I Am Henry The Eighth I AmAuthor: PhileyX
E-Mail: phileyxback@yahoo.com
Web-site: https://www.angelfire.com/id/phileyx
Category: UST
Spoilers: None
Prequels: Scent of a Scully
Disclaimer: The characters are borrowed solely for kicks and most assuredly not a single cent is made with the production of this piece imagination.
Author's note: The prequels to this story can be found at:
https://www.angelfire.com/id/phileyx/Scent.html
Summary: Mulder is forced to keep his promise to Nana Scully.
XXXXXXXXXX
I Am Henry The Eighth I Am (Part One of One)
St. Matthew's Memorial Site
Sunday 3.54pm
Dana half listened as her mother gave the eulogy. Although standing in the midst of the burial plot, she knew that on one in her family truly comprehended that Nana was actually gone for good. She was the oldest immediate living relative they had. And being around for decades of years, they've always assumed that she would remain for many more years to come.
Sighing, she glanced at her brothers. They were staring at the open grave grimly. Then suddenly she caught Charlie betray his grief with small smirk. She raised an eyebrow in suspicion. 'Was he thinking of …?' She hesitantly thought and soon found herself smiling too.
Just as she was about to wipe the grin off, Charlie looked up and caught it. It proved to be a big mistake as the look he held confirmed that they were thinking the same. A giggle automatically began in Dana's throat and she forced a hysterical cough to cover it up.
Bill obviously suspected something for he cocked his head and glared at his younger siblings. The two obeyed his look the best they could. But it wasn't before their elder brother caught on and abruptly looked down, concentrating hard on a spot between his shoes. Charlie and Dana almost grinned, knowing he was having trouble keeping a straight face himself.
It was a private joke that the Scully siblings shared with Nana. It all began the night Nana first stayed over to watch them while Ahab and Mom were on their rare dates. It was Halloween and she forbade anyone out of the house, saying that trick and treating were for pagans and certainly not for good Catholic children. Moaning and groaning, the four of them were prepared for a boring night when surprise surprise; Nana switched off all the lights, lit a candle and began the first meeting of the 'Death Rites' Club.
Making them promise that they could never reveal the morbid knowledge to their parents, the Scully siblings shared and fantasized their preferred way to die and to be mourned whilst other children trick and treated the night away. The formation of the Club began a new Scully tradition of their own, which they kept up faithfully every year until Bill finally felt it was uncool to hang around with his brother and sisters on Halloween night.
'If only Missy were around.' Dana thought wistfully. No doubt she would have rebelled against the proper Catholic mourning and insisted that Nana's fantasy funeral be carried out. Before another smile escaped her with that thought, she stepped back behind the row of immediate family members to compose herself.
"Something funny, Scully?" A familiar voice whispered into her ear, behind her.
She turned quickly. "Mulder." Obviously surprised to see him, she searched his face for an explanation. Although his countenance told her that he was here unofficially, his stubbled and dark ringed eyes told her another story. She frowned. "Are you all right?"
He raised an eyebrow comically. "Shouldn't I be asking you that?"
She almost smiled. "It's just that you look like…." She trailed off.
"Like shit? I know." He helpfully finished for her and shrugged. "Been having trouble sleeping."
"That's not new."
"Try like not sleeping at all."
"Oh." She answered absent-mindedly and turned her attention back to the funeral. Thankfully it was the beginning of the end and all present were taking turns to toss a piece of earth onto the casket underground. She stepped forward to do the same.
When she returned to his side, it was his turn to ask. "Are you all right?"
"Yes I'm fine. Thank you for asking." She smiled slightly. "And coming."
He smiled back. "You owe me more than that, Scully." She raised an eyebrow and he explained with a twinkle in his eye. "Don't forget, I made your Nana and very happy woman when I appeared from your room last Christmas."
She rolled her eyes at him, resisting the urge to punch him in the arm. 'Trust Mulder to joke at a time like this.'
