From: Kirsten Kerkhof Date: Thu, 1 Jun 2000 14:48:24 -0700 (PDT) Subject: New stories submission Source: direct TITLE: "Fly Away" AUTHOR: Kirsten Kerkhof * kirsten_xf@yahoo.com RATING: PG-13 CLASSIFICATION: Mulder/Scully Romance CATEGORY: S V A DISCLAIMER: Not mine. SPOILERS: Small ones for War Of The Cophrophages, 2Shy, Pusher, Squeeze + Tooms, Humbug FEEDBACK: As always! A Mulder to taste is the reward (come on, that should be enough! ) SUMMARY: Mulder has done it again and Scully's not amused ... NOTE: This was written in 1997 (sometimes I dig up some of those fossils ...) and back then I didn't know what had happened to Samantha (not that we're any more certain now, but at least we know a bit more ...) XxXxX "Fly Away" XxXxX You have done it again. I can't believe it! I've all but left you on your own for every-thing you do to me, but you don't seem to learn. Or to care. You know it hurts me and you've apologised for your foolhardy actions more times than I can remember, but time and again you feel the urge to go on these little covert investigations without me. And I can't take it anymore! What do you want me to do? What is it you think you have to prove to me? Or to yourself? I'm not too weak for this job and you know that. You count on my being strong. That why I am strong. For you. But right now this feeling makes me sick. So why did you ditch me all over again? For Samantha? Deep down inside I believe she's dead. After 25 years there isn't much chance of still finding her alive. It's regular Bureau procedure to consider an abductee dead after a mere 25 *days*, so what do you think you'll find after 25 *years*? I believe she's dead, but I won't ever ask you to stop believing. Because Samantha is about all you've got. And I don't want to take that away from you. But is this the way you have to re-pay me? It hurts so much and it makes me feel awful. Day after day I thank the inventor of the cell-phone on my bare knees for his stroke of genius ... that is, when you haven't switched off your phone for the millionth time, effectively blocking every possibility of my reaching you. And an evil part of me wants to hate you for your stupid actions, but I can't hate you. I love you. And you don't give me a chance to show it to you ... God, this almost makes me cry! Twenty minutes ago you called me, for the first time in six days I heard your voice again. It almost made me swoon with relief. My first instinct was to pour my heart out, telling you how glad I was to hear your voice again, warm and familiar, and still with me ... And to tell you how I felt about you. But I quickly got rid of these foolish emotions, because you don't deserve them. Not now. But I'm not at all sure what I'm going to do or say in five minutes time. For, as usual, I'm in my car again. On my way to you ... I really wonder why I haven't given up long ago. What do I have to gain by staying with you in that dark, cramped basement office? In abstract terms, nothing, I guess. When seen from an outsider's point of view I must seem crazy to stay with you, and our colleagues do think I've lost my mind, at least as long as they don't look at other parts of my body ... And I don't think you've realised that I've had plenty of offers for other jobs in the Bureau. Jobs that are at least as appealing as this one and much more likely to give me the promotion and appreciation I've always wanted. But I've stayed with you. And I will stay, you don't need to worry about that. Because I know you're afraid I'll leave you. I'm not going to leave you. I can't, it's impossible to imagine what my life would be like without you and your work. I've reached the apartment building where you live. I park the car and kill the engine. And sit there, contemplating about what I'm going to tell you. But more importantly I wonder what you'll look like, because you're sorry, I know that. And I also know that despite my determination to stay angry with you, I'm not going to succeed in that. But Dana Scully is nothing if not able to keep a stone face, so even though I will forgive you the moment you look me in the eyes, I won't show it. I will not. I get out of the car and walk inside. I feel a strange mixture of anger and relief. Of sadness and love. And fury. I'm not going to hide these strange feelings from myself. Especially the love. I just hope I'll be able to hide them from you, because I don't trust myself to be able to handle the disturbing emotion well enough. Just before I knock on your door I close my eyes and take a deep breath, preparing myself for the argument that's bound to come. Then I raise my hand to knock. But I don't have to because you open the door. For a moment you stare at me, scanning me like I'm some sort of an object. I feel like a bug under my own microscope. As for me, I merely look in your eyes, their haunted look scaring me to death. And I find out I was right only minutes ago; even without you having said anything, or inviting me in for that matter, I've forgiven you. God, it's pathetic! "Scully" Your voice isn't a question or a greeting. It's statement. You say it, because that's my name and it's me standing on your door step. It's my last name, but you've succeeded in making this name sound like it's my first name. With you, Scully is my first name, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Because I'm doing the same with you. But mostly