From: "Dr. Dana" Date: Sun, 16 Apr 2000 20:23:22 +0200 Subject: Close to the Deadline by Nadine Source: direct Title: Close to the Deadline (1-8 of 8) Author: Nadine :) Email: yayoi@animepalace.zzn.com Website: http://members.xoom.com/DanaScX/ Archive: Pleeze! Just lemme know ok? Category: Scully POV/A/S/post-ep Keywords: Cancer fic/MSR (eventually) Spoilers: up to and including Memento Mori Rating: Part 5 R, Parts 3,6,8 NC-17, Parts 1,2,4,7 somewhere between G and PG-13 Summary: Scully is afraid that now that she is so close to death, she will never be able to express her true feelings to Mulder. Disclaimer: The characters and the monologue at the beginning are the property of Chris Carter and 1013 Productions, and when you think about it, they also belong to Gillian Anderson and David Duchovny. Although I used them without permission, I certainly have no intention of making profit with them. All I want to do is to express and share my love for a great TV universe and two strong characters. Note: A big, sincere Thank You goes out to everyone who read my stories, everyone who wrote to me after reading them, and everyone who voted for them in awards. You are a great support. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Close to the Deadline xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx I For the first time I feel time like a heartbeat, the seconds pumping in my breast like a reckoning; the numinous mysteries that once seemed so distant and unreal threatening clarity in the presence of a truth entertained not in youth, but only in its passage. I feel these words as if their meaning were weight being lifted from me, knowing that you will read them and share my burden as I have come to trust no other. That you should know my heart, look into it, finding there the memory and experience that belong to you, that are you, is a comfort to me now as I feel the tethers loose and the prospects darken for the continuance of a journey that began not so long ago, and which began again with a faith shaken and strengthened by your convictions. If not for which I might never have been so strong now as I cross to face you and look at you incomplete, hoping that you will forgive me for not making the journey with you. xxx "Scully?" he asks. "Yeah?" I answer. "You alright?" "I'm fine, thank you", I answer automatically, knowing the words won't satisfy him. "Sure you are." He looks straight into my eyes, his face not betraying his concern. "Yes, I am", I tell him, my voice not accepting any protest. I turn away to continue my work. The discussion is finished, I tell him without words. I try to ignore him, glad to have the files in front of me to turn my attention to. I'm tired of his questions, his looks that are drilling into my eyes, searching for the reason of my uncomfort. Over and over again. I'm tired of his concern, his sympathy. He's always around me, asking me if I'm alright, knowing he'll always get the same trite answer. But he just doesn't seem to realize he'll not get through, I tell myself. But then I think, sure he has already realized. He's the educated psychologist after all, and over that, he knows me better than any other person- sometimes I get the impression he even knows me better than I do. I suppose he wants to get access to my deepest feelings under any circumstances. He wants me to say the words. Something like *I'm afraid of what's going to happen to me* or *I don't wanna die.* But that's not the point. These are not my most personal secret thoughts buried in the very soul of me. I know they should be, but they're not. It's something else. Something that's tearing on me, ripping my soul apart yet something I can't confess to him unless I want to screw up the time we have left. That lousy little amount of time. I mean, I should be worried, upset, fearful, grieving about my terminal disease. It's not that I'm not, but... there *is* this other thing that makes me have trouble sleeping, makes my stomach turn over at times, makes tears come to my eyes all of a sudden. Without the cancer, I wouldn't feel this... uncomfortable about it, could tell myself there's still enough time, wouldn't feel so close to deadline. Ha, deadline. What a wordplay. And his behavior makes it worse without him knowing it. He treats me like all the others who know about my cancer. Mum, Skinner, Bill... *Dana, everything alright?* *How do you feel?* *May I help you?* Poor dying little Dana. I mean, their sympathy is just natural, it's alright. But Mulder... I didn't expect it from him. Not that I'm angry about it, he truly feels sorry for me, and I'm glad he does so, that's for sure. But he doesn't behave like he has the feelings I hoped he had for me. I always hoped he would touch me, be near me with his body, comfort me when I need it, be... be more than a friend to me. So desperately I wished that in this short time we have left together, he would finally make the step and show me his love. But as things are now looking, there is no love at all. At least not from his side. And I hoped, wanted, needed him so badly, so passionately, wished that he'd always be close to me, live every moment of my life with me, kiss me goodnight, set my body on fire, love me wild and passionately with all of his body, wake up next morning, have breakfast with me... God, he is the only thing I wished for. I feel the tears welling up behind my eyes just as his voice wakes me from my musings. "Hey, Scully?" I quickly wipe my eyes and turn around in my office chair. Trying to look casual, I ask: "What's up, fella?" He gives me a sheepish smile. "Got any plans for the weekend?" I smile back, delighted by his clumsy manner that makes him seem so boyish. "What did you have in mind?" xxx I am standing before Mulder's apartment door, a bag filled with chocolate and other threats to human teeth in my left hand, a six-pack in the right and a small backpack over my left shoulder. After the fourth knock I drop the six-pack to search around in my pocket for my keys, wondering what keeps him form answering the door since he knew I was coming. Then finally the door opens and he's standing right in front of me, wearing that boyish grin again. "I'm sorry, I was in the bathroom." I can't prevent a smile of my own and his grin becomes even wider before he grabs the utensils and closes the door after I walked past him inside. I turn around to watch him examine the sweets. He's wearing a gray T-shirt that fits really tight around his chest and a pair of blue 501 jeans. All that to *bare* feet. Oh god, the let me fuck your brains out outfit. "Hey, Scully, great choice!" he shouts, taking out some of the chocolate bars I bought for us. "That stuff is deadly." I force myself to smile and stop regarding his muscled frame as I answer: "And what did you get for movies?" He quickly walks past me and throws the food onto the couch then takes a stack of videos from the coffee table, holding them up. "I got *Nightmare On Elm Street* parts one to seven, Chuckie parts one to four..." he grins his wide grin again when he sees me roll my eyes. "All the best for my Scully." I try not to twitch at the words --*my Scully*--, knowing they are meaningless. "So", I say, letting myself fall onto the couch and dropping the backpack to one side, "what are we waiting for? I'd say we should start with *Chuckie*. What are you waiting for?" I ask, enjoying his surprised look. "Okay", he finally mumbles, inserting the tape into the VCR then sitting down next to me. Close to me, my mind registers. As the movie starts, I can feel the warmth of his body next to mine as he makes himself comfortable, draping an arm behind me on the edge of the couch. I lean my head onto the tight muscles and close my eyes lazily, evolving a chuckle from him. He takes two beer cans from the pack and handles me one. We click our cans and I take a sip, making a