Her irritation quickly vanished when a familiar strain of the bagpipes filled the air. Dana gasped and sought her brothers' faces. They too seemed stunned at the choice of music. Collectively looking at their mother, Maggie Scully smiled at them and even dispensed a wink. It was too much for the three of them and they openly laughed, much to horror of the other people present.
After she recovered, Dana noticed that her partner had visibly turned white. "Mulder, are you all right?"
"This song…" He seemed breathless.
His partner was beginning to worry. "I'm Henry The Eighth I Am, sort of a private joke." She answered and asked him anxiously. "Mulder, are you sure you're all right? You're pale."
"Why are they playing this song?" He demanded hoarsely.
Her brows furrowed, not understanding why it was bothering him so much. "It was Nana's favourite. She always wanted it to be played during her funeral." Checking herself, she told him. "Actually she wanted the whole Irish play to be reanacted but allowing that would really be pushing it…."
"Scully…." He interrupted her, hesitated and nodded towards the front. "Er… I should go do my bit." And she watched as he walked nervously towards the grave and stood there silently, almost meditatively. Taken aback, Dana cocked her head and her mind raced to elucidate her partner's strange behaviour.
Her mother joined her five minutes later. "Is Fox all right, honey?" Maggie asked as she watched Fox Mulder prolong his respects to her late mother-in-law.
"I'm really not sure, Mom." She found herself admitting. "He only met her once, right?"
Maggie nodded. "As far as I'm concerned."
Bewildered, Dana shook her head but soon changed the subject. "By the way, how did you know?"
Her mother gave her a look, as if it was blasphemous to ask her that. "I'm your mother. I know everything."
Dana rolled her eyes. "Of course, how thoughtless of me." Then slipping her arm around her, she told Maggie. "Thank you, Mom. I'm sure she's smiling upon us."
Her mother snorted and disagreed. "I doubt it. I'm sure she's too darned busy dancing with your grandpa to notice our sorrow."
Dana laughed. "You're right. After all, it's their song."
Maggie smiled and nodded towards Mulder. "Nana liked him."
"No, she didn't. He's Jewish, remember?"
"Oh she liked him all right. You know the annual pre Easter party she has every year in her neighbourhood? The one where she never failed to hook you up with a nephew or grandson of one of her friends?"
Rolling her eyes, her daughter groaned. "Mom, don't tell me…"
"Relax. Nana didn't ask anyone extra to this year's Easter dinner."
Dana looked at her in surprise. "Really?"
"Uh huh. She was hoping that you'd bring Fox along."
"Wow." She was almost dumbstruck. "I'll be damned. She did like him."
Maggie grinned. "And a whole lot, apparently."
XXXXXXXXXX
William Scully's Residence
Monday 12.11am
Dana tossed and turned restlessly. Physically she was tired but every time she dropped off to asleep, a mysterious loud creaking noise would suddenly wake her. It was nearly 3 am when she gave up entirely.
She turned on the light beside her bed and looked at the room walls suspiciously. It just didn't make sense. It wasn't as if they were staying in the old naval base houses that were made of wood. Bill's was one of the modern ones that were built somewhere within the decade. So where was the creaking sound coming from?
Rolling her eyes, she grabbed the X-file that was on the nightstand and flipped to where she had last left off. A paragraph later, a violent gust of wind from her open window suddenly blew the file out of her loose grip, scattering the document all over the room.
Muttering a curse under her breath, she got out of bed to pick them up. Just as she was about done picking and sorting them out, a single but shrill ring made her jump, causing her to drop the file again, once again creating a mess. Although cruder obscenities were at the tip of her tongue, she resisted and grabbed her phone instead.
The number displayed on the screen told her that the caller was Mulder. Why wasn't she surprised? She thought. 'But why abandon the call after one ring?' Frowning, she pressed green button to reconnect to the previous caller. After several seconds, she hung up. 'Sorry but the subscriber you are trying to reach is currently unavailable'. The message said.
