He was in there, she could hear the TV, but he didn't respond to her light knock. She didn't want to wake him, oh don't kid yourself Dana; he's not asleep. You know he's brooding, going over and over the scene, trying to see how he could have done a better job. How he could have saved her.
She opened the connecting door. He was sitting at the foot of the bed, eyes focused inward. He seemed totally unaware of her presence in the room. He hadn't bothered with the lights, he didn't need them for what he kept seeing. He'd chosen the bed over the chair, though neither looked that comfortable. A typical no-tell motel. They'd stayed in hundreds of them, totally interchangeable from one another.
"Mulder?" She wanted to touch him, to reach out for him, to comfort him. Knowing it was useless didn't change the desire. What could she do to help him? She sat beside him, jarring the bed, still no response. "Mulder, can I get you anything? Maybe you should try to eat, or. . . "
His fingers on her arm silenced her. He wanted the quiet, he wanted not to talk, but it wasn't healthy. She should have insisted he stay overnight at the hospital. He'd taken a terrible beating. Maybe his ribs were only bruised but they shouldn't have released him. Of course that was nothing compared to the beating he was giving himself.
If only they'd been called in sooner. No one wanted to admit a case might need to be handled by Spooky Mulder. He was the best at what he did, but even he needed time to work. He wasn't going to forgive himself for that little girl's death. He'd come too close; he'd actually seen her die. She knew it was playing over and over again in his mind.
"Mulder, you need to lie down." She knelt and untied his shoes. She thought he was watching her, but wouldn't meet her eyes. She was careful removing his t-shirt, the bandages looked good, no blood seepage. You couldn't say the same for the shirt.
"Can you stand, Mulder?" She half lifted him to his feet, and began removing his pants. They were stiff with blood, the girl's as well as his. He didn't need to wear the child's blood. He sank back onto the bed wearing only his boxers, wincing as the bed bounced.
Just once she wanted the chance to do this when he was not hurting, not in devastating pain. Maybe they could never be a man and a woman together, but she ached to help him. Okay, it was inappropriate, but he deserved so much more. Why was she always some clinically detached doctor just trying to patch the damage without healing the heart?
"Come on, I want you to lie down." She helped him to his feet again and led him to the side of the bed. She pulled the covers down and had him recline against the headboard.
"I'll get you some pain meds, okay?" He took hold of her arm to stop her. "Mulder, it'll help."
He looked her in the eye and shook his head slightly. "Mulder please, you need. . ."
"Scully." She subsided. She started to rise from the bed, but his grip tightened. Okay, she didn't want to move from his side anyway.
"I won't leave." He looked away and let go of her arm. She removed her shoes and stretched out beside him. She'd never seen him in so much pain, but at least he wasn't pushing her away. Maybe that was a positive, he didn't want to be alone.
She put her arm around him and pulled him against her. He stiffened then slightly relaxed. She lightly rubbed his arm, but he kept his hands carefully away from her.
She hadn't meant to sleep, but his body jerking woke her. He wasn't crying out, but his body was fighting the dream.
‘"Mulder, wake up. Please, it's just a dream." She caressed his cheek with her hand, feeling the stubble against her palm. He was sweating or crying, it was too dark to tell. "Mulder, please."
His arms went around her, his mouth on her temple, in her hair, his face scratching her own.
"Mulder?" His mouth found hers and took possession, his tongue invading her, probing her. She met him thrust for thrust. Then suddenly he pulled away from her, pushing her arms away as she tried to pull him back.
"No, I don't want to leave you alone."
"No, I mean leave. Get out – of the X-Files, the Bureau, get away."
"I don't want to go."
"You have to. You could end up like me. I'd rather lose you than have that happen." His hand was shaking as it came up and touched her face. His whole body was trembling.
"I won't leave you." He gave a harsh chuckle, an ugly sound. Her hand came up and she placed it on his chest. There was enough heat to leave a scar. He paled and retreated from her, leaving the bed, going to stand near the dresser. She followed him, holding out her wrists. "No cuffs, Mulder. I could have left anytime I wanted to. I don't want to. No one else knows me like you do, like I know you. I need that Mulder."
He grasped her upper arms, almost as though he would throw her from the room. They both heard the fabric of her blouse rip and he immediately released her, backing away another step.
She calmly unbuttoned the remnants of the blouse and let it fall to the floor. "No." He half breathed, half said the word. He brushed past her toward the connecting door to her room. He opened it and without turning back to her said, "You have to get away."
"No." He turned back to her. She stood before him wearing only bra and panties. She'd removed her slacks and come to stand too close to him. He could feel the vibrations from her body.
"Get out, Scully." His voice was shaking but he couldn't tear his eyes away. She took another step toward him. She knew, like she knew she'd take her next breath, that if she left this room he would kill himself. There was no doubt in her mind. She reached around and unfastened her bra, letting it fall to the floor. His whole body was shaking now. She took another step forward, close enough to brush her nipples against his chest.
Whatever he was trying to say was lost, unintelligible amid his groan. She backed away a step and he followed as thought caught in her magnetic field. His eyes burned into hers and she felt a moment of fear. No, no way she'd back down now. She took hold of his boxers and shoved them down, releasing him from their restriction. My God. She closed her eyes for an instant, gathering strength.
He didn't move, he didn't touch her, just stood there, breathing deep, shuddery breaths. Her thigh touched the bed and she sank down onto it, her eyes not leaving his.
"I . . . will. . . not . . . leave." At those words his hand reached out and jerked the panties from her body. She knew this would not be sweetness and light. His body covered hers, his cock already beginning to penetrate her. He sank his teeth into her neck and she arched, taking as much of him as she could inside of her. He tensed and withdrew, only to thrust even deeper inside her. Her legs went around him, opening herself as much as possible as he rammed himself into her again. This was endless; she'd probably never walk again. He thrust into her again, brushing that bundle of nerves that had gone into overdrive.
Her eyes flew open as she was overwhelmed by her unexpected orgasm – it had never been like this. But then she'd never had sex like this. His own body reacted to the convulsing of his prison, pushing him beyond sanity. It was like a volcano, he was scalding her inside. She cried out, though she didn't know what words, and felt him collapse atop her.
She tried to regulate her breathing, regain some semblance of control. She realized he was crying against her breasts. "Mulder." He clutched her tighter against him, out of control. It was as though he were drowning.
She held him tightly, rocking him, stroking him, murmuring to him until he began to relax.
Which why, Scully wondered? Why had they just done this? Why had they waited so long? Why had they gotten here too late? Why so many things.
She tilted his face up towards her, brushing the hair back from his face. "What, Mulder?"
"Why did you make me want to live?"
She gave him a sad smile. "It was purely selfish. I didn't want to do it alone, Mulder. I don't remember how to live without you. And I'm not going to try. We'll get through this, Mulder, but not alone, never alone."