Without Mulder

By Courtney

Rating: pg-13

Summary: A post-“Field Trip” story in which Scully comes to realize what her life without Mulder would be.

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I woke up in the hospital with a pounding headache and a very bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. I knew who I was and where I was (I've been in enough hospital rooms in my life to recognize the surroundings), but everything else seemed a bit . . . fuzzy.

Flashes of the last few days bombarded me. I felt disoriented by the images, not sure if they were memories or just figments of my imagination. It didn't take long for all of it to make me more than a little dizzy. I closed my eyes and tried to block out the barrage of thoughts, but that only seemed to make them more vivid.

Seeing the dead couple very much alive on Mulder's worn leather sofa . . .

The look on his face and the tone of his voice as he led me back to the bedroom . . .

The sight of the . . . creature . . .

"I abducted him, Scully . . ."

The slimy ooze covering my skin, tingling and numbing all at the same time . . .

The smell of earth surrounding me, dizziness overtaking me . . .

Bones on the ground. It can't be him, it can't be him . . . Please don't let it be him . . .

The look on the doctor's face as he matched up the records with the remains. Him, it's him . . .

A door opening. Mulder's door. Byers, Langley, and Frohike greeting me solemnly, dressed in their best, as I enter my partner's apartment. Skinner approaching, looking sympathetic towards me. "I'm so sorry, Agent Scully." Not real, none of it is real, my mind was screaming . . .

The casket . . . oh God, no . . .

A knock at the door. Opening it, sighing with relief at the sight of Mulder. A sudden, overwhelming urge to pull him down and kiss him hard. But I don't.

Then we're alone. And he's telling me it's all a dream . . .

Mulder pulling me out of the ground, saving me yet again . . .

The two of us sitting in Skinner's office giving our report. Mulder claiming again that none of this is real. I want to believe . . .

Mulder standing, pointing his gun . . . shooting Skinner . . .

Dizzy again . . . so dizzy . . .

I opened my eyes suddenly this time, like I was waking from a nightmare. I even gasped as I sat up in bed. My mind was racing. What was real? What had been all in my head?

All at once a sickening feeling overtook me as I realized one very important detail. I was all alone.

It scared me, not because I was so afraid to be alone, but because I knew him. It there was one certainty in my life it was Mulder. He was overprotective and annoying and downright suffocating at times . . . and he was always there. He had sat by my bedside countless times as I lay unconscious. Even when he himself had been injured, Mulder fought tooth and nail with the staff of whatever hospital we were currently guests of to remain at my side until he saw my eyes open. When I'd wake up and look to see him there, feeling his palm pressed tightly against my own, it always comforted me. It comforted him, too; I could see it in his eyes every time. A wave of relief would pass through him and his features would soften and he'd smile. I was always sure that things would be okay when I saw his smile.

But, I was alone. The room was empty and quiet and just a bit too cold. My hands were empty, lacking his reassuring grasp. I missed his smile.

Where was Mulder? I tried not to become frantic, but my calm was fast wearing thin. Without being able to discern which of my memory flashes had been real, if any, I couldn't be sure that the funeral hadn't happened. Or perhaps we had really found his bones at the base of that mountain and that was where the reality ended. Could Mulder be dead?

The very thought managed to take my breath. My dizziness returned ten-fold and my anxiety level began to rise again. The possibility that Mulder's death had been real, that he was actually gone from my life forever was completely overwhelming.

Maybe that's why I didn't even notice when I started to cry.

It wasn't until the first tear rolled into the corner of my mouth that the salty taste registered in my brain and I realized what was happening. By then it was too late to hold them back and the tears came faster, soaking the front of my hospital gown and sending me into a fit of shaky hiccups.

I realized, of course, that it was unlike me to react this way. Like anyone else, death was upsetting to me. But I dealt well with tragedy. I was used to it. I stood strong when others crumbled. Dana Scully, pillar of strength. Well, apparently even that only went so far.

It had to be him. I wasn't so blind that I couldn't recognize that fact. There was no one else whose death would effect me this way. Only Mulder.