because you can make this name sound as intimate as a caress. As impersonal as it may sound to others, it's more precious to me than Dana when you say it. "Mulder", I say and our eyes lock. For a moment wild, exciting, dangerous thoughts run through my mind and disturbingly enough I see them all reflected in your eyes. Then we realise the dangers we're facing if we'd give in to these feelings and you look away, quietly inviting me in. You close the door behind me and I walk to the couch. Sitting down, my eyes seem to have adjusted to the darkness. You love darkness, it surrounds you, it's what you feel at home with. You're telling me you want to get rid of this darkness, letting the light in, but what will there be left for you? Even that intriguing mysterious look in your eyes would disappear and ... you shouldn't let that happen to you, Mulder. Don't change ... Then I pull myself together and force myself to be stern. After all, I came here because I wanted some decent explanations. Why you went off on your own again. Why, Mulder? Why did you do it? By the change of expression on your face I realise I must have spoken this last question aloud. And for a moment you look at me, your eyes pleading me to understand. It's amazing how much your dark eyes can tell me about the way you feel things. And it's equally amazing, and disturbing, that we can have entire conversations and not speak a word. Like long-time lovers ... I imperceptibly shake my head to get rid of this thought. Come on, girl, pull yourself together! Miles to go before it's all over ... "Why did you do this, Mulder?" I ask, my voice softer than I intended, but I don't care anymore. "Why did you leave without telling me?" You don't answer. I didn't really expect an answer, I know you don't really know why you did it. I used to think it was some kind of a tendency to over-protect me, but it isn't. You do want to protect me. I know you want to protect me from whatever danger I could be facing, whatever harm could come to me. I've seen the raw pain that flickered in those expressive hazel eyes when once again I got hurt, even when there was nothing you could've done to prevent it. Even then you're blaming yourself. "It was too dangerous, Scully ...", you say. I can't help the laugh that escapes me, even though I know it hurts you bone-deep. Come on, Mulder, gimme a break! I've seen more danger than I should have, that's the reason why cops have partners! "So you decided not to tell me. What, Mulder, you think the danger would be less for you than for me?" You flinch. My words seem to tear you to pieces, a sight so painful that my mind screams with a desire to throw myself in your arms, to hold you so close and never let go of you again, to tell you that I've forgiven you ages ago. That I'll always forgive you even before you're hurting me all over again. But I suppress the emotion. It won't hurt you to know the truth about what your actions are doing to me. Slowly you shake your head. You stare at the floor. It's hard for you to admit what you're feeling. Great couple we must seem, two people both scared to death to show whatever emotions they feel. "I didn't want you to get hurt again, Scully", you say softly. "I knew the dangers and I don't know what I'd do if you got hurt again because of me ..." I feel strange. I feel angry and moved at the same time. How dare you treat me like that?! But, please, don't stop feeling that way, Mulder ... "Mulder, that's one of the consequences of this job. I knew the dangers the moment I decided I wanted to become an FBI agent!" "But not the dangers I put you in!" you answer quickly and angrily. No, not those dangers. I never thought I'd get abducted by what might have been extraterrestrials. I never thought I'd encounter killer cockroaches, fat-sucking creeps, mind-players, liver-eating mutants, I never thought I'd eat live crickets! Or sunflower seeds, for that's another way in which you've corrupted me. I like them, God help me! Can you believe it? I've grown to like them! "No, I never thought of this kind of danger", I say. The silence becomes very uncomfortable. "What do you want me to do?" I ask and look at you. You're absolutely still, but your face is an open book. You're afraid to tell me what you're thinking. What you think I ought to do for fear I might do it. And it would kill you. You're convinced you have to apologise. You have to apologise, I want to hear an apology, but more even than that I want you to know how much it hurts. There's a sadistic part in me that rather enjoys the scene laid out here, but in fact I hate it. But I have to draw a line and now is the time to do it. "I don't know", you answer softly. I can see you loathe yourself at this moment. You shake your head again, but nothing comes out. I decide this is not getting us anywhere so I walk up to you and touch your arm. You flinch again, a movement that tears me apart, but I trust the ol' porcelain mask to prevent my showing it. "Come, sit down on the couch and think what it is you want. And relax. You're fine, I'm fine, we're both okay. We just need to talk and sort things out. So while I make us a cup of coffee, you relax, okay?" You nod and the faintest of smiles flirts with your lips. It's enough for me. Right now. I go to your kitchen and make us a cup of coffee. As I'm waiting for the water to boil I lean on the sink, close my eyes and sigh. This