grimace at the bitterness of the stuff. It's been a long time since the last time I've had a beer, I realize. It's certainly been not half that long for Mulder for as I can tell not twenty minutes later he takes another can from the pack and opens it with a *pffft*. "Cheers, Scully", he says with a chuckle at my disgusted face then lifts the can to his mouth. Oh boy, this is gonna be a night. xxx About... five or six hours later, we are half- sitting, half- lying on the couch with our feet on the coffee table, chocolate paper all sprawled around us, I am resting with my head on Mulder's shoulder. Through my drunken dizziness I realize what a good feeling it is. I curl my fingers around one of his strong forearms and take in his scent, closing my eyes in satisfaction. Mulder has just finished the last can of the second six- pack he'd bought... I don't remember when. Must have been some time between *Chuckie 3* and *Pet Cemetery*. He lets out a real bad curse and I giggle and shove my elbow into his side. He moans and I giggle even more until he rests his head on mine. I automatically lift my hand to stroke the back of his head, amazed at the softness of the dark strands of hair there. "Aaw, Scully, my stomach hurts", he mumbles. "I know, Mulder. Mine does, too. All the sweets combined with the beer were too much. You can call yourself lucky if you won't be hanging all day over your toilet puking tomorrow." "Thanks, Scully." "Welcome." We keep sitting wordless like that for a while watching the finale of *Nightmare On Elm Street* part... whatever until I let out a long yawn. Mulder looks up at me. "You tired, Scully?" "Not at all." He laughs softly at my irony then lifts himself from my shoulder and gets up, grabbing something from under the sofa. "What are you doing?" I want to know, startled by his sudden actions. He holds out a wool blanket to me. "I'm gonna put you to sleep now. Come on, lay down." "Oh come on, you must be kidding", I start to protest but then do as he said. He lays the blanket over me, takes some chocolate paper away and then looks at me, satisfied with his work. "Good. Now close your eyes and sleep." I start one last protest, "Where are *you* going to sleep, Mulder?" I mumble, try to sound insistent but most likely fail as I am dizzy from all the beer and my head is already spinning. "I'm gonna see", he says as he switches off the TV and VCR and brings the empty cans to the kitchen. Then he returns and lowers his head to mine, placing a soft kiss with his tender lips on my cheek. My god, those lips. Please, Mulder, give me more of that. "Now sleep tight", he whispers with a stroke of his fingers through my hair. "Ummm", I sigh, rolling myself to the other side, hearing his footsteps disappear. Where? Maybe to the bathroom? I don't know, and I'm not asking. This was a good idea of Mulder's. Better than his questions, and much better than his concern. Tonight I don't feel reduced to my illness, don't feel like I'm nothing more than a dying woman who will have to face the cruelest terrors before her death. Tonight I feel like a really normal, usual woman. I feel much easier, much more attractive when he's that... tender to me without even a slight hint of worry in his eyes. I even feel desired, though there is no real reason to; just his touches and caresses are enough for me right now. Tonight, after a long time, I can finally lay down without worrying if I'll ever wake up, without wondering if I will be able to steal a tender glance, a soft touch, an encouraging smile from him tomorrow. I can simply lay my head down onto this old worn out couch without any other thoughts, knowing I won't have to fight any nightmares. This is how it always should be, I think before my mind drifts off to sleep. For once... I am happy. II I feel warmth on my face, on my shoulders, on my chest. It is burning into my skin, feeling like it would run straight into my bloodstream. For a moment I imagine the warmth to be radiating from his skin, the muscles beneath, the fine hair growing on his arms. It feels like pure heat is pouring from his touch. Then I realize I've woken up and that the sun is shining down on me from the window behind me. I am still in Mulder's apartment, lying on his leather sofa under a wool blanket. I remember last night and wonder where he went to sleep after he put me in. After a moment I notice something else. It feels like an arm wrapped around me from behind, another body behind mine, another breath despite mine, humming into my ear and... something intense against my back. Oh god. I have found Mulder. For a moment I don't know what to do- until I feel him moving against me, his --morning erection?--pressing more insistently into me, and I pretend to be asleep. Trying to let my breath come out regularly and calmly, I am lying still as he slowly gets up and-- from what I can make out by listening to his movements-- stretches himself, yawning softly. Then I hear him walking towards the bathroom and closing the door behind him. I shift a little on the couch, not sure what to do, still recovering from the sensation of his body so close to mine. Of course, I have been close to him before, have felt his skin against mine, have been holding him, cradling him against my breast, have been held in his arms. But never like this, never so sexually. My goodness, he was holding me like we'd just had sex. Like I was his lover and he'd just given himself to me. Please do it again, I think hopefully. But, of course, he was just comforting me. Nothing else. Just comforting me. I am dying, for God's sake. That's the reason why he was cradling me. Nothing else. I get up and stretch myself a little, letting out a yawn. Then I make my way to the kitchen, wondering what miracle of emptiness Mulder's fridge will present me this time. Bracing myself to find something like a lone bottle of orange juice with an extension date of some years ago, I open the door- and don't believe what I see at first. It is filled with various kinds of cheese, some eggs, two kinds of juices, milk, soda, marmalade- I wonder what has come over him. XXX I am just finished setting the breakfast table when I hear Mulder walking into the kitchen behind me and turn around. He is wearing black sweatpants and a dark gray sleeveless T-shirt. When he sees that everything is ready he smiles. "Good morning sunshine", he says, putting a soft kiss onto my forehead- just like in the hospital. I wonder if that kiss back then meant as much to him as it did to me. "Good morning, Mulder", I respond, trying not to look away at his happiness for it's so rare. And it is tearing my heart apart, but I hope he doesn't know it. For the time we have left together, I want to share his happiness, and I will not let him know how much I am afraid of what I will have to face. How terrifying the thought of him no longer by my side to protect me is to me. How it is tearing my heart in two to know that the possibility --was it ever a possibility at all?