examination. Before the doctor was out of sight, Scully leaned down and pressed her lips to Mulder's. "I'm sorry," Mulder whispered when they parted. "No," she shook her head. "I don't want us to be sorry." She leaned in to kiss him again, this time deeper, resonating with the texture of kisses past. Mulder tried to move to touch her for the first time, his hand slowly reaching up to brush the hair from her face. "But I am," he cleared his scratchy throat. "I hurt you." "Never," she insisted. He nodded, seeing the truth in her eyes. "You were with me, Scully. I experienced everything I've ever made you feel." She looked away. "And I'm sorry." Scully visibly braced herself before she looked back up into his eyes. "I'm not," she smiled. "Because I've never been able to tell you how wonderful you make me feel." They sank into each other's gaze then and for several wordless minutes, sat relearning, rejoicing, forgiving all that was past. Finally Mulder took her hand. "Albert was there too. And Melissa....And Emily," he said his voice softening with each name. Scully's fought it but her eyes filled again. She brushed away the tears with a laugh of frustration and an attempt at a joke. "No Nazis this time?" He shook his head with a smile. "Mulder?" "Hum?" "Promise you won't say oh brother." end. -------------------------------------------- Thanks to Sherrie, my stories now have a home: http://users2.50megs.com/romoangst/georgia/