Title: Unbroken Millennium





Author: Caroline McKenna





Spoilers: post-ep for Millennium, minor referenced to Detour, FTF, and


Rain King. 





Rating; PG





Summary: Sometimes things break, but can they always be fixed?





Category: MSR, MT





Feedback: Absolutely!





Email: cmckenna1121@yahoo.com





Archive: Just ask, I give permission. 





Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully belong to CC, FOX and 1013 Productions,


not me. 





Authors Note: Special thanks to my beta, TJ for doing such a wonderful


job! Happy New Year to everyone! 





 





*Unbroken Millennium (1/1)* 





 





I could think of a million better situations than this. A million ways


I'd rather be celebrating the new millennium. Both Scully and I have


seen enough hospitals- been patients in enough hospitals- to last us


for a long time. The walls of this hospital are eerily similar to the


ones of Fairfax hospital or Mercy hospital in DC. They look just like


the walls of every hospital we have ever been in, all across the


country. Plain, white, and sterile. I'm really getting sick of plain,


white, and sterile. 





Dick Clark, the Peter Pan of today's world, is yapping away on the


small television that rests in the upper corner of the waiting room. I


almost laugh. Scully has to crane her neck to see it. She's so strong,


I always expect her to be taller. 





"... 30 seconds now, 30. Get ready for the loudest cheering you'll


ever hear in your life. Hug your friends and loved ones tight. What


the heck, whoever that person is next to you. No time like the


present. Are you ready? Here we go. Ten, nine ... eight, seven, six


... five, four, three, two, one ... Happy New Year, 2000!" 





Choruses of New Yorkers cheered as the ball dropped in Times Square as


I contemplated Bob's words. I'm a lucky man. My friend and loved one


are the same person. Who just happens to be standing next to me. 





Scully smiled up at the TV and I smiled down at Scully. She is so


beautiful, so radiant standing there, watching couples kiss at "the


crossroads of the world." 





And then she looked at me, looking at her, and I knew it was right. It


was perfect. Without conscious thought, I lean down and press a gentle


kiss to her soft lips, closing my eyes as we make contact. To my


surprise, she doesn't pull away. This time, there are no bees, no


cows, no trains, no nothing to interrupt us, not even that vicious


right hook of hers. It was just us, two people, kissing in the new


year. 





My heart hammered in tandem with the throbbing of my shoulder, but it


felt good, it felt natural. Perfect.





We parted slowly, and I saw her smile. An honest, genuine, personal


smile that I rarely see. That smile may have been better than the kiss


itself. 





Not knowing what else to say, and not wanting to fall into that


awkward silence that this situation is prone to, I speak, "The world


didn't end." 





I'm not sure how I meant it, really. The world didn't end, physically,


as many- including my next door neighbor, Marge- thought it would. The


world didn't end, like I half expected it to, because I kissed Scully.


Our partnership didn't end. Our friendship didn't end. Our lives


didn't end. The world didn't end.





"No, it didn't."





And then her face fell, becoming serious once more. She looked...


disappointed. All of the sudden, panic shot through me, stabbing at my


heart as though it were butter. I made a mistake, I must have, or else


the frown that graces her pretty face wouldn't be there. She didn't


want me to kiss her. Scully didn't want me to kiss her. The thought


hits me hard, like a sledgehammer to the head. She didn't want it. I


broke the millennium.





"Happy New Year, Scully," I manage to get out, hoping that I don't


sound too panicky. 





"Happy New Year, Mulder," she replies in kind, a small smile of


consolation reappearing on her lips in place of the blissful smile


that had been there only moments before. 





Admitting that I screwed up, I slung my good arm over her shoulder,


and led her out of the hospital. My arm is telling her it's okay, we


can pretend it never happened, we can go back to being partners, being


friends. But my heart argued, like it has since her abduction. In my


heart, there is no turning back. 





The halls of the hospital glare at me, admonishing me for my actions.


Even they knew I shouldn't have kissed her.





But it felt so damn good. 





The silence overtakes both of us as we step from the revolving doors


into the crisp night air. Overhead, the stars gleamed, smiling down


upon us, giving their blessing. Who am I kidding? Scully doesn't want


that kind of blessing. 





"I'll drive," she said quietly, approaching the car and shrugging my


arm off of her. Not only does my partner have the key to my apartment


and my heart, but she's got my car key too. She's got the original, I


took the copy that I made at the hardware store.                      





