Chapter Text
You're a real piece of work, you know that, Mr. Mulder.
I've already lost one sister to this quest you're on, now I'm losing another.
You’re one sorry son of a bitch.
Mulder jolts awake.
He inhales, the scent of antiseptic stinging his nose. He lays unmoving for a moment and just listens to the steady beep of Scully’s heart beating on the hospital’s monitor. The sound will stick with him for the rest of his life.
He sighs, exhausted. His face is buried in the blue blanket draped across Scully’s waist, and a warm puddle of drool pools along the bleachy hospital grade sheets. He rubs it dry, blinking away his bleary vision. He’d just spent hours sobbing in silence at his best friend’s bedside. Crying for what he’s risked, what she’s had to endure, for what’s at stake now…
Fox Mulder has never been so lost.
That was before he’d quietly dragged over a chair to keep a witching hour vigil and suddenly felt Scully’s fingers combing through his hair, soothing him with her familiar touch. She hadn’t opened her eyes even once, until now.
“Mulder?”
It’s still dark in the room, but the glow of the gibbous moon streaming through the window does little to dim the deep azure of her eyes and the faint freckles on the bridge of her nose.
“Hey, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
She leans forward, lifting her head from the pillow with more difficulty than usual. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong, Scully. You’re here so, no, nothing...” He clears away the increasing clog of emotion constricting his throat. “I brought you contraband chocolate,” he says brightly, nodding his head at the brown paper bag on the end table.
Her rust-colored brow arches at his swift subject change. He knows she knows what he’s doing. Dana Scully can spot an emotional U-turn a mile away. “Sea-salted and spicy?”
“Your favorite.” He smiles with great difficulty. It’s watery and wobbly, but it’s a wide one only for her. She slides her fingertips through the soft hairs on his forearm, languidly tracing the shape of his knuckles before slipping her small hand into his, and Mulder wishes he could slow time down to savor every millisecond.
“What, no sunflower seeds?” she teases, pretending to pout, and Mulder’s heart nearly bursts.
“Nah, I thought I’d save you from my incessant shell cracking for once.”
Her tired smirk makes his heart clench. All he wants to do is wrap her inside a warm embrace and hold her forever. But that’s his selfishness talking — old reliable at its worst. Brother Bill would want Mulder to leave his baby sister alone before kicking his “little green alien” loving ass to the curb.
But Mulder loves Scully too much to give her brother what he wants. The universe could burst into flames tonight and Mulder would keep holding her hand as the world collapsed around them.
Scully shrugs and scooches closer to the edge of the bed. “At great risk of feeding your ego, I’ll admit your cracking consistency is rather comforting.”
Mulder chuckles briefly before his smile falls into a frown. “I owe you more comfort than a sunflower seed addiction, Scully. I owe you an apology.”
“What for?”
So many things…
The hum of medical machinery fades into the background as Mulder’s mind reels in its place. “For putting you in danger. For being selfish at times. For putting the files first. For-”
“Don’t. Do not dismiss my choices. Don’t do that, because they are my choices, Mulder,” she tells him with a fierce squeeze of his fingers. “Mine, and I don’t regret them. The only regret I hold now is not finishing the journey I chose to start with you four years ago.”
Shit, fuck. Maybe he was wrong to turn down Cancer Man's deal. Maybe he should have ripped his soul from his chest and offered it to the cigarette smoking devil right there on the street if it means she’ll live. He will be nothing but an empty shell anyway if she doesn’t.
“You deserve so much more. It’s my fault, Scul-”
“Shh.” Her free hand not clutching his splays out to cup his jaw, her thumb arcing across his cheek. Hot tears gather within her palm pressed against his face. His tears, he realizes. “And it isn’t your fault. No matter what anyone says,” she murmurs. “Mulder, it isn’t.”
“I can’t lose you,” he whispers, a confession four years in the making.
“You won’t lose me,” she says shakily. Her fingertips trail down the stubble of his face to cradle the swell of his chest above his racing heart. “Not really. I need you to know that, Mulder. To remember I’ll always be with you when I…”
Her breath hitches, tears flowing freeling from them both now. Their salty trails burn rivers across the hills and valleys of their skin. Neither move from their close embrace to wipe them clean. Never feeling more exposed in his entire life, Mulder freely offers himself up to her, letting her witness how much he cares. How much he loves her. Somewhere along the line, his fondness and respect has developed into a devotion so deep it has become a living thing, spooling like twine around his heart that only her death could loosen. Unraveling it will surely end his life, too.