-- I ever hoped for to come true will never be real... Not now. "Want anything?" I ask, offering him the coffee I made, as he sits down at the table. "Yeah, thanks", he says, watching as I pour him a cup. "Did you sleep well?" he asks, looking up at me after he took a sip. I turn away to hide my broad smile as I answer, "Yes, pretty well. Where did you sleep?" After the last words, I turn back to him to see his expression, to make out if he got what I meant. Now the smile can't be hidden anymore. He did sense my awareness. I didn't think it was possible. Mulder is speechless. Surprised. Stunned. I would be laughing loudly if it weren't for his puppy dog look that is still there, even when he looks at me open-mouthed and wide-eyed. "Scully, I...", he mumbles after a short moment. I can hardly force the corners of my mouth to stay down, and after a moment of fighting, I give up, giving him a wide smile. "It's okay, Mulder", I laugh, "it's alright, you don't have to be embarrassed. It's your couch and your apartment, after all." "But..." "No buts", I object as I sit down and take a slice of bread. After I put butter on it, I look at him again. He is staring at me, still at a loss of words. I smile at him encouragingly, being rewarded with a smile of his own. One of these rare Mulder smiles that can warm up a one-family-house in the middle of the winter. The sort of smile that he only shows in intimate, peaceful moments. This special kind of smile that he keeps up in his heart only for me. God help me that I can save that smile in my own heart forever when I fade. XXX III I masturbated all afternoon. When I came home after I had lunch with Mulder, I slammed the door and sank down on the floor, exhausted. Exhausted from looking at him, listening to him, being touched by him-all the while knowing that it won't be much longer. It could be over by tomorrow. Oh please, Mulder, please make that step before we are separated. Please. Make love to me. Oh please, do it, even if it's only one time, then I can save that one time forever, the memory of you and me entwined together; the one thing I need so desperately. One more thing, just to make me lose my fear of dying. Knowing that we have had a physical bond together, knowing that you, too, will revel in the faint memory of my touch, that you always will keep me inside of you. That I will continue living in some deep, intimate part of you. *Oh, please*... My tears were already running down my cheeks then, wetting my face, my neck, running into my hair, rushing over all the places where he touched me. It was like my own tears washed away his scent, the warm feeling left by him, the memory of his skin on mine, were washed away by my own tears, and that made me cry even more until I was lying curled up against the door, sobbing and shaking. I felt miserable, unworthy of him, not even able to appreciate his touches. No, certainly not. Someone like me --lying on the floor and drowning in their own pity-- someone like me is not worth his love. His love, nor his touch. His *touch*... His *caress*... His *kiss*... I closed my eyes, still wet from the tears, but drying steadily at my new trail of thoughts, and imagined. How he would plant a kiss on my mouth, as light and soft as a feather, pressing those lips on mine, transferring their heat onto my sensitive skin... *those lips* I imagined him caressing the corners of my mouth with his lower lip, the one I find myself staring at so often, nibbling, exploring further, kissing harder, his tongue entering my mouth, licking, moving around... I sat on the floor, eyes closed, breathing heavily, as I continued my fantasy. In my mind, I could see him, no, almost *feel* him leaving my mouth to let his tongue wander further down, along the curve of my neck, nibbling softly at the hollow where my neck meets my shoulder, licking, teeth scratching oh so softly. Simultaneously, he was moving his hands around my hips, kneading, fingers digging into flesh, moving downwards, cupping my buttocks in his hands and, all of a sudden, gripping hard, never stopping the invasion of his mouth on me. By now, I had decided to get up from the floor and was lying on my bed, jacket and shoes shed somewhere in a corner, the top three buttons of my blouse open. My hands were following every move he made in my dream, one tracing the curve of my right breast, the other wandering slowly but steadily downwards over my belly to my already throbbing and aching center. The fantasy Mulder now had succeeded in freeing me of my business clothes, the ones I seem to have become so used to that I even wear them in my dreams, and I was standing in front of him wearing only a coral blue bra and matching panties-- in my fantasies, I only wear the finest in underwear for him. He looked at me, at my body, admiring, lust written in his eyes, his breathing harsh with desire, wanton pouring from his every movement. Then he made one step toward me, reached behind me and unhooked my bra, then stepped backwards again. His hands reached out and cupped the rounded flesh, touching, testing their weight, kneading softly. In my bed, I imitated his every move, now flicking a nipple, then back downwards, opening buttons, sliding down waistbands, further down, pulling softly at the curls, parting the soft flesh, slipping inside... *Mulder...* In my dream, my panties were now off, and his head was between my legs, planting kisses on the insides of my upper thighs, his lips wandering slowly upwards, towards my very core, stopping there, not moving, heightening my excitement, and then... By now, my fingers were working between my legs rapidly, giving me the pleasure I imagined he'd be giving me, pretending what I craved so badly, all the while dreaming, lost in passionate fantasy... *then... * then his tongue touched me for the first time. Soft, light touch, making me scream, making my hips buck into his face, lips closing, then tongue darting out, touching the red pulsating bud, licking, circling, leaving, over to the lips, lapping, all of a sudden back on my clit, sucking hard... *Oh god... * Now, I am quite familiar with the female body, and not only because of my medical background I know how to bring my body the ultimate pleasure-- intensive, whole, yet meaningless. And so I brought myself over the edge again and again, until I was lying there, spent, conscious thoughts beginning to form in my mind again. And I felt dirty. Guilty. Egoistic. Abusing his image for my self-destructive, pointless satiation... *God Dana, how were you able to get that far?* I found myself crying again, then, feeling desperate, getting up from my lonely bed, and in the next moment I found myself digging in a drawer and pulling out a few things of Mulder's spare clothes he keeps at my place for the rare occasions when he stays at night after working on a case report too long... I held his shirt in my hand, fumbled with his sweatpants, then grabbed for a black turtleneck and clutched at it, bringing it to my nose and breathed in his scent, his *unique* scent... He smells of fine cologne, musk, male, singular... Mulderscent. I reveled in the sweet fragrance of his clothes, holding them close to me, touching them, feeling the soft fabric, for I don't know how long, until... Until I felt moisture on the cotton I held pressed against my nose. I looked at it and was knocked out of my fantasy world harshly by the immediate realization. Blood. There were drops of blood on Mulder's shirt. I instinctively touched my face. The wetness had left a trail from my nose to my upper lip. I found myself biting back a sob. Just another thing to remind me that I'm dying. Only one more aspect to show me that I'm almost gone. Then I couldn't hold back the tears anymore and let myself go, once again surrending to my weakness, clutching desperately at the shirt that belonged to Mulder, that was my reminder of him, holding it close to my chest, crying, murmuring under the tears, then screaming, screaming to heavens... I want to live. I'm not ready yet. XXX IV Mulder's behaving strange lately. It's been about two weeks now since I stayed the night at his place, and I can tell he's somewhat different now in his manner. I asked him twice if we should rent a few videos and have a night again, but all he came up with were lame excuses. The first time he said he was going to see his mother, the second time he was planning on cleaning his apartment. Mulder, I know you don't do either of that. Especially the latter. Just now as I'm sitting in our office-- have been all morning--, I feel his gaze on me, his eyes examining me. I try to concentrate on the report before my eyes, try to make sense of the words, but I can't-- not when he's observing me like that. Not when I feel his