From: BelleElle7 Date: 10 Jul 2001 01:14:00 GMT Subject: *NEW* Shadows Entwined -- by Belle (1/2) Source: atxc Title: Shadows Entwined Author: Belle (BelleElle7@aol.com) Classification: VRA Rating: PG-13 ish Spoilers: all things, post-ep Keywords: Mulder/Scully Romance, Post Ep all things. Distribution: Sure. An e-mail would be nice, but not necessary. Feedback: BelleElle7@aol.com . . . Dont make me beg, people... :) Summary: But if in some dream there was brightness; if in some memory, some sort of sign; if flesh be revived in the shadows, blessed our bodies would lay so entwined. --Sarah McLachlan, I Will Not Forget You. Sick of Post-Existence? This is an old post-ep all things thingamagigy that I wrote but never finished a long time ago. So, I slapped on an ending and well just have to see if it flies... I know this is so overdone and kind of an old topic, but well, I figured it would seem somewhat new and refreshing at this point. :) Think of it as a *pre*-existence. --Belle My Collages (Mulder&Scully Art Gallery): http://members.aol.com/BelleElle7/MSArtGallery.htm My Fanfiction: http://members.aol.com/BelleElle7/fanfic.htm ---------------------------------------------- I remember the nights I watched as you lay sleeping, Your body gripped by some far away dream. And I was so scared, and so in love then, And so lost in all of you that I had seen. But no one every talked in the darkness, No voice ever added fuel to the fire, No light ever shone in the doorway, Deep in the hollow of earthly desires. But if in some dream there was brightness, If in some memory, some sort of sign, If flesh be revived in the shadows, Blessed our bodies would lay so entwined. And I will, oh, I will not forget you. Nor will I ever let you go. --Sarah McLachlan, I Will Not Forget You. ---------------------------------------------- The shadow of Mulders form passed over her unnoticed, corrupting only for a moment the eerie blue light from the fish tank as it spread over her where she lay. His careful bare feet passed silently through the main room of his apartment, passing the couch, passing the coffee table, all with the decided intent of getting a glass of water. Water. That was all. Just water. Except, he wasnt thirsty. Somewhere in the back of his stubborn mind, he was startlingly aware of the real reason he was stalking his own apartment for the second time that night since he had theoretically gone to bed. His feet had long stopped, his expedition for water long forgotten as he stood in the midst of his living room and simply stared. For the second time that night, his eyes could do nothing but look upon her with a mixture of concern, of reflection, and of simple adoration. But mostly because he knew that each chance to see her like this was even more rare and even more beautiful than her smile. And she was. Beautiful. Only during moments when she was perfectly asleep could he allow himself to admire her selfishly as such. He continued to stare, seeing how her tiny form folded on his couch in a way that he knew from experience would not be so agreeable when she woke up. He had the urge to move her, to give up his own bed for her comfort, or at least make her more comfortable on his couch. But he was afraid of doing either. Because he knew he would wake her. Because he knew he would spoil the moment. But mostly because he knew she would leave. As selfish as it was, he couldnt let her go just yet. She looked so tired to him as she slept, as if she had been waiting an eternity for this moment, for this place, to truly give in and truly sleep. He found her so much smaller, so much more vulnerable, as if only in his presence could she feel the security of letting herself just be. Yet, at the same time, he did not know how he could even conceive of the possibility. If anything, he was the one she should fear the most. He knew that he was the one who had caused her more harm and more loss than any threat could ever have. He could never imagine himself as her hero, as her narcissistic knight in shining suit and tie. He was just her partner. He was just her friend. He was the person who would be willing to do anything for her, the person he could only hope with which she felt safe. Sometimes, though, he wondered if he was really the person she wanted to be with, professionally, socially, whatever. The context in which their relationship stood was so blurred that he had long since lost the ability to identify where their jobs stopped and their lives began. So much of what they did blended into who they were, that he had given up on defining their connection with one word. Yet, there was no stopping his tendency to question it, to question her. The other day in their office, her anger, her words, her deliberate need to ignore him, all blatantly questioned what it was that she was doing there; what it was that she was doing with him. It hurt. God knows it hurt him to have her flatly say no to him for the sake of saying no. But then he realized what it was that had forced her to do such a thing. She was feeling used, feeling as if