From: "Liz Catherine Huberman" Date: Mon, 22 Nov 1999 17:08:32 -0800 Subject: "Tundra" plz read it. i hope you like it Source: direct It was so cold. That was the one thing he clearly remembered waking up to. Her arms were bound around him protectively, as they sat on the edge of the tundra. There was no one around for miles, and he hadnt passed a site, or anything, since he had rented the snow cat. That had probably been demolished fathoms below the surface of the newly furnished body of water from which they had barely been salvaged, no thanks to the flying saucer, he said to himself with a grin. He knew that they were still in Antarctica, at the pole of Inaccessibility, no doubt. It felt good to say it to himself in a plural sense. He had found Scully, and she was alive, barely, but alive, and he now had her in his arms. Shed fallen into unconsciousness again, perhaps from the shock. Shed been through so much in the past couple of days. Nevermind that he had been shot in the head, traveled into a totally different hemisphere a few hours after, been practically dragged into eternity with life forms from another planet, and ran across the ice and snowbound continent to escape a watery grave. No, that hadnt even crossed his mind. The last time that theyd seen each other conscious had to be over 96 hours ago, before what could have happened, what should have happened, he thought, damn that bee. He scooped Scully up in his arms and started walking. His whole body ached, from what was painfully obvious. He just wanted to be warm: lay under a down blanket, in front of a fire, with a nice hot coffee. What he would give for that. First he had to be indoors, though. Out of the cold. When night came, which was not far away at all, it would even colder, and theyd have no chance in hell to make it through the night alone. There had to be someplace down here. I didnt come down here to end my life, he told himself, I came here to save it. * * * * Something to the west caught the corner of his eye. A dark shape, not a man, but a complex. Maybe a research center, with people. Scully still had not woken up, and it had been over an hour. He prayed that they would find something before he lost her. He wouldnt think that. Now he saw a glimpse of hope. Unless this figure was a mirage, or it belonged to one of them. As he came closer, he realized that it was a small, cabin-like building, with no vehicles around, probably meaning no one was there. He ran to it, and prayed that the door wasnt locked. There was only one window in it, and it would be too small to break through. The door was locked, but the door handle was so scrawny, he just kicked the door in. Probably one of the only useful things he ever got out of the bureau training, he thought to himself. It wasnt a very comely interior, but he didnt care. He felt cold all over, and he saw a fireplace, a couch, and some more doors, probably closets and a room. He laid Scully down on the couch, and went to look for something to burn in the fireplace. He opened one door, and it was a room. The mattress laying on the floor was stripped, and there was a floor lamp next to it. Nothing more. The next door was a closet, filled with metal and plastic hangers, and boxes of junk. The boxes wouldnt burn very well or very long. He had one door left. It was a closet filled top to bottom with wood. Cut trees never smelled so good. He took out five, and put them in the fireplace carelessly. Matches. Damnit, he realized. I need a light. He went back to the junk closet and went through boxes. Then he saw it. An orange BIC. He shook it lightly, hoping there was still fluid in it. Not much, but enough to start a fire, he hoped shaking the seemingly empty lighter. He clicked it once, twice, three times, and then fire. The wood burned well. He would have to get something to eat. Scully hadnt eaten anything in over 96 hours, and he needed to get her to wake up. He walked over to her lifeless looking body on the couch, and brushed her cheek with his fingers. They had barely missed spending night out doors. The sun was well below the horizon now, the only light from the burning wood. It would be a long time before someone found them. He didnt care. He just wanted her to be all right. * * * * The fire was dying when Scully woke up. Her chest rose and fell and her breathing was heavy. Mulder awoke to the sound, relieved that she was still with him. * Youre awake,* he said. * Mulder....* she said groggily, *Where are we?* *It doesnt matter,* he touched her forehead, realizing she was really warm, a mild fever. Her eyes opened and closed slowly, still full of sleep. *Where are we?* she repeated. *In Antarctica,* he said matter- of- factly. * Antarctica,* she echoed, an upset uneasiness in her voice. She was sitting upright now, on the couch, Mulder was sprawled out beside the couch, near to the fire. He could clearly make out her face. She was concerned and scared, and he stood up to sit beside her. *Were going to get out of here. Weve gotten this far. We cant give up now.* He was worried, though, and she knew it. They were in the middle of nowhere, with no transportation, no communications, and even worse, barely any food. Scully yawned, and then coughed. She was probably sick with some kind of a cold, but he was glad that she was conscious. The jacket he had put on her when he found her was soaked, he realized. *You need some dry clothes,* he said. * I need clothes,* she said to him, because she knew as well as him what had happened, despite her mental state. It was like something out of a bad dream, except that they had got away. He left her on the couch, and went to the closet in the bedroom. There was dingy button up plaid shirt hanging up. Better that nothing, he thought. He peeled it from the closet and brought it into the front room. *Here,* Mulder said, flinging the shirt at her, *I have to find you some pants.