TITLE:  My Gem (1/1)


AUTHOR: Shoshana


EMAIL ADDRESS: shoshana1013@excite.com


DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: Gossamer, Spookys site, Xemplary, etc.


SPOILER WARNING: Seventh season episodes through 'Amor Fati'


RATING: PG


CONTENT STATEMENT: M/S UST


CLASSIFICATION: VRA


KEYWORDS: Mulder/Scully UST


SUMMARY:  Post-ep.  A missing scene from 'Amor Fati.'


DISCLAIMER: These characters do not belong to me.


NOTE:  Thanks to my great beta readers Meg and Teresa.








My Gem


By Shoshana





I wake, but don't open my eyes, fearing where I might be.  It smells


hospital, antiseptic, and sounds like the efficient beehive of activity


every medical facility I've ever been in has sounded like.  I move my


hands and find no restraints.  My ankles are similarly unfettered.


There's an IV in my right arm and all my limbs feel like lead.  The only


voices I hear as I approach full consciousness are murmurs of busy


personnel walking purposely up and down the corridor.





The very last thing I remember... what is the very last thing I


remember?  Scully, always Scully, to my rescue.  I remember her tears


wetting my cold, cold cheeks.  She begged me to get up, exhorted me to


move, just move so she could get me out of wherever I was...  Where was


I?  I don't know where I am now, so it's not surprising I can't remember


where the hell she found me.  But she did find me.





She always finds me, always collects me, takes me home and makes we


whole again.  When she came and got me from wherever I was, I knew


instinctively I was out of danger, that no one could harm me anymore.





My body was shaking off a freezing cold numbness, a total paralysis of


limbs that threatened to drag me into madness.





My mind dreamt of split-level bungalows, sunflower seeds and the


seashore.  A little boy by the seashore, a pail, a shovel, a sand castle


and me.





Scully was there.  She shook me out of my nightmare, a nightmare of


cigarette smoke and death and nobody left to love.  She grabbed me out


of my terror, she asked me to help her, please, please help her.  Wake


up just a little, you have to help me here, Mulder.





And all I could say, all I could get past parched lips was, "You help


me..."





I can remember that much now.





"You help me."





The room becomes warmer.  Daylight streams through the window slats, a


renewal of the day, a renewal for me.





I can hear only myself now.  I can't hear the voices of nurses and


doctors and orderlies and janitors down the hallways of Georgetown


Memorial.  I remember being there.  I can't remember being anyplace


else.  But I know it isn't where she found me.





I remember leaving the place they left me; I remember being very, very


cold as the morning chill rushed through me and by me.  Scully had me,


she supported me, my arms and legs feeling eighty years old, barely


moving, barely able to shake off the haziness of sleep and drugs and


fear.





I feared before she came.  That I'd never see her again.  That I'd never


escape the prison of my own mind.  My dreams had shackled me, as tightly


as any manmade restraints.





I was immobilized, mesmerized, by my imaginary life.  One without worry,


without pain, without Scully.  No worries, no cares.  I had Deep Throat,


I had sex, I had a wife, I had children.  I had a green lawn, neighbors,


a newspaper boy.  I had Samantha, I had little nieces and nephews.  And


they played and played and played with my own little children in our own


perfect little universe.





Then everyone started dying.  I was graying, I was aging.  Wrinkles,


infirmity, then dying in my cold, cold bed.  A strange bed, with just


one familiar face beside me, smoking, always smoking.  And the noise of


the apocalypse outside my window as the world went straight to hell.





Then Scully, Scully, dragged me from my nightmare.  She was there, she


was telling me what a coward I was,  what a traitor I was, that I wasn't


through, that I damn well better get up and get out of there.





Then Scully, Scully, crying for me, crying with me, tears rolling down


her cheeks, washing away traces of my own.





I dare to open my eyes, half-open my eyes.  She's here, here with me.


She slumps to her right in a chair, arms supporting head and neck,


cushioning them, forcing the tension from her brow.  A relaxed exquisite


beauty I'd only hoped I'd see again.





Her face is flushed with sleep, unruly hair falls forward from her


crown, covering her forehead, hiding her eyes.  I want to see her eyes.


 I want to look into those eyes now, see what lies there.  See what's on


her mind without reading her mind.





I only did that once, only once.  I remember every minute when she came


to me, came to me when I was lost in catatonia.  I was trying to get


through to her, show her I was still me.  I wanted to respond to her,


wanted to give her a sign that it was still me inside, inside a rigid


shell of flesh and bone.





I heard her voice among so many others, I heard her argue past my


caretakers.  I tried to turn toward her, toward my saving grace.  But my


head only moved a fraction of an inch, my eyes stared vacantly toward


her.