the slide projector had more of a say in what she did than herself. Essentially, he had begun once again to take her for granted. Every day that she walked into that office, into his life, was ultimately her choice. His fear had always been, and continued to be that one day she might choose differently. He was afraid that one day, he might lose her. After he had left her that Saturday, he was afraid that he was one step closer to just that. But tonight, something in her had changed. It had been her choice to come over. It had been her choice to tell him so much that she would normally keep to herself. A smile washed over his face at the knowledge that in these things, she had chosen him. He could not ask her for any more than that. He had nearly given up on the possibility that he would ever be able to ask for more than her partnership, than her friendship. It was her choice, alone, and he would love her always, no matter what choice she would make. But he couldnt help wanting. He couldnt help wishing. It had been her choice to make decaffeinated tea. Imagine if she hadnt. Imagine if they had continued their late night conversation that had stopped before it could tread on forbidden ground. Imagine if they had actually said more than they should have. Imagine if they had done more than they should have. Mulder could imagine all too well all the things he shouldnt. All the things that he wondered if she could imagine, too. In that moment, he realized that his thoughts, that his purpose for standing and staring at her in the middle of the night were no longer of any innocence. Finally, he gave up his midnight vigil over her, forcing himself to return the way he came. And so his bare feet carefully padded their way past her in the dark, willing, once again to leave her alone to sleep, this time for good. But he didnt get very far. Shiii... he hissed suddenly, grabbing his toes painfully after colliding them into the corner leg of his coffee table. Goddammit... he continued to hiss, forgetting his mental vow of silence. Forgetting that he wasnt alone. Her eyes, her ears, her consciousness didnt take long to awaken to the sound of cursing. She blinked. Once. Twice. Seeing nothing but darkness and hearing nothing but the hiss of bubbles in his fish tank, and the hiss of Mulder in pain. Mulder...? He looked up from the throbbing pain in his toe to see that she was wide awake, staring at him with sleepy, yet concerned eyes. You okay? Dammit... he mumbled. Im sorry, Scully. I didnt mean to wake you. Its okay..., she fumbled to respond, her voice still full of sleep, as she slowly pushed the unaccustomed blanket off her and onto the vacant part of the couch. What happened? Oh. He followed her eyes, remembering what it was that woke her in the first place. I... I just stubbed my toe. Youre bleeding, Mulder, she pointed out as she began to awaken fully. Ill be fine... he proclaimed, ignoring the barely noticeable drops of red oozing from his toe nail. He looked back at her, obviously embarrassed by the whole situation, hoping she would drop it. Thankfully, she did. As she awoke into the context of what was happening since she had fallen asleep, she finally fully noticed him. She noticed that he was now barefoot. She noticed that he was no longer wearing what he had been wearing before. She was beginning to question just how long she had been asleep. What time is it? she asked as she got up from his couch, already feeling the aches her previous position had cost her. Uhh... he muttered reluctantly, knowing the answer to her question would be the one excuse she needed to go home. A little after one, I think. He searched her face, her eyes, for her intentions, desperate to make the right assumption on her part within this somewhat awkward situation. For once, he wasnt sure what it was that she wanted. Did you... did you want me to take you home? he offered politely, pleading to her silently to refuse his politeness. Again, he searched her eyes for what it was that she wanted. But, what he saw was indecision. What he felt was a frightening tension he didnt expect. No, thats okay, Mulder, she finally said, her voice far from convincing him of any certainty, while her eyes gave him no further insight as they purposefully avoided his. Youre probably exhausted, and I... uhh... I can take care of myself. I drove over here, anyway, remember? He watched her as she spoke, her body shifting just slight enough for him to catch. Just enough for him to realize that she was far from convinced that her own plans were what she really wanted. Stay, he suggested suddenly, instantly regretting the desperation in his voice, regretting the carelessness of his thoughts. I mean... Its already late, he fumbled to explain. And... Id just feel better if you just stayed here. The fear grew with each second she remained silent, her face no more readable than before. For a glimmer of a moment, she risked probing his eyes, his expression, looking for the same things for which he was looking. Finally, she looked away, nodding weakly. Okay. Okay? he