From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org
Date: 19 Apr 2001 16:07:57 -0000
Subject: Senses by spooky621
Source: direct

Reply To: oh_brother@gmx.net


Author: spooky621
Title: Senses.
Keywords: MSR. Vignette.
Spoilers: Takes place on DeadAlive last scene. Mulder's point of view
of those minutes.
Rating: Absolutely PG.
Summary: Awakening.
Archive: Sure, with the headings. Letting me know would get you an
astonished friend (Cause I don't believe this is worth it ;o))
Disclaimer: Everybody knows whose they are... If you don't, ask 
anywhere around, but one thing I'm sure: They're not mine.
Feedback: So very much appreciated!!!! oh_brother@gmx.net


Emptiness has been the worst thing of all this time.

This terrible and unbearable emptiness that drills your ears as the 
sound of some sharp and persistent whistle.

And time.

Time for thinking, missing, remembering and not feeling.

Time for suffering and letting go.

Those times when you wish you were dead because the physical pain is 
even worse than the psychological one.

But suddenly this emptiness is filling itself.

With a smell, so tiny at first, that is leading me from an almost 
different world, to breathing hospital impregnated air. And this 
clinical, disinfected odour is like hot cookies for me.

This warm and welcoming feeling. As getting home.

Once I'm used to hospital, I can discern another scent beyond it. A 
scent I'd identify anywhere in any world.

It's a scent that makes my heart shrink and beat faster and faster. 
It's the scent of where I belong.

Scent of hers.

Scully.

And if there's anything more beyond this darkness, it's right now 
when I want to open up my eyes and check that it's not just 
another dream. That it isn't another mirage, another trick of my 
mind on the run to the only safe place that it knows.

"Mulder"

Sound. Music. Her voice.

Calling me.

My sense of smell has awaken, and my hearing.

And I feel her hand over mine.

Soft and comforting touch.

Sense of feel.

And now I just need to see her. Just another effort...

Everything is white but I can feel her. She's really here. I blink
one, two, three,... four times and shapes begin to form out of 
thin air.

She's wearing a smile and tears in her eyes. Gosh, I guess I 
feel like crying too.

"Hi".- She says getting all her eloquence together while I 
almost can see tears inside her throat fighting for getting 
out to her eyes.

And then I can't help myself. I just can't.

"Who are you?".- I whisper, not sure if as a joke or as a method 
of making myself sure about the reality of everything around me.

She panics. For a moment so many emotions overload her body, and 
none of them is pleasing.

Scully, my Scully,... how can you even consider that I could have 
forgotten you? How when my memories of you were the only thing where 
I could hold to through this time of emptiness and time?

I guess I smile, and she hasn't forgotten how to read my eyes 
because she soon knows she's not a Jane Doe for me. Anything 
but that.

"Oh my God!".- She exhales between laugh, sobs and a prayer.- "Don't 
do that to me."

And she cries and I watch her. And watch her, and watch her, and 
watch her... and she watches me, and caresses my hand.

If I were strong enough, I would caress your hand too, Scully, I 
would and never stop.

"Do you know...".- she tries to say while keep on crying and looking 
at me with a beautiful daydream expression.- "Do you have any idea 
what you've been through?"

Honestly, Scully, I know. I know and it doesn't matter. Nothing 
matters, I'm tired and happy and I still can't believe it. I 
didn't believe I was going to see those eyes again. I wanted 
to believe I would, but there have been so many times during 
this lapse in which the proof on the contrary was so much 
irrefutable,... even for me.

It doesn't matter, Scully, it doesn't. You've got to believe me.

"I know that I'm seeing your face.".- I smile cause it's the only 
thing I can bring myself to do. And I feel so sleepy,...but I don't 
want to close my eyes fearing that when I'll open them again, you 
won't be here by my side.

She sends me another teary smile, and gets closer to me. Head on my
chest. Mourning little tiny sobs, almost inaudible that travel 
all my body long as little tickling waves of reality.

"Anybody missed me?".- I ask when all those nights and days of 
sick loneliness come to my mind.

An audible sobbing and a kiss on my neck as reply before 
leaning again over my tired body. Hair brushing again my nose.

Sense of feel. Of her head against my chest.

Sense of smell. Of her hair playing with millions of scents only 
describable as "She".

Sense of see. Of the memory of her smiley crying.

Sense of hear. Of her sobs mixed with tears.

And I know I can sleep because when I wake, everything will be here 
with me.

And I believe that after so many... months? That's the first night
I don't dream debating between memories and nightmares.

I'm home.