In Love

By Courtney

Rating PG-13

Summary: A post-“Milagro” story about the difference between loving someone and being in love.

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She clung to him like he was her last hope, as if he were the only thing anchoring her from slipping into complete hysteria. It should have scared her. Strangely, it hadn't.

Even more strange, at least to Scully, was that the memory of her total loss of control in the arms of one Special Agent Fox Mulder still did not frighten her a bit. She wasn't afraid that losing control in front of him would give him some sort of mental edge over her, some advantage over her psyche in the long run. She couldn't fathom why, though. The old Dana Scully would have shuddered at the thought of such an outburst.

'Screw her,' Scully thought. What did the old Scully know, anyway? The Scully who had walked into the basement office that served as home to the paranormal pet project of the infamous 'Spooky' Mulder was a long distant memory by now. She couldn't even recall what it had been like to be that woman. Sometimes she wished she could.

Tonight she was glad she did not possess the power to call up her former self.

The old Scully would have had too much pride to let Mulder comfort her like she had. She'd never have let him sooth away the pain, chase back the monsters at the door. But, she had needed him to do that, so very badly. It had felt good to give herself over to his arms and to trust him with her very soul while she tried to fight her way back from the edge of insanity.

That was the difference, she knew. The old Scully did not trust. She knew there were people in her life that would not intentionally harm her. Her mother, Melissa, her brothers, Ahab; they had only her best interest at heart the majority of the time. But that was different. They were family. And even they didn't know everything about her. She could tell them her hopes, her dreams, her triumphs . . . but she had never allowed anyone to see her deepest fears. Those she kept sacred. Those she guarded with her life lest they someday be used against her.

Mulder knew her fears.

Not all of them, of course. One person can never know everything there is to know about another person. Scully was convinced that that was not possible. However, she didn't think twice about letting her fear show in front of her partner. She realized every time it happened how remarkable this was. Every new piece of herself she handed over to Mulder was another ounce of trust placed in him. She knew she couldn't have picked a better person to entrust. As much as he would have argued the contrary, Mulder had never failed her. She truly believed that in her heart.

Her heart. Yet another thing she now owed to Mulder. Literally, this time. The fact that it still beat within her chest was a miracle. 'Milagro,' she thought ironically. How strange indeed.

Scully sighed. She was suddenly exhausted. The day had been long and, even though it was barely six in the evening, she wanted nothing more than to curl up in her bed and sleep for days, weeks even. She knew that wouldn't happen tonight and she sighed yet again.

"Scully? You okay?" Mulder asked softly as he heard her sighs. They were sitting in the same place they'd been since they'd returned from the hospital. The doctors had released Scully with a surprisingly clean bill of health. Their only concern was her obvious exhaustion and they'd requested she stay with a friend or family member 'just in case'. Now, she and Mulder sat curled together on her couch, her head on his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around her. He was surprised at how easily she let him hold her, but he didn't dare complain.

"I'm fine, Mulder." The patented response.

"Déjà vu," he said.

"Sorry," she replied softly, still not lifting her head from his chest. "I'm just tired."

"Do you want to go to bed?" he asked.

She thought a moment. Did she? Bed might mean leaving his arms and she didn't really want that. On the other hand, she was so exhausted . . . sleep sounded unimaginably appealing. "Would you mind?" she finally asked.

"No," he responded quickly. "I know you must be worn out from . . . everything." He stroked her arm lightly, relishing the opportunity to touch her so much while he had the chance. "Come on, I'll help you to your room," he said as he begin to half lift her from the couch and support her as she stood.

She complied, letting him practically carry her to the bed and tuck her in like a sick child. She felt needy and helpless and lost. She hated feeling those things but, at the same time, she wanted to let herself feel them. She wanted to let go. She wanted . . . she wanted . . . she wanted him to stay.

He was leaving.

'Wait, don't go,' her mind screamed. Her voice only managed a whisper, "Stay."

