Date sent: Fri, 12 Dec 1997 21:27:05 -0800 From: "Angie Patrick" Subject: Confessions I couldn't resist trying my hand at something different. I'm not too comfortable writing Mulder, but I thought I'd give it a shot anyway. The scene in Redux II that this happens during was too much for me to resist, and considering how I was feeling at the time I wrote this, let's say this all came out very naturally. So, without too much more introduction, Mulder and Scully aren't owned by me, and they never will be, much to my great consternation. If I owned them I'd do more *stuff* with them. Chris Carter and Fox own them. Lucky them. I intend no infringement in my use of these characters, yada, yada, yada. On with the specifics ... Title: Confessions Author: Angie Patrick Rating: PG, but with a little language ... not much though. Classification: V, A Summary: Mulder comes to Scully's room late at night and as she is sleeping does some heavy thinking. Spoilers: Redux II I'd like to thank a good friend for reading this over and giving me confidence in it's merit. I'd like to thank that same friend for constantly proving to me what *real* friendship is all about. You know who you are. And ... thanks to my husband who actually thought of the title ... :) Archivists please post wherever you see fit, just please keep my name and email addy with it. On with the show ... ***************************** Confessions by: Angie Patrick apatrick@bookstore.usf.edu ***************************** It's dark right now. I am standing in this room, and I don't remember what it feels like for it not to be dark. For there to be hope or joy or even a fleeting smile. I look around the room quickly and feel this darkness settling over me like a thick and heavy fog covering everything that is good, that is light, and I can't see any way out of the murk I feel immersed in. I struggle with it for a few minutes and realize it's useless. It's too heavy. It's too much. I give up and make my feet move so that I can at least be closer. I watch her sleep and am overcome by this new layer of heaviness settling over the other layers like newly fallen snow on top of old, grey snow. I feel myself being buried under it and the pain is as pure as it was the first time she told me she had this ... this cancer. Why her? Why not me? Why? Isn't there enough misery in the world without inflicting this on her? I feel my legs become weak under me and I wonder idly why they haven't already given out. How could I stay standing for so long? I have been running around like a madman, trying to put the pieces together, trying to solve this mystery and give her the miracle she needs, and in the meantime the only mystery that really needs resolution is the one I won't address. I sink down beside her and pray for a miracle to a God I don't think I believe in. Why does she still believe in me? And how is it that she can stand to have me near her knowing that her life has been quite possibly ended for her steadfastness? How? I feel my tears and yet they don't come. They are burning somewhere between the lowest region of my gut and my eyes, and for the life of me I can't find that something that will allow them to fall. I bow my head and force out all the air from my lungs through my open mouth, hoping that the motion will give me the push I need. Nothing. I can't even cry. And the thought of it distresses me beyond belief. Do I believe in miracles? We need one right about now, and I don't know if one is going to happen. Scully calls me the believer. I feel so far from that right now I'm embarrassed to be in the same room with her. She once told me that she had the strength of my beliefs, but now that she really needs them, where are they? I touch her hand and pray she stays asleep. I don't want her to wake and find me, as broken and unworthy as I feel right now. I don't want her to see me trying to hold onto her for dear life -- afraid to tell her that I can't live without her. It would cheapen everything that we're about. I watch her for a moment and then can no longer look. I'm poison to her. I've always been some God damned evil talisman, hanging around her neck like some ominous weight. Look at her. Look at what she has sacrificied for me. Because of me. Her very life. And only one angry moment to speak of. Only one moment of fear and anger and a few words and, of course, I walked away afterward. How absolutely typical of me. How fucking typical. What's the matter, Mulder my boy, can't take the heat? Isn't that why I bailed out of the VCS? Too much. It was too much. I knew it then, I know it now. And without Scully I'm utterly lost. Completely. There's nothing in me right now except this ache that is contemptuous enough to not even allow me to cry. Why? I catch myself stroking her arm. I need the physical connection and yet I am still praying she doesn't wake up. I am embarrassed at my need to know she is here. *Really* still here. Touching her is what reminds me best. Reminds me that she's still alive and still with me here on this earth. How do I keep losing you, Scully? What forces are at work that would allow this to happen? I lost you for three months and that was unbearable. And yet, this ... this is worse. I'm watching you slip away, piece by piece, and yet I can't just say the words I hear ringing in my head even now. Another unspoken agreement between us. Not to talk when it's too much. We just look at each other and we both know. Why can't I ever just tell her? Why? It's my mantra now. Why? I feel the weight of it all catching me again and I bury my face in the hospital bed she lays in, trying to remember what it felt like to have her smile at me with that look in her eyes that says she knows, that she just *knows* what I'm thinking and that it doesn't matter how insane it is, that she accepts me for all of my faults. That somewhere along the line we started loving each other, but for some reason we just walk around it without ever addressing it. Mature individuals that we are, this, of course, makes perfect sense. Why not. Nothing else does, so why should