She knew I was there, knew I could hear her.  She had not abandoned me.


 She had come back for me as soon as she could.  And she would never


leave me, never leave me like that, helpless, in the midst of enemies.





I didn't want to hear her thoughts; I blocked them as long as I could.


I only wanted to see her face, hear her voice, know that she was there.





But her thoughts, her emotions filtered through.  As she cried, cried


and pleaded with me to hold on, I guiltily absorbed her love, a love she


could not disguise.  If she knew, if she truly understood, would she


forgive me?  Would she forgive my intrusion, forgive an invasion of her


most closely held secret?  Would I ever be able to forget what love I


found in her heart?





She held my hand; she cried for me.  Helpless, expressionless, I lay


there, imprisoned within my unresponsive physical self, listening with


my all too responsive mental prowess.  And all too soon, all too soon


she was gone.  She urged me, compelled me, to hold on, and then she was


gone.





She couldn't tell me where she'd been, what she'd seen.  She knew better


than to chance that.  I was being watched, guarded, by enemies.  I knew


who my enemies were; I knew their true minds.  I could isolate their


venom, distinguish their murderous thoughts, thoughts that invaded,


assaulted my senses.





I knew they would come for me, take me somewhere for tests, for surgery.


 They would force my mother to sign away her only son.  Convince her it


was the only way, the only hope left for me.  After she left my room


that day, after they started injecting me with a new, debilitating drug,


that's when I lost track of where I was.  Up till then I knew I was at


GMH.  I knew I was still safe, still untouched by the devil's minions.





And then I was lost in a dream, walking along the sand, building


sandcastles that washed away with the tide.  Dreaming of love, of lust,


of lost opportunities.  The dreams turned to nightmares, the nightmares


turned to abject horror.  How could I leave what was most precious to


me?  How could I abandon my faith, trust, hope, principles for a


contrived fantasy?





How could I leave the only unconditional love I'd ever received?





And then she came to me.  Appeared by my side, in my dreams, in my false


reality.  Don't be a coward, don't give in.  Come with me, follow true


hopes and dreams.  Break away from the delusion, the temptation.  Leave


behind the chains of this illusive fantasy.





She came for me, came for me, and I'm here now, in an unknown place,


from an unknown place.  She came for me, came for me, and saved me from


a miserable, lonely death.  A death without distinction.  A death


without mourners.  A death without the comfort of her arms.





But it's safe here; we're in a safe place now.  And I know, I know, if


Scully's here, if she's sleeping beside me, the danger has passed.


She'd never let her guard down, never sleep so unwound, so sublimely


relaxed.





I want to hold her, hold her close to my side.  I never want her so far


from me again.  She travelled great distances,  learned so much in so


little time.  And she's brought treasures back to me, keys to everything


we have to know, must know, before it's too late for us all.





All those treasures, all those things we have fought so hard to find and


keep and discover the truth through, would be meaningless if she hadn't


returned safe and sound.  She is my gem, she is what I hold most dear in


this world.





Tears come easily now.  I am so relieved to be alive.  I am so relieved


that Scully slumbers peacefully across from me.  I try to control


myself, choke back comforting sobs of joy.  This is weak, asinine


behavior.  I'm here, I'm safe, I have to stop crying before I wake her


up.





Better luck next time.  She lifts her head, blinks away sleep from her


eyes, and darts over to the bed.  She presses the call button before I


can even protest and takes my hand in hers.





"Hey, hey.  Everything's alright now, Mulder," she says softly,


reassuringly.  "You're safe.  You're going to be just fine."





"Where?" I rasp out, as the nurse arrives to check my blood pressure and


tells us the doctor will be here shortly.





"GWU," she says, feeding me some ice chips from a glass on the night


stand.





"Why here?" I say, when I've swallowed some moisture and can form a


simple sentence.





She sighs and I can see from her expression that she doesn't want to


alarm me.  Something must have happened that I can't remember, or that


she thinks I don't know about.  She doesn't know I realized they were


planning on doing some kind of surgery.  I'm just not sure what or how


or why.  I only heard part of their plans.  They were careful with their


thoughts before they shot me full of anesthesia.





"They have an excellent neurological institute here," she says.





"What happened to me, Scully?"





She grasps both my hands, squeezing them tightly.  Her voice is steady,


but I know she's scared for me.  It's written all over her worried face.





"You've had brain surgery.  You were fighting off the anesthesia they


used when I found you over at the DOD."





I motion for more ice chips and she slips me a few.  After moistening my


throat again, I say, "I remember Scully.  I didn't know where I was.


But I remember having to get up and follow you out to a car.  I don't


think I remember much past that, though."