He turned, not sure he'd heard her right but sure that she had spoken. "What?"

"Stay, Mulder," she managed to repeat. "I want you to stay."

"I'm not leaving," he assured her. "I'll be right outside in the living room. Just yell if you need anything, anything at all."

He didn't understand. Why couldn't he see? "Stay with me . . . tonight . . . stay," she mumbled. Her voice sounded distant. Sleep was overwhelming her even as she tried to fight it. She tried to motion him back to her side but she wasn't sure she'd succeeded. She tried her best to tell him with her eyes what the rest of her body seemed unable to convey. 'Stay with me. Here. Hold me. Keep me safe,' her eyes begged.

He seemed to understand. He walked back to the bed and sat beside her, holding her hand in his. His eyes met hers and seemed to ask, 'Are you sure?'

She nodded.

He climbed in beside her and Scully instantly went into his arms. They were strong, warm, safe. She felt like nothing could hurt her now. Nothing could, she was sure. Mulder would give his life to protect her. There was no doubt in her mind about that.

Finally, safe in his embrace, she slept.

* * * * *

He watched her sleep with total fascination. He was entranced by the gentle look of her face in sleep. She looked so angelic, so young and innocent and free of worry. He wished her life were really like that. He knew he was a lot of the reason it wasn't. Well, nothing to be done about that now. He loved her; there was no turning back.

This day had been a turning point for them. He could feel it. Something had happened sometime between that first day they'd met six years ago and this day that had changed his life forever. He couldn't pinpoint the exact day, hour, or minute that this life-changing event had taken place. He just knew that it had happened, and he would never be the same again.

Love. It was so simple. To love someone seemed like the easiest thing there was. You find the right person, get to know them, earn their trust, and eventually the love is just there. It was never really a conscious thought. You don't *decide* to love. You just do. It should be easy.

It wasn't easy for Mulder.

Love had always been an illusive mystery to him. As a child, he never felt like he deserved the love of his parents. After Sam left, he blamed himself too much to let himself be loved by them. And they seemed to feel the same way. The whole family closed off. It was as if not letting anyone in would spare any further hurt. Mulder had carried that philosophy for a very long time.

His one and only high school girlfriend had always referred to him as 'distant'. Even a seventeen-year-old could see it. But it didn't break down his walls; it just added more brick and mortar to the mix. Phoebe had done nothing for that distance but make it stronger still. Her love was all an illusion. Mulder had desperately wanted to love Phoebe; but to really love someone that love must be returned and, in the end, hers was not. Diana had been the first one he really thought *might* love him and that he could love as well. That hadn't been the case, though, and he had once again found his wall taller and more resilient with her departure. Mulder swore after her that he would never open himself to the possibility of love again. What good was it anyway?

Then he met Dana Scully, and things started to change.

She dropped her robe in front of him in Oregon and a few bricks fell. She sat up half the night and listened to him tell his life story and a couple more followed. She came close to death at the hands of Eugene Tooms and Mulder felt the first hint that this woman was important in his life. He fought the feelings with every thing that he had. It was far too dangerous to pursue.

The death of her father had weakened his resolve. He'd struggled with the urge to hold her then. That time he had won. Then, they had lost the X-Files. He thought he might be free from the need he had acquired for her. He was not. To his dismay, he needed her even more. And she had come to his rescue, all the way to Mexico. And then, before he knew it, she was gone again. This time she really was lost to him; abducted and missing and his heart had seemed to break a little more every day. The wall was crumbling.

He'd lived in fear every moment during those weeks without her. Nothing seemed to matter anymore. Despite his religious beliefs being what they were, he found himself silently praying as he lay away at night that Scully would live. And at the same time praying that he'd die. He figured one or the other would suffice. Perhaps his faith should have been restored when she did in fact come back to him. Maybe a tiny piece of it had.