* *Mulder,* Scully said before he left the room. *Yeah,* he turned around to her. *Why did you come here?* *For you,* he answered. *Mulder,* she said in disbelief. * I did,* he forgot about the pants and sat down next to her again, *Why? You think I came down here to get my ass kicked by some little green men?* *Sometimes I wonder about you Mulder,* she said, pleased with her response, *but I believe you. I just.....* she trailed off. * What?* *I dont know what happened to me. I dont think Ive ever been so scared in my entire life. Im still scared. But youre here. What Im trying to say is,* she looked into his eyes, *thank you. I dont know anyone that would have done this for me. Youve saved my life more times than I can count.* *Scully, you would have done the same for me,* he knew she would, too. She laughed a nervous laugh, and looked into his eyes. Shed thought she understood what kind of a relationship they had, but sometimes she wondered. Now it felt all too different. She remembered the last time she saw him, in his hallway, when she told him she was quitting the bureau. He didnt understand. They wanted her sanctioned from him, for their own reasons. Nothing had ever happened between them. No, theyd been too careful. It hadnt even come close to crossing her mind. Until then, when he was so vulnerable, so confused. Shed felt for him. Now she was sitting with him, and scared half to death. How would they get out of here? She wasnt sure of anything at that point, other than that he was here with her, and he wasnt going anywhere. *Its so cold,* she said, trying to shake the silence. *Yeah, I guess Ill have to throw some more logs on the fire.* Mulder stood up again and walked over to the closet of wood. *Hey, Scully?* * Yeah,* she now was walking over to the small window to the left of the fireplace. He wanted to tell her something. He didnt know what to say, but it was something painfully important. Instead, he just said, *Nevermind.* *Mmm-hmm,* and she looked longingly out the window into the night, hoping to see headlights or some sign of life out there other than them. He put three more logs in the fireplace, and sat down on the couch in front of it, watching her, not speaking., absolutely motionless. What was there to say. She knew as well as him what had happened. The nightmare was over, and they were safe, in a sense. Scully just wanted to get out of here and go back home. She didnt want to die. She walked back to him on the couch, and sat down beside him. His face was red with windburn, his lips chapped and peeling. He looked so exhausted, but they needed to stay awake to listen for anyone or anything. It was now around eleven p.m. *Scully?* he said. *Mulder,what is it?* * Im glad youre all right,* he said. * Im glad were all right.* He moved towards her, put is arms around her shoulders, and pulled her close, protectively. He didnt want to let her go, but he thought that she would pull away, probably scared by his seemly intentions. She didnt. She leaned back towards him, held his arms, and closed her eyes. She wouldnt fall asleep. She couldnt. Hed probably not slept in a couple of days. *You need some rest, Mulder,* she said, and turned back to face him. Then she saw the wound on his forehead. *Whats that?* A she touched it lightly. It was a fresh gash. No, it was a bullet wound, she realized. Hed been shot. *Mulder, youre hurt.* *Its nothing,* he said. *No, you were shot,* Scully was now concerned. It was partially opened still, and he needed something to cover the wound. She picked up the shirt he found and pressed it lightly against his head. *Hold that there,* she touched his cheek softly as his hand closed over her hand where she held the shirt. *Mulder,* she choked out. Her heart stopped. He was gazing deep into her eyes. There was so many things that could have been said at that moment. He was looking past her, though, past her face, past her body, into her soul, into her heart. *I.....,* she started, but he didnt let her finish. The shirt dropped from his head , and his hands swung around her shoulders. His mouth closed over hers passionately. She didnt protest, didnt pull away. Instead, she kissed him back hungrily, letting him pull her closer, pulling her with him into the couch. His hands went up the damp jacket, carressing her soft skin. She kissed him deeply, and held him close. She let out a small cry, not of protest, but of a longing, a feeling that had laid dormant all her life. "Scully?" he questioned her presence, if this was really her, if they were actually there. He called her name again. Suddenly, everything went black, and he was afraid. He tried to open his eyes, but there was no light facing him. He felt himself sprawled across the cold wooden floor, and turned himself around to face the small embers still aglow in the fireplace of the freezing cabin. "A dream," he muttered to himself, and then remembered that she was still there on the couch. He quickly stood up and felt her pulse, He heard her breathing, and her warm, soft skin under which came a telltale thump of the beating of her heart. He couldn't understand why he had to dream that. It was a tease, a jeer. He'd fantasized about being with her before, but that felt so real, so tender. He wanted to wake her up, but she was still exhausted, he realized. He'd wake her up when it was safe, and warm. This thought reminded him to put another log on the fire. At least they weren't out there, he said to himself, and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.