Title: Set adrift on Memory Bliss of you. Writer: Xphila Rating: G Keywords: ANGST Notes: The title is ripped from the song sung by god know who and this fic is totally not what I planned it to be but It's now been almost two days without the internet and I'm having trouble seeing through it. Counting the hours...... I'd appreciate any comments, xphila@yahoo.com and um...enjoy. ~Xphila. Disclaimer; What can I say that hasn't been said a hundred times? Not mine! ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Set adrift on Memory Bliss of You Xphila ------------------------------------------------------------------------ I think I always knew this would happen. On day. Maybe not to him, but to me. I think I always thought it would somehow happen. From the beginning. Right from the first case we were on together, I knew this would happen. It was inevitable. One of us would be lying in a hospital bed with an injury so serious that the Doctors had given up hope. But now it's happened, and it's Mulder. Maybe I should be glad that it's not me. But I'm selfish and I don't want to have to suffer. I don't want to be the one who's left. Mulder and I. What are we? it's a hard question to answer. Every second I spend with him something changes. Our relationship is intense. Intense in the sense that we spend all day and a lot of the time, most of the night together. We're not lovers. We're friends. Friends. That's not even scratching the surface of our relationship. Love isn't and I do love him. It's not the time, it's not the way we talk, or the way he makes me feel or any single thing about him. It's because he's Mulder and if Love can't get close to what I feel for him, what can? We are intense. Not the hours. Us. We are intense. Both of us seeks companionship. But neither can admit it. Neither of us want to admit that vulnerability. And yet, we need that kind of love. The kind of love from another human that makes your heart sing. We never searched for it in the time we were together. I think we always knew that it could only be found in the other. If there is only one person for you in life, then mine is Mulder. And he's lying dying in the bed across from me. What do we have in common? Nothing. Which makes it so irresponsible for us to act on the feelings which have been lying dormant for years. What do we share? Nothing, except six years of history. Six years of treating the other like an extension to ourselves. If that isn't worth any consideration, what is? But history doesn't make a relationship and we had to start somewhere. Six years. It doesn't seem so. I can still remember like it were yesterday when he called out to me from his office, 'Nobody down here but the FBI's most unwanted'. Maybe I noticed that besides the joke there was real feeling there. There was a real sense of not belonging. And he didn't. He didn't belong in the FBI with their perfect suits, their perfectly styled hair their rules and regulations, their order, their system. And yet he was brilliant. But that seems too small. He was an incredible analyst, the best profiler that the FBI had ever seen. But he was different. He was Mulder, which made him different. There was his sense of self and sense of humour. His egotistical charisma that made him so endearing. His complete disregard for what everyone else thought of him. Maybe that changed. In fact, I know that changed. I know it changed when he realised I cared. Not only for the X-Files but ultimately for his well being. For him. I cared for him and that shocked him so much into caring what I thought. He still kept his character but he let the act drop. He was more himself. I saw a side of him no-one had ever seen. Never any of the FBI, none of his childhood or adult friends, never his parents. And never even Samantha. I saw something that only someone who loves someone deeply and who has their love in return can see. I can remember those first cases, everything was difficult at that time. Everything was strange, I'd never had an assignment before. I didn't know if I was a good partner and Mulder sure as hell didn't make it any easier. I smile as I remember those cases. He touched me a lot then. I didn't realise at the time, but looking back I can see. There was nothing improper, he was always the 'gentleman'. He put his hand on my back or he put his arm round me. In the case where he thought Poltergeists were involved, the whole thing of putting his arm round me to look at his glasses. He was interested, and he was flirting. And it worked. Not only did he pique my interest but he succeeded in making me fall in love with him. Those touched, and those smiles. The grins that he gave me when he knew that I was going to think the case he was interested in was a load of crap. The quick fire banter. The flirtatious looks we used to throw. They were still around, we could still fire each other up. We could still turn each other on. One look from him can make me week at the knees and I know how to look at him in the way that pushes all the right buttons. He always was over-protective, when I was about to...'do the wild thing' with the guy from the cult he saved me. He kept his arm around me all the way out, stopping anyone touching me. I needed that more than he could have known. I needed to feel safe. But then, he always knew what I needed. He always knows what I need. He can wink at me and I'll feel better. One smile from him, one reassuring word and I can feel OK again, even if I felt my life was falling around my ears. Mulder stops that. He makes everything OK. He always could. All he ever had to do was hold my hand, touch my face, show me the concern no-one has ever shown before. All he had to do was love me and I felt like everything would be OK. And I never told him and he never told me. We just took it for granted that we knew. As I remember our past, the past of an endless circle of denial and love. Never betrayed. I feel my eyes swelling with tears. I look over at him and I see his breath rising and falling. But it's not conscious, he's not making he chest rise and fall, he's not the one who's keeping himself alive. It the machine. The pressers, and breathing gear are keeping the oxygen supply going to his heart, and his brain. If he ever wakes up there's no telling if he's brain damaged. It's more likely that he won't be but there is little change of him waking up. The doctors tell me there is no chance, but I won't give up on him. I've been here for days he should wake soon. The doctors are wrong, they don't know him. I will not give up on my Mulder and I'm his doctor. He's mine and I won't let him leave me. I asked his mother for the permission to decide when the machines are turned off. She gave it to me gladly. I think she expect me to do it but as I don't intend to. I just don't want her to. Mulder believed in me when I was in that condition and I have to believe in him. If I don't, he dies and then I die. But this isn't selfish. He doesn't want to die, and he wouldn't want to leave me. I know him well