Now, she felt unsettled. Perhaps she should check up on him. Not that she was getting much sleep anyway, she reasoned. So she changed from her pajamas and quietly slipped out of the house.
When she arrived in front of the motel room he had told her he was staying at, she knocked softly on the door. He opened it during her third knock. "Scully."
"You called?" She asked him through the doorway.
He grimaced sheepishly. "Sorry, I dropped my phone and the impact made the connection. I switched it off as soon as I noticed. Did I wake you?"
She shook her head, sighing. "No, you didn't. I couldn't sleep anyway."
"Me neither." And he opened the door to admit her. "How about some milk?"
"Sure." She removed her jacket, walked across the room and made herself comfortable on his bed.
He soon brought a glass over to her. "Thinking about Nana?"
She looked up. "What? Oh, no." Shaking her head, she shrugged. "Some creaking noise just kept waking me up."
His eyebrow rose. "You're staying at Bill's?"
"Yeah." She answered and he gave her a look. When it dawned on her what he was getting at, she grimaced in disgust. "Oh God, Mulder! What a thought!"
"Well they are happily married and…"
"Mulder, shut up!" She cut in quickly before he elaborated.
He grinned cheekily and took a gulp of from the milk carton in his hand. Realizing that it was the same carton where he had poured her glass of milk from, his partner looked down at the liquid in her grasp distastefully.
He caught it and chided her. "Oh, don't be a prude! I'm almost sure I took all my Cootie shots."
She decided to believe him, taking a sip. "So what's keeping you up?"
"Oh you know, I've never been much of a sleeper anyway." He lied, a slight twitch on his face giving him away.
Studying his tired face, she persisted. "When was the last time you had a good night's sleep, Mulder?"
"Since you told me Nana died." He muttered, rather unconsciously.
"What has this got to do with Nana?" She asked cautiously.
He looked up defensively. "Who said that she had anything to do with it?"
"You did."
He shook his head but avoided her eyes. "Just as a basis of time. I meant two days, since Friday. Don't go reading too much into it, Scully." She frowned, not convinced. But before she could ask any more questions, her partner rubbed his eyes and groaned. "God, I need sleep! Or I'll never make the drive back."
Thinking that it was a hint for her to leave, she stood up. "You're right, I'm sorry. I'm keeping you up."
"No!" He suddenly snapped and she shrank back a little in surprise. His voice faltered. "I didn't mean that you should go. I meant…. Would you stay until I fell asleep, Scully?"
Her eyebrow rose and he uncomfortably squirmed under her scrutiny. "What is it, Mulder?"
"Nothing. Just…" He sighed and pleaded. "Just stay until I drift off."
Now she knew something was definitely wrong but she placated him anyway, "Okay."
"Thanks." He gave her a quick smile and settled himself under the covers. She watched him for a while before heading towards the small kitchen in the room. Washing and putting away the glass, she dried her hands and made her way back to his partner. Although his eyes were shut, he was clearly not asleep.
She climbed onto the bed beside him and gently touched his arm, as if letting him know that she was there. The gesture was apparently what he needed as his breathing subsequently became more calm and rhythmic, telling her that he was finally at rest. Suddenly too tired and too comfortable to move herself, Dana closed her eyes and soon, she too drifted off.
XXXXXXXXXX
Green Creek Motel
Monday 7.17am
Mulder knew the second she stepped out the door. It was as if the volume of some control slowly turned up and he began hearing it again.
<I'm Henry the Eighth I am>
Mulder groaned. Grabbing the pillow from beneath him, he covered it over his head in an attempt to block out the tune.
<Henry the Eighth I am, I am>
But it was no use; the song was playing within his consciousness. But at least this time he knew for sure who was responsible. He should have better than to laugh at an old lady's threat.