She was his again, though she had never been his to begin with. But, somewhere along the way, he'd started thinking of her that way. His partner, his friend, his trusted companion . . . his Scully. The wall lay in ruins around him as she opened her eyes in that hospital bed and rejoined the land of the living. It would be the first of many rebirths for Fox Mulder. He died when she left and was reborn at her return.

She cried in his arms after Donnie Pfaster. She let him in during the cancer, albeit with reluctance on her part. They found strength in one another in the worst times in their lives. She was there for him when his father died, just as he was for her when she lost her sister. She sat by his side when he thought he might lose his mother as well, never seeming to realize that, as much as he loved his mother, Scully herself was the only person he truly could not live without.

They had survived a lot. They'd survived her cancer. She had been the one in jeopardy, of course, but her fight had been his as well and he had always known that if she lost the fight his life would end right along with hers. He'd have nothing left to live for, to fight for, without Scully by his side.

She had found Emily, and lost her. That had been hard. Probably one of the worst times, because she had shut him out. And he had wanted to be there so very badly. He knew she felt alone during everything with Emily and it nearly killed him to see her suffering while he stood back and watched. But, he had respected her wishes and given her space. It had been the least he could do for the woman who had become his reason for being.

When had that happened? Even as he retraced their entire friendship and partnership, the moment he started loving her was hard to pin down. He just loved her. He couldn't remember starting to love her and he couldn't imagine not loving her. It was as if he had loved her all along and he just had to find her to realize it.

Finding her had often proved difficult, once sending him all the way to the Arctic Circle and back. But he never regretted a day, a minute, a second with Scully. It was worth waking up in the morning just on the off chance of receiving some good-natured rebuff from his scientifically inclined partner. He'd seen so much with Scully this past year. He'd seen his precious X-Files lost; then found again. He'd seen his colonization theories founded and thwarted, thankfully. He'd seen rain-induced sea monsters in Florida, a man who could summon the rain with his emotions, and been caught up in a rainstorm so fierce it had sucked him back in time. Along the way he had gained a waterbed he didn't remember buying, a wedding band he didn't let Scully know he had kept more as a maybe someday than as a souvenir, and a whole new perspective on the magic of the Christmas season. He'd also acquired yet another unwelcome image of his beloved Scully in a hospital bed along with a faint memory of holding her and knowing it was the last time they would see one another. That memory was one of those he couldn't place. He recalled the feelings more than the events. It was like he had lived it in another lifetime. He had dismissed it quickly, though. It wouldn't be his first glimpse of mortality. He doubted it would be his last.

As he lay in bed holding Scully, though, he could not think about his own life. That didn't matter. He could only worry about her now. She was what was important. The world would go on without Fox Mulder, but how could life be worth living without Dana Scully in it? He realized, of course, that he might be among an elite group who felt that way. In fact, he might be the only person on earth who literally could not live without Scully. Maybe it was best that way. He didn't like to share.

Scully shifted slightly in her sleep and Mulder pulled her closer to him. Her face nuzzled into his neck, her breath hot against his skin. He loved her. He felt her heart beating, still beating thank God, against him and he loved her. He was in love with her. He had been for a very long time. He should tell her.

'Tomorrow,' he thought as his own exhaustion began to catch up with him and his eyes closed of their own volition. Tomorrow would be the beginning.

* * * * *

Morning came too soon for them both. The early hour they'd gone to bed and the blinding light that peered through the half-opened blinds in Scully's bedroom drew them both from sleep by 7am. Scully was awake first. She was still lying in Mulder's arms, her own arms wrapped tightly around him as well. It felt nice.

Mulder woke when he felt her rouse, but was afraid to let her know he was awake. He feared that, as soon as she realized he was conscious, she'd feel the need to bolt from the bed and his arms. He didn't want to let go just yet. Finally, after about five minutes of feigning sleep, Mulder yawned to let her know he was awake.

"Morning Scully," he said as he looked down to find her looking up at him.