situation is getting so difficult, everything is so complicated, we both are ... Then I hear the water boiling and with a deep shuddery breath I open my eyes. I take the steaming mugs to the livingroom. You're sitting on the couch, you've kind of curled up against the cushions like a kitten or a small child. It makes you look irresistibly vulnerable and I forbid myself to give in to the feelings that surface. I won't give in. Not before I've received an explanation for what's happened. You take the mug and nod your appreciation. I stand against the wall, the cup of coffee warm in my hands. I sip it and look at you. I'm not saying anything, you'll have to start and you know I want you to start. But the first thing you say is the last thing I expected you to say and it almost kills me. "I know you must hate me", you say, looking at your coffee. I choke on my coffee at hearing this and I all but drop the mug. "What do you mean by that, Mulder?" I ask. I don't know what the hell you mean by that! But I do know you're thinking it and it offers little comfort. "I've treated you so badly ...", you say softly. You daren't look at me, though I know you can feel my staring at you. You look like you've suddenly changed into the most delicate crystal. And I'm the one who can either break you or keep you whole. The utter vulnerability of you leaves me shaking. "Yes, you have ...", I answer softly. "Why do you put up with me, Scully?" you ask and for the first time since I gave you the cup of coffee you lift your eyes to meet mine. The expression in your eyes is heart-rending and you almost beg me to understand, even though you don't expect me to understand. My heart momentarily stops and it takes all of my control to refrain from throwing myself in your embrace, kissing you, showing you that I do understand why you do it, showing you how much I really, really love you ... But I'm sure you don't see all this. I can hide more behind this mask than you, or anybody else thinks. So I don't answer and you lower your eyes again. You sigh, a shuddery sound that makes me believe you're crying. "I received this message", you start, not looking at me. "And it appeared too important to let it slip. I had to follow this lead! They promised me I would find clues to what happened to Samantha ..." I sip my coffee and listen. "But it was all a lie. And I'm so sick of it! So sick ... so tired ... I feel I don't know what to believe anymore, Scully. I ...". You close your eyes and slowly shake your head. "Why did you switch off your phone?" I ask. "Because I didn't want you to follow me", you answer. The answer sounds selfish, but I know better than to believe there are selfish motives involved here. "I couldn't let you follow me there, Scully. It was so dangerous ..." "Why couldn't you, Mulder? I'm your partner ...", I say softly. "I'm the one who's supposed to watch your back." Don't you understand this, Mulder? My watching your back is my duty! It's my privilege ... "I ... just couldn't, Scully. What if I'd gotten you killed? What am I going to do if you get killed ...?" 'And what life will I have when you're dead?', I think. No life. No life at all. I know I'll miss you more than I'll be able to bear when you're dead. I'll die, too ... "But then you found me and you dragged me from that burning ware-house and you saved my life ... again ...", you say. You look at me and for a split-second you radiate admiration and love. Then the gloomy glance is back and you sink back into your depressed state. "And then I knew what I had done. I knew I had ditched you again and I hated myself! I loathed myself, I still do! I ...", you fall silent for a moment and you look at me, your eyes begging for forgiveness. "I ... at that moment, when I realised what I'd done I ... I wanted to take my gun and shoot myself ..." My heart stops and instinctively I reach out and clutch your knee. You see the bewilderment in my eyes as I almost die with fear. "No! No, Mulder, don't say such things! Don't say ... you mustn't ... you ... I...". My voice trails off and I slowly let go of your leg, my hand helplessly falling back into my lap again. I'm sitting on my knees on the floor, right in front of you. And I don't speak. I merely try not to cry ... You've got no idea how much you scared me with that. Because I know your tendency for self-sacrifice is strong enough to make you kill yourself for me. And when you die, I'll die with you. Perhaps not physically, but mentally I will. The moment you die, I'll give up too, like you take my ability to breathe with you. I'll die, Mulder ... "Time and again I ...", you start, but words seem to fail you and you make a helpless little gesture with your left hand. Then you continue. "Do you know how often I've thanked God for letting them assign you as my partner, Scully?" you ask softly. "You're always there for me and I can't even begin to imagine you not being next to me. You've done so much for me, not only professionally, though you have an amazing record there already, too ...". You smile weakly at my soft chuckle and you seem to dare to look at me. I'm pretty sure I've long ago stopped looking stern and angry, but I don't care about that. Then you look back at the floor and sigh. "I owe you everything, Scully, and this is the way I thank you for all that! I ditch you every time and I know how much I hurt you by doing this, I hate