<I got married to the widow next door
She's been married seven times before>
"Oh come on, Nana! Give me a break! I can't ask her to marry me!" He growled out loud and hoped she would hear him from up above or down below or wherever the blasted woman was.
<And every one was a Henry
She wouldn't have a Willy or a Sam>
He removed the pillow and flung it across the room in frustration. "We're just partners, for God's sakes! So I lied, I'm sorry!"
<I'm her eighth old man, I'm Henry
Henry the Eighth I am>
Mulder ultimately let out a loud moan. "Have a heart, the song's killing me!"
<H-E-N-R-Y
Henry
Henry>
Obviously, Nana didn't give a damn.
<Henry the Eighth I am, I am
Henry the Eighth I am>
'This is ridiculous!' He thought. The tune that had accompanied him for the past three days, with an exception of the few hours when his partner was in bed with him, seemed to have no intention of letting up.
<I'm Henry the Eighth I am
Henry the Eighth I am, I am>
The worst part of it all was that he could not do a thing about it. Nana was dead and unless she paid him an earthly visit, there was no way he could strike a compromise with her. On the other hand, keeping his promise was a one-way ticket to hell; he seriously doubted Scully would be pleased that he had made such a pledge to her grandmother.
<I got married to the widow next door
She's been married seven times before>
He always had an impression that marriage was a big thing for her, being Catholic and all. Her parents' blissful union was a living testimony that the sacred institution did work out. His own family however was an ideal example how it wrong it could go. But he believed she wouldn't have to go through that pain when she did settle down. The man fortunate enough to capture her heart would certainly have to be no less than perfect. So how could they go amiss?
<And every one was a Henry
She wouldn't have a Willy or a Sam>
Mulder shook his head violently and decided to try a different approach. Perhaps optimism might work; the tune would wear off soon enough. After all, the old lady's bound to get bored with him and move on to the next loser that she cursed before her death.
<I'm her eighth old man, I'm Henry
Henry the Eighth I am
H-E-N-R-Y
Henry
Henry>
XXXXXXXXXX
FBI headquarters, DC
Wednesday 10.54am
Unfortunately it turned out to be wishful thinking on his part as Wednesday saw him amble rather shakily into the conference room, right in the middle of the a man hunt orientation. Glancing at his watch, he realized that he had misread the watch and was an hour late. He grimaced, mentally resolving to get a cheap digital watch during lunchtime. It would help him get through the next few days or at least until he fell over in exhaustion.
When the briefing ended, he leaned against the wall behind him allowing other agents to walk past him. He looked about for his partner who was due back from her compassionate leave today. She was walking towards his direction.
"Mulder?"
"Don't say it, Scully." He growled. "I know very well how I look."
'He looked like a walking zombie.' She thought, never seeing him this way before. His eyes were bloodshot and the visible black rings around them made him look like one of his monsters he loved to watch before bedtime. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah." Grunting, he changed the subject. "How's your family?"
"They're fine, it's sinking in slowly."
He nodded. "Did I tell you I was sorry about your grandma?"
"Yes, you did."
"Very sorry…." He added under his breath and stared blearily past her.
'Okay, that does it!' She thought and her doctor mode came into action. Raising one hand to touch his forehead, the other moved to examine his pupils but he resisted. "Mulder, I suggest you see a doctor."
"I am seeing one. You're one."
His partner persisted. "I'm serious. And you are in no condition to come with us on this hunt."
"What?" He instantaneously stiffened.
"You're tired. You haven't slept since God knows when! You are just going to get hurt or worse, be a risk to the rest of us!"
"Scu…"
He was interrupted by their superior. "Agent Mulder."
"Sir."
"You look like hell."
Mulder let out a small sigh. "Thank you, sir."
Although knowing Mulder would give her a rough time, she softly betrayed him. "Agent Mulder's been having trouble sleeping, sir." She was right and he snapped his head to glare at her. She looked away, guilty.
