From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org Date: Fri, 21 Jul 2000 13:34:55 -0500 Subject: Broken Heart by redbarrel Source: direct Reply To: redbarrel42@yahoo.com TITLE: Broken Heart AUTHOR: redbarrel FEEDBACK: redbarrel42@yahoo.com DISTRIBUTION: Anywhere, I'd be honored, but please e-mail me the location so I can come visit. DISCLAIMER: I don't own them, nor do I claim to. RATING: at least PG-13 for language, maybe R KEYWORDS: Angst, MSR...? (just read it!) SPOILERS: None. I guess this story could take place at any time. Place it when ever you feel it would be appropriate in the timeline. SUMMARY: I think the title says it all. Anything else would give away too much. Her stomach clenched again, as if someone took her entire abdomen and twisted it like a rag. Her grip tightened on the steering wheel as she willed the pain to go away. Tears that she had promised herself wouldn't be shed until she got home fell without her even realizing. As she parked in front of her apartment building, she realized she didn't even remember the actual drive home. Did she take the Beltway or surface streets from Mulder's apartment? How many lights had she hit? She couldn't remember... it didn't matter. Through blurred eyes, she hastily fit her key into the lock, and barely made it in before the first sob escaped. At first, all she could do was drop to the floor right inside the door, where she cried loudly. She finally made it over to the couch, where she buried her face and tears in a pillow. Why did her chest hurt so much? Whoever said this felt like your heart being ripped out of your chest lied. It didn't; it was being crushed and broken into pieces. It just hurt so badly she wished someone would rip it out. The tears finally ran out, and she stumbled into the bathroom; she badly needed a tissue. Using only the light from the hall, she considered her own reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were red and swollen underneath the smeared mascara. She turned the water on, as hot as she could stand, and roughly scrubbed her face. She tasted the bile rising, and fell to her knees in front of the toilet. She threw the lid up just before the pasta and iced tea from dinner came back up. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons on her silk shirt, until it finally slid off her shoulders and onto the floor. She left it there, not giving it another thought. Her shoes, skirt, and nylons followed, making a trail to her dresser where she picked out sweat pants and a flannel shirt. She tore the comforter off her bed and wrapped it tightly around her. The bed looked too cold, too uninviting. Too big. She went back to the couch. She hadn't expected to fall asleep, but she had thought she was finished crying. She was wrong. Only the tears of sadness, and pity were finished. Hysterical, panic-filled tears took their place. How could she face him tomorrow morning? She could call in sick, but then she'd just be delaying the confrontation until the next day. Was this it? Would she ever be able to work with him again? She had so much invested in the work, but could she still work with him? Despite all she'd lost, would she have to transfer?... Quit? She was cold. She buried herself in the blanket, tried to burrow into the couch, and she still shivered uncontrollably. She finally fell asleep. Something was wrong. She could feel the presence of someone else in the room. She awoke slowly, keeping her eyes closed until she was fully conscious. Where was her gun? She remembered taking off her shirt in the bedroom, but it hadn't been on her then... Oh, God. Mulder's. She took her jacket and holster off at Mulder's before dinner. And then she had run out of there so fast.... She jumped at a thump on the floor next to the couch. Her eyes flew open to a gun... her gun, sitting on the ground near her head. She raised her eyes to the chair in the corner, and in the soft moonlight she made out the dark silhouette of the one man she felt like using that gun on. He didn't move, didn't speak. She guessed he was waiting for her, but what did he expect her to say? She didn't trust her voice, it was probably hoarse from crying, so she whispered. "Why are you here?" The silhouette shrugged. Now what? She could feel a fresh batch of tears rising. She couldn't let him see her cry. She tightened the blanket around her, bolted off the couch, and ran into her bedroom. She shut the door quickly, and then leaned into it, slowly sliding down to the floor. She felt the pressure of the door increase against her as he mimicked her movements on the opposite side. She then allowed to tears to fall, but bit down on her finger to choke back any sound. She couldn't let him hear her cry. She was embarrassed when she heard the first muffled sobs... until she realized they weren't coming from her. She didn't remember falling asleep. One minute she was huddled in a ball against the door, and the next she was huddled in a ball on her bed. With him sitting next to her, stroking her hair away from her face. She jerked away, scrambling to the opposite side of the bed. They sat staring at each other, not able to really see any details in the darkness, for an indeterminable amount of time. Her moods swung seemingly every few seconds. Sadness to panic to hopelessness to anger to emptiness. Finally anger won. "What's wrong, Mulder? Scared you ruined the partnership? I know, I know. I make you a whole person. See, you should have explained that I make you a whole person when concerning work only. Personal life not included. And now you're here to make sure I don't walk out tomorrow morning. Well, don't worry. Your precious quest is safe. There's no way to walk out on you without leaving the work behind also, and I have too much invested to just walk away." The sobs came unexpectedly, and before she could control them. He made a motion toward her, but she just retreated further toward the edge. Mulder stood up and walked to the door. "I lied." His voice was scratchy. Had he been crying all night, too? "Scully, this is so unlike you... this wasn't the reaction I was expecting. I just want to protect you. Being my partner is dangerous enough. If you were my lover... imagine what they'd do to you. I can't lose you, Scully. You know if anything happens to you, that's it for me. I've put a gun to my head for far less." The look in his eyes revealed a sadness she had never seen before. "I'll see you tomorrow." He turned and walked out without letting her reply. She wanted to cry again, but she found the control to force it away. She was strong... she was Scully. Tomorrow she would go to work and walk into their office. She would look him in the eye and pretend that nothing had happened. She could work with a broken heart. The hope that someday Mulder might put it back together would keep her going. END Author's note: This story is dedicated to all those who know exactly what it feels like to love someone who doesn't love you the same way. I hope I didn't butcher the feelings in the transition to words.