From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org Date: 12 Jun 2002 02:28:22 -0000 Subject: When She Lets Me by Erin Source: direct Reply To: spookychic1@excite.com Title: When She Lets Me Author: Erin Email: spookychic1@excite.com Category: MSR, angst Rating: PG Distribution: Wherever - just let me know. Spoilers: The Truth, William, slight for the Cancer Arc. Disclaimer: I do not own them. Not in reality, at least. Summary: Scully is so damn proud. Author's Note: ::tears:: I refuse to accept this as over. Heh heh. ********** Bright stars are being swallowed up by charcoal clouds, as a storm descends upon our stop for the night -- Roswell, New Mexico. As I carry her to our motel room, her head rests against my chest, bright copper strands falling across her sleeping face. One arm beneath her knees, another supporting her shoulders, I kick the SUV's door closed with my foot. This whole ordeal has exhausted her. She hasn't been awake for more thank a collective hour of our trip - our exodus out of normal. Well, what's normal for us anyway. Small spatterings of rain begin to wet the pavement as I make my way from the back parking lot to the door. I curse quietly at the untimely shower, and she stirs against me, murmering the name of our son into my shirt. I sigh. Focusing on the beauty resting in my arms, I remember a different time. Before. I remember doing this exact same thing- carrying her small, unconscious frame up a flight of stairs. Things were so different then. My Scully was dying then. Dying from the faceless enemy of cancer. I watched, struck numb, as it ate away at my precious partner. My partner in everything. Something deep in my chest begins to ache, even now, when I think back on it. I loved her so much, and I couldn't stop it. She wouldn't even let me in back then. So proud. That's just one of the things I've always admired, always loved, about my partner. She's so proud. But all the "I'm fines" got in the way. I wanted to help and she never would let me. Not usually, anyway. One day, though, she was so tired. It was obvious. During one of my slide shows I began to notice her teetering with dizziness. I asked her if she was feeling okay, truly wanting to respect her declaration that she could "handle" herself. But when I got the millionth utterance of "Mulder, I'm fine" in response I knew I'd had enough. I told her she was done for the day. Then I put her in my car and drove her home. Man, she was pissed. The wrath of Scully was certainly upon me. She didn't speak to me the whole way there. As soon as we pulled up, she whipped open her door and popped out of the car. I was right behind her, as she stalked up the front walk, and that's a good thing, because right before she reached the door she passed out cold. I scooped her up then, my own tears of frustration and utter sorrow dampening her auburn locks as I carried her the rest of the way to her apartment. I dressed her in her favorite royal blue silk pajamas and gently tucked her into bed, before retiring to her couch. I remember that I sobbed quietly the whole time. I knew she'd never have let me help her if she hadn't been unconscious. And that simple fact hurt me almost as much as knowing that I was losing her. I knew if she'd only let me, I'd carry her to the ends of the Earth. "Mmm... Mulller?" Scully slurs against my chest, in the present, breaking me from my reverie of days gone by. I look down at her face, careful not to lose my footing, as I take us down the hall towards our room. "It's me, I'm here. We're in Roswell, sweetheart. I got us a room." Nodding, almost imperceptibly, she slips back to sleep in my arms just as I reach the door. I pull off some fancy manuevering to get the door open, and the both of us inside the room. As I settle her down on the bed, I am overcome with gratitude. Even in the face of what has befallen us, I'm gateful. I'm so happy she'll let's me do this for her now. Let's me be there. Let's me help her through this. It may not be the cancer that's killing her this time, but something is causing the lights in her gorgeous eyes to dim. I know she misses William. Gone are the days of "I'm fine, Mulder." I know because she tells me. I know because she cries in her sleep. I know because I miss him too. I slip Scully's clothes off while she dozes, gazing at her reverently. As I wrap her in a white silk robe, a few tears slip from my eyes. I want so badly to give her more than this, I think as I survey this dingey motel room, damning myself. Sinking to the floor beside the bed, I place my head in my hands. Alternately, I thank God that we have eachother, truly and completely, and I damn him at the same time because there's a vital piece of us missing. As I sit here on the floor of yet another motel room, I know that I can find at least a small hope in the fact that at least she let's me in now. I know that she loves me as much as I love her. At least we can die inside together, this time. At least she'll let me carry her to bed.