"I can see that." Skinner ignored the intimate play. "Mulder, go home."
"Sir, I'm fine. I assure you I'm perfectly capable of doing my job."
The elder seemed to take his words under consideration. But a glance at his partner, whose look along with a slight shake of her head, told him otherwise. He made the decision. "Mulder, you're off the case. Now, go home." With that he strode off, forbidding any further protest.
Mulder sighed, although not angrily. "Thanks a lot, partner."
"Come on, Mulder. Be reasonable." She gently touched his arm and joked softly. "I promise I'll tell you all about it tomorrow."
He rolled his eyes and deadpanned. "I can't wait."
She smiled and tugged his sleeve to get moving. They walked out the room together and he accompanied her towards the elevator. "Scully?"
"Hmm?"
He licked his dry lips uncertainly. "There's a song stuck in my head."
"What song?"
He began singing. "I'm Henry the Eighth I am, Henry the Eighth I am I am, I got married to the widow next door, She's been married seven times before, And every one was a Henry, She wouldn't have a Willy or a Sam, I'm her eighth old man, I'm Henry, Henry the Eighth I am. H-E-N-R-Y, Henry, Henry, Henry the Eighth I am, I am, Henry the Eighth I am…."
Dana gaped at him. Shrugging, he confessed. "It's what's keeping me awake. I didn't know how to tell you because… well… it's your grandmother's song…." He trailed off.
His partner took a deep breath and found herself resisting a smile. "Mulder?"
A frown bordering on a grimace, he softly answered. "Yeah?"
"Go home."
Unsure what feelings she was communicating with those two words, he nodded absently. "Okay." And she left him in the hallway to figure it out.
XXXXXXXXXX
Dana Scully's Residence
Thursday 12.59am
Dana pulled the sheets on her. 'Guilt.' She thought. 'That's all it was, just guilt. Serves him right for lying to Nana.' And she indulged in a grin. 'So that's why he looked so penitent at the funeral. And the ashen look on his face?' It all made sense now.
A loud thud on the door made her jump. She frowned and glanced at the clock. 1 am, it had to be Mulder. Rolling her eyes, she trudged wearily out the bedroom and living room, opening her front door.
A set of bleak, empty and desperate eyes greeted her. "I need sleep, Scully."
"Oh really?"
He ignored her scarsam and walked in. Not even bothering to remove his jacket, he slumped head first onto her couch. She closed the door with a flick of her wrist and turned to face the horizontal mess of a man, his two legs sticking awkwardly out at the edge of her cream coloured sofa. "Mulder, what makes you think you'll be able to sleep on my couch when you can't even sleep on your own?"
"Umph." He replied.
"Did you see a doctor like I told you?"
"Mmmf."
"Did you try taking a sleeping pill?"
"Uunh." She somewhat made out and gave up. Obviously he wasn't up for an intelligible conversation, much less an intellectual one.
Back in her room and on her bed, Dana sunk into her pillow. Her thoughts on Mulder slowly faded away and sleep claimed her. Faces of Missy, Nana, Charlie and Bill's hazed through her dream sweetly and she found herself back in time, back in the good old days, back in Port Stephens. The ancient foundation, the rusty pipes, the creaking doors but most of all, the dusty basement where they had their annual Death Rites meet.
Nana was up next. She shared a secret smile and began on her fantasy. A beautiful orchestra accompanied the play and Henry the Eight proudly took center stage. The booming tenor began his song, his face magically evolving into another, grandpa. Then the plot began to alter. Henry the Eighth made a dramatic pronouncement, refusing to marry the widow and runs way with another, Nana….
At that point, a soft knock woke her. She opened her eyes and frowned. "What the hell?" She managed to mutter before the door softly opened.
"Scully?" Her partner's voice hesitantly called out.
She held a moan and got up. Peering through the darkness, she groggily asked. "What?"
"Can I sleep with you?"
