Title: Little Deaths Author: Caroline McKenna Category: A, UST-MSR Rating: PG-13 Spoliers: Post-ep for Ghosts Who Stole Christmas, minor reference to Triangle and Fight the Future. Archive: After the Fact Summary: Everyone dies a little. Feedback: YES! Email: cmckenna1121@yahoo.com Disclaimer: Mulder, Scully, and anything X-Files related belongs to no other than Chris Carter, FOX, and 1013 Productions. No money is exchanging hands. Author's notes: at the end. I could have died tonight. It wasn't until after the door to his apartment closed behind me that the facts fully hit me. Like a semi, the truth bore down on me, chasing me. And there I stood, like a deer in the headlights, while the teeth of the truck's grate proceeded to swallow me whole. I should have died tonight. With that realization, I slumped back against the wall in Mulder's hallway, eyes wide and mouth dry. I almost shot Mulder. He almost shot me. The barrel of his gun stared down the barrel of mine. From then on, my thoughts on what happened are jumbled and unorganized, confused. I died tonight. The holidays have been hard, these past few years, but none seem in comparison to the horrors this Christmas. Ahab is gone, Missy is gone, Emily... the daughter I never got a chance to know is gone, and now I've died. Spiritual death is not all that different from physical death. I am experiencing the former and came too damn close to the latter. They're not as different as people assume. Both fill you with a dark, looming sense of dread, but at the same time, and unearthly sense of peace. Both are inevitable, impossible to escape. While spiritual death usually comes before the physical act of dying, both will chase you down until you are putty in their grasp. Sometimes, its unrecognizable, spiritual passing. I did not even notice it until it was past. All the hope in my soul, all the happiness, contentment, and compassion, disappeared, running away as fast as it could. Suddenly, I was empty, totally and utterly hollow, devoid of any emotion. A mere shell of the human being I once was. I couldn't feel, I couldn't love, I could hardly breathe. I died, looking at Mulder's lifeless body lying prone on the hardwood floor of that mansion, and it scares me. At that point, I finally grasped my own personal truth. I can't live without my partner. It scares the shit out of me to think of the implications of it, of what it means. It doesn't mean that I love him. I've known that for the longest time, and I'm not afraid to admit it, at least to myself. I'm afraid because it means that I need him. Sure, I need him for work purposes. After all, if he wasn't there, who would drag me off to the middle of nowhere on a wild, crazy, but somehow correct, hunch? Skinner would never do that, I am quite sure. But now, now I need him on an emotional level, a metaphysical level, a level that transcends all description. He is my life, and I wouldn't have it any other way, but it scares me. What if depending on Mulder means I will lose too much of myself to him? What if it means I will lose all of myself to him? Or, worse yet, what if he loses himself so much in me that neither of us can untangle the delicate string that is our own separate soul? I'm afraid of that. Unbeknownst to me, a silent tear has made it's way out of the corner of my eye and stolen a path down my cheek. Rarely will anyone see me cry, and I don't know why I'm so affected tonight. Must be the Christmas season. It's a breeding ground for female hormones. "Scully?" Mulder poked his head out the door to his apartment, to see me crouching against the wall, crying. I can only imagine how funny this must look to him. Strong, resilient, Ice Queen, Agent Scully reduced to tears. "Scully, what's wrong?" I didn't answer him. Why should I? I blinked to hold in the tears, to keep them from cascading down my cheeks. I couldn't cry, not in front of him. He bent down in front of me, and tried to catch my eye. His hand reached for mine, and I gave it to him. His strong grip matched my limp one, and he helped me to my feet. Not really thinking, I let him lead me into his apartment, still silent. We sat on his couch, our knees angled toward each other. Apparently, he had been trying to sleep, because the only light in the room came from the fish tank, which to my surprise, held three alive, swimming fish. The corners of my mouth turned up a little at the sight. "I thought it was time I got some new ones," Mulder commented, after seeing what had captured my interest, "Maybe I can keep these alive." "Who knows, Mulder," I said, speaking for the first time since I had left his apartment the first time. "Never give up on a miracle." We sat in silence for a while, just watching each other. Watching each other watch the other. His face was all shadows; since his back was to the fish tank, there was no light on his face, hence the shadows. It looked good on him, though. Then again, anything looks good on Fox Mulder. Nothing looks even better, I'm sure. "What's bothering you, Scully?" he finally asked, breaking the unbreakable reticence. I sighed. I knew he would ask, it wasn't like his question surprised me, but there was no way I could give a truthful answer without making a complete fool of myself. So I settle for the classic, "I'm fine, Mulder." He didn't believe me. He never bought that line, not since I was