Suddenly all I could think about was all I would lose along with him. He was my partner, yes, but he was also so much more. Mulder was my very best friend, the best friend I had ever had, in fact. Despite all of the insignificant little details about me that he may not have known, Mulder knew me, the real me that I rarely showed to anyone. He knew all that I hid even from those I loved. Mulder knew my secrets, my dreams, and even my worst fears. And he kept those secrets, believed in those dreams, and tried with everything he had to protect me from those fears. But, what if he had failed this time? What if my worst fear was finally being realized, if Mulder was really gone . . . forever?

The more I thought about him, the more I cried. I closed my eyes and pictured his face and the tears just refused to stop. I could feel him beside me, the memory of his hand nestled against the small of my back so real it was almost scary.

I contemplated the future. What would I do without him? The thought of walking into that familiar basement office and facing his silly spaceship poster suddenly seemed to be the world's most daunting task. But it would have to be done. If Mulder were really gone, someone would have to carry on in his place; to carry the torch and keep the X-Files opened. The responsibility inevitably fell to me. I owed it to him as his partner, his friend . . . and as everything else we might have been if we'd only had a little more time.

So much was lost without Mulder. Just as that damned bee had stolen our chance in his hallway all those months back, now fate was playing another cruel game. But this time there would be no second chance. We would not be given our lives back yet again only to repeat the same elusive motions and avoidance tactics we always managed to repeat over and over with one another. We'd wasted our last opportunity. Without Mulder, it was all over.

I didn't hear the door open above the sound of my own sobbing. It probably wouldn't have mattered if I had, though. In my disoriented state I already had myself convinced that my partner and best friend was dead . . . and my life as I knew it was over.

Then I felt the touch of a hand on my shoulder. And, though I knew it was crazy even as I thought it, I could *feel* that it was him. Somehow I just knew.

"Scully?" His voice, though much more hoarse and tired sounding than usual, was the sweetest sound in the world to my ears. My eyes flew opened and I looked up to see him. Mulder . . . my Mulder . . . alive. My heart leapt as I reached out to him where he sat on the edge of my bed and wrapped my arms tightly around him and cried on his shoulder. These were no longer tears of pain and loss, though. They were tears of relief, tears of thanks . . . and most of all, tears of joy. He was here with me. It hardly seemed real, just like all the other events of the day. But, this had to be real. It just had to . . .

"Shh, it's okay, I'm here," I heard him whisper as he folded his arms over my body and held me as I clung to him. "I've got you, Scully, I've got you." Memories poured in. I recalled waking on his floor after the incident with Phillip Padgett and his 'creation' that had tried to steal my heart from my chest. I remembered Mulder's face and all the relief and worry mixed there when he saw I was awake. I'd have been willing to bet that had I pulled back to look into his eyes I would have been greeted with the same emotions. However, I wasn't willing to let him go long enough, at least not just yet.

He kept on holding me, rocking me gently in his arms as my tears quieted and I began to grow still against him. "Hey, you okay?" I heard him ask. I am now, I thought silently, but I didn't say a word. I just wanted to hear his heart beating against my ear for a few more seconds, just to be sure . . .

When I finally pulled back I still managed to stay close, never completely leaving his arms. I had a feeling he wanted it that way as much as I did. He kept one arm around my middle as he brought his other hand up to smooth his fingers over my cheek and brush away a few remaining tears. He didn't speak. His eyes and his touch said more than his words ever could.

"I'm okay now," I said softly to reassure him. He nodded, looking sad, and then started to pull away. He probably took my words as a signal that I wanted my space back. Did I make him do this often? Did I reach out to him in a crisis only to push him away again as soon as I got my bearings back? I suddenly realized that was exactly what I did to him, and it almost made me burst into tears all over again. Instead, though, I reached out and grabbed his arm. "Stay," I whispered. He smiled.

