TITLE:        Stitches (1/1)
AUTHOR:        Avalon ([email protected])
RATING:        PG for a hint of adult content
SPOILERS:    Set during "Essence." All else is
        fair game.   
CATEGORY:    VMSR, a smidge of angst
DISCLAIMER:    Oh, how I wish they were mine, but
        alas, they belong to CC.  No money
        being made here, folks.
FEEDBACK:     It rocks.  Please send it and make
        my day.  I'll write back, too.
ARCHIVE:     Spooky's, Gossamer, Ephemeral...you
        want it, take it.  But please let
        me know...I like to know where all my
        children are at the end of the day.
SUMMARY:    It takes time to heal, both body
        and soul.
AUTHOR'S
NOTES:        At the end, please.

STITCHES (1/1)

The pounding on her door isn't wholly
unexpected.

She seats him at the kitchen table, no
questions asked, as Doggett hovers nearby.
Digging her first aid kit from the cabinet by
the stove, she eyes the bleeding cut at his
temple.  It is deep, running claret streamers
down his familiar, handsome face. She swabs the
blood away, fascinated as the thick dressing
soaks it up, imagining all the tissues that
absorbed her tears over the years.  Something
clutches in her gut, a sensation deeper than
the reassuring blips inside her uterus, a fear
unconnected to the baby that grows inside her.

// How many times?  How many times will he be
hurt?  How many times will I have to bear this?
//

He regards her impassively and dry-swallows the
two Tylenol she offers.  His eyes are hypnotic
earth tones, mossy loden and mellow honey
beneath her glaring fluorescent lights, and she
has to shift her gaze to keep from becoming
lost in them.  She can still hear the messages
he sends to her, the words as clear as if he
were speaking aloud.

< I'm sorry.  I don't mean to worry you. >

The first stitch sinks into his skin, and he
winces.  She pulls the thread taut and presses
her lips together.

// I can't keep doing this, Mulder. //

He blinks to acknowledge her response.  She
turns the needle and absently wipes a bead of
sweat from his brow.  Splaying her left hand on
his head to steady him, she makes her return
stitch with fingers that tremble ever so
slightly.

< I do this for you, Scully.  You and the baby.
 >

How is it they can do this, communicate without
words?  How is it that they know each other so
well?  Eight years of partnership, seventy-two hours
of intimacy, three months of death separating
them... She cannot dwell on it.  It is its own X-
File, enigmatic and inexplicable, but it is her
life with him, and she cannot deny it.

She huffs out a breath and tugs a little too
sharply on the thread.  He matches her
exhalation with one of his own, and she
flutters her lashes in apology.

// Sorry. //

His eyes close in resignation, awaiting the
next stitch and her true response.  She passes
the needle back into his skin, feeling Agent
Doggett's penetrating stare on her as she
works.  She wishes he would leave, so that she
could speak her mind aloud instead of through
gestures and sighs and intuitions, but then she
reprimands herself.  If he hadn't been with
Mulder...

She won't dwell on that either.  It is too
painful to imagine, and they have both just
begun to recover from that ordeal.

The next stitch quickly follows, the needle
shining as it slides, and her thoughts are as
biting as the stroke itself.

// We talked about this...behavior. //

She hates that she must act like a reprimanding
mother, but she supposes it is good practice
nonetheless.  She can't imagine that their son
will be any better than his father at staying
out of trouble.

Mulder opens his eyes and tilts his head
sideways to catch her attention.  His look
follows the thread as she pulls it toward her
and then settles on her face.  She remembers
how he gazed at her so intently only a few
nights before, when he sat on her couch and
asked for forgiveness with halting words and an
antique china doll.  She offered him absolution
as they fumbled to reconnect in a tangle of
Laura Ashley sheets and shaking limbs. The doll
sat propped against her bed table lamp, a
silent witness to their attempt.

It takes time to heal.  As a doctor, she knows
this.  She also knows that it is impossible if
the wound continues to be reopened.

He has not answered her; in his mind, there is
nothing more to say.  He will not apologize for
his relentless nature, or for trying to protect
her and their child.  This she knows as well as
she knows her own name, and she realizes she is
unfair to ask him to do so.  But as she makes
the last stitch, she must also make one more
thing clear.

// I can't do this alone, Mulder.  I tried...and
I can't.  Don't make me do this alone. //

In spite of the discomfort, his face softens as
he receives her message.  As she ties off the
thread and releases it from the needle, he
turns to lock his gaze with hers, drilling his
answer into her mind.

< I'm here now, Scully.  I promised you: you
won't be alone again. >

She tries to remain angry, but his eyes seduce
her with their shining, unadulterated love. She
thinks perhaps it is unhealthy how much she
adores this man.

She presses tiny bandages between the stitches
to finish her work.  She imagines the lacerated
skin reaching across the gap to its other half,
the cells beginning to weave themselves back
together, amazingly becoming one again.  The
metaphor is not lost on her; she knows Mulder
appreciates it, too.  She speaks for the first
time, breaking the spell and dissipating the
magical connection they share in their minds.

"Hold still, Mulder.  That should just about do
it."  She applies the final bandage, and he
growls as he bats her hand away, muttering
something disparaging about her bedside manner.
She smiles softly and dabs his nose with a
cotton ball before finishing the dressing with
antiseptic.

It takes time to heal, but the stitches he has
made in her heart are strong.  They will
recover, together.

End

AUTHOR'S NOTES:  My sweet beta sallie had
surgery, so we all decided she needed some good
MSR to cheer her up.  I thought a story of
healing was a good parallel to the
circumstances of her life, and I always wanted
to see Mulder and Scully trying to repair their
relationship in season eight.
 
Sallie, my love, you are the bestest!  This
story was written with love and healing wishes,
just for you.  Rest well and enjoy all your
presents, darling.  You deserve them!

--
"Well, but you can't expect to wield supreme executive
 power just 'cause some watery tart threw a sword at you!"
                --Dennis, "Monty Python and the Holy Grail"