stare threatening under my skin, trying to make out every change, every damage, every little death the demon within me has provoked. Letting out a long sigh, I try to read the report once more before I look up. "Mulder, what's the matter?" I ask sternly. His eyes meet mine for a brief moment then he looks away quickly, "Nothing. Why?" "Why were you staring at me?" He obviously tries to look casually, "I-- I didn't stare at you, I just--" I cut him off as I get up from my chair and fold my arms across my chest. "Mulder, you've been staring at me all morning, all week, and the week before. You rejected my offers to do something over the weekend again, and when I ask you what this is all about, you talk your way out of it! Mulder, what *is* this about? What are you hiding from me?" The words come out like a waterfall, I guess they sound pretty harsh, and the minute I see his mouth dropping open and his eyes growing huge I wish I hadn't spoken to him like that. "Scully, I--", he begins, his voice barely above a whisper. I am about to put my hand on his cheek and tell him I'm sorry when, all of a sudden, his gaze drops for a second and when he looks back at me, all emotion has vanished from his eyes, and he looks all calm-- now he's in his no shit mode. "I don't know just what you're talking about", he says, "maybe you could use some free time?" That does it for me. I make one step toward him, raise my hand and slap him across the face, hard. Then I grab my coat and purse and, without turning around, head towards the door. >From the corner of my eyes I can make out that he is still standing there, with his shoulders hanging and his eyes staring at his feet. I don't care. I make it to my car as fast as possible, and when I'm sitting in the driver's seat, I lay my head on the steering wheel and exhale a deep breath. I sit like that for a moment, I don't know how long. Maybe because I expect him to follow me. Maybe I hope he will do so. He doesn't. I bite down on my lip to hold back a sob and start the motor. XXX Mulder hasn't called. He hasn't called nor dropped by to see how I'm doing, or to apologize. Well, I won't call him either. Two can play at this game, Mulder. And I'm not going to take the blame for his pissy mood. What the hell is going on with him, anyway? First he's lingering around me all the time, but avoiding talking to me, then he tells me there's nothing wrong with him, and that I *could use some free time*. I am still mad, but at the same time I regret what I've said to him, and that I hit him. I mean, he provoked me to, but I guess I shouldn't have overreacted like that. After all, this is Mulder. I am the one to know he often says things he doesn't mean. I sigh. Great, Dana. You just screwed it all up again. I get up from my sofa and decide that only a good hot shower can help me now. At least it will help ease some of the tension inside me. XXX I am lying in my bed, showered, dressed in my best silk pajamas, lying on my most beautiful satin sheets, being covered by the most exquisite set of satiny blankets. And still I feel miserable. I keep rolling myself from one side onto the other all the time, restless and impatient. But what am I waiting for? For Mulder to come around with a huge bouquet of flowers? Ha, what an imagination. No, I think this time it really is serious. I think today I really have wasted any chance that he would ever... Cut it out, Dana, there never has been such a chance, I tell myself. Confused from all the miserable thoughts, I feel myself starting to cry. Just when I switch the light on to get myself some handkerchief, the phone beside the bed rings. I start at the sudden noise. Then I realize immediately just who is calling me. Who else could it be? I look at the alarm clock. 11.21 p.m. Ok, this can definitely be nobody else. Taking a deep breath, I pick up the receiver. "Hello?" >From the other end of the line, I only hear breathing. Shaky breathing, but nothing else. "Hello?" I ask again. Another trembling exhale, then, "Scully..." Oh god. "Mulder? What is it?" I ask, knowing full well what it is. "Scully..." A long pause. "Scully, I...I..." When I hear his faint voice whispering my name, I realize he must be crying. "Mulder, what is it? Why are you crying?" Sympathy in my voice. After another long pause, he murmurs, "Can I come over? Please, I..." When I realize he's not going to finish the sentence, I tell him, reassuringly, "of course. Half an hour?" "'Kay." His voice is still shaking, but I think I can sense a hint of relief there. "Good. Bye." "Yeah", then I hear a click, and he's gone. I hang up and get out of bed. Now I am even more confused. What the hell is going on here? XXX Thirty minutes can be a long time. A terribly long time. For about the eighth time within the last five minutes I am glancing at the display on the VCR. Now it is 11.49. Will this half hour finally come to an end? I have combed my hair twice, have even considered dressing and putting on make- up, but then I thought the white robe would do as well. I have put on a few drops of perfume, though. You never know... But then I think, whatever this will lead to, it certainly won't be the thing I find myself thinking of all the time. That chance is long wasted, Dana. Suddenly, there is a knock at the door. I jump. Was it real? Or did I just imagine to hear it? Well, let's check. I go to the door and look through the peephole, and yes, in the darkness of the corridor I can see a figure standing in front of the door, waiting. Only Mulder would walk through a long corridor in the middle of the night without switching on the light. I take one last deep breath, say one more silent prayer and then I unlock the chain and open the door. "Hi", I greet him as I step aside, and he walks in. He does not respond, does not say anything, just looks at me for a split second. I notice he's still dressed in his work clothes. Then, suddenly, he draws me close to him, wraps his arms around me, and presses my body tight against his chest. I struggle to breathe, but I don't care. I realize he's crying again. "Mulder", is all I can say. "Mulder..." His head comes to rest on my shoulder, and I stroke the back of his head softly, trying my best to calm him down. I can smell him. He smells faintly of cologne and washing powder, but not of booze-- thank God. "It's all right", I whisper. Then I pull back slightly, my hand holding the back of his head, making him look at me. "What is it?" I ask softly. He is looking at me now. His eyelids are swollen and wet with tears, and his eyes are now a shining green, and the corners of his eyes are red. I can still feel him shaking against me, and he is sobbing softly. "Mulder, what is it?" I ask again. "You know you can tell me." At my words, he begins crying again, the sobs shaking him hard, and he pulls me even closer. With his arms around me, he is slowly sinking to the ground, until he is resting on the floor with his head against my belly. I can feel his breathing through the cloth of my robe, slowly calming down. My fingers stroke through the fine strands of his hair again. Slowly and calmingly. I will give him all the time he needs. Then I hear his voice, trying to form a word. My name. "S-- Scully..." I do not interrupt him, do not say anything, just let him speak. "Scully, I..." My fingers repeat their tender motion over and over again, soothing him, giving him comfort, until his next words come to my ears, soft yet like a huge impact, tearing at my heart. Slowly, shakingly, in a voice barely audible, he says, "I can't lose you." XXX V The words have left his lips, but they don't seem to have reached my mind yet, because I cannot believe what I've just heard. *I can't lose you.* Words spoken under silent tears, the only soft noise in the room, spoken out of sheer desperation and obviously... Obviously... *What?