As soon as he knew I welcomed his presence, Mulder took full advantage of the opportunity. He moved further onto the bed and lay back against the pillows. Then he pulled me over gently to lie against him and wrapped his arm snuggly around my shoulders. I closed my eyes and sighed audibly as I settled against him. Moments before I had felt my life was over. Now it was as if I had gotten a last minute call from the governor. I was getting one more chance . . . and this time I vowed not to waste it.

I felt his hand in my hair smoothing down the strands with a feather-light touch. He still wasn't speaking and that struck me as odd. Fox Mulder without words in any given situation was a strange occurrence.

"I didn't know where you were," I told him quietly.

"I was next door. I've been trying to get in here all morning, but they were insistent that we both needed to rest. But I just needed . . ." His words trailed off, as if he were afraid to finish his thought for fear of how I might react to his declaration.

"I needed you." I said it for him. I wasn't looking at him, but I knew he was smiling. Then, I felt him bend down and press his lips to my hair. I burrowed in closer to him, wanting nothing more than to disappear inside of him forever. At least there I knew I was safe. I knew no one would protect me the way Mulder would.

Suddenly I had another flash of memory. I remembered feeling weak, dizzy, and almost drunk. I was standing in what felt like a cave or . . . something. Mulder was close; I could feel him. We were dying. I was trying to struggle through the haze that was enveloping me, but it was so hard. All I kept saying over and over was his name. That would keep me from slipping completely away. Behind me, I could barely hear him doing the same; repeating my name over and over like an incantation.

Then I saw light streaming in around me. And voices. And Mulder was pulled out of the ground. Then I was pulled free as well. Skinner? Yes, it was Skinner, in some sort of mask. "Mushrooms," I remembered saying.

"We know Agent Scully, we found them," he had replied. Mulder, where was Mulder? I would have been looking around wildly trying to find him if I had had enough strength to lift my head.

They then pushed me on a gurney into what I assumed was an ambulance, although it really didn't matter to me if it was. I just wanted to get away from there. And I wanted Mulder.

Then I realized he was there; he was beside me. I didn't look over, I really couldn't, but I sensed him as always. I knew he was reaching out to me and I did the same. Our hands met between us and that was the last thing I could remember before I woke up alone in the hospital.

"You held my hand," I said softly against his chest.

As always seemed to be the case with Mulder and I, he knew what I was talking about instantly. "Of course I did, Scully." He made it sound like there was nothing in the world he'd rather be doing.

"Mulder . . . I thought . . . when I woke up and you weren't here, I thought . . ." My voice cracked as I started to think back on my feelings just before he had arrived. The desperation of knowing I might never see him again was clutching at my heart, stealing away my breath. His arms tightened around me instinctively.

"Shh, it's okay, nothing's wrong with me. I'm right here," his voice promised.

"Don't ever leave me again," I pleaded as a few more tears fell to the front of his damp hospital gown.

"I'd never leave you, Scully."

Maybe it was the tone of his voice, or maybe it was the words themselves, but hearing that from him made my heart leap into my throat. I thought back on all the tender touches between us, all the sweet words of comfort and friendship and . . . something else. 'I love you, Scully,' he had said to me in a hospital bed similar to this one not all that long ago. And I had replied, 'Oh brother.' What was I thinking?

"I love you, too, Mulder." Did I say that? I was as shocked as he obviously was. I looked up into his eyes and was startled by what I saw. Tears -- coursing down his cheeks now. And a smile, a smile that lit up his whole face.

"You love me." It wasn't a question.

"Yes."

"You know I feel the same," he said, as though that were a given already. And it really was.

"I'm sorry . . . about the last time you told me. I shouldn't have said that."

"It's okay, I knew what you meant," he replied. How was it that he *always* knew what I meant?

"Before, when I thought I really had lost you, I was thinking about how I would go on if you were . . . I couldn't, Mulder. I'd try my best, but . . . if I lost you, I think it would kill me." These were some startling revelations for the reserved Dana Katherine Scully to be making to her partner all in one day. I was surprised even at myself. But I never even thought to try and take the words back. They were the truth, and Mulder needed to hear them.

