From: "Doug Ackerman" Date: Sat, 3 Apr 1999 00:12:10 -0500 Subject: in her own words DISCLAIMER: Mulder, Scully, and any other X-Files characters in this story belong to Chris Carter, Fox Broadcasting, and Ten-Thirteen. No infringement intended. Please don't sue me, 'cause I'm not worth it. No animals were harmed at any time during its production. Any other characters in this story are mine, and can be purchased for the right price. RATED: PG-13 (adult material) TYPE: MAJOR MSR/Mulder angst!!! DATE FINISHED: February 25, 1999 ARCHIVE: Anywhere, especially at the Gossamer! SPOILERS: Sort of one for Redux I and Redux II, but it's only mentioned. BY: Colby Reuben AUTHOR'S DEDICATION: Savage Garden and Dawson E. Rambo for inspiration! E-MAIL: MrsSpooky4@hotmail.com FLAMES: Sure; it'll warm my hands right up! WEBSITES: http://www.gurlpages.com/nolabel/mouse80 : Colby's Home-Grown 'Shipper Site http://pages.whowhere.lycos.com/entertainment/rccr/ : Colby and Dani's Ultimate X-Files TITLE: "In Her Own Words" POV: Mulder's SUMMARY: Scully is terminated from the Bureau because of Mulder with one HUGE difference (besides the love!). NOTE(S): Enjoy!! "In Her Own Words" By Colby Reuben If I had thought a little harder, I could have searched for the cure faster, finding it before the tumor crushed the front of my partner and best friend's brain. It had been a selfish act of mine to just leave my partner, Scully, and go off for my own reasons. They were a personal fetish of mine-to find the answers and my sister. The hope I had used on these reasons, and many more, should be used now for Scully. Scully had been taken to the hospital after collapsing during a meeting; of course, in the meeting, she was about to present facts that would save our careers and keep large changes at bay. She'd been taken to the hospital, and while so, I was searching many passages to bring the cure I thought I could find on Lever Four. I was unsuccessful, but only at my partner's loss. The tumor was between her cerebrum and sinus, and would have grown further had she not helped me persuade the doctor to implant a chip in her neck. My hard, yet postponed, detective work, had come back positive, rewarding Scully with a semi-normal life. If I had adjourned her vaccine, that tiny and subtle chip, the tumor would have pushed on, deeper, boring into her brain until reaching the end, meaning certain death in the most horrible way. It hurts to think how horrible and slow her demise could have been. And though a pseudo-type life had been restored for her, it'd always be different. Before pushing into the thinking center of Scully's brain, the tumor had completely demolished her speech center. It's located in the front of the cerebrum, and was the first to go. She'd never sing or talk or argue or mumble. She wouldn't even be able to whisper. Mouthing words was harder to understand than losing the sense of touch and walking. I'd destroyed her life. She forgave me, as she always did. It was her talent. She could always forgive me, no matter how stupid or wasteful the incident. Kersh hadn't understandably given me time off to cope with my loss of a tremendously great partner; he'd done it only because I had the right to take it. And I did, and I cherished each hour. I'd spend the moments with her, then I'd sleep away my grief. If someone absolutely prefect-financially, composure-wise, smart, and healthy-had been born to an adoring family, and you shortened her life and took all the joy from it, you'd be weeping for your own soul. I'd taken the non-replaceable, and had about four decades to spend knowing I'd been responsible. No more phone calls to me or her own mother, no more "Mulder, I'm fine"s, none of those scientific hypothesizes contrasting to my own. Because of me. And so I sit, on my final day off, with one of the two most important women in my life, simply eating breakfast. I was only 37 and already my life was over, though a doctor wouldn't know. Not even Scully. "What do you want?" I asked her, looking at her with the strongest eyes I could conjure. She smiled weakly. She'd say "eggs and hash browns" if I hadn't tortured her to this doom. Instead, she pointed to her order reluctantly admitting that was the only way I'd know. I nodded, then smiled uncomfortably. She leaned back, rubbing her lips together instead of striking up a conversation. We ate our breakfasts in an unusual silence. I swear I'd like to lean over and apologize profusely. She means so much to me, Scully does, and I put her through absolute chaos, yet she is sitting across from with a smile (the smile still reserved for me) and eating slowly. I returned the grin to hide a growing pain inside my heart. I ate slowly, losing my mind into thoughts of numerous kinds. A whirlwind subsided in my head at her tap; I could have said "voice" if it weren't for me. She'd been taking a sign language class with a personal trainer every Friday night. I paid every dime it took to be able to have a communication with her, other than our silent one; no mater how sacred that was to me. "What is on you mind?" she signed to me. I'd joined her at the class when I could, learning slowly (with the help of a book when on airplanes and other waiting periods) the magical language of your