* While I'm still standing here, cradling a sobbing Mulder against my belly, his words open so many new possibilities, so many different meanings, so many consequences that I am speechless except for one word. "Mulder", I whisper softly, stroking the back of his head rhythmically. "Mulder, Mulder..." "Scully", he sobs, shedding new tears, more tremors evolving throughout his body, "Scully..." "It's alright", I tell him, though I know it is not. "Mulder, calm down and tell me", I say, giving it a new try, "please." I want to know what is behind all this. At my urging, he looks up, his eyes shining with moisture, nose slightly swollen, his breathing ragged. He then gets up shakily, standing now in front of me in his full height, and I have to look up to see his face. He won't look into mine, though. Staring at his feet, he begins, "I... I've never... you know, I have never...", I can tell he has a hard time finding the right words, "never stopped looking for a cure for you." My mouth drops open, and my surprise must be visible for a blind man to see. Of all things he could have said in that moment, this was the one I expected the least. He is looking at me now, seeing my response, and continuing, "Ever since that night in the hospital, I have been trying to track this guy Scanlon down, or to get more information on the fertility clinic or on...", he is struggling for words again, "I've spent a lot of time at the Lone Gunmen's, and I've searched through half the Internet for some clues... and ever since that night... when you were at my place... I-- I... don't think I didn't want you there again", he looks up at me pleadingly now, his eyes begging me to understand him. His voice again is so soft. "I just couldn't stand it... the absolute certainty that I couldn't do anything to prevent... that you will eventually be... be *gone*..." He is sobbing again, and I reach out for him, feel him snuggling into my embrace, sobbing quietly. "I can't think of what it will be like when you're gone", he whispers, "I don't know what to do without you, how to go on... I can't continue without you, I need you by my side, I love you, I--" I draw away from him and look at him. I cannot believe my ears. But he really has said the last words because he is becoming aware of it too, gazing at the floor, then lifting his head, looking at me, his eyes so wide with emotion, his hand searching mine, not really taking hold of it, though, his mouth hanging open at a loss of words, begging silently, asking me to understand, and oh Mulder, I do understand, I do know how hard it is to hide your feelings for years, to build up a wall around your deepest emotions... what I cannot get myself to understand is why I didn't notice earlier... I don't know what to believe right now, if I can believe your words, if they are true, spoken out of genuine feeling for me or just some stupid act of sympathy... and I am confused from not knowing, so very confused... I am so tired of all this... I want the truth... oh please... Now I feel tears of my own building up under my eyelashes, slowly making their way down my cheeks. I still try to look at him, but my vision turns blurry through the moisture and I look away, avoiding his gaze which I know is still focused on me. Then it is his turn to comfort me as I feel him drawing me into his embrace, but before I realize it I have pushed him away. Not looking up to see the confused hurt in his eyes, I endure his slow movement towards me, his looks gliding over me as I hug myself tightly and try to avoid seeing him, then his voice again... "Scully... please..." I shake my head rapidly, not accepting his attempts to soothe me, not before I learn about his sincerity. I exhale sharply then speak, not sure if I will actually produce a sound. "Mulder... I..." I interrupt myself and start over. Trying to figure out how to phrase this. Then I decide to go straight ahead and ask him. "Mulder, I need to know... what you just said..." Okay, that much is out. The only thing that stops me from saying the rest is my voice that is about to crack. When I speak again, I think he has trouble understanding me. "I need to know if you... if you're serious, if you're not just saying this..." After the last words are out I look at him again and see that now he is the one struggling for the right words. It seems he has found them when his gaze on me becomes pleading, searching for acceptance. And then the words come out, in that soft voice. "How... just how could I ever lie to you?" Oh, my... The next few seconds, I don't really know what's happening. I can feel my body swaying, falling, but being caught by two strong arms before I reach the ground. I am being lifted, then being held. I try to look him in the eye, but the tears are there again, and I am just at a loss... don't know what to do, what to say... I'm... I am just overwhelmed by all that happened, all that has been revealed in the last... hell, I don't know how long. Certainly long enough to make everything I was so sure about in those last four years shatter with a loud crash, all the barriers I've built around what are called emotions, all the certainty that he would never love me... "Scully..." His voice slowly distracts me from my miserable thoughts. "Scully..." Again, one single word between us, claiming one another's attention, explaining so much in two syllables. I try not to choke on my own two syllables as hot tears burn my cheeks. "Mulder." I close my eyes and lean into him now, simply letting him hold me, a gesture of trust, confidence, friendship and... so much more. At this moment, I am just glad to be held like this by him, in his warm embrace, surrounded by the scent of him, breathing him in. So I barely notice at first when he moves away slightly and then lowers his head to mine. I only feel the soft pressure on my cheeks, on my nose, the warmth and the very slight suckling as he starts kissing my tears away. Softly, his lips move across my face as they collect the salty moisture from my stained skin, an even more intimate gesture with so much promise behind it. My eyes stay closed as I revel in the feeling. Then I start at the loss of contact as his mouth moves away as gently as it has invaded me. I wait for him to do something, anything, but nothing happens. Then I realize his eyes are searching mine, and I look at him, shyly, regarding what there just was and what there soon might be. And his gaze on mine is asking, tempting but not daring, and I lay all my permission and promise into mine, hoping to give him the confidence he needs. And then, seconds later, it happens. His neck bows, his breath comes against me, and his lips finally descend on mine, so lightly at first, barely touching, his soft skin against mine. Then I respond, pressing my mouth against his more insistently, opening, inviting him in, feeling him suck my lips with his, feeling his tongue probing then entering, and I accept it gladly, letting him ravish my mouth, letting our tongues duel, releasing all the unspoken feelings that I can now be sure of. How long that first kiss of ours lasts, I don't know. I have no sense of the passage of time, I can only respond to Mulder's tender ministrations on me, only dare to imagine what will follow, what lies behind all this. What more there is to come. Literally. I chuckle softly into Mulder's mouth. He notices and withdraws, somewhat irritated. "What?" he asks, uncertainty and loss of self esteem obvious in his features and in his voice. I shake my head, a wide smile still displaying on my face, and take his hand in mine, my fingers starting to caress his long elegant ones. "Nothing", I reply, "I'm just..." I don't know how long it's been since I last said the word, "happy." Happy. The sound of the tiny word sends jolts of joy through me, my body being fulfilled with contentment, love, love for this man and arousal, sharp arousal