diagnosed with my cancer. "You're not fine, don't try to pull that shit on me." "I am fine, Mulder," I went on the defensive, "And even if I wasn't, what right do you have to know? What gives you the right?" I'm not really angry, at least I don't think I am. It pushes my buttons that the thinks he should know everything that goes on with me, like the Ed Jerse thing, but I'm not as angry as I sounded. "Just tell me, Scully, spit it out!" his voice rose too, nuances of anger present there. "Why? Why should I, Mulder? Because if I don't, 'THEY' will come and get me? Because maybe what's wrong with me will help you find your precious baby sister? Why the hell do you care, Mulder?" Don't ask me where all this animosity towards Mulder is coming from, I don't really know. No, that's wrong. I do know where it's coming from, but I don't know why it's coming out now. It comes from six years of being ditched, six years of being left in the dark, six years of getting to know Mercy Hospital. Six years of unrequited love. Sure, he said it to me once, but Mulder was so doped up, he should have been floating ten feet above his hospital bed. He didn't mean it. "Why do I care? You have the gall to ask me why I care, Scully?" he screamed. "I'll tell you why I care! I care because I care about you! I care because I don't like to see you hurt, especially if it's because of me! I care because you're my partner, my best friend..." he stopped yelling and an uncomfortable quiet seeped through the walls and into the room. Raising a hand to cup my cheek, he finished his sentence. "I care because I love you." "Sure you do, Mulder," I spat, not believing him. "You love that I do all the paperwork. You love the fact that I'll follow you to the ends of the earth. You love that I'm a doctor and can make a diagnosis on the spot. "Well, you know what, Mulder? Get your own damn doctor to do autopsies at three in the morning. I'm through. Ho ho ho, merry fucking Christmas." And I left. Just left. Stormed out the door without giving it a second thought. I died tonight. * * * * * * * I died tonight. The minute she walked out the door, venomous words leaving her beautiful lips, my heart died. How could she think I didn't care? How could she think that my declaration of love was just an attempt to get her to do the grunt work at the Bureau? I don't give a damn about the FBI right now. Not ready to let her go- I don't think I'll ever be ready- I leap off the leather couch and tear after her. "Scully, wait!" I yelled out to her. She didn't stop. Taking three ground-eating strides, I caught up to her. Grabbing her shoulder, I turned her to face me. Her eyes look like they are about to overflow with tears, and her mouth is set in a straight line, like a hyphen. "Scully, don't go." I couldn't say any more, I didn't know what else to say. It was okay, she had plenty to say for the both of us. "What? No big speech this time, Mulder? It worked last time, didn't it? Worked real well for you. I stayed and did another batch of expense reports." I still held her arm in a vice grip. How could she feel that way? "I meant what I said last summer, Scully. You are everything to me." "Am I?" she asked, mocking, "Am I everything to you when you run off and ditch me? Do I make you a whole person then?" So that's what this is all about. "Of course, you are, Scully. I'm sorry, I didn't mean..." she cut me off, fire in her eyes. "Would you have fucked me?" Her question caught me totally off guard. Scully said that? I don't think I've ever heard her swear, and tonight it seems perfectly natural to her. "What?" "Would you have fucked me last time, to get me to stay? It's a simple yes or no question, Mulder. I'm sure your Oxford educated brain can handle it," she said maliciously. I knew then that she hated me. "Yes, Scully, I would have," I said honestly, but continued before she could say anything spiteful, "But you know why I would have? I didn't try to kiss you because you were leaving. The timing was right, you knew that. I tried to kiss you because I love you, not because I wanted to hump like bunnies." I kept my voice low and calm, a real challenge for me, but I did. Looking into her eyes, I died. * * * * * * * He killed me with his words, with his honesty and then I realized my truth for the second time tonight. He really does love me. Lydia said that my only pleasure comes from proving Mulder wrong. Tonight I want to prove him right, and I think I will. I melted right there, falling into his arms. He pulled me close, holding me so tightly breathing became a challenge. Allowing my tears to fall, his shirt dampened, and I wrapped my arms around his waist. My cheek on his chest, I whispered, "I love you too, Mulder." He kissed the top of my head, "I know." Swallowing, I say the words that have been troubling me since we left the haunted house early in the evening. "I need you." He pulls back, just enough to see my face, and as our lips near, I die. I have died a little death tonight, but in doing so, I learned how to live. ****************************************************************** Author's notes: I have no idea where this came from. It definitely wasn't the direction I planned on heading. This was supposed to be a happy, fluffy Christmas fic, but it didn't turn out that way. Good or bad, I'd like to hear from you. cmckenna1121@yahoo.com