said, somewhat shocked that she had given in so easily. Yeah, she said softly as she sat back down on his couch. Youre right, Mulder. I might as well just stay. In her voice, body language, he still couldnt identify what it was that was running through her mind. His instincts, the sudden tension between them, everything was pointing to the fact that something was indeed running through her mind, something she was deliberately keeping from him. You dont have to sleep on the couch, Scully, he stated as he continued to watch her. You can take my bed, if you want... Dont bother, Mulder. Ill be fine, she stated, avoiding eye contact with him as she attempted to settle back into the worn leather. Mulder stood silently for a moment, reading into their seemingly simple conversation, probing probably more than he should have. There was something different, something beneath the surface of their polite, yet awkward dance of words. You sure? I mean, I dont mind... Yes, Im sure, she interrupted him, her tone somewhat anxious, somewhat taut, as if she were desperate to get him to leave her alone. Ill be fine. Just get some rest, Mulder. He nodded, his face a facade of agreement, his mind trying to understand what had taken over her thoughts, what had changed her from the light and easy mood she had been in before she had slept to the sudden anxiety that was beyond obvious to him now. Kay, he stated softly, his tone trying to be relaxed. GNight, Scully. Night, Mulder. -------------------------- More in part 2... I didn't intend for this to be a two parter, but it was longer than I thought it would be. Keep reading, please :)? -Belle (BelleElle7@aol.com) Title: Shadows Entwined -- continued (2/2) Author: Belle See complete notes and headings, etc. in part 1. ------------------------------------- She watched as he finally left her alone, overwhelmed by an unaccustomed relief at his absence, all because of what she had been reminded of in the space of her sleep, in a simple dream. It hadnt been a dream so much as the recollection of a moment. A moment she wasnt even sure happened at all. But it did. She knew that. She just wasnt sure what to make of it, what to believe in it. Her back pressed uncomfortably into the back of his couch as her eyes shut, only to be reminded once again. Outside the hospital, she stood; nowhere for her to go, nothing really for her to do but to look and stare at the people and the landscape, all lost in a moment of frozen surrealism. It was happening again, her mind had somehow managed to perceive; a moment in time when reality slowed into surreality; confusion broke into clarity; perceptions changed into realizations. Then she saw her: the nameless, faceless woman who had somehow changed Scullys perspective on life, on death, on herself, was walking past her, as if she was no one and everyone at the same time. Scully ran to her, desperate for an answer, any answer, to the thousands of questions she didnt know how to ask. Everything was breaking into reality as she ran, as she called to her, as she grabbed her shoulder, as she turned the woman around in order to face her. And then the moment was over. And then there was nothing but Mulder and her, standing together as if that was what was meant to be from the very beginning. She opened her eyes into the darkness of his living room, almost expecting him to be there, watching over her in the night. But he wasnt. She was alone, with nothing but a couch, a blanket and a few fish to surround her in the dark. She sighed, resting her head against the back of the couch, closing her eyes once again, but she knew it was useless. She knew that those few short hours she slept would be all that would come to her tonight. She was too uptight, too unwilling to understand the moment that kept replaying in her mind like a persistent, visual broken record, playing over and over as if demanding an answer. But she was too afraid. She wasnt sure she wanted to know the answer. She wasnt sure she was ready. She took a shuddery deep breath, desperately willing her mind to push her thoughts away, to hide them and ignore them like she always did. Except, this time it wasnt working. This time was different. She pushed herself off of his couch, standing up with the sudden intention of leaving. There was no reason to stay if she knew she would not be able to sleep. And yet, she knew she couldnt just leave him without an explanation, either. He would worry. He would find a reason, any excuse, to look at her with eyes that knew something was wrong. Carefully, her stocking clad feet padded slowly to the half opened door to his room. It was dark except for the hauntingly bright moonlight filtering in through his window. Shadows of the wind blown trees broke through the moons luminance outside his window, creating a dance upon his face as he slept. She watched him cautiously, as if afraid that he knew she was standing there, looking upon him with a lost sense of innocence, with a lost sense of stability. In his face, in his body, in his presence, the moment of uncertainty continued