She began to groan. "Mulder…"
He quickly pulled his only wildcard and whined. "But Scully, so far you're the only prescription that works…" And he dragged the sentence for effect.
His partner was evidently to damned sleepy to reflect on his words or the consequences because she swept the covers off and growled. "All right. But if you wake me again, you're out of here!"
If he had any additional strength left, he would smile. But he didn't so he saved it for making his way over and climbing in between her sheets. She shifted slightly when his warmth touched hers and he briefly wondered if he should move back to give her more space. Then too tired even try, he settled in, enjoying her scent that could only belong to her. Maybe that's what he needed to fall asleep, he wondered. 'The scent of his Scully…..'
He nearly nodded off but resurfaced. '**His** Scully?' It reminded him of his promise to Nana. And the need for sleep clouded his judgment as he revoked his earlier resolve made during sobriety. "Scully?"
"Hmm.." Her muffled reply drifted softly to his ear.
Her back faced him and he shifted closer so that he could hear her better. "I need to ask you something."
"Mmm.." Now even softer.
He moved nearer, the front of his shirt almost touching the back of her silk pajamas and his right hand resting lightly on her hip. "Scully?" No answer and he decided to ask anyway. "Will you marry me?"
He waited. In vain.
But before he could be disappointed, a wave of slumber fell hard on him. He tried to fight it but it was no use. Four days without proper shuteye was too much for even the gravest insomniac. As he drifted off, he muttered under his breath. "There, Nana. I asked. Now, would you mind leaving me alone?"
XXXXXXXXXX
FBI headquarters, DC
Thursday 9.45am
'So he promised Nana to ask.' Dana finally concluded after an hour of careful deliberation. 'I can't believe it!' She fumed silently and took a moment to glare at the oblivious man across the office.
He thought she was asleep because she didn't answer. Actually she was in between reality and dreamland when she heard him propose. And immediately, the drowsiness vanished allowing her to catch his plea to her dead grandmother.
She was pissed, at Nana and at Mulder. How dared they arrange such a pledge without consulting her! It was simply unthinkable! No, actually what amazed her most was that Mulder consented. 'The man's an idiot!'
"Scully, have you read the report I left on your table yesterday?" The unwise male asked.
She glowered at him and snapped. "No."
Mulder blinked. 'Now what did I say?' He wondered and cautiously suggested. "You might want to look at it before seeing Skinner." A shrug, a nod and good noisy effort of opening the file. He grimaced. Whatever he did, it was bad.
The tune was still playing. It came back the second he left her house. But after seven hours of absolute oblivion in her bed, Mulder felt almost human again and was too happy to care. Well, at least for the moment. Besides, he was confident that the song would slowly fade since he had already popped the big question. In fact, it had reduced to a hum now, at the back of his head. Nana had heard him ask and she'd soon drop the haunt. He was sure of it.
However, he noticed a temperamental change with regards to his partner. From just plain moody, she was now apparently intent on being extremely grouchy for the rest of the day. And he wondered if he had accidentally touched certain parts of her he shouldn't have during the course of the night. Why else would she look at him with such contempt?
By the end of the day, Dana decided to stop behaving so childishly and let her irritation drop. 'After all, he did suffer for it.' She reasoned with herself. 'Although he gained access into her bed…..' But that was another issue, she magnanimously allowed. Perhaps it was because she liked that part the most. It was nice having him beside her while she slept.
Glad that she was finally joking and smiling, her partner wished her goodbye happily, eager to return to his couch and try out his newfound ability to sleep. She wished him good luck as he strolled to his parking space. 'The guilt is finally wearing off and things will be back to normal. Thank God!' She thought.
XXXXXXXXXX
FBI headquarters, DC
Friday 8.32am
She was wrong. He blundered in like a hurricane the next morning. Walking up to her, he took her hand and asked. "Scully, don't take this the wrong way but will you marry me?"
Physically frozen, she was grateful that at least her voice worked. "What?"
