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  This author's e-mail address has changed to: xanaduxf@yahoo.com
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***DISCLAIMER***: All "X-Files" elements and references
in this story belong to Fox Broadcasting, Chris Carter,
and 1013 Productions, and I am making no money from it.

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Lessons Learned: Written in Red
by shannono
shannono@iname.com


Vignette, Angst, Mulder/Scully UST/Romance

Rated PG

Spoilers: "Milagro." Better have seen "Tithonus," too.

Summary: Post-ep, from the moment Scully's eyes open in the final 
scene. Scully first person, with a sort of stream of consciousness 
feel. First in the series.

Thanks: To Brandon, for beta reading.

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Lessons Learned: Written in Red
by shannono


Mulder!

Oh God Oh God ...

Mulder, God ... oh it hurts ...

Don't let go ... God Mulder ... don't ...

He was here, Mulder ... God, I remember it, I remember it all ... 
it hurt, it hurt so much ... I thought nothing could hurt worse 
than that gunshot wound, but I was so, so wrong ...

The pain ... oh God Mulder ... it was indescribable. His fingers 
cut into me, rougher than a scalpel and twice as deadly, and I
screamed, Mulder, I fought so hard ... I tried, I tried ... I 
fought the pain, got my weapon and shot him, emptied my gun, and I
wonder now if we'll find the bullets transformed into charcoal in
the wall, because he didn't stop, he wouldn't stop ... it hurt so 
*bad* ...

No! Don't let go Mulder, don't let go ... If you let go, I'll fall 
to pieces right here on the floor, and I'll never be whole again. 
Hold on tight, Mulder, I need you ...

It was real, Mulder, all of it, it happened, and I can't ignore it 
or deny it or make it all go away. It goes against everything I've 
ever believed or wanted to believe, but I can't shove this aside, 
Mulder. I saw it. I felt it, felt his hand inside my chest, reaching
for my heart.

I knew I was going to die, Mulder. I don't want to die. I've been
there before, and I don't ever want to be there again, even though
I know I will someday. It just hurt, it hurt so much.

I know this is wrong, Mulder, but I can't stop myself. I shouldn't 
be lying here, sobbing against your shoulder, digging in with my 
fingernails to bring you closer.

Oh God, digging in with my fingernails ...

Could I do it, Mulder? Could I reach right into your chest and wrap
my hand around your heart? You did that to me, you know. You didn't 
take it; you left my heart right where it still is, beating inside 
me. 

But you left your fingerprints behind.

Have I done that to you?

He said I was already in love, Mulder. He knew me, Mulder, he 
watched me, he figured out things about me that no one else knows,
not even you. You've never done that, Mulder, not really, never 
turned your profiler's mind to me. You wouldn't do that. You would
never invade my privacy that way. If you need to know something that
badly, you ask. You rarely even do that.

But he knew it all, Mulder. He got some details wrong, but he had 
watched me long enough to know my habits, my motivations, and once 
he got close enough, my feelings. He read me like a book, his book,
the story that had taken over his life and nearly took mine away.

He was right, Mulder. I'm in love. I can't be, I shouldn't be, it's
the worst possible thing now, but I can't help it. I can't control
it or deny it, and that scares me so much.

I can't need you Mulder. I do, I need you so much, so much that I
can't make myself let you go now, can't get my arms to loosen any
more than I can stop the sobs.

It's like I've been out of control for days now, Mulder, like I've
only been doing what he wanted me to do. And now my emotions are my
own again, and I can't handle it. It's too much all at once. 
Everything is hitting me at the same time, all the pain and longing 
and worry and hope and love, and it's spilling out like the blood 
from my chest, running in rivulets down my body and onto yours where
we're crushed together, from head to hip. Everything in my heart, 
written in red and pouring out over us.

Can you feel it, Mulder?

It's all draining out of me, Mulder, and I can feel the calm looming
on the horizon, see my protective coat of armor waiting for me. I 
close my eyes against it. I don't want to look, like Alfred Felling 
before me. I don't want to go back to my isolation. Don't want to 
hide from myself anymore, Mulder. Or from you.

Tell me how you do it, Mulder. You wear your emotions on your sleeve
sometimes, you find it so easy to show your feelings, even if you
can't always say it. I can feel you doing it now, the only way you
can, feel you soaking up my pain like a sponge, bringing some of it
into you so I don't have to bear it alone.

I want to do that, Mulder. I can't let it all go, can't let myself
be ruled by my emotions. But I need to try, I have to do it now. 
I've spent so long holding everything in, but it's all broken free 
now, overflowing my cup, and it won't all go back inside. I don't 
want it to.

Help me, Mulder.

Help me write us a new story.

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