hand. I lied a smile. "Nothing," I replied. "Just eating." I almost felt jealous being able to talk to her. I'm not sure if I should stop talking too, to feel her problems the way she helps me through mine. She nodded in understanding. She knew that I was thinking about her, but I couldn't admit it. I'd already said to much, and I hadn't said anything at all. The day was more than hard. It was harder as the moments passed on as Scully found more and more things she could not do. We sat together, watching TV together. She had handed me the controller, and as comedians will explain, I, being male, steered quickly through the stations, ignoring anything slightly interesting and only heading onto familiar channels. She sighed, then tapped me. I turned to her as if programmed. Scully concentrated for a moment, then held her hand out and signed, "Hand me the-." She stopped, thought for a moment, then pointed to the remote. I began to hold it out to her, then snapped it away as she reached for it. She affectionately reached across me to take it back, but I held it farther. She would be laughing now. She'd be saying, "Hand it over!" ?If only she could. My eyes were downcast, but focused on her slightly as she stared at me intently. I smiled, trying to resume to the game. She stopped reaching; I stopped pulling. Scully glared at me seriously, just staring at me. She was reading my face with her eyes, locating and inspecting the angst shone in hazel orbs. "What is wrong?" she said-I mean signed. "I don't want to go to work alone tomorrow, Scully," I said. She leaned against the back of her couch, peering at me through glossed eyes. I knew she felt like she was backing down. She'd promise me that there were deaf doctors and other things she had always wanted to do and still could, but deep inside her heart the both of us knew she didn't want to leave me and the FBI, though only God knows why. I'd think she'd want to get as far away as possible from me now; now that the pain and the fright have increased dramatically. But, no, she unwillingly is leaving my side, and only in her dreams does she return to the Bureau, where her father's pride lies. "I think it is my fault," she said to me in her unique language. "I am sorry that I can not be your friend like?" she stopped, then resumed, "b 4." I released a smile of hardship and broken ties, then licked parched lips. I could have saved her. Honestly, though, she knew I had tried, but to me, I hadn't tried hard enough. "Whatever it is you do, Scully, never blame yourself. I did this to you, and I've done things that don't come into comparison but are still horrible incidents. You're my best friend Scully, and I can't deny that. I've done so much to you, and I can't do enough for you," I wept. "I know that you feel that way, Mulder, but I will all ways for give you." She made up the words as she went a long, combining two separate words to form one. I'd taken away the gift of easy and proper speech from her forever. "Do not blame you self, Mulder. I will all ways under stand. I will all ways be your friend, no matter what you do or have done." I held her hand and squeezed it gently. I felt I had to be careful around her now. That if I wasn't careful, I'd make her porcelain body all the worse. I couldn't do that, not again. Never again. I kissed her forehead and stroked her cheek. In other days, I'd hold her at work in our office, discreetly abounding in the basement, doing what it was we did, and doing it together. She held onto my hand and smiled. What good were her beautiful lips now? A fire in another world flickered, the flames reaching the sky; a child stopped crying and two magnets attached. In the unexplainable moment where tension flared, memories were temporarily lost and future hopes and dreams were hidden for a later time, for love was singing in the flames, adding taste to tears of lifted sadness, the magnets clinging to each other almost tighter. In other words, love was protecting us, and in the wistful and glorious moment, I dipped my head in, reuniting long lost friends better known as our two souls. The moment grew rapidly in a boiling sense of satisfaction, and when we released, nothing had changed. There was the feeling, hemmed into our memories forever. I stared into Scully's eyes as I never had before, and behind sky-colored glass balls, I saw the person I had needed for longer than I had needed to see Sam again. It was the way things should be, and the tautness was shelved, the everlasting peace of the two of us forever summed into eight letters: pure love. "I-I love you, Scully," I said, looking into the face that defied decay and endured the most luxurious beauty surrounding eternity, "I've known it?I always have." She smiled, falling into my arms, her head against my chest. I know she'd say it back, if only I had let her; if I hadn't taken away her angelic endowment. She pulled away, tears agleam in her eyes. "It was never meant to be," she said with her soft hand, lips quivering, the universe of joy removed from my hands before my eyes. "It could never be." THE-END Well? Well? Good, bad, OMG? Feedback! I demand feedback! A follow-up story? Could be, if ya like this one: if I've got the time, I feel like it, or if I have an idea.