"Your grandmother is driving me crazy! I couldn't sleep again last night." He was stammering now. "I..it's s..s..softer now. But it's t..t..here… I can't take it anymore, Scully!"
The desperation seemed to undo her shock. "Mulder, calm down."
"Calm down? Your Nana is haunting me!" He growled at first and then rambled on. "So I promised to propose but I didn't know I had to do it sometime in the near future. I thought… Hell, who knows? Maybe we're still single ten years from now and decide to get hitched?"
She firmly curbed his blatering. "Mulder, listen to me. You're delusional because of lack of sleep. Nana is not haunting you. It's just your sense of guilt acting up."
"No, Scully." He shook his head violently. "I started hearing I'm Henry the Eighth I Am before I knew it had anything to do with your grandmother, while I was still here in DC and you were with your family."
"That doesn't mean anything." She touched his arm to calm him down. "It was just a coincidence." He gave a look and she sighed. "Okay, a very unlikely coincidence but one all the same."
"Scully, she swore she would come after me if I didn't keep my promise."
Her frustration turned to irritation and she decided that the only way to distract him from this insanity was if she opted for the offence. "Fine. So let me get this straight, Mulder." And she threw him a dangerous glare for effect. "The only reason why you asked me to marry you was because you think that my grandmother is singing I'm Henry the Eighth I Am in your ear?"
It worked and a look of apprehension slowly overtook his features. Looking down forlornly, he whispered. "You're right. I'm delusional."
She almost grinned. Being a male, he recognized a loaded question when he heard one and was wise enough to use the escape hatch she had provided earlier on. Taking his hand in hers, she gently led him out the door. "That's right, it's all in your head, Mulder. There's no tune. It's just an illusion. Now, go home."
He nodded blankly. "It's all in my head."
"All in your head." She repeated and pushed him out the office.
After he had left, she wondered if he would finally come to terms with his guilt and let rest overcome him. She hoped so. Although she liked the occasional company, she certainly wouldn't want him to spend the rest of his life in her bed. Well at least not until he proposed to her for real. She rolled her eyes. 'Around ten years later, according to him.'
She called Human Resource and told them her partner was ill again. Then she spent the whole day resisting the urge to call him to find out if he managed to conquer his battle with Sir Henry the Eighth or rather Nana.
Somehow she made it through the day without the call but gave in the temptation to check his condition personally. Afraid to wake him if he succeeded the personal war, she used her key and let herself into his apartment.
'Oh oh.' She thought when she heard a soft humming from the direction of the couch. Walking over to face him, she cleared her throat. "Didn't work, huh?" He continued humming, as if gently rebuking her for not believing in him. 'It was hopeless.' Dana sighed and held out her hand. "Mulder?"
Opening his eyes, he looked at her outstretched hand and blinked.
She smiled at him. "Come on. Let's get you to bed."
He understood that it was a form of apology and offered back a smile. But he still doubted she actually believed his theory. That would be too much to hope for. Getting up and taking her hand, he allowed her to lead him into his bedroom.
They both lay on the bed, on their sides, facing each other. As they stared into each other's eyes, she felt his fingers gently interleaving hers. And she reached her other hand to touch his face, lightly lingering on his eyebrow, just above his dark, panda-like eyes. He didn't even blink, maintaining his intense gaze. Before long, she was lost.
Everything became a blur, a haze. She suddenly couldn't remember why they were sharing the same bed or why she came to his apartment in the first place. All that mattered to her now was the somewhat painful tenderness in his eyes; years and years of lacerating loneliness and something else, something she couldn't define. It scared her unexplainably and her hand dropped.
A flicker of emotion crossed his face. For one brief moment she thought he would lean over to kiss her and she was pretty sure she wouldn't have done single thing to stop him. But he didn't. Instead he broke the spell. He closed his eyes.