enough to be able to say that. I won't give up on him. Not as long as the memories I have of the times we spent are still fresh in my mind. Not as long as I can talk to him and swear I feel something. If this is true love then so be it. When he wakes up I'll tell him. I already have. I already said to him, 'I love you'. I am going to keep saying it until he hears me. Until he recognises me. Until he says, 'I love you too'. I owe that much to myself. As I think of all the smiles, all the jokes, all the laughs. And then of all the frowns, all the times we've cried, all the times we've had only each other to turn to. All the times we've loved each other without contact. Without words. All we've shared. All we've fought. Together. He has to get through this. Together we are a whole. Without him I am but pieces. Like a jigsaw, he has half the pieces and I have the other half and without the other the jigsaw cannot be completed. I am not complete without him. He completes me. The tears are pouring down my cheeks now and from the stains on my T-shirt, have been for a while. No matter how much I cry it can never be enough. I can never cry too much for him. For us. And for what never was. What might have been. And then I realise, I have given up. And I cry harder until I see a movement under the covers. It's so slight I could have imagined it but I swear he is telling me something. Telling me not to give up on him. I rush to his side and take his hand in both mine. I repeat words of reverence over and over. I ask him not to leave me. I tell him I love him. This isn't like me. It's not like me to go crazy. It's not like me to beg. And it's not like me to cry. But without Mulder, the strength I have relied on for so long ebbs away. If he dies, the part of me that keeps my very soul dies. He lives, therefore so do I. I sit on the bed and let my head rest on his chest. I bury my face into the warmth that still resides there. It makes me realise he isn't gone. I'm not dead yet and I'm not dying. He's not dying. My arms are round him and there are my tears on his chest. I dare not look at him as I'm sure I feel him move and I don't want to see him still looking lifeless. There is a sound. I tell myself it isn't him. I can't work up the anticipation to be let down so drastically. And then I hear a voice. And it's calling my name. I look at Mulder. He's calling my name. Reaching out to me. I tell him it's OK, I'm here. He slowly opens his eyes. I feel him try to take breath and finding he can't, he tenses. I inform him of the machine. He nods and I thank God, or whoever did this, that he understands. He stares at me. Looking over my tearstained face. He is pale, his eyes are dull and I can see the painkillers can't be very effective but he reached out his hand to my face, brushing the tears away and smiles painfully but happily. 'I love you Scully,' he tells me. He must have heard me. He must have known I was there. I feel my heart in my chest pound harder as fresh tears fall from my eyes. My vision blurs as I realise that he's back, my Mulder's back and he's OK and everything is going to be fine and I let my head back onto his chest as sobs rack my body. These are tears of relief and of love and of joy. I'm tired, I realise I haven't slept since he was brought in, three days ago. He is too weak to do anything but whispers those words again. He heard me say it to him. He tells me how much he loves me and all I can do is wait to be in control of my body. I put my arms round him and tell him I love him. I tell him everything I've wanted to tell him since I knew it myself. I tell him everything. And I know he doesn't hear, or understand or grasp half of it because I'm stuttering and mumbling and tripping over my words in my frenzied state, but he holds me and we must have fallen asleep like that because I woke up beside him. His arm round me, his head on mine. Our relationship can only get more intricate but the trauma we have both suffered has at least added clarity to it. We know we love each other and we can never go back now. I love him and he loves me and we are whole. We are us. Complicated, insane and in danger. Never can we return to what we were. Love is a hopelessly inadequate word sometimes. I love Fox Mulder and Fox Mulder loves me. It could probably be our undoing, or our death even but death isn't as bad as being alone. Without him I am alone. No matter how many people love me, I'm alone. So this has to be the best way. This has to be the only way. I have to be with him. He wakes up beside me and puts his arms tighter round me. He kisses my temple and whispers words of love to me. I smile. I am truly happy, maybe for the first time ever. He's going to be fine. We both are. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Set adrift on memory bliss of you : Epilogue ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Turns out I killed two of the four bastards who shot Mulder. The other two are awaiting trial. Both have pleaded guilty to all charges. Mulder is back to work. Three shots to the chest. He's back sooner than I wanted him to be. We had a couple of weeks off. For the FBI, it was so I could look after him and for us so it was so we could try 'us' out. We work. That's a pretty dumb thing to say but we are fine working together and living together. We still share my apartment although I think we'll end up getting a new place. The FBI have been really lax about us working. They allowed practically everything. Maybe they're worried we'll sue. We should have been warned that the men were armed. We were assured that they were not dangerous. We could sue but there's no point. We're happy, the FBI's kissing our asses and we're free to pursue other intrests...ie...each other. They haven't been on our case about the X-Files either. I wake up in Mulder's arms every morning. We have the cliched, movie love. We enjoy ourselves and each other. Some day the FBI will find out and we'll have to find a way to still be partners but until then it doesn't matter. Happiness, true happiness is all we care about now and we have it. Me and Mulder. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Fini ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Any comments: xphila@yahoo.com I love them, ~Xphila ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Sometimes the only sane reaction to an insane world is insanity - Mulder If I can save you let me - Scully This is where you pucker up and kiss my ass - Skinner I never underestimated Mulder - CSM Trust no-one - Deep Throat You're my tool, I come to you when I need YOU! - X Not everything dies - Marita C. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ I need to believe it works. - Ally McBeal on love. It's one thing brining a child into the world, but *our* world? - Georgia I couldn't help overhearing, probably because I was eavesdropping, bygones ...- Richard Fish ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Two can be as bad as one, it's the loneliest number since the number one. - Filter