Après Des Démons (R)
She stopped outside the door and listened. No sound, but that didn’t mean he was asleep. She needed to check on him; she couldn’t sleep until she did. She should have insisted he stay at the hospital, but he’d been so vulnerable. His eyes had pleaded with her to get him out of there. Maybe she was the one that was vulnerable.
She took the keycard for his room from her robe pocket and slipped it into the slot. If he was asleep, she didn’t want to wake him. The green light came on and she opened the door quietly.
The lights were off, even the TV. His breathing was soft and even. She stepped on into the room, needing to be close to him. She took a seat near the window. There was a little light from the parking lot coming through a slit in the curtains. He was wearing a t-shirt and, she assumed, boxers. She could see his chest rise and fall and sat watching that for a little while.
He was not okay. In addition to the physical trauma to himself, he’d damaged the fragile relationship that he had with his mother. Could he recover from that? He had no real family, at least not in any way she understood.
She should return to her room, at least he was getting some sleep. Before she could rise he became restless, agitated. “Scu - “
“I’m right here.” She took a seat on the bed beside him.
He didn’t say anything. After a moment he felt more than saw her hand come up. He resigned himself to another examination from his personal physician. Instead, her hand came to rest on his cheek, caressing it slightly. Then she leaned forward and placed a kiss on his brow.
His hand closed over hers. “I wouldn’t have hurt you.”
“Yes, you would have,” she said softly.
“No. I was aiming at the mirror. I knew it was the mirror. I would never - “
“I’m not talking about that shot, Mulder.”
He looked up at her puzzled.
“The next shot,” she explained.
“What next shot?”
“The shot where you turned the gun on yourself,” it was barely a whisper.
He looked away from her. “I . . . “
“You would have. Don’t bother to deny it.”
“I wouldn’t have hurt you.” He repeated.
“Physically maybe. Mulder what do you think I would do if you were . . . gone.”
He looked up startled then.
“Don’t. Don’t look so surprised, Mulder. Think about someone besides yourself. I . . . I need you.”
“Why? Why would someone like you need me?”
She pulled her hand back then, away from him and rose from the bed. His face went blank with panic and he scrambled after her. “Scully?”
She didn’t turn to look at him, just moved toward the door. “Get some sleep Mulder.”
“No.” He took her arm and gently turned her back toward him. “Please don’t leave.”
Her shoulders slumped. “I’m tired.”
He closed his eyes. She was ill and he was thinking about himself. “You do need to get some rest. I understand.”
She stepped away from him again, but before she got to the door he spoke softly. “Rest here.”
She turned to look at him. “Here?”
She swallowed hard and opened her mouth to respond.
“Please.” He said before she could.
“We shouldn’t - “
“Who says? Scully, please. I don’t want to be alone tonight.”
She blinked at that but at least she wasn’t still moving toward the door. Carefully he took her arm and she allowed him to lead her back to the bed. He seated her, and looked down at her.
“I won’t hurt you, Scully. I just . . . “
“You don’t want to be alone.”
“Not exactly. I want to be with you. I’m not asking for . . . I just want to hold you tonight. I know I’m asking too much, but you came to me. I was panicked and you came and fixed it - “
“I fixed what, Mulder? You still - “
“You came to me. Do you have any idea what that means to me?” His eyes were locked on hers. She couldn’t look away.
She gave the barest of nods and slowly removed her robe, exposing the light blue silky pajamas she wore, then reclined in his bed. After she was settled, he moved around the bed and crawled in beside her.
He took her gently into his arms and relaxed, for the first time in ages, relaxed.
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Mulder, Scully, the Lone Gunman and Skinner all belong to Chris Carter, 10-13 and Fox. No infringement intended.