overwhelming me. I can see the same emotions passing through him, being reflected in his eyes, and as he pulls me closer to him, I also can feel his own arousal pressing against me, so hard, so insistent, so awake... so good. The warm feeling of moisture pooling between my legs grips me as I press myself against him, feeling his hardness through his pants, and he feels so good that I rub my body against him a little more. The hoarse groan he makes is enough for me to lift myself on tiptoe and take control, becoming the one to kiss him furiously, my mouth drawing everything from him I can get, evoking more of those gorgeous aroused sounds, leaving us both breathless, until I withdraw and look at him, seeing my own passion, my own lust mirrored in his darkened, half closed eyes, and god, he's beautiful, so very beautiful, looking at me, his breath coming in sharp pants, his lips slightly parted. The view of him, so very aroused, so passionate for me, for *me*, makes me sure, tells me that there is only one thing for me to say. "Make love to me." XXX VI "Please, please, make love to me..." I bury my head into his chest and whisper to him, pleadingly, urgently. Under any other circumstances I would have backed away as soon as the words had left my mouth and excused myself then gotten away as fast as possible, but *this*, this is Mulder. This is the man I trust, I love, I adore... And, now the wonderful, no, *amazing* thing is, he feels the same. He trusts me. He adores me. He *loves* me. Loves me... now I can be sure about it, finally all the uncertainty and insecurity has been extinguished, and all that is left are pure, sincere emotions we are now finally free to share, to revel in with each other. And revel we do, as we are standing here, hugging so closely, inhaling each other's scent, but... Whoops! All of a sudden, I am not standing there anymore because he has scooped me up into his arms, holding my body close against his chest, again smiling his brilliant smile. "Your wish is my command", and with that he carries me into the bedroom, the bedroom that has been my lonely place of rest for so long and which will now become the site of our very first lovemaking. All of a sudden I become aware that my bed is not made, that the sheets are still crumpled, the blanket is lying half on the floor, and it must all smell like sleep, like me... But Mulder doesn't seem to mind, doesn't hesitate before setting me down onto the bed oh so very carefully, then draping himself over me, taking my face into his tender hands and for one moment we are just looking at one another, eyes saying so much more than words ever can, and then his lips descend on mine again in a hot greedy kiss, his mouth, his tongue, his lips wanting everything from me and giving me so much more back as we move closer to each other, as I grip his shoulders and pull him into me, trying to get as much of him as I can, and I can smell his wonderful scent again, and speaking of scent, he seems to be sniffing the bed because just now he looks up again, looks at me and gives me another of those smiles, those smiles that will knock me down one day with their great brightness... "I like that smell, you know... smells just like you." Oh, Mulder... How can a man be just so sweet, so charming, so loving to me? How can such a wonderful man, with his brains and his looks, who can have every woman and man he want, just decide to have me? I believe I still haven't comprehended it completely that we now are lovers, that we belong to each other, that we will break the last remaining barrier between us... I have to bite back a sob, caused equally by the joyous way my thoughts are heading and Mulder's tongue which is licking a trail down my neck over my shoulder to my collarbone, leaving wet marks, causing me to shudder, to groan softly, then I dig my hands into his hair, showing him I how much I like what he's doing to me, and I must encourage him because the next thing I know is that my robe goes off, and so does my pajama top; I believe he's finally got rid off his jacket, and this is the point where I stop him because now it's my turn... Now I want to explore his body, to make him shudder like I did, to unwrap his clothing and revel the glorious present of his body... I slowly take his hands in mine, move them over my head and lean onto them as I turn around carefully, lying down half on top of him, grinning like I'm stoned, filled with the giddy feeling of receiving love, spreading love and... anticipating more love... So now I am hovering above Mulder's face, noticing the heavy up and down motions of his chest, his hot breath tickling my skin, a flush making his cheeks so rosy, hands trembling as he reaches towards my exposed torso, his whole body mimicking great feelings of lust and arousal. Oh Mulder, Mulder, how much I just want to make that pouting lower lip tremble even more, to make some more droplets of sweat appear on your forehead, to make you shudder, to make you groan, to set you on fire, to tempt you, to make you take me, make me yours, to make you release yourself into me... Well, I guess I'll have to start somewhere. And so I do; I place my lips on his, temptingly, grazing him only to withdraw just when he starts to respond, instead I am imitating him as I kiss my way down his neck to the collar of his shirt, opening the buttons one after another, all the while feeling the tension radiating from him, his anticipation that makes my mouth curve into a smile because I know, I'm aware that I am the reason for it. He is reacting to *me*. I am the one pulling the strings here. And he knows it. I continue my journey down his body as I tug at the cloth of his shirt slowly, making him understand he has got to help here. I quickly undo the remaining buttons then slide it down his arms as he lifts himself slightly. His chest is now revealed, and I instantly bury my head into the crook of his neck and begin tracing another moist path, down to his armpits, around, up to his collarbone, down, to each side, taking my time as I slowly approach his right nipple, settled between soft brown curls of fuzzy hair, dark red and already erect... Again, his unique scent there, and I close my eyes and take a deep breath the minute my tongue graces the small bud. That same minute he gasps sharply, his hips bucking against mine, and I can feel him, I can feel his hot flesh pressing into me, his promise, his life, and he's encouraging me, he's turning me on so that I close my lips around his nipple, suckling slightly, feeling him buck again before I repeat the same procedure on the other side. Provoking the same reaction from him, I can't hide a wicked grin as I move lower, now straddling his ribcage with the tips of my breasts which produces another gasp, grazing my fingertips over the taut, bronze abdomen, then hovering with my tongue just above his bellybutton. As I dart into it, a heavy shudder goes through his whole body, and that's it for me. Now I cannot wait any longer, want, need all of him. His fly is open before he even realizes it, and I am just about to reach inside his pants and free him when I feel his hand taking mine. *What...?