"I'm nothing without you," he said softly as he looked down into my face. He ran the backs of his fingers over my cheek reverently.

I scooted up a little until I was face to face with him. Then, in a very un-Scully-like move, I bridged the gap between us and pressed my lips gently to his. The kiss was sweet and simple and possibly the most wonderful experience in my life thus far. When I pulled back and looked down into his face, I saw his eyes dancing wildly over my face. He was probably wondering if I was still under the effects of those mushrooms, but no. This was something I should have done a long time ago. It shouldn't have taken yet another near-death experience to bring it on. So, I cradled his face against my palm and just stared back into his eyes, hoping that he would be able to see that I was clear-headed and totally aware of what I was doing.

He seemed to understand. He reached up and touched my cheek in the same way and I smiled. "Amazing," he said softly and my mind echoed his sentiment. It really was amazing. I'd never felt anything in my life like I felt at that moment.

Although it was tempting to lean in for another, longer kiss and to just keep kissing Mulder until neither of us could breath, I knew we were already moving very fast. We needed time to get used to all of this. And we were both exhausted and lying together in a hospital bed. Surely there was a better place and time for our first make-out session to occur.

"You look tired," he said. Damn the man for always being able to read my mind.

"A little," I admitted.

"It's been a long day for both of us," he said. "We should rest."

I nodded, but quickly said, "You can rest here, though, right?"

"Try and get rid of me," he said with a little laugh.

Satisfied that I would wake up in his arms, I snuggled up next to him and closed my eyes. Maybe everything would turn out okay for us after all.

We slept together in that hospital bed for the next few hours, both more tired than we had realized from the trauma of earlier in the day and the emotional overload that we'd just experienced. I vaguely recalled later a nurse coming in and trying to coax Mulder back to his own room, but he was hearing none of it. He told the woman he was staying right where he was, end of story. So, they ended up just moving his bed into my room. He still didn't move over to the second bed, though. I don't suppose they really expected him to, but they had to keep up appearances at least.

We must have looked like quite a sight to Skinner when he came to visit us later that evening. Because, when I woke up in Mulder's arms, there sat our boss in a chair by the bed just watching us sleep. "Sir?" I said hoarsely as I started to push myself up in bed.

"Shh, it's alright, Agent. Don't wake him." It was those words from Skinner's lips that made me realize that I was curled up against my partner's warm body as our superior looked on in silence. The strange thing was, he didn't seem bothered by the scene. Actually, he didn't even seem surprised.

"How are you both doing?" he asked in a whisper.

I matched my tone to his own and replied, "Better, thanks to you, sir."

"You two do get into some messes," he commented with a quirk of his lips.

I smiled slightly in return. "Yes, that we do."

Skinner then turned serious again and asked, "Is he okay?"

I looked down at Mulder who was still sound asleep and replied with a smile, "He's fine. We're both going to be just fine."

"I'm glad to hear that, Agent Scully," Skinner said. "So, the hospital staff informs me that my agents refused to sleep in separate rooms. They said that Mulder snuck in here and fell asleep in your bed, then rebuffed any attempt to get him to leave." He chuckled, "I can't say I'm surprised."

"Sir," I said hesitantly then, "will this . . . I mean, what are we getting ourselves into here?" I asked as I motioned to Mulder and myself still holding onto one another.

"Something good for the both of you, I suspect," he said softly. "And as for the bureau, let's hope they have bigger global conspiracies to worry with. I know the two of you will be discreet while on duty, that should be enough to insure that no repercussion occur."

I nodded. "Thank you, sir."

He gave me a small smile and rose from his chair. "I should go, you need your rest," he said. "When Agent Mulder wakes up, tell him I hope he's feeling better soon. And, tell him I don't want to see him or yourself within a mile of the Hoover building for a week. Take some time off, you've both earned it."

I had to smile then, knowing what he expected of us during this impromptu vacation. "Thank you sir, I will."

"Goodnight Agent Scully."

"Goodnight sir."

And then he was gone, and we were alone again. Alone at last. And together . . . like we had always been.

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May 19, 1999

 

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