to play in her mind, the physicality of his nearness only heightening the memory. She stared at him, desperate to rid her thoughts of all that he possessed. But she couldnt. She couldnt look at him without demanding the simplicity of an explanation for why he was controlling her every breath. She didnt know how to ask why. She didnt know how to look beneath for the reason she was desperate to understand. Everything happens for a reason. Isnt that what the New Dana Scully had surmised to him only hours before? Isnt that what she, the newfound believer in fate, had begun to find some validity in? And yet, sometimes, she was too afraid to understand what that reason was. She was willing to believe that there was a reason she had followed the woman into the Buddhist temple. She was even willing to believe in the possibility that the reason had been for her to see what she had seen. But when it came to her willingness to believe in a reason for what had happened to her that afternoon, her ability to look beyond halted into nothing. Her ability to believe that the woman had led her to Mulder for a reason was lost. Not for the first time since she had met him, she was thrown into a familiar conflict, a struggle between everything that she understood perfectly, and everything she simultaneously refused to believe. She understood perfectly that she loved this man that lay asleep before her, but she refused to believe that she could. She refused to believe that she should. She was startled, suddenly, by movement upon the bed. He turned to lay on his back, his movements frustrated as if he knew that nothing he did would get him comfortable. His eyes remaining shut, he breathed out, sighing in defeat. It was a sigh that let her know, to her sudden sense of fear, that he wasnt even asleep. She watched as he brought his palms up to his face, covering his closed eyes as if he could close them further, as if he could banish what lay beyond them. Despite the realization that he was awake, she did not pull back from her spot just outside his doorway. She stayed her ground, watching him as he suddenly shrugged off the covers and swung his legs over the side. For a moment, he sat hunched, frustrated with his inability to concentrate on sleep. All the while, his hands rubbed his face, covering his eyes, concealing who stood watching him. But eventually, she watched as he sensed her presence, his hands slowly falling from his face, allowing his eyes to probe her where she stood. Scully? his groggy concern questioned her as the shadows of the trees continued to dance over him. She was suddenly breathless at the sound of her name, her mind racing with explanations for why she was there. She remembered vaguely her purpose to tell him that she was leaving, that she could not sleep and that she was going home. But suddenly, she had absolutely no desire to leave, to go home and swallow herself even deeper within her thoughts. She had no desire to go anywhere but where she was. She took a cautious step deeper into the dark shadows of his room, watching every aspect of his reaction as she did so. You okay? he asked predictably, watching her somewhat hidden expression. Yeah, Mulder, she stated cautiously as she stopped a few feet into his room, her reserved gaze falling from his. Im fine... I just... Couldnt sleep? he suggested. She looked back at him, smiling slightly as her way of affirming the obvious. Something like that, she stated nervously, instantly regretting her tone, knowing that he would pick up on it, knowing that he would undoubtedly question it. She was right. Hidden in his gaze upon her was a layer of familiar concern, drowning in a multitude of questions. However, for yet another time that night, she surprised herself by not hiding from him. She could not hide from him. She could not hide from herself. The thoughts that had been overrunning her the entire night were no longer allowing her take the easy way out. Suddenly, the easy way had become harder to which to submit. Suddenly, she felt as if she no longer had any choice in her fate. Slowly, she allowed herself to move closer, deeper into the questions that were written upon his face. His eyes followed her, watching as she sat next to him on his bed, avoiding his gaze as she stared downward. For a moment, they remained perfectly silent, his silence questioning her; hers, out of reluctance. I owe you an apology, Mulder, she suddenly declared, her soft, serious voice breaking into the emptiness between them as she stared downward. For what? he questioned, genuinely confused. For the way I acted the other day, she explained in the same tone, at the office. Empty moments of silence only filled the short space between them as she struggled for words to explain what lay beneath. Dont apologize to me if youre not sorry, Scully. She finally looked up to face him, questioning his hauntingly sharp words. Her eyes met his, seeing the expression of seriousness that bled in them. Because you have no reason to be sorry. You had every right to be angry with me. You still