* I raise my head and look at him, my eyes full of questions I don't dare to ask because I'm afraid this is the inevitable rejection he didn't manage to voice earlier. In the half dark I can't see his face completely, but I can make out his eyes shining at me, and all my fears are wiped away within a second. "Not yet, Scully", he says softly, arousal making his voice low and hoarse, "not before I have memorized every single detail of you", and with that he takes hold of me, settles me down, lying half down on my back, half beside me on the sheet. The satin cools my skin as I make myself comfortable, my head pillowed on my arms, my eyes closed, anticipating what he'll do to me, waiting, longing for him to touch me, to feel me, to explore me. So a shiver runs down my spine as I feel his soft warm fingertips tracing it, drawing the line downwards. At the same time I can feel small puffs of hot air as he exhales right next to my ear, then begins planting little butterfly kisses on my neck as his hands begin to give me a light massage, kneading still too tense muscles, relaxing me, tender hands giving me just a little taste of what he is capable of doing to me, of what he *will* eventually do, just a taste of all his tender loving ministrations which I cannot wait to feel fully. I seem to lose track of time as I am lying here, now panties being my only remaining piece of clothing, when that hoarse voice of him echoes in my ears. "Scully...", he begins, then pauses, then takes a long deep breath and continues, "has it been long since you've done... *this* with a man the last time?" At his question, I raise my head and try to look at him, but I can turn around only a little so I cannot see him. Where is he going with this? Why all of a sudden this obvious concern or, even worse, distrust? Is it because... Of course. Oh, damn. The tattoo. He has found the tattoo. Oh no. "Mulder", is the first thing I'm capable of saying. Then we're both silent for an uncomfortable moment until I voice the only thing that is important right now. "I didn't sleep with him, Mulder. Trust me." I feel him stir against my back, then he chuckles softly. "And I thought--" "Don't think about it", I tell him, "it was unimportant. Meaningless. What matters is only you and me. Nothing else. I love you, Mulder." Again I feel silent laughter shake him, and from what I hear a second later he must be sobbing quietly, and I turn around immediately. And again, he holds me back, placing his hand on my shoulder carefully. "Stay there." And I do. I trust him completely, without any restrictions. As always, he does not abuse my trust as I can feel his lips on that spot at once, kissing the snake that has been branded into my skin, circling its tail with his tongue, and it sends another wave of arousal flooding through me. Then I hear him purring into my ear... "It's beautiful. *You* are beautiful." Now I can barely keep myself from shedding tears of my own when his words sting so deep into my heart, when he touches me so much just in a verbal way... Of course, he senses it. "Hush", he whispers into my ear, "calm down. Calm down." With that, he's gone from my ear and his hands grip the waistband of my panties, and then they're off before I can do anything. And I wouldn't want to do anything about it. Now I am lying here, completely naked, in front of him, exposed, silently begging for him to touch me, and then he does... He touches me, touches me *there*... The first caress of his fingertips is so very light, barely recognizable on my clitoris, the second one darts lower, beneath the red nub, softly massaging, making me groan low in my throat, and his third touch he places on my very center, sliding right inside with one finger, and my hips arch off the bed, riding a new wave of sharp hot arousal... My reaction seems to encourage him because he whispers, out of breath... "Scully, you're wet... do you like that?" Accompanied with a hard deep thrust of now two fingers. "Yesss..." is my only response. "Does it feel good?" Another thrust of his fingers. "Yes... oh yes..." "Have you done it before?" Thrust. "Yes..." "What have you been thinking about doing it?" His thumb is now moving in little circles across my clit, and I cannot do anything but respond by rotating my hips in time with his rhythm, my hands no longer supporting my head now but clutching at the sheets, holding on for dear life, and making incoherent sounds, small moans and whimpers. "Do you think about me when you do it?" Thrust. Of course... "Yes, Mulder, oh please..." And that's all he needs to shut up and finish what he's started, his fingers now moving frantically in and out of me, producing wet, slippery sounds, bringing me pleasure I couldn't even imagine I was capable of standing, and I'm so close, so terribly close... His other hand starts wandering towards my right breast, flicking the nipple, heightening the feeling even more until I can barely stand it-- "That's it, let go, Scully. Let it go." And I do. I come with a force that is shaking my whole body, moaning loudly, unashamed, still being penetrated by his fingers, finally being given that passionate lust by him... When I feel I am able to think clearly again I am lying on my back, with Mulder stroking my belly soothingly, smiling at me. I smile back. Now I can see his face, his eyes are shining with passion, arousal and love, his cheeks are covered in a red flush, and I realize I must look pretty much like him. I pull him down to me and our mouths meet in the deepest, most honest of kisses, melting into one another, savoring each other, and when I break the kiss I do it only to tell him again, "I love you." Before he has any chance to react, I take his right hand in mine and make clear to him that now is the right time. "Mulder, I need you now..." At this, a new flash of uncertainty covers his face, and I try to reassure him, to erase all doubts, "Please, please, I want you... don't you want me?" Catching upon the playfulness in my last words, he grins, separates himself from me, and his pants and boxers are off in no time. Then he leans down over me again, and we look each other deeply in the eye. I take him into my hand for the first time, and he jerks with the sensation. He is long, throbbing and thick and just as aching to unite with me as I am. While we are still looking at each other, without any need of words, I bring him closer to my center, and he is straddling me. We both inhale sharply at the contact, realizing just how close we are to unite in the most complete, most ancient yet most meaningful act we are capable of... And without any second thought I raise my hips and take him inside me. A sharp pain shoots through me at first but is replaced quickly by the warmest feeling of arousal and closeness, closeness to the man I love. I know he must be experiencing the same as I see him throwing his head back, see his mouth opening in a silent scream, sweat dripping from his brow in tiny little droplets, and he is the most beautiful sight I've ever seen, not comparable to anything let alone anyone else. He is concentrating on my face now, trying to hold my gaze as I am trying to hold his. Then he begins to move, and I'm lost. Bracing himself on his arms, his hands tangled in my hair, his hips push him into me, then pull him out, into me then out, and I feel that sweet sting there again, where he is surrounded by me, and I wrap both my legs around his waist which makes him sink even deeper into me, a hoarse groan escaping him. My hips meeting with his, we are moving together, bodies and souls as close as they can get, skin rubbing against skin, my breasts bobbing against him, heightening both our pleasure, my feet now digging into his firm buttocks, my internal muscles squeezing him hard, his hair falling into his face, framing his beautiful face, one of his hands taking mine, fingers entangling, holding each other, all of a sudden his thumb on my clit again, and I'm so close to orgasm again, and I feel he is too as he begins to pound into me hard and fast, panting just like me, his head now buried in the hollow of my neck, kissing, biting down, sending a sharp lustful pain through my body, bringing me even closer, I can hear my name in the distance, a hoarse shout, and I answer with his, and then we're there, our bodies melting into one, giving ourselves to the other, reaching the highest point of pleasure Sinking Into Each Other I can feel the warmth flooding through me, into me, as we both reach the climax simultaneously, both of us convulsing hard, and then we're slowly, very slowly getting back to normal, breathing slowing, bodies calming, and we look at each other... Both of us smiling, I reach up and trace the outline of his curved mouth with my fingertips, he responds by sucking them into his mouth, tickling me, before he releases my fingers, bends down and our mouths descend on each other again. We kiss for a long time, deeply, having all the time in the world now, and when we separate, he withdraws from me carefully, lies down beside me and wraps his arms around me from behind. I close my eyes, feeling his breath humming into my ear regularly, and enjoy the feeling of having him behind me, wrapped around me like a protective shield, warm and secure, and whisper a last soft "I love you" before I drift off into a peaceful sleep. XXX Epilogue The display of my alarm says 2:30 am. I am standing beside the window, looking down at the man sleeping in the bed. When not awake, not conscious, his face loses all its signs of grief, sadness, inner conflict, and he looks peaceful, calm, half smiling even. His head is pressed into the pillow, sheets tangled around his waist, and he's breathing regularly. I'm relieved he has not yet noticed that I'm not lying next to him. I won't let him anyway, I will only stand here for a little while reviewing all that has happened in such a short time. In that short time, ever since the day of my diagnosis, so much has changed for me and for him, and tonight events have finally taken the road that I now have come to believe was predestined to us. During our lovemaking which we repeated twice tonight, among all the touches, gestures, looks, feelings, impressions, I felt we were made for one another. Our minds, souls, bodies, fit each other perfectly, in a way I have never experienced with anyone before. But, again, as in all other things, this is Mulder, he who has finally become my lover not three hours ago, and with whom I will spend all the rest of my life. No matter how little time that will be. Whether a year, a month, or a day, we will revel in it, free of all fears. Because together, united in our very souls, we can never be separated again. Nothing and no one will ever be able to get between us. I know he will always keep my in his heart, as I will keep him in mine. The memory of me will never fade as long as he is there. With him by my side, I am not afraid anymore of the way that lies ahead of me, the way that I will eventually have to go. I love him in every sense of the word, and this is right. There can be nothing more right than this. You and I, we will be together, in good times as in bad times, joined in eternity. I brush away a lock of dark hair and kiss him on the forehead as I climb back into the bed and lay down next to him. XXX Interlude: Mulder Scully is writhing under me. Her eyes are half closed, her lips form a silent 'o', and her legs and arms push me into her small body, her nails dig into my back, leaving little half moons on my skin as I ravish her, with my mouth on her breast and my fingers inside her. And she likes it, oh yes she it when I do this to her. I can see it by the way her skin is flushed, her nipples are tight and swollen, the heaviness of her breathing, and her voice. Her voice that is making this row of little incoherent sounds, occasionally interrupted by actual words... Just like now. "Mulder... oh please... oh Mulder..." Yes, Scully, yes. I'm here, and I won't let you go. Not that I could anyway after I was with you for the first time, touched your flesh, smelled your fragrance, tasted your flavor. Not after I became one with you. Not after I made you come for the first time, as I am going to do now. It seems I am progressing quickly for her hips are now moving frantically against my hand, she's pushing her breast into my mouth and her hands are tearing at my hair, ripping some tiny strands out even. She is almost there, I can feel it, sense it, make it out from every small movement of her body, every little twitch, every short intake of breath. Just a little more, and she will once again find her release, her highest pleasure, and I will be the one to give it to her. So I quicken the pace of my fingers, increase the suction on her nipple and listen to her moans, whimpers and pleas. I enjoy doing this to her without receiving myself because then I can fully concentrate on her, then I can take in all of her, all her reactions to what I'm doing. I begin to prepare for her climax, her screaming, her clenching, her trembling, but Scully does what she has done to me quite often since we became lovers. She surprises me by pulling my head away from her breast. "Stop", she whispers, her eyes dark and deep, her voice low and rich with arousal, "I want us to come together." My cock twitches at her words, and I'm immediately aware of the heaviness of my balls, the need to release myself, the urge to take her, and I'm more than ready. I slowly pull my fingers out, fighting the tightness that wants to keep them there, and I Almost feel sorry for leaving that tightness, but both she and I know I'll be back in no time. Raising my head, I capture her mouth in a devouring kiss, and she responds, returning the kiss and pulling me closer at the same time, using all her limbs. Then I realize she's clinging to me because she wants to turn me over, to be on top herself, but no Scully, not this time. Tonight I have to be the one on top. Tonight you're mine. I tell her so by pinning her arms onto the pillow above her head, and my implication arouses her more, because she has her legs wrapped tightly around me and I can feel the little nub between them throb. Holding her wrists above her head with one hand and taking my cock in the other, I enter with one hard quick thrust. She moans in delight, clenches her insides around me, pulling at me, and I can't keep myself from withdrawing completely then driving in again hard. She meets me this time, thrusting her hips up into my body. We begin setting a rhythm, feverish, passionate, and I kiss her at the same time, hold her close against me while I pound into her over and over. I am lost in seeing, touching, smelling, feeling, having all of her, lost in her depths, her body, her mouth, her now high-pitched moans, so lost in all, and I want more of it, as much as I can ever get. I want it here and now, I want to feel her every sign of movement, of awareness, of love-- of life. I want to feel she's alive. It was so often that I had lost her, had let her go, had her lingering between two worlds, not sure if she would ever return to me, and I have lost her again, in a fatal way. But now I have her back, even more of her than I had before. Now she's mine, as much as I am hers, and we will be one for eternity. Even if she will be gone in a physical way, she will always remain a part of me as I will remain a part of her. For she's alive, so vivid and pure and so very beautiful. And here I am, giving myself to her, feeling, experiencing her in all her purity, in all her life. You're alive, Scully. You're alive. And you're mine. Mine. I only become aware that I am whispering when I hear her responding, in her very own Scullypurr that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. "Yess, I am", breathless and hoarse, "I'm alive... and I am yours for all I'm worth." And that, her voice, combined with her clenching, her scent, and her sheer presence, is enough for me, and I spill my life into her, my very essence, giving her a part of me. I can feel her, too, convulsing, gripping me even more tightly, screaming my name, and when I begin to calm and withdraw softly then lie down next to her, she smiles. She smiles the brightest of smiles as she snuggles close to me, pressing her small body against mine, seeking my warmth. And when I look at her, look into her eyes and see the azure ocean there, blazing at me, there is no doubt. She's alive. End