4AN: This is a oneshot that takes place after "One Breath." It's based a little on my story "A Light in the Darkness." It's kind of like a sequel there. I wanted to play more with the characters. I will warn you that I've taken my own personal liberties with canon. I, of course, blame the darling chakochic for her encouragement to keep writing Mulder and Scully together, now that I've found the show and fallen in love with these two.
I own nothing from The X-Files.
If you read, I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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"You don't have to stay here, Mulder," Scully said.
"I know," Fox Mulder responded quickly. He hoped the response came across as dismissively as he meant it.
Mulder had heard it said that doctors make the worst patients. He could absolutely attest to the truth of that statement. Since the moment she'd woken up, Dana Scully hadn't wanted to listen to thing that her own doctors were telling her.
She was doing far better than they might have expected her to be doing at this point in the game, but she still had a long way to go. There was absolutely no indication of what she'd been through, but the weakened state of her entire body suggested that she'd been unconscious or incapacitated, in some way, during the time that she simply seemed to have disappeared. She was recovering, and she was expected to make a full recovery—which was miraculous, in itself, given her earlier condition and prognosis—but it wouldn't be an overnight occurrence.
Scully had pushed to be released from the hospital. It was the belief of some of the medical staff that she was being released too early. It was the belief, of some of them, that she'd be better off if she transitioned to a care facility that could offer her extensive therapy as she got back on her feet. Scully scoffed at both of these gently suggested prescriptions and provided her own prescription—all she needed was to be in her ownhome. She needed not to be fussed over, she needed to rest, and she needed to start getting her life back.
Eventually there had been nothing they could do except honor her wishes. Margaret Scully, her mother, had to return home, though, and return to work. Melissa Scully, her sister, also had a life to which she had to return. Both of them had offered to take Scully home with them and care for her, but she'd refused. She'd been adamant about the fact that she would recover best in her own home.
Mulder had solved the problem, somewhat to Scully's at-least-pretended chagrin. He had plenty of vacation time that was owed to him and, honestly, he couldn't think of a better way to spend it than camping out on Scully's couch and taking care of her as she regained her strength and full independence.
"Here you go," Mulder said, placing the tray across Scully's lap as she reclined on the couch. "Now—I don't know how much you're going to like it. The place just opened up and the reviews are about an even fifty-fifty split."
Mulder took his own plate and sat at the end of the couch, meaning to wedge himself into the space that was left between Scully's feet and the arm of the couch. She lifted her feet, though, and when Mulder sat, she rested her feet on his thigh. He smiled to himself. It was a simple gesture, but he was happy to see it.
He liked this level of closeness to her, even if it was only her feet that were touching him.
"Is this OK?" She asked softly. For a brief moment, there was a crack in the hard exterior that she often presented to the world. Mulder had been blessed to witness a few of those fissures over the past few days. He respected Scully for every facet of her personality, and he would never want to soften her against her will, but part of him was happy to see that she felt comfortable enough to let him be witness to her vulnerability every now and again.
He patted her leg.
"Perfect," he said. "This place has a one to five scale for the spiciness of their food. They asked me about the Pad Thai. I said four, to begin with, but the reaction of the person taking the order made me change it to two. I hope it's not too spicy for you."
Scully shrugged off the warning and chewed through a few bites of her food. Mulder watched her eat, turning his own fork in his hand with a series of false starts.
"It's not too spicy, Mulder," Scully offered, without looking up from her plate—or at least without perceptibly looking up from her plate. "Aren't you going to eat?"
"Yeah," Mulder said quickly. He speared some of the food and shoved it into his mouth out of show more than hunger. He sat back, against the couch, and watched Scully eating out of his peripheral vision.
"What's on your mind, Mulder?" Scully asked. He hummed at her in question, letting his eyes fully settle on her once more. "Oh, come on, Mulder," she said, some false irritation in her voice. "I know you well enough to know when you're preoccupied with something. What's going on?"
Mulder laughed to himself.
He'd dared to declare that he loved her when he thought she was slipping away from him forever. He'd said it to himself at least a thousand times now. Still, he wasn't sure how she'd react if she knew that he was at a place in his life where he liked watching her eat because he had once feared that she'd simply never do such mundane things again, and that he'd never witness the mundane. He was still in a place where everything she did—even stare at him with question in her eyes and slight pout on her lips—was something of a miracle to him.
"I've got a lot on my mind, Scully," he said. "That's all."
"Work?" Scully asked. "A case you haven't told me about?"
"No," Mulder said. "No. This time it's—it's not about work." He watched her chew through another bite of food. He tasted his own, but it didn't sit well with the nervous churning in his gut. "You really don't remember anything?"
"I think—I'm starting to remember some things. I don't really know what, though, and what I see only comes when I'm sleeping. My subconscious mind is using the images and sounds to create dreams."
"What do you see?" Mulder asked.
"Light. Mostly, I hear things. Or, maybe I should say that I'm aware of the fact that I could hear them. Machines. Voices. I honestly don't know if they're memories or dreams, Mulder. I could just be recalling the machines from the hospital. Something from the state that I was in just before waking."
"Do you remember anything we talked about?" Mulder asked. "Before you woke. When you woke—you said your memory's been spotty surrounding that first day. The doctors suggested it was due to the head trauma. Do you remember any of that?"
