From: sara leventhal Date: Mon, 17 May 1999 15:19:16 -0800 Subject: new Title: Perpetual Fear Author: sr1175 Distribution: Sure Spoilers: None Rating: PG Classification: SRA Summary: one author's take on why Scully won't return the sentiment Disclaimer: not mine ~~~~~~~~ And always there comes an hour When one is weary of prisons, of one's work, and of devotion to duty. And all one craves for is a loved face, The warmth and wonder of a loving heart. - Albert Camus, The Plague ~~~~~~~~~~~ Left... Right Up... Back to the left Down through the little tree Around the rock Right ... Left I think I've got the pattern down. The rain on the window gently stirs me from the study of Mulder's fish. They're predictable now anyway. Harsh light from the street lamp through the rain streaked window casts an animate shadow across my pale skin. Hypnotized by the aqueous contrasts, I almost miss the sound of his key in the door. Light from the hallway floods into his apartment creating harsh lines where just moments ago there was only a fuzzy layer of gray. He shrugs out of his coat and kicks the door closed. He hasn't noticed my presence. Under normal circumstances this may have hurt - tonight, I am grateful for a few more minutes of solitude. Searching for the remote control, he makes his way across the room. I am curled up in a chair across from the couch, blanketed by shadows. He is nearly directly across from me before he notices I am there. "Jesus! Scully, you scared me. What are you doing here? Are you alright?" "No, Mulder. Actually, I'm not." His move to turn on a light is stopped, mid-reach, by the unexpected honesty of my answer. He sighs and sinks down into the couch. He sits forward bracing his elbows on his knees and scrubs his face with both hands. Dropping his arms so that his hands hang between his knees, he looks up at me, waiting for me to explain. I uncurl the fist I was unaware I was clenching and toss the shinny object onto the coffee table separating us. The ring wobbly rolls across the table until it hits a glass and settles at the base with a clatter. He is speechless. I knew he would be. I watch as emotions he is fighting to control play across his face: shock, guilt, fear, panic, sadness, curiosity, and finally a strange combination of relief and acceptance. He knows I want an explanation. What he doesn't know is that I don't really need to hear about his wife or their life together and the reasons he no longer wears the ring. "Look, Scully..." " I don't want to know, Mulder." I have interrupted him and he looks like a lost child, so unsure of the situation. He knows I am upset. Hell, it's obvious I've been sitting in his dark, empty apartment waiting to ambush him. What he doesn't know is why I am upset. I can't even pin point the exact reasoning behind my compulsive need to spend the last 32 hours waiting for him to return. Our usual dance around real feelings and personal issues won't work this time. I need him to hear me on this one, it cut too deep to ignore and pretend I never knew. Waiting for him to come around to answering my unasked questions is not an option. Not with the frame of mind I've been in for the last two days. I've had time to practice exactly what I would say, how to phrase it so every carefully chosen word would not harbor the traditional double meaning. I want to be sure he knows what I am thinking, what I am feeling. No guessing at implied hidden messages. Not anymore. Not tonight. I take a deep breath and hug my legs closer to my chest, briefly noticing how cold my bare feet suddenly feel. In the back of my mind I laugh at the irony of my pose, here I am, the confronter in the situation, curling up into the protective embraces of an almost fetal position. "You're entitled to a past. I have no right to demand details of your life before me. There are things about who I was before you that you don't know, things that really don't matter anymore. This is not about jealousy or insecurity over another woman. That's not why I'm here." He visually relaxes as he realizes I don't want him to elaborate on the details of his former wife, that I don't need to hear him reliving every excruciating detail of their love and how it was lost. Confusion settles deep into the tiny lines of his face as he leans back and casually crosses one leg over the other. Resting his elbow on the arm of the couch and balancing his head on a loosely closed fist, he closes his eyes. His voice is soft, as if he's trying to come to terms with yet another demon plaguing his soul. "Then why are you here? What is this about?" "The same thing it's always been about, Mulder. Trust, honesty, acceptance, faith." I watch as he slowly opens his eyes and looks at me through the veil of his thick lashes. The confusion is still there. My words have stung his heart. That I would be questioning the very foundation of our relationship scares him. If I am to be honest with myself, it scares me too. I guess that's really why I'm here in the first place. I need him to vanquish my fears. I want solid ground beneath my feet again. I'm tired of guessing and reacting. I want an absolute, something genuine to put my faith in with out fear. "Scully, I've told you before, you are the *only* one I trust" I smile to myself, knowing he really believes that. That in his mind, as complicated as our relationship may be, he knows he trusts me, knows he can rely on me, even knows that he loves me. "I believe you believe that. I'm not questioning how you think you feel. I'm questioning how you really feel. You've proven to me time and again that there isn't anything you wouldn't do for me, and words can never express how truly grateful I am for that. You trust me with your work, with your secrets, with your beliefs, knowing I will never betray you. What you don't trust me with, Mulder, what I don't think I even fully understand, is who you really are." I pause, giving him time for this to sink in. I'm starting my tread onto sacred ground, issues we have silently agreed not to discuss, breaking a contract we unknowingly signed years before. I run a shaky hand through my hair and absently notice that it desperately needs to be washed. I shift in the chair, tucking my feet underneath me in an effort to warm them. He sits forward again emphasizing his disbelief in what I've just revealed. His voice cracks around his words. "What are you thinking? How could you say that after all this time?" "I think you're afraid of me. That's what scares me." I look down, closely inspecting my cuticles. I know I should look him in the eye when I say this, but somehow I just can't. He's not the only one with insecurities. " I have given you everything that I am. My mind, my soul, my faith, my trust, it's all yours. I know you know that." My eyes meet his and our connection is reestablished. He needs to believe this. I need him to trust me, to know without a doubt that I know the weight these words carry, that I am not trying to downplay the intensity of my feelings for him, or his for me. "I just don't understand how you can tell me you need me, tell me you *love* me and not feel safe in those feelings. You're afraid of hurting me. Of telling me things you know will hurt me. Every time you keep something from me, it isolates me from who you are or who I am. It forces me to live in a world of illusions which you have created for me. You're afraid to trust me not to leave you and I don't know how else to prove to you that I'm not going anywhere." I wipe away a tear and just look in his eyes. He is still not ready to use his voice but his eyes speak volumes. I see the fear and regret beginning to turn to guilt. This is not what I wanted, although I suppose with Mulder, it was inevitable. I need him to understand. "I don't know how to make you believe in me the way I believe in you. I want you to have faith enough in who you are, in who we are, to believe in me, to trust me, not just with your life, but with our life." I unfold myself from the chair and make my way to the table separating us. Sitting on my knees, I lean over on my elbows and reach for the gold band. Toying with the cold metal until it warms from my touch, I look up and meet his gaze. He looks uneasy at the sight of me holding the symbol of his still unexplained past. I smile warmly at him, trying to douse the fire of guilt that I know rages within him. He leans forward onto his knees and gives me a weak smile in return. "Think about it, Mulder. Let me love you for everything that you are, not for who you think I want you to be." I place the ring in his palm and close his hand around it. I stand and make my way to his door. I open it to leave then turn around to look at him one more time. He is in the same position, staring after me. There is one more thing I need him to know. "I deserve that much. I've earned it." He silently nods in agreement. "And so have you." I slip quietly out the door, leaving him holding my heart. Trusting him not to break it.