Carefully, I opened the passenger side door and stepped


in, making myself comfortable in the seat. Scully got in, put the key


in the ignition and cranked up the heat. Noticing that my injury


prevented me from buckling my seatbelt, she wordlessly reached across


my body, grabbed the belt, and fastened it. Her lips were two inches


from mine. Two inches of air separated my partners soft, rosy lips


from my own. Breathing in, I could almost taste them. 





Though she paused for a moment, Scully didn't acknowledge our


closeness, she never has. She simply pulled out of the parking lot and


into the main street leading to Alexandria. 





I'm willing tonight to be another one of those things that Scully and


I will never talk about. It will be stored away in the file cabinet


that contains Eddie Van Blundht with the silent fucking H, with Ed


Jerse, Diana, our near kiss before Antarctica, the feelings that


Arcadia brought up. It will be another one of those things that we


ignore even thought it may be important. I really hate that file


cabinet, especially when it comes time to organize it.  





My shoulder hurts. It's hurt since the night nurse threw it in this


sling. Dislocated shoulder, she said. Absolutely wonderful. I got


strict instructions for bed-rest and to "take it easy." These people


don't know me very well. They'll be lucky if I keep this stupid sling


on for more than two days, let alone the two weeks that was


prescribed. Scully will keep a watch on me though. I'll have to figure


out how to get her to realize I'm not an invalid.





It hurts like a bitch. The pain is sharp, like a dozen needles


embedded in my shoulder. I was afraid of needles as a kid, but look at


me now. It's almost sad. Or funny, depending on how you look at it.


Struggling to find a comfortable position in an uncomfortable


situation, I jarred my arm against the car's headrest, sending pain


ricocheting through me. The medicine they gave me has my full


permission to kick in any time now. Please? 





Scully sees my struggle to relax and gives me a reassuring smile that


says "we'll be home soon." Maybe all is not lost. Maybe our friendship


can be repaired. Maybe she doesn't totally hate me for being a horny


male. 





Okay, I wasn't being horny when I kissed her. That was sincere. I


thought that for once, I could be a normal man, kissing a normal


woman. But things are never that simple between Scully and I. She is


never just a woman, and I am never just a man. The complexity of our


work and our relationship does not allow this, not matter how much I


wish it did. 





"We're home, Mulder," Scully whispered to me. I assume that because my


eyes were closed, she thought I was asleep.  





"'Kay, thanks for the ride, Scully," I said, opening the door and


stepping out onto the pavement. 





When I fell, I'm sure the crash could have been heard all the way in


Chicago where they were just now ringing in the year 2000. Last week's


Christmas snow had melted and then frozen over, covering my side walk


with slick ice. 





Scully's, "Oh God!" was the last thing I heard before everything went


black. 








Black. Blue. Yellow. Purple. White. An array of colors greeted me as I


opened my swollen eyelids. Immediately, I closed them again, in a


fruitless attempt to keep the room from spinning. 





"Mulder! You're awake," Scully. My Scully, there for me. Why am I not


surprised?





"Hospital?" I croak. I feel like I've swallowed the Sahara Desert, my


throat is so dry. 





"No," I could feel Scully smiling through my closed eyelids and I gave


her one of my own, "You're in bed at your place. You fell, remember?"





I remember, all right. The aching pulsing in my head was a constant


reminding factor. "Water?" I said, only now getting up the stomach to


open my eyes. The colors had stopped flashing and I saw one clear


shape. Scully's face, inches away and her eyes focused intently on


mine. 





In full doctor mode, she was checking my dilation, checking for a


concussion or hemorrhage, I know, but she was looking so much deeper


than the surface of my pupils. She looked into my soul like she always


had when looking at me. 





She stood and I watched her move away into another room to fetch me a


glass of water. 





When she returned, I accepted the tall glass, eternally grateful. "Sit


up, Mulder, you'll choke if you drink it lying down," she admonished


as I raised the glass to my lips, fully prepared to drink it without a


second thought. 





I never realized how many muscles it takes to sit up until now, when


they're sore and I'm forced to use them. With a hand on my good


shoulder, Scully leaned over me, helping me up and offering me a good


view of her cleavage. Just because I'm hurt doesn't mean I'm blind. 





Ignoring the pulsating ache in my muscles, I swallowed the water in


two big gulps. The liquid caressed my scratchy throat, its coolness a


welcome contrast to the burning heat of my body. Scully's got me


wrapped up in more blankets than I think I own. I hope she didn't go


out and buy some. 