A smile played at Scully's lips before she took another bite of her food. She chewed it slowly, almost painfully so, and thoughtfully. She kept her eyes on Mulder. She was practically unblinking.
"Are you asking me if I remember the dream where—you asked me to stay, Mulder? Where you told me that you loved me?" Scully asked.
Mulder nodded his head.
"That's the one," he confirmed.
"When human beings are in extreme states of stress," Scully offered, "they often say and do things that they wouldn't normally say and do. It's a lot like being intoxicated by the chemicals released by their own bodies. It would be wrong to hold you accountable for something you said in a state of intoxication."
Mulder's gut was unsettled to the point that he couldn't imagine eating anything from the plate that he balanced on the arm of the couch. He couldn't even remember having felt hungry before. The sensation had entirely left him. All that was left behind, now, was the nervous concern that Scully wouldn't return his feelings, or that he wouldn't be brave enough to insist that his feelings were true. It was one thing, after all, to admit to liking a woman or even being interested in getting to know her better. It was a different thing, entirely, to admit that he loved her in the most old-fashioned meaning of the term that there was.
There was danger all around them, and they were both more aware of it now than they ever had been before. More terrifying than his feelings, and more terrifying than Scully's potential rejection, was the chance that he might ever be in a place, again, where he could lose Scully—and all without having confessed what he wasn't sure that he could bear to keep inside him any longer.
"If I wanted to flatter you, Scully," Mulder offered, "then I could tell you something like—like I'm intoxicated every moment that I'm in your presence." He laughed to himself when there was something like a scoff from Scully.
"Poetry, Mulder?"
"It wouldn't be a lie," Mulder said, "but my point is that I meant what I said, Scully. I'm not trying to take it back now." He looked at her. Any amusement had passed from her features. Her cheeks were pinker than normal. Her eyes were fixed on him in that way that she had of looking at him like she could see straight into his mind. He didn't back down and he didn't look away, but he did dare to let his hand rest lightly on her leg, just above her ankle. She didn't shake off the affection in any way. "I did," he offered after a moment of the exchanged look between them. "I meant that I love you, Scully. And I wanted you to stay and I…still want you to stay."
"I'm not going anywhere," Scully offered quietly. "And I…"
She hesitated. She broke off her words and she directed her eyes down toward her plate.
"You don't have to say it," Mulder assured her. "Don't worry. I'm not trying to force you to say it."
"I mean it," Scully said. "I guess I never really thought about it. The strongest memory I have from that time, though, was…a dream. My subconscious mind manifesting what I was feeling and hearing around me. I was walking away. It was all white, and there was the proverbial bright light. And you called me back. You asked me to stay, and you told me you loved me. And I felt like I had a moment where I had to decide if I was going forward or if I was turning back."
"You came back," Mulder offered.
"Because—I love you," Scully said.
She spoke the words softly and tentatively. They were a confession that, perhaps, she hadn't planned to make. She certainly hadn't planned to make the confession that night over Pad Thai, while lounging on the couch that Mulder was going to call his bed for however long it took to feel like she was strong enough to be alone again.
In some ways, they were terrifying words. They came with the promise that this was something that neither of them would ever escape unscathed. In other ways, they were absolutely warm and comforting words. They came with the promise that this was something that neither of them ever wanted to escape at all.
Mulder offered her a smile, and he saw her visibly relax back into the pillows that he'd piled up for her comfort.
"I don't think either of us knows what to do with all the information we have right now," Mulder said. "But I don't think it matters. We've got time." He laughed to himself. "We've got all the facts. Maybe we just—let this one work itself out."
"I like that," Scully offered.
Mulder nodded at her. He felt his appetite coming back again. He moved to start eating from his plate, and Scully mirrored his actions. It had been one of the ways that he'd been sure that she was keeping her strength up in the past few days. He'd noticed that she would mirror him if he created special times to sit and eat with her.
"I'm glad you decided to stay, Scully," Mulder said. "Whatever the reason behind your choice."
"I'm glad I stayed, too," Scully said.
"You do realize that, no matter the reason, I'm going to pretend that it was all for me, right?" Mulder teased. He raised an eyebrow at Scully, doing his best to let her know that he was giving her a hard time to try to lighten the mood. She laughed to herself and, this time, she didn't swallow down the smile. She let him have it. It was her gift to him. It was her own way of lightening the mood.
"Mulder?" Scully said after a moment. He hummed at her. "I can take care of myself."
"I know you can," Mulder agreed. He did believe that Scully could take care of herself. Even if her doctors suggested that she shouldn't, he believed she absolutely could, if she were determined to do such a thing and the necessity was there.
"You don't have to stay here," Scully added.
"I know I don't," Mulder agreed. He made no effort to leave. He made no effort to gather up the duffle bag he'd brought with him and return to his apartment. Instead, he sunk back a little more into the couch cushions and made it clear that he was making himself comfortable. He pointed his fork at Scully to get her attention, and then he ate with some gusto. In response, she ate a few bites with renewed enthusiasm—much to Mulder's delight.
"You don't have to stay," she repeated after a moment of comfortable silence passed between them. "But—I'm glad you are."