"Morning," she replied. He was surprised when she didn't even attempt to get up. She just stayed there, laying her cheek back against his chest. Though he couldn't see her face from that angle, he even swore he felt her smile against him. 'Too good,' Mulder thought. 'It can't be true, it's just too good.'

"Did you sleep well?" he asked.

"Yes, very," she said. "You?"

"Yeah, pretty good," he replied.

"Mulder . . ." she sat up a little as she spoke, loosening his arms from around her body as she did so. He wanted to groan at the loss. He managed not to.

"Hmm?" he replied, hoping to God that he sounded nonchalant.

"I, um . . . last night . . . well, I just thought I should tell you that I, uh . . ." She seemed to be having a rough time getting the words out. He was pretty sure where this was headed.

"Scully, you don't have to say it. I understand. I know you were upset. I was . . . this was just . . ." he sighed. He had known this was how it would all end eventually. How could he have expected any less? "I'm sorry, Scully. I really only wanted to do what you--"

"Mulder," she cut him off. "Mulder, stop."

"Huh?" He was confused. Could she really be that upset with him? Had he really taken advantage of her so badly? His intentions really had been good ones . . .

"I don't regret it," she said.

Shock, that was the word for the look on his face. Total, complete shock.

"I wanted to . . . well, to thank you. You stayed when I really needed you. It means . . . well, it means the world to me Mulder."

What? Was he imagining things or had Dana Scully just *thanked* him for holding her in his arms all night last night? Had he really deserved a thank you for enjoying the feel of her skin against his own? Of her breath against his flesh? Of knowing that she was his, even for one night? If anyone should be giving thanks, it was him. He started to say just that, but she stopped him.

She kissed him.

Not a passionate, toe-curling, I-want-you-so-bad-I-can't-stand-it kiss like he'd been dreaming about from Dana Scully for so many years now that it seemed forever. This was a gentle kiss, a kiss placed on his generous lips by her perfect mouth with such care and ease that it made his heart do back flips and his stomach fill with butterflies even as his eyes filled with tears.

It was the tears that Scully noticed when she pulled away.

"What's wrong?" she asked gently as she stared down at his stunned expression and tear covered cheeks.

"Wrong?" he echoed. Instead of answering, she reached up and brushed away a few tears with the tips of her fingers.

"I love you," Mulder said. He froze. Had he really said that out loud? Was she getting ready to throttle him or would she laugh this off just as she had after his trip to the Bermuda Triangle? He waited, not even tempting fate enough to breathe, while she processed his statement.

"I know," she finally said. "I love you, too."

Mulder almost choked. Had she really said . . . wait, she said she loved him. Not that she was *in* love with him. There was a difference. He needed to know . . .

"He was right," Scully said before Mulder could finish gathering his thoughts to ask his question.

"He?"

"Padgett," she explained. "I couldn't be in live with him . . . I'm in love with someone else."

"Who?" Mulder asked.

She laughed. It was the sweetest, most welcome sound in the whole world to him. Scully's laughter . . . he didn't hear it nearly enough. But, what was so funny? Who?! He gave her his best confused look and she sighed.

"Oh Mulder . . . you, it's always been you," she said as she settled in against him again. "Who else would it be?"

He felt his heart break, shatter, and felt it torn from his chest in one fell swoop. Not, however, by some deranged novelist or a resurrected psychic. No, his heart wasn't being stolen away. He gave it freely. He gave it to Scully. And he took hers. He trusted no one else with something so important. No one but his Scully.

The sun had come up and was shining down on them now, but neither made a move to get up. It was too peaceful, lying in bed together in the blissful aftermath of a long-overdue profession of love and just being happy for once. After the events of the day before, happiness seemed like an illusive dream that never stayed long enough and could never be captured.

But Mulder had captured happiness this time. She was safe in his arms . . . and he was never letting go.

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April 22, 1999

 

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