do. Mulder... she tried to finish what she started, but couldnt get more than his name out before he cut her off. When I was in England, I thought a lot about what set you off that day, he continued, his eyes breaking their connection with hers to stare away. I tried to blame it on you. I thought that maybe you were just tired and I was the last person you wanted to deal with. I tried to blame it on the case, but Ive dragged you on cases much more pointless without you so much as making a peep. He looked back up at her, watching as the streetlight outside his window played across her silent features. I didnt want to look beyond the easy scapegoats, Scully. I didnt want to think that just maybe your anger was real, and that its focus had been me. I didnt want to blame myself. He finally paused long enough to give her the chance to speak, to say what she had been trying to say, to prove or disprove his own guilt. But she could find no words with her voice. She could find nothing but the floor with her eyes. I understand now why you were angry, his reluctant and low tone continued. I realized that my inability to see that there was more to it than just myself was exactly what had set you off in the first place. He paused momentarily, sighing slightly, forming his thoughts into words. Sometimes I can get too comfortable, Scully. And sometimes I can forget. I guess it just got to the point where I forgot that you didnt ask to be here. I took for granted that it had always been your choice to stay. Mulder, please dont think that I regret the choices that have led me to where I am, she finally said, her voice low and cautious as she continued to avoid his gaze. Because I dont. I know that now. He waited, sensing that there was more. But... sometimes I can forget why I made them in the first place... And that is why I owe you an apology. He remained silent, somewhat uncertain of what exactly she meant. She finally turned her face up to meet his in the dark, her expression shadowed with the obscurity of thoughts she was finally beginning to sort out. In his eyes, she found only the confusion with which she had left him. Because I am no less guilty of that which I accuse of you, Mulder, she answered his unspoken question. But, she was not awarded with anything but more confusion in his eyes, making what was already difficult, even harder for her. She was desperate to understand what was going through her mind, but what surprised her was the realization that she was desperate for him to understand as well. She looked away from him, yet again, as if it hurt for her to look into his eyes, as if she was afraid that he would see too much of her if she did. Im not exactly sure I understand what youre getting at, Scully, he finally said, his tone gentle, but desperate to grasp what it was that she was slowly revealing. Thats because I didnt tell you everything, Mulder. Theres more to what happened to me that I neglected to mention, she finally realized, surprising herself by her willingness to tell him the one thing she hadnt of all that she had been through, the one thing that she had been forced to remember with every look into his face. What? he questioned, his tone remaining as gentle as his questioning gaze. I saw her once more, this afternoon. You mean the woman who led you into the temple? he asked softly, his curiosity growing with what she was confiding. She nodded, her face still reluctant to look in his direction. She was outside the hospital, walking, she barely managed to continue. I saw her. And I followed her. I wanted to know who she was. I wanted to know why. But she didnt give me any answers, Mulder. She looked back up, and instantly he saw the struggle what she was trying to say was causing her. She disappeared, leaving me with no explanation, just like the last time. But this time, she didnt lead me to a temple, Mulder. She paused a reluctant moment, the tension filling the space between them until she wasnt sure she could say what she had set out to say. She led me to you, she somehow managed to voice. In the dark, in the shadows, she could barely identify what appeared as confusion playing over his face. She *was* you, she continued. It was her that I ran after. It was her that I called to. It was her that I turned around. But it was you who stood there. He stayed silent, his face a mask, reluctant to give her any sign of what he was thinking. His silence, his reluctance were killing her, making her fear that she had been wrong to think she could do this, that her sudden willingness to give herself over to the truth she understood perfectly was not what he would want. But she would not let herself believe that. Why are you telling me this, Scully? he finally voiced, his eyes staring straight ahead at the door where she once stood. Why are you telling me now? She swallowed down, unsure of what his tone, his words revealed. His voice was soft, but lacking warmth, lacking emotion, making her response harder to find. Because I need you to understand why I owe you an apology, Mulder, she explained, surprised