"You wouldn't.  You passed out in the back seat of my car.  I was lucky


you still had enough strength to get that far.  When I got you here it


took two nurses to lift you onto a gurney.  You've been out of it since


then.  They changed your clothes, performed a few preliminary tests and


brought you up here.  That was two hours ago.  I've been waiting for you


to wake up.  I'm sorry I fell asleep..."





I smile and say, "But I knew things were alright, Scully.  I knew you


wouldn't fall asleep if things were that bad for me."





She shakes her head and says, "We still don't know exactly what they


did, Mulder.  They didn't want to run all the tests until you regained


consciousness.  Whoever operated on you was not an amateur.  That's all


they can ascertain for now."





"I'm sorry you were so worried about me," I say, stroking her hand with


my thumb.





"Mulder, you don't seem very surprised that someone performed brain


surgery on you.  Did you know what they were going to do?"





I frown, unwilling to completely explain my lost psychic ability at this


time.  I'll tell her eventually; now is not a good time.





"Just a good guess at what they were up to, Scully."





The doctor saves me from further explanation, striding in with


authority.  My chart in his hands; he barely acknowledges Scully's


presence and speaks directly to me, "I'm Dr. Hirsch.  You're very lucky,


Mr. Mulder.  Whoever performed this surgery was skillful.  The MRI and


EEG we've run indicate normal brain activity.  I've compared them to


those couriered over from GMH and I'd like to run some more tests before


I make a final decision on treatment.  However, my preliminary feeling


is that you won't need additional surgery.  Unless we find some


abnormality.  And I don't think we will.  I'm running further tests just


to make sure.  But I don't think you have much to worry about."





"What about the heightened activity in the temporal lobe?" Scully says,


a little angry that the pompous ass is ignoring her.





He turns to her and says, in a much more gracious tone than I'd expect,


"I'm sorry, Dr. Scully.  I didn't mean to leave you out of the loop


here.  I do remember you from the emergency room.  I didn't mean to


slight you.  It's just been a very long day.  You're absolutely correct


in bringing that up.  We checked for that phenomenon and it seems to


have disappeared.  There's no trace of abnormal activity there now, nor


do I expect there to be in the future.  I'd like to complete all tests,


though.  And since it's close to ten o'clock now, I think we'll have to


keep Mr. Mulder overnight.  He needs to be observed and we need to


rehydrate him.  And we'll run the other tests in the morning."





"That sounds fine, Dr. Hirsch.  And don't worry.  I don't feel left out.


 Thanks for stopping by so late."





"You're welcome, Dr. Scully.  It's no problem at all.  I'm here on an


emergency call tonight and I was happy to stop by and see Mr. Mulder.


I'll be back at eight o'clock tomorrow, okay?"





I have been listening silently.  I'm feeling much too lethargic for this


conversation.  I just want to go back to sleep now, even though I've


apparently been out of it for hours.  The doctor says goodbye and leaves


and it's just me and Scully again.





Scully sits beside me on the bed, grinning at me.





"You're ready to go back to sleep, aren't you?"





I answer her with an involuntary yawn and she tugs my hands and says,


"It sounds really good, partner.  I was a little worried that you passed


out before, but the doctor said that's not unusual for post-operative


patients."





"I feel like I was hit by a truck," I respond.





"I know.  But at least the tests were fine.  I didn't get to ask you...


 Mulder, are you hearing dissonance in your head anymore?"





"No.  I would have told you right away, if I did.  It's all quiet now.


Just me, myself, and I," I joke.





She smiles, and takes my left hand, interlacing her fingers with it.  I


wish I had enough strength to hug her, to really thank her for what


she's done.  Holding her warm, soft hand will have to suffice for now.





"Scully?"





"Yeah?"





"Thank you."





She looks away, a little lost for words.  She's shown me such raw,


heartfelt emotion since she returned from Africa.  She's cried at my


bedside twice now, and I don't want her to cry anymore.





"Hey, Scully.  Everything's going to be alright now.  I'm tired, but at


least my head doesn't hurt anymore.  I'll be outta here in no time," I


say softly, squeezing her hand.





She turns toward me again, her lips graced with a sweet half-smile.





"I know.  It's just...  I have a lot to tell you... but I think you


should rest now, Mulder.  I'll stay here till you fall asleep, okay?"





I smile up at her and say, "Please."





She lets go of my hand and I feel the loss immediately.  She brushes the


hair off my forehead tenderly, then leaves my side to pull her chair


close to the bed.  She twines her hand with mine once again and I turn


towards her.  Her beautiful face is the last thing I see as I drift off


to sleep.








fin





Please send feedback to:  shoshana1013@excite.com





Please visit my web page at


http://members.tripod.com/shoshana1013/grid1.html