From: Libby Weisdepp Date: Tue, 30 May 2000 18:44:38 -0700 (PDT) Subject: nervous Source: direct Title: Nervous Author: Libiana Jones Rating: PG Classification: Vignette Spoilers: Fight the Future, Requiem Keywords: none Summary: Set during the motel scene in Requiem, Mulder reflects on why he told our favorite G-Woman to go home. Author's note: I *had* to write something after seeing Requiem. October seems so far away... Hotel in Bellefleur, Oregon... "There's so much more you need to do in your life. So much more than this." I pause. "There has to be an end, Scully." The words come out. I am surprised at myself for speaking them. I don't want her to leave, and yet, I do. It is an inner battle that I have mulled over for a while. I want her to be my partner forever, to have her punch holes in my theories, and raise her eyebrow at my bad crime scene jokes. The list goes on of my wants. But, I want her to be happy. I want her to be safe, and away from this craziness that I call my work, my life, my quest. Most of the time, my selfish self wins out, and I once again watch her get hurt. Once, after the Artic fiasco, I told her to be a doctor, and stay away from me. Of course, after what happened to her, I knew she would want to fight, and would throw my idea out the window. Looking back, that attempt might have only been for myself- to feel better about everything that happened to her. I told her to leave me alone, and she said she wouldn't, and I excepted it. We went on being partners, and it was normal again. Now, we are in nowhere, Oregon, and in a relatively quiet time in our lives. There is no virus-carrying bee around (at least that I can see), just some disapperances. Nothing that Scully and I have not seen before. I don't know what is making me say that she should go home. Or, why I say that there has to be an end. This end that I have decided to bring up has more than once popped into my mind, and scared me shitless. Is it that I am trying to be gallant? No, I know that isn't it. I search deep in my mind, looking for my reasoning-and whether or not these words that I speak are for Scully, or are for me. The more I search, the more the image of her and that baby comes to me. I then see her holding a gun standing next to me, in what could be any one of our cases together, and she has that grim look on her face that comes from having to draw a gun and knowing that you might have to use it. Then the baby floats back, Scully smiling down at him. The image changes, and again, I see her in action, calling for help, or yelling that there's trouble coming. And again, the baby comes back. 'The baby or me, him or me', I think. A gun or a doll, a yell or a song. Him or me. The baby has won. And, I realize that I want her to go, not for me to feel good about doing something right, but something else entirely. Something not so easily defined. to be continued 2/2 What is this thing? What is it that makes my insides flutter and my arms tighten with the knowledge that I have spoken the truth, and there might be consequences? And since when exactly did she decide that she would tell me when she wasn't 'fine'? I suddenly become aware of the situation at hand, and realize that I have become extremely brave. She tells me that she doesn't feel well, and I immediately wrap her in an embrace. Since when did this happen? All these questions float in my mind. My heart beats rapidly with the answers. I know that I love her. There is no doubt, and I really can't remember a time when there was, but although it has been there a long while, allowing myself to love is new to me. I loved my sister, but that was a long time ago. After Sam was gone, I searched for her and that was out of love, but after 26 years you lose sight of the love and it becomes more of a quest. In all honesty, she was taken too early for me to really know her. But Scully, Scully is different. Of course, I expected *love* to be different than what a brother felt for a sister. However, my various contact with women amounted to many things, but not that. Never that. Maybe lust, maybe respect, maybe some happiness, but never this love I feel. Right now she doesn't feel good, and I am scared. I hold her and will her to feel better. It is probably nothing, but somewhere in my head I can hear myself say that with Scully it *might* be something and this is enough to set my nerves on edge. Especially because of the fact that she came to me with this information. She is so guarded, and so strong. It amazes me sometimes. Sometimes I would wish that she wasn't that way. If she would tell me when she was hurt I could just cross the line, step over the boundaries, if just for a few minutes, to let her know I was here. With a touch, with a gesture, with some words or a hug, I would try to help. Instead, Scully leaves me to guess how she feels. It is easy to read the pain in her eyes, but I am also very aware of the determination set in her face. I cannot say anything, because that would make her feel that she had betrayed her emotions, that she had let me know that she wasn't impregnable. In those times all I would do is let my presence be known, but often nothing was said. Now, though, I am pleasantly surprised, and utterly nervous of what this moment means. She is sick, and there are no false pretenses. She doesn't feel well, and I *know* that she doesn't feel well. Instead of the impervious face that I have grown to recognize, I see her fear, and all at once I feel elated that she trusts me enough to tell me what she is feeling-a feat when it comes to Scully. But she is also showing me her anxiety. Scully and fear have never mixed and I am not used to it. Looking back on it all, though, I can see this sudden surge of trust isn't really that sudden. We have been letting our guard down with each other more and more lately. I don't know if that is a good thing or not. It feels good. When she is laying in my arms and I can whisper to her, and feel her warmth, it feels like the walls that have been a home for seven years are in dire need of remodeling. Still, this is something so new, and unfamiliar. It isn't often that the person you work side by side with, the person that you trust more than anyone, the one you watch bad movies with, the one who is your family, the one you tease and joke with, the one who is your very best friend, is also the person that you are in love with. At least, not in my life. All these things I treasure, and I don't really want to screw them up. I am beyond thinking that our friendship will be ruined when we do cross the physical line to love . I know that no matter what, there will be a Scully and Mulder, whether we are partners, friends, lovers, or neighbors in a retirement home when we grow old. I know that Scully will be a part of my life. But although I have this knowledge, it doesn't stop me from being nervous. Now, while still holding her, and thinking these things, I understand what has driven me to tell her to leave. I don't know if there are words to describe it. After you are in love with someone, and then you grow to love someone even more, what do you call it? That's how I feel. Before, I wanted her to be happy, but I wanted her by my side. Now, I just want her happiness. It is that simple. Seeing her with that baby made it all click into place. Maybe I am reading too much into the effect my words had on Scully. It will take tremendous convincing to get her to actually end this quest. But, for some reason, I feel like now is the time. Maybe she will listen to me, and this will be our last time together in some low-key motel, in some off-the-wall place. This scares me. For seven years I have relied on her, and I don't know what I will do if I cannot knock on the connecting door of to get her opinion on the case, or my choice of ties. If her leaving means she will be happy, than this is what I want for Scully. But it doesn't stop me from being nervous.