at the desperation in her own voice. I had no right to be angry at you for neglecting to remember my role in what we do. Because this woman has shown me that I have neglected to remember your place in who we are.... your place in who I am. He finally turned back to face her, his eyes digging through the darkness to catch hers. In his, she finally found the emotion, the response he had been reluctant to give. She could see that he finally saw and finally understood what she was fearfully, willingly doing. He could see what she was fearfully, willingly acknowledging. And it scared the hell out of him. Im sorry, Mulder, she whispered softly, her voice succeeding in worsening the tension that was already haunting him, enticing him. Her hand, almost out of nowhere was suddenly next to his on the bed, almost, but not quite achieving his touch. Im sorry that Ive taken you for granted. Im sorry that I pretend it doesnt matter... Her tone had grown darker, her voice softer, as each word grew more and more obscure, implying more than she was usually willing to imply. He didnt know what to say. His voice was lost as he searched through the darkness for her eyes, for her soul, for her meaning. He saw into her, seeing that she was making a choice; a choice she had denied long ago; a choice that, momentarily, had no consequences for tomorrow. It was a choice he had always hoped she would make, but once he was presented with its possibility, he was suddenly aware of all the reasons against it. He was suddenly afraid of all the things that would come to haunt him if he allowed her to make it. I came in here to tell you that I was leaving, Mulder, that I was going home, her haunted tone continued. But Im not sure that I have that choice. He could no longer comprehend the words from her mouth. It was as if the thickness of the moment was too much for her voice to pass through. The only thing he could understand, comprehend with any certainty, was the voice, the words that emanated from her simple being, from the nearness of her essence that was making all of her spoken words disappear before they could reach his ears. Something had changed. She had changed. In that moment, he knew that everything was changing, and there was not a damn thing he could do to stop it. There wasnt a single fear of tomorrow within him that would be inticed to stop her. His silence, the way he stared at her, were all making her question the choice she thought to be the right one. His face stared upon her, a mixture of desperation and disbelief scratching over every feature, as if he wanted to believe in what she was doing, but was too afraid to; as if he were too afraid he would be wrong. And so, he remained perfectly still, perfectly silent, holding his breath for fear that he would break the spell she had cast over him. She swallowed down, forcing her tone to regain some sense of seriousness, demanding it to regain some level of clarity. Mulder, do you want me to leave? she finally asked, her hand on the bed finally, carefully touching his, punctuating her question. Her touch startled him, forcing him to release a sharp breath that he had been hanging onto. His eyes shut, his throat swallowed down, bracing himself for his response to her question. You probably should leave, Scully... If his eyes had been open, he would have seen the elevated fear pierce her eyes at his words. He would have felt her heart drop as if from rejection. I should probably make you go... he continued. But I dont think I have that choice either... His eyes reopened to her, and the potency in them nearly burned her. But she could not look away. It was as if her eyes, her body, her trust were locked in place, unable to break away from his own immobile existence. His words spread over her, collecting in her conscious. He didnt have a choice. Nor did she. Neither had the choice of turning the other way from what was steadily reaching the level of inevitability. They had no choice but to fall into the fate they had never wanted to believe was real. But it was. Slowly, almost imperceptibly to her eyes, he moved closer to her. She sensed his body shift on the bed, until he was sitting as close to her as possible. She shut her eyes, suddenly unable to do anything but foolishly attempt to control the pulse that was pounding through her. In the dark, she sensed rather than saw him lean closer to her, his hand finding a home low on her back. She felt his breath match hers as it warmed her ear, until she was at a loss at attempting to control what she knew was beyond her. Perfectly still, she swallowed as she felt his fingers curl under the bottom of her shirt, touching the bare skin there, but doing no more. He remained perfectly still, his only movement in the form of his breath against her ear, and then, accompanied by the depth of his voice. Dont go... --------------------------- The End. I apologize to all of you out there who might possibly have been disappointed with that ending... but thats as far as I go, folks. Feel free to finish it yourself. Feedback: BelleElle7@aol.com