myself so much for it, but ..." You stop, your voice tight with tears. You've covered your eyes with your hands, leaning your elbows on your thighs. You're crying. That's the moment I take a decision. The sight of you crying for everything you've done effectively wipes out any thought other than pure love for you. I love you utterly, mindlessly, and I'm sick of hiding it from you. Damn the Bureau, damn the Consortium, there are a million reasons why I shouldn't feel this way, but I do and I want to! So I get up and very slowly and tenderly I wrap my arms around you. I sit down on your lap and softly draw you closer to me until I feel every part of you warm against my body. you tuck your head in the curve of my neck and then I do the same myself. I weave my left hand in your hair as I softly stroke your back with my right hand. I can feel you imitating my movements, the feeling is exquisite. I close my eyes and sigh, a smile forcing its way over my face and then I hold you even tighter. "I'm sorry, Scully. I'm so, so sorry", you whisper. Your words bring tears to my eyes and I brush my lips over the nearest piece of skin I can find which turns out to be just below your ear. Doesn't matter, right now kissing that part of you is as beautiful as kissing your lips would be. You know I've forgiven you and as I feel you shiver at the sensation I can swear I feel something snap inside you for you momentarily hold me so tight I can't breathe. Then you loosen the embrace a little, but I can feel the sobs that run through you. The emotions rushing through me at this specific, magical moment cannot be described. There's only one word that comes close to what I feel - love - but even that term doesn't cover it all, I know. So I merely enjoy, relish the sensation. I slowly turn my head so that my lips almost touch your ear. "I love you", I whisper and I smile as I feel your reaction to my words. I keep my eyes closed, this way I can concentrate more fully on my other senses. And I want to ... "I love you. I need you. I'm lost without you", I whisper. "I want to know all these wonderful things about you. I want to know everything about you, the bad things of you, the good things of you. What am I going to do without you ...?" Too late I discover the shattering impact of that last phrase and you let go of me, looking at me with eyes filled with terror. I realise you think I am going to leave you like you've always feared and mentally I kick myself until I practically die with regret. Your eyes are screaming with fear and it makes me hate myself more than ever. "Oh, Mulder, I'm so sorry for saying that!" I fling my arms around your neck and press you against me, my cheek against yours, tears running freely over my face. Your arms slowly fold around my back as if you have to assure yourself of the fact that I really am staying with you. Oh, God, Mulder! As if I'd ever be able to leave you? I'm feeling awfully sorry for scaring you like that and I cry. Like a baby. I love you so much and the feeling of you thinking I'm leaving you tears me apart. Why did I blurt out these devastating words? God, why? Then I feel your hands on my cheeks, your thumbs gently wiping away the tears. The feeling is so beautiful it brings even more tears to my eyes and you must have realised that there's no way I'm going to stop crying if you keep touching me so tenderly, so you very gently hold my face. The look in your eyes has changed completely and it takes my breath away. I'm not the only victim of love, I realise, you love me as much as I love you ... And you must have realised it as well. Very slowly you bring your lips closer to mine, eventually stopping just before we touch. You look at me, though I'm having a hard time looking back at you. You're giving me a chance, I know. One last chance to back away, one last chance to leave everything more of less the way it was. You leave it entirely up to me to decide what our future together is going to be. So that's why I take the initiative and make our lips touch. It's soft and sweet, it's electrifying magic. It's everything that defined our friendship for so many years, it's complete, it's perfect, it's all I've been waiting for. And it leaves me speechless. And when you momentarily look away, I know we've taken a decision we're not going to regret. There's nothing to regret. So I run my hand through your hair, lifting it up in a thousand spikes. I love this unruly hair, I love these sexy eyes, I love everything you are, Fox Mulder, and you're all I need. Then you suddenly turn your head and our foreheads crash. We burst out in a nervous, seemingly endless giggle as I hold my hand over the spot where I hit your head. "Oh, my God!" I say and laugh. You look at me and suddenly your smile turns into a distinctively devilish grin. "Yes, I suppose I am, but you can call me Mulder ...!" I can't believe the nerve you have, but you just look at me with your best innocent little-boy look and as usual I instantly forgive you. I sigh and smile. "Boy, am I ever glad I had the guts to call you!" you say and give me a toothy smile that leaves me breathless. "Thank God for the invention of telephones", I murmur, just before I feel myself being swept away in your arms, your lips making this world flying apart in millions and millions of colourful sparks, your touch sending me flying on golden wings. Away to paradise. THE END