Dana let out a breath she didn't know she was keeping. She shook her head slightly, confused. As her breathing regulated, his dropt into a healthy restful pace. She looked at their entwined fingers and was sorely tempted to tighten her grasp. She didn't, afraid that the pressure would rouse him. Then she closed her eyes and accompanied him on his journey, just as she had always done throughout their partnership.
She stirred twice throughout the night. And both times, she tried removing her hand from his but to no avail. Not wanting to be solely responsible for waking him up, she reluctantly forced herself to go back to sleep. But fifteen hours later, her body protested and thankfully by that time, Mulder's grip had loosened.
Slowly removing herself from his bed, she moved to use his bathroom. When she returned, she found that he was restlessly shifting about. Hastening to his side, she touched his forehead and softly whispered a couple of soothing noises. It helped but he still twitched uncomfortably.
Dana sighed in frustration. 'What's wrong?' Why couldn't he sleep peacefully without her? Desperate to keep him in dreamland, she unexpectedly found herself imploring with her grandmother. "All right Nana. If it's really you out there, that's about enough from you!" She hissed softly. "He's an insomniac, he has enough trouble sleeping as it is! Leave him alone!"
At that very moment, Mulder shuddered and she thought that all her efforts would be in vain. But to her surprise, his fits of agitation magically stopped. And Dana stared at her partner's serene countenance in bewilderment. The concurrence of the changeover was just too obvious to ignore.
She looked about the room anxiously, as if looking about for an alien presence. Then catching herself, she closed her eyes in shame. 'Oh God! What was she thinking?' She was letting Mulder get to her again. 'Get a grip! This has nothing to do with Nana!' She berated herself fiercely and hastily moved to leave. If she stayed in the room any longer, she may even begin talking to Grandpa.
XXXXXXXXXX
FBI headquarters, DC
Monday 8.01am
The tune was gone. He wasn't sure how it happened or when it happened but as of Sunday morning, he was officially Henry the Eighth free. So as he brightly whistled a cheerful tune the next day in the office, he was totally unprepared when his partner walked in with a scowl that would send children scurrying for safety.
"Good morning." He tested the waters.
"Oh yeah? And just what's so good about it?" She grumbled and almost slammed her file onto the table.
'Yikes!' He grimaced and studied her glowering face. It was tired and her eyes were blurry. "Scully, did you sleep last night?"
The question was obviously taboo as her head snapped up and she glared at him. "No, Mulder. As a matter of fact, I did not sleep last night. Do you want to know why?"
Actually now, he didn't want to know but he politely lied. "Err…. yeah. Of course."
She took a step towards him menacingly. "Did you know that a human being has a 24-hour sleep cycle?"
He nodded quickly. "Actually, it's more like a 25-hour sleep cycle…"
She ignored him and her voice rose. "And as I happen to be a human being Mulder, I was up the whole of Saturday and Sunday night because apparently my cycle had been totally screwed up when I accompanied my partner on his stupid sleep catching marathon last Saturday!"
"Oh." He didn't know what else to say.
"Oh?" She growled. "That's all you have to say?"
He bit his lip and tried again. "I'm sorry?"
"Much better." She approved grumpily and abruptly turned back to her table. "Now leave me the hell alone."
Heaving a sigh of relief, he watched nervously as she began with her work. After a couple of muttered curses under her breath, he decided that he'd better escape in case it turned out to be his fault again. He searched his desk for the documents he needed and when he found them, he proceeded to the door.
"I'll be with Accounts." He told her.
"Mmmph." She replied.
At the doorway, he stopped and gave in to an impulse. "Scully?" She looked up. "Thanks."
"For what?" She testily asked.
"For asking Nana to stop haunting me."
"What?" She stiffened defensively. "But I didn't…."
His response was only a knowing look and a grin before he suddenly disappeared. Staring after him, Dana closed her eyes and groaned.
XXXXXXXXXX
End of I'm Henry The Eighth I Am