“Not when. There’s no when talk here,” he tells her. There’s no question in his mind that if this chip doesn’t work as promised, then Mulder will gladly fall to his knees before a God he doesn’t believe in and beg Him to take his life instead of hers. “It’ll work, Scully. It will.”
“I’ve never wanted you to be more about anything than I do right now.” She bites her lip to stop her chin from quivering. “But… there’s something I need you to do.”
“Anything, Scully.”
She dips her chin. “Something you need to promise.”
He doesn’t hesitate. “Anything. Always.”
Wordlessly, Scully scoots back along the bed, shifting just enough to leave room for him, never letting go of his hand. IVs and heart monitors be damned, Mulder unfurls all six feet of himself beside her. Nose to nose, barely a breath away, Scully melts into the heat of him.
“Promise me…” Her IV bruised hand tangles tighter with his as she tucks the coiled knot of them under her cheek. She snuggles deeper into his arms, close enough to feel the wisp of her warm breath on his face with each exhale. “If the chip doesn’t work, Mulder-”
“No, Scully. Stop that.”
“If it doesn’t work… take me home. Please, just you.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, but her words echo like a scream in his head. “Just you.”
“But your mother…” His throat has never been tighter, his gut twists painfully, and the soul-crushing ache in chest takes his breath away.
“Promise me, Mulder,” she says softly, her blue eyes brimming.
Mulder hasn’t let her down yet when it comes to keeping promises, and he sure as hell won’t start now. “Just me. I promise.”
“C’mere,” she mumbles. “There’s more.”
“I’ll do anything, Scully.”
“Come closer.” Her eyes drift shut. “Closer, Mulder.”
Their noses nudge, mouths a breath away, then she’s kissing him — a soft and tender press of her plush lips against his. Jesus, it is dizzying and all-encompassing, a meaningful moment of vulnerability making his head spin. It’s only a heartbeat long, but out of a billion of them in his lifetime, it’s his favorite one.
“Scully…”
“Stay,” she breathes, desperately gripping the back of his neck. Her eyes are still shut, as if the lift of her lashes will break their fragile moment. “Please, Mulder. Just stay.”
The brief thought of someone like Bill walking in and judging them for being curled into one another with their bodies entwined like rope filters through his mind, but screw that. Every moment with Scully is precious. If Bill thinks a few snide barbs and high risk of bodily harm is going to scare ole Spooky off, then he’s more delusional than the Bureau thinks Mulder is. If it was up to him, he’d never leave his partner’s side again.
“I’m here, Scully.” He tucks a brittle strand of copper behind her ear and lets his eyes fall shut within her presence for the second time tonight. “I’m here.”
***
Scully is Mulder’s first thought as consciousness claims him.
Scully’s warmth, Scully’s scent, Scully’s small hand enclosed within his. He doesn’t have to open his eyes to see every detail. Sure, there is plenty Mulder doesn’t know about his partner. Plenty she keeps private, and he respects that, even though his profiling mind begs for more. But Mulder does know what her hugs feel like. How kind and warm and compassionate she is. What each inflection of the vowels in his name mean when she says it. Exactly how she takes her coffee, and how when she steals a sip of his by mistake, she can’t hide the dusky pink lipstick stain she leaves behind. And after last night, he knows just how soft her lips truly are. What he doesn’t know is how to live without her.
He runs a hand down his face and cracks his eyes open. The gold-spun strands of Scully’s hair gleam under dawn’s pink light streaming through the window as she slumbers on. He squints at his watch: 6:02 AM.
A familiar voice coming from down the hall catches Mulder off guard. It’s a muffled one, but clearly an upset one. Reluctantly, Mulder gently untangles Scully’s fine-boned fingers from his, slowly slipping out of her bed.
His tie hangs askew as he walks down the hallway, one shoe untied, and the loose collar of his rumpled dress shirt bears evidence of midnight tear stains.
Two people stand resolute at the end of the dimly lit corridor. One short and petite with slumped shoulders that resembles Scully to a T. And one tall, stiff man Mulder has only met once, but would now recognize anywhere — Scully’s mother, and her brother Bill.
Mulder slows his approach as Mrs. Scully starts to sob. He goes unnoticed, feeling like an unwelcome voyeur as Bill shakes his head, pulling his mother in for a comforting hug. The sight stills Mulder.
“I know it’s private, what she’d said. But… she won’t talk to me, so I listened at the door. She asked him to take her home,” Mrs. Scully whimpers. “If this doesn’t work, if prayer… oh, Bill, I heard her ask him to take her home to die. Just him.”
Her lithe body crumples against her son’s chest as tears clog her throat. Bill rubs his mother’s back and sniffs. “It’s because of him that she’s worsening, