From: Lyle Bontrager <sfgiants@bellsouth.net>
Date: Sun, 15 Aug 1999 14:21:28 -0500
Subject: Cottonfields Are Forever (1/1)
Source: xff

Reply To: sfgiants@bellsouth.net


Title: Cottonfields Are Forever (1/1)
Author: RocketMan >lebontrager@iname.com<
Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully belong to CC, 1013, and Fox. No fringe is
intended.

Summary: This runs along the same vein as Cornfields and Wheatfields.
You do not need to read those, but if you want to:
http://shannono.addr.com/rm/

======
Cottonfields Are Forever
======

"in the dream of foxes
there is a field
and a procession of women
clean as good children
no hollow in the world
surrounded by dogs
no fur clumped bloody
on the ground
only a lovely line
of honest women stepping
without fear or guilt or shame
safe through the generous fields"

--"a dream of foxes", Lucille Clifton

======

The night suffocated him as he held her tightly.

He was remembering his dream, the beauty of sitting beside her as they
talked about a life they had never lived, and the innocence of a
marriage they had never found. He was remembering waking up, with her
held tightly in his arms and her one hand curled around his belly, the
heat of the wedding ring like a brand across his skin.

He wished he had held on to that morning glory just a minute longer,
closed his eyes and listened to the gentle sounds of her breath skirting
his chest, or felt her cold toes pressed into the backs of his legs. But
instead, he had woken her up for work, stepping into a cold shower to
dull his senses, then made toast for them to eat on the way out the
door.

He was remembering the casual touch of her hand stroking his wrist as
they stood silently in the elevator, calling to mind the light honey
color to her hair as the sun shined brightly. The quiet companionship of
the car ride was another spot of beauty, and he'd been taking it all for
granted.

He wouldn't anymore. He promised. No more. He would cherish her like he
was supposed to, like he had started out doing. He would take those
moments in the early morning to listen to her sleep, and he would reach
out in the elevator to kiss her knuckles, and God, please, he would tell
her every day how much he loved her. . .

Just let her be okay.

His hands were getting slick with her blood now, like plunging headlong
into an icey river, with the cold touch of death sliding along his body
like fish scales. Her blood was hot and thick, but as soon as it left
her body, it turned frozen and metallic. He held her tightly to him, his
hands pressed into the exit wound at her back, the tears blurring her
face.

"Scully. . .Scully hold on, hold on," he whispered, pressing his
forehead tight into hers.

She gurgled in his arms, jerking as the pain bit into her nerves like
steel teeth. She was staring into his eyes, but he was certain she
wasn't seeing him.

"It hurts. . ."

"I know, Dana. I know. The paramedics will be here soon, very soon."

There was dirt rubbed into her blood and thickening between his hands,
while the field stretching beyond them was white and pristine with
cotton. The edge of the planted rows barely touched her feet, and the
brambles and thorns tangled around the puffs of white. He couldn't bear
to look at her face anymore, concentrating instead on keeping pressure
to her back and breathing in the scent of ripe cotton.

He was despising Tennessee. She hated flying anyway, and the Memphis
airport had been small and crowded, all the cafs overflowing with
hungry passengers. Ignoring the pushing people, they had rented a car
and driven to the Memphis Bureau, content to be silent in the heat.

Now, the darkness was tight and close around them, and the cotton glowed
like animal eyes scrounging at her feet. He was afraid to let her go,
afraid to push back and look into her face, afraid she would be dead if
he did.

"Scully. Scully."

"Muldrrr..."

He could hear the slow slow beats of her heart, but the blood was no
longer pooling beneath them; maybe she was going to be okay, maybe it
was all going to be okay. And now, he could hear the ambulance whining
in the distance, remarkably close, taking the tight corners fast and
dangerous.

"You're going to be okay, Scully. Everything is going to be okay."

"Did you get him. . .be care. . .careful. . .get him?"

"I got him Scully. He's dead. It's okay, you're gonna be just fine."

"Sorry. . .sorry. . ."

"No! No, no, Scully. I'm not letting you go. They're right here, right
here."

The paramedics were pushing him away at that point, holding thick gauze
pads to her back and laying her on the board to keep her spine from
twisting. He clutched her hand, feeling panic descend for the first time
as they bagged her, pumping the air into her lungs.

The cotton fields watched in a cacophony of crickets and bullfrogs and
insects, chanting with every breath, every song, 'live live live.'

Mulder jumped into the back of ambulance, holding her hand tightly in
his bloodied one.
======

Thank you thank you thank you

Mulder pressed his lips into her eyelids as they fluttered to life, his
grin inescapable and wide. His hands framed her waist, his mouth
pressing tiny kisses all over her face as she woke.

"Mulder?" she mumbled, her hands twining with his.

"Yeah, Scully. How you feelin'?"

Her beautiful blue eyes feathered open, catching the bright sunshine
from the window and dazling it into his soul.

"Mm. . .achey."

He grinned. "But alive. . .that's all I'm asking for."

She was already falling back to sleep, her hand weakening in his. Mulder
leaned over and brushed her mouth with his own, running his thumb over
her chin.

"Sleep, Scully."
======

He sat by her bed in the private room at Methodist East Hospital, softly
brushing his fingers over her arm, reading aloud from the novel he'd
found in her carryon. He was trying to pass the time without slowly
panicking, but the ashen look to her face was worrying him.

Even as he talked, he was remembering his dream, the good honesty of
their time, and the way his eyes and his thoughts were unclouded by
conspiracies or stolen sisters. Her words were loving and open, with all
of the innocence she'd shown on their first case, and the love that had
been found in their marriage was bubbling on the surface.

She deserved to have it like that, deserved his best try to make it that
kind of love, that kind of life. No shame, no fear, no sorrow to taint
the taste of their kiss, and no more crushing death defying scenes where
blood stained their hands.

He kissed her lips softly as he finished the book, then felt her
eyelashes flutter against his cheek.

"Mulder?" she whispered, and her voice was raw with the sound.

He smiled and picked up the cup of ice, fishing out a piece with his
fingers and slipping it between her lips. She murmured her thanks and
sucked on the quickly melting cube, her fingers moving to touch his hand
and clutching it tightly.

"Hey, babe."

Her eyebrows rose at the name, but she just lifted her head and pressed
chapped lips to his cheek. Mulder smiled, feeling radiant, feeling free
again, and couldn't help but hug her hard.

She grunted and he pulled back, looking ashamed and chastised. She
raised her hand and pressed her fingers to his lips, smiling. He wanted
to take her into his arms and make her better with his touch, let her
know that everything was different. He was not taking her for granted
any longer, not going to let the conflicts of his past stain the beauty
of his present or the hope of his future. He was her husband, he was her
partner for life. It was going to be different.

"Did you get him?" she asked.

"I got him. It's okay. Don't think about that now, Scully. Just get
better."

"I'm better," she said, licking her lips.

He kissed her again, relieved to have her awake, relieved to simply have
her. Her hands came to his hair and threaded softly through the thick
strands, keeping his head buried into her neck.

"That was so close, Scully. . ." he whispered, feeling the agony fresh
in his body.

"I'm here, Mulder. I'm not leaving. . .you need me too much."

He smiled softly. "I sure do."

"Come here," she whispered, and pulled him next to her on the bed. He
slipped beside her and let his arm curl around her stomach, his fingers
playing with the sheet.

"Our first life threatening experience as a married couple," he said,
watching the shine of his wedding ring under the hospital lights.

She raised her left hand to caress his face, then sighed. "We're still
okay, Mulder."

"I should have-"

"No. Nothing. It was all fine, all done correctly, no problems. This
happens, Mulder. Please stop. . ."

She knows me too well, he thought and pressed a soft kiss to her
forehead.

"I'll let you sleep, Scully," he whispered.

"No more guilt?" she said, brushing the tips of her fingers down his
cheek, feeling the stubble of a few days' worth of growth.

"Promise, Scully. It's all going to change. Everything,"

She opened her eyes again and licked her lips. "Don't. . .don't change
Mulder. It'd be boring."

He shook his head and burrowed his nose in her neck, making her twist
with the chill of his skin against her throat.

"See. . .why would I want you to change, Mulder?"

He smiled softly and sighed, fluttering his hand over her eyelids and
closing them.

"Sleep, Scully."

"Seriously, Mulder. I don't want you to change."

His head came up to gaze in her eyes and he shook his head very softly.

"I had this dream, Scully, where we were normal people with normal lives
and a normal love. When I woke up, I wished I could go back to sleep,
back to that kind of goodness. And then you got shot and I . . .I felt
like I was being taught a lesson."

He watched her eyes soften and felt her hands slip around his shoulders,
pulling him down to her with a gentleness he'd forgotten they could
share. It always seemed to be about strength, who could last longer, who
could be the unfailing one in the midst of fear. 

"Mulder, I don't want a normal anything. Normal is stagnant and boring.
You make life thrilling."

He wanted desperately to believe her, but it seemed like he went through
life always wanting to believe, but never being able to erase the
doubts.

"Dreams are nice, Mulder. And normal can have its momentary appeal. But
this is something precious, something all its own. I'd never give that
up."

He let a ghost of a smile haunt his lips, then leaned down to pull her
into a warm hug. Her body was warm, but stiff with hospital medicine and
a long unconsciousness. The memories of the cotton field were still
fresh in his mind, and the feel of her so close reminded him of the
stark fear of that night, with the warm blood sliding through his
fingers and the cold ground seeping into his bones.

"I don't want to feel this again, Scully."

She snorted, and he felt her wince, her spine stiffening. 

"You'd better get used to it, Mulder. This is our job," she said, teeth
clenched.

He sighed and closed his eyes, his nose still tickling her neck. With
slow hands, he caressed her sides and stomach, easing away the pain that
was flashing in her eyes. He wanted to bury her hurt deep inside
himself, but she always rigidly held herself aloof from him. The
gentleness he poured into the act was a reminder of the tenderness of
her earlier touch, and a hint for her to let him take care of her.

"Mmm. . ." she whispered, then raised her hand to slide it behind his
neck. "You smell like the cotton field, Mulder."

He jerked back, eyes panicked and flitting over hers. "I. . .I. . ."

"It's okay, Mulder. It's a good smell. Earthy and rich. . .a place where
we both learned something."

"Yes. We did. But you still want me to take a shower, right?"

She grinned. "Oh hell, yes."

Chuckling softly to himself, he pulled back to sit in the chair next to
her bed, slipping his hand into hers.

"I'll go home when you fall asleep. The nurses have been picking on me
anyway."

"What'd you do to them, Mulder?"

He gave her a hurt look and shrugged. "Nuthin'."

Her eyebrow spiked and she squeezed his hand. "Leave them alone, hunh?"

"I promise. Now you go back to sleep and I'll be back."

She nodded, but his request was like a hypnotic suggestion and her body
soon slumped into a deep sleep. Mulder eased away from her bedside,
bringing one arm to his nose. He caught the acrid stench of dried blood
mixed with fertilizer and cotton tufts, and he sighed.

They'd been so lucky. So very lucky.
======

end
adios
RM