From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org
Date: Tue, 12 Dec 2000 16:26:35 -0600
Subject: These Things I Hold (1/1) by Cara Taylor
Source: direct

Reply To: redciel@hotmail.com


Title: These Things I Hold (1/1)
Author: Cara Taylor (redciel@hotmail.com)
Classification: SR
Keywords: MSR
Rating: G
Spoilers: None
Timeline: Huh? What's that?! 
Summary: "...the thought of having so many things 
right there, at the base of my hand, brought a 
smile to my face."
Disclaimer: The X-Files, Dana Scully and Fox 
Mulder all belong to the amazing Chris Carter and 
1013 Productions. I'm not making any money off of this. 
Feedback: If you want to say anything, I'm always happy to 
get e-mail! As I already wrote, you can reach me at 
redciel@hotmail.com       
My own little personal input: This story was 
inspired from something that Jewel (the singer) 
once said. She was describing how hands are so 
significant because everything that we do, we do 
with our hands. I wish I could quote her exactly, 
because this explanation doesn't do justice to 
what she really said. 
--------
 

These Things I Hold 

It had been a long week. The clock would move two 
minutes forwards, then three minutes back. It felt 
as though I had held my breath the whole time, 
waiting for something to break the awkward balance 
of the week. When we finally made it to Friday, I 
let out that breath, relieved for what hadn't 
happened. 

And the second I let out that sigh of relief, I 
got a call from the hospital. 

Moments later I was on the road, trying my hardest 
not to exceed the speed limit. My heart was 
pounding so hard that my chest started to hurt. My 
mind was fixated on the urgency to get to Mulder. 

As I entered the hospital, my stomach muscles 
tightened and started to cramp as I recalled past 
occasions that have brought me to this place. 
Words can't express how much I despise being in 
the hospital. I ran to the counter and politely 
asked where Mulder was situated. The nurse slowly 
went through the charts, and I politely asked her 
to hurry the hell up.

"Scully?" 

I turned around to see Mulder sitting in a 
wheelchair with a bandage around his head. The 
left side of his face was completely bruised and 
he had a cut on his lip. I walked over to him 
curiously, wondering what could have caused such 
damage. He adorned that crooked smile of his, as 
if he wanted to assure me that everything was 
okay. Then he reached out, and took my hand. 

Before I even opened my mouth, he told me it was a 
car accident. "A car accident?" Why did that 
surprise me so much? 

"Yeah. This idiot ran a red light. Hit me on the 
side. Luckily, he put on the brakes well in 
advance so nothing too serious happened. He walked 
away without a scratch. Do I get my kiss now?" 

I bent down and lightly brushed his lips, fearing 
that if I pressed too hard I would hurt him. "Can 
you walk?" I asked. 

"Yes, he can," a young nurse called out. "But he's 
on so much medication right now that he'll 
collapse the second he gets up."

I thanked the nurse and signed Mulder out of the 
hospital. Taking the handles of the wheelchair, I 
rolled him to my car. 

"Scully, say something," he said in a drowsy 
voice. 

"What's there to say?" I helped him out of his 
wheelchair and into my car. Even though I tried to 
be as gentle as possible, he winced and cried out 
in pain several times. 

"I'm a bit shaken, I guess." I closed the 
passenger door and headed to the driver's seat. 
Mulder and I looked at each other for a few silent 
seconds before I pressed my lips in his forehead. 
The right part of his forehead to be exact. 

The truth of the matter was that I wasn't even 
able to explain to myself why I was so quiet. If 
he hadn't been in a car accident, would I have had 
more to say to him? 

By the time I reached my apartment he was asleep. 
I was about to wake him up, but I stopped myself. 
Seeing him sleeping so peacefully was too much a 
beautiful sight to disturb. And sooner than later 
I found myself holding my breath again, as if I 
was afraid that he would wake up before I was done 
watching him. 
 
Half an hour later, I started to feel guilty for 
not waking him. What he was sore afterwards from 
sleeping in an awkward position? I gently squeezed 
his arm and watched as his eyes fluttered open.  

In a dreadful period of time, I managed to get 
Mulder to my room. When I finally placed him in my 
bed, I immediately crawled in there beside him. It 
seemed as though anything could go wrong without 
me there. Mulder was obviously in too much pain to 
spoon or cuddle with me, so we held hands instead. 
We laid side-by-side, comfortable in the darkness 
of my bedroom. 

"I love you," he whispered so softly that I barely 
heard him. I took my hand out of his and turned to 
my side and watched he lay so still with his eyes 
closed. It didn't take long for him to fall asleep 
again. His breathing was shallow and raspy and I 
couldn't take my eyes off of him. It was as if the 
movement of his chest rising then falling 
mesmerized me. In a matter of seconds, I was 
silently crying.   
  
I woke up that morning to find my head resting on 
Mulder's chest. A sense of guiltiness washed over 
me as I realized that his skin was tender and 
sore, and that surely this would cause him some 
pain once he awakened. His eyes had been closed 
for such a long time that I was tempted to wake 
him up. I just wanted to get lost in the wonder, 
the mystery, the knowledge and the love that lies 
within them. After much hesitation and 
contemplating, I decided to let him be. I couldn't 
bring myself to wake him after the trauma he had 
just faced the previous day. So I watched him. 

His right hand wasn't underneath the covers. That 
was probably my fault somehow. Did it really 
matter? Ever so gently, I touched his hand. I then 
tenderly rotated his hand against the bed so that 
his palm was open. I touched his fingertips with 
my fingertips, and an incredible sensation washed 
over me as I realized what I had before my eyes. 

Joy at my fingertips. For all the times that he 
has made me smiled. For filling me with a sense of 
happiness in an indescribable way.   

Life at my fingertips. For taking the hard shell I 
built around myself and destroying it by showing 
me new doors. For making me see the world for what 
it is and what it isn't. For sharing his journey 
with me. For making me feel alive.   

Love at my fingertips. For taking care of me 
whenever I've been ill. For letting me see into 
his heart and mend the broken pieces. For taking 
the time to look deep inside my heart, and making 
me fall in love with him.

Fingertips. 

The word was starting to lose its meaning, yet the 
thought of having so many things right there, at 
the base of my hand, brought a smile to my face. I 
kissed each fingertip, having faith that the light 
pressure wouldn't interrupt his sleep. 
Unfortunately, I was wrong and his eyes opened. 

"Morning," he greeted me with a throaty voice. "I 
feel like crap, and you?" 

"I'm good. Happy that you're awake." I kissed his 
palm this time and his smile mirrored mine. I 
gazed into his eyes and everything started to make 
sense. 

"What?" He asked when he detected that I was deep 
in my own thoughts. 

"It's just that... well, I was scared last night. 
I never imagined you getting into a car accident. 
We've seen and been through so much that a car 
accident is almost too normal of an event to be 
the cause of any injuries in our lives. But, it 
hit me, Mulder. It hit me that this world is full 
of dangers wherever we turn, and..." I looked in 
his eyes, searching for the right words to come to 
mind.
 
"And we have to realize that despite the strange 
lives we lead together, we're only human in the 
end. That anything can happen, so we have to hold 
on to the things that count?" Mulder tried to 
finish my sentence.  

"Something like that." I kissed his palm again. 

Fin
---------