this be any different? I look up again and am shocked to find her awake, watching me. "Mulder," she says quietly, her voice full of concern and wonder. I swallow hard several times and try to think of what to say. Nothing and everything comes to mind all at once. I feel the panic begin to overtake me. She is holding my eyes with a familiar intensity, and I find myself grateful for at least this small ounce of normalcy. But when she finds my hand with her own and I feel the soft and gentle caress of her thumb over my knuckles, my stomach tightens to the point of misery, and I feel as if I am unraveling. This time I feel the tears threaten, but I am trapped in her eyes and cannot look away. "Scully, I ..." I choke on tears I couldn't cry earlier but that are now overwhelming me to the point that I can no longer speak. She tugs on my hand and I get to my feet without understanding where I found the strength to do so. I am still lost in her eyes. And for some reason, this time, it really doesn't bother me for her to see me this way. I've been telling myself I'm supposed to be strong for her. That I'm supposed to find the answers that she needs and that I'm not allowed to be overcome by my own grief. To do that would be incredibly selfish and I don't want to take any more than I already have. I've done so much taking I can't imagine how Scully has anything left to give. She gestures for me to sit beside her, her hands pulling me to her without any reservation. I am dismayed and overjoyed at the same time, but regardless, I am powerless to resist. It's all that I want and I cannot stop myself from wanting it even though I still feel my own guilt over needing her. She is the one dying. She needs me. It's not supposed to be the other way around. She pulls me down to sit beside her and smiles at me slightly. How can she stay so calm in the face of her own death? I clear my throat and am strangely resolute to say something that I desperately need to say. I reach out and stroke her cheek with my index finger and attempt to smile. I breathe deeply a few times while she watches me, wordless, wondering. My tears subside and finally the ability to speak returns. "Scully, you know I'd trade places with you right now if I could," I say carefully, slowly, trying to make sure that the meaning is not lost in the fleeting, temporal nature of the words I am using. "I know," is her only reply. Her easy smile and the tears in her eyes tell me more than her simple words do. I watch her for a moment and then feel my need to protect her, to shelter her, overwhelm me again. "C'mon, Mulder," she says patting a space in the bed next to her. I smile again and decide what to do. "No ... wait a minute," I say softly. A look of confusion plays on her face and for a moment I cannot move. The look is really quite cute. I'm ridiculously pleased with myself for having made her wonder what I'm doing. I get up and walk around to the other side of the bed. She rolls onto her back and watches me, the confusion still apparent in her eyes. "Scoot over a little," I say, hovering near the side of the bed and gesturing in the direction I want her to move. The old sense of worry begins to get its grip on me, but for once I just push it away, loudly telling it to fuck off. I'm going to be here whether it kills me or not, I decide. Scully smiles at me weakly and moves over, rolling back onto her side as I watch her silent acceptance of my intentions. I lay down behind her carefully and for a moment I am seized by an unnerving thought that maybe I shouldn't be doing this. What if something goes wrong? I squelch the thought as soon as it enters my mind and wrap my arms around her in a tentative embrace. When I feel her relax against me I tighten my grip and nuzzle the back of her graceful neck with my nose. Why couldn't we have this when she was well? Why? "Scully?" I say softly, hoping that she is still awake. I have something I'd like to say, but I need to know she's awake before I say it. "Mmmhmmm ..." I think for a moment whether this is the right moment to say what I want to say or if I want to wait. But, then, I've been waiting for some time, haven't I? And what if tomorrow comes and I find that I've lost my chance? "What is it, Mulder?" she asks me, her voice sleepy. I wrestle with my thoughts for another moment, then tighten my grip on her slight body. How did she lose so much weight? Didn't I notice this? "Please don't ..." I start, then stop. Although I am feeling this, too, it is not what I came here for. She turns in my arms and touches my cheek. It is all that I can do not to fly apart. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. This isn't going to be easy, but it needs to be said. When I open my eyes again, I find her looking at me in a way that makes me feel like I can say what I came here to say. "You know I love you." I'm amazed that I did not stop in the middle of it. Scully smiles and tears well up in her eyes. I brush them away and then run my hand down her arm, searching out her warm hands again. I find her hands and thread my fingers through hers with no resistance. She looks down and smiles through tears I can feel more than I can see. I cannot remember when it was that I started feeling this way, but I know it's been there for some time. Forever? I try to smile in spite of the feeling of dread that is washing over me. "I know," she says quietly, her voice trying not to break on the words. I pull her against me as tightly as I dare, and wonder again how on earth this supposed God she believes in could allow this to happen to her. And then I find myself thinking that maybe we'll make it through this, anyway. I smile as I feel her hold onto me as tightly as I am holding onto her. And I fall asleep feeling safer than I have felt in a very long time. ------ end ------- So ... what *did* you good people think? Hang it up? Quit writing altogether? Give up on Mulder stories? Or just get a new title? Please, please, *please* send feedback. Really. It's all that keeps me motivated. :) I'd love to hear from you. Any of you. Please?