"How do you feel?" she asked, sitting on the bed beside me, and


running a hand over my forehead, feeling for a fever. 





"Like hell," I replied, smiling a little. 





"Well, you look like it. You should see yourself, Mulder. It looks


like you went ten rounds with a cheese-grater and lost."





"That bad, huh?" I cringe at her words and then cringe again at the


pain cringing caused.





"Yeah. You've got cuts and scrapes all over your face, and bruises


just about everywhere imaginable. Your nose looks bruised, but not


broken. It's swelled quite a bit though..."





I interrupted her, "Aw! You mean my nose is bigger?" I know whining


isn't very attractive, hell its a complete turn off, but a bigger


nose? 





"Sorry Mulder," she sympathized, "but yes, your nose looks like a


cantaloupe. I have to check you every couple of hours for a


concussion. Since you went unconscious, we have to be really careful.


Don't strain yourself doing anything Mulder. I mean that. If you need


help, ask me. I'll be right here."





"I know, Scully, I know." I knew, because no matter how many broken


millenniums I cause, she knows I'm only human and cares about me for


that. I think. 





We sat silently for a while, Scully stroking my hair, and me watching


her. I love watching Scully. It's fascinating. She expresses


everything with her face, even when she's thinking. I can see the


corners of her mouth twitch when she gets a pleasant idea, or her


eyebrows knit when the idea is not so pleasant. I've learned to read


her like a book, like this captivating book that holds me at rapt


attention. 





Her fingernails grazed a tender part of my scalp and I instantaneously


tensed up. She sensed it, and looked down at me. The woman never


ceases to amaze me. "Sorry, Mulder."  





"I'm sorry too," I responded, not knowing what I meant or what I would


be getting myself into. 





With an expression resembling confusion, she asked, "What for?" 





I was at a loss for words. I know what I want to say, but I can't


really articulate it without coming off as a total jackass. "For


everything," I reply. It's broad enough where she can draw her own


conclusions. 





Deep in thought, she didn't say anything, just proceeded to run her


fingers through my hair. 





"Are you sorry for kissing me?" she asked after several moments.


That's my Scully, always blunt. 





"I'm not sorry for kissing you, Scully, but I am sorry for making you


uncomfortable by doing so." I'm really hoping for a rain check for


that right hook. I don't think I could take any more pain at the


moment. 





Without saying a word, she pulled my head from the pillow into her


lap, "I don't wanna wrestle," I joke halfheartedly, throwing her a


toothy grin, attempting to make things better.  





"Well I do." 





*What?* Did I just hear that right? My partner, the pragmatic,


scientific, enigmatic, Dr. Dana Scully wants to wrestle? With *me*? I


must be hearing things.  





"You're not hearing things, Mulder," she said and I can feel her


smile, "I said just what you think I said." 





"You... uh, you...?" I blubber. I was in complete shock.  





"Not now, Mulder, you are in no condition whatsoever to wrestle, but


when that shoulder heals, and when you can keep yourself from falling


on you face..." she trailed off, letting me imagine the rest.  





Stuttering, I said "Can I, uh, can I get that in writing?"  





Scully laughed. I love it when Scully laughs. I love it when Scully


does just about anything. She could be cleaning the toilet, and I


would love it. But I really love it when she laughs.  





"I don't know, Mulder. I talk better with actions." I think all the


color must be draining from my face. Scully is a very eloquent


speaker. She spoke wonderfully with words, I couldn't conceive what


her actions would... 





She's kissed me. Dana Katherine Scully kissed me. Lord, I must have


died and gone to heaven. I must be dead, and in heaven. That in itself


is a miracle, but this. No, I am very much alive, as certain


below-the-belt and uninjured parts of my anatomy will confirm.  





It wasn't a new years kiss either, it is the kind of kiss that can


come from only one woman, the woman I love more than life, the woman


that *is* my life. Scully. She ran her tongue along my swollen top


lip, begging for entrance and I granted it without a single


hesitation.  





"That," she said after we had parted, both in dire need of oxygen, "is


a New Years kiss."  





I smiled, agreeing with her.  





Maybe this millennium isn't as broken as I thought, but I was wrong


earlier when I told Scully that the world hadn't ended. It had. The


world as we both knew it ended the moment our lips touched. The world


of platonic friendship, of lonely nights. That world of bees and right


hooks. That world ended, but a better one began.   





*END*