From: Chris Rice Date: Thu, 2 May 2002 20:14:04 -0700 (PDT) Subject: Comfort by the sea by X-Phylia Source: direct Title: Comfort by the Sea Author: X-Phylia (xphylia@yahoo.com) Disclaimer: What can I say? I have needs... but I don't make money out of this. Besides, I'm broke and I live in the Third World, so don't bother sueing me. I'm not worth the effort! Rating: PG13 Category: MS friendship, mild MA. Archive: Sure, just let me know. Spoilers: Fill-in for "Drive". If you didn't see it, the story won't make much sense. There are also minor ones for "The End", "Fight the Future" and "The Beginning" Feedback: Yes! Yes! Summary: Mulder's thoughts right after Crump's death. "COMFORT BY THE SEA" by X-Phylia When Crump's head blew up with a sick, blunt noise behind me, something in my own head snapped as well. Once again, I was too late. It's almost the story of my life. I should have it written in my will that when I die, my coffin shows up a half-hour late and says on the side "Sorry, I'm late" I can see my partner in the distance, getting the crew ready for nothing. The man is dead because I screwed up again, as usual. What do I tell her and the people waiting? That Crump died because I couldn't move my sorry ass faster? Scully gauges the stain of blood on the glass panel and doesn't need to ask anything. Except that by her expression I can tell she's wondering if I'm OK. Which, of course, I'm not. And I'm not in the mood either to do any talking right now, I just want to stretch my legs and get some fresh air. I feel my partner's worry as she looks at me; but, to her credit, she doesn't even attempt to stop me as I get out of that foul smelling car. I instinctively walk towards the rocky shore and let the magnificence of the ocean soothe my soul as I put away my tie and fold it in my hands. My legs are starting to shake and I'm afraid they might give away any second, so I sit down and rest my back against the smoothest rock I can find as I lose myself in the timeless rhythm of the waves. Unlike most of people, normally I don't find the sea that attractive. I grew up in places where the sea was something you took for granted, it just was there. I realize now that it has been a while since I've last seen the ocean from a place like this, and I missed it. When I was younger I used to go to the beach in order to escape from my own thoughts. My mind wasn't usually a nice place when I was a teenager. I guess it still isn't. Although I haven't turned around, I know that Scully is still up there, watching me. Bless her for having the good sense of letting me be and yet making me feel like I'm not all alone. It's late afternoon and soon the sun will sink in the horizon. Too bad it's so cloudy, it could have been a perfect sunset, now that I'm in the right coast to see one. As time passes, the temperature drops, and my body is starting to shiver from the cold. That must have been Scully's cue, because I hear, rather than see, her footsteps getting closer. She's carrying a blanket and places it over my shoulders. I'm not ready to talk to her yet and she notices it, but this time she doesn't go away. Instead she sits down beside me and starts to rub my back and neck, which are stiff after so many hours on the road. Always determined to do a good job, my dilligent partner finds herself a flat rock and sits behind me so that she can reach my neck more comfortably. Her gentle massage feels better now and although a minute ago I wanted to be alone, now I drop my chin to my chest to give her better access. I don't understand why she tries so hard to comfort me. I mean, what did I do to deserve it anyway? It makes me feel more guilty than I already feel, if that's possible. But, God forgive me, I need this. Her fingers are surprisingly skilled, they're doing a great job disentangling the mass of knotted muscles in my neck. Or maybe it's just her touch, so soft and delicate, that makes me relax. I think, however, that what moves me most is the fact that she is doing it silently. I *know* she wants to question me, and try to understand why the death of a complete stranger affects me so much. Only you already know, don't you, Scully? These are hard times for both of us. You know that it's not this or that, but the combined rush of events bestowed upon us lately. I believe, then I don't believe, then I believe again... Our hard work turned to ashes, the X-Files being run by one arrogant little bastard and that... that... I don't know what to think about Diana. I know you're jealous of her, Scully. You'd kill me if you knew how good that makes me feel, but you shouldn't be. She belongs in the past. I don't trust her any more, I doubt I ever did. Not the way I trust you, not by chance. That, and this ever present feeling of inadequacy that makes me shiver inside, a shiver you think it's just from the cold. She tightens the blanket around me so lovingly that it takes me to the verge of tears. I don't want to cry, not here, not in front of her. I inhale deeply, letting the cool air invade my lungs, and slowly turn around. I look at her for the first time and only see love and compassion in her blue eyes. I don't dare to think what she could be seeing in mine. She pulls me towards her, and since she's in a higher position, my face lands between her breasts. Talk about being in the right place. I pass my arms around her waist and lean against her. With utmost effort I suppress the sob that found its way up to my throat. Our closeness, however, won't let it go unnoticed. "Oh Mulder" she whispers, kissing my forehead. She takes my pulse then, I guess she cannot help it. Scully's a doctor after all, and I'm positive that I look like hell. My heart is beating a little faster than she'd like. "Shh... it's OK, partner. It's OK" She mumbles simple words of comfort as her left hand keeps caressing my the back of my neck and the other goes up and down my spine, soothing me. Every now and then she takes my pulse again, not so fast now that I'm quietly burrowing against her chest. Gentle fingers lift my chin and our faces are inches away. I'm slightly embarrassed by my tear-stained eyes, but she disregards them. "It's not your fault, Mulder. You did your best, I know you did" I can't look at her, so I go back to my earlier position and tighten my embrace in response. I'm not sure I'm able to talk right now. If I open my mouth I'll start crying and I'm determined not to do so. I can let her comfort me as her partner, her friend... but I'm a guy, and guys don't cry, less in front of a woman... well, at least not so often. I already had a serious recently bout when our office burnt to the ground. About ten or fifteen minutes later the dim light, the sounds of the sea, Scully's soft rocking and my own exhaustion are all adding up to lull me. If I were in a more comfortable position (that goes *only* for my legs and rear), I'd probably be asleep. "I'm so tired" I muse, and my voice sounds weak and raspy even to me. "I know. So am I. We should go and find ourselves a place to crash. A *nice* one, if possible" she smirks. Scully's right, of course, but I'd stay like this forever, wrapped in this warmth that not so long ago kept me alive while I lay unconscious on the ice in Antarctica. "It *is* my fault, Scully. I wasn't fast enough. He died five minutes before you could help him" "And who says I'd save him? Maybe he ended up dying anyway. And Mulder, that would have made me sad, but not guilty" "Why not?" "Because I know I did my best to save him. We both did" I nuzzle against her breasts and smile for the first time in two days. I wish all my crimes could be absolved this easily. FIN Author Notes: I did it! I've finally managed to write a story that's NOT over 100 pages long, that has NO major Muldertorture, it's NOT so angsty and most important of all, it DOESN'T imply MSR... ...but if you actually *like* this stuff as much as I do, you might like to check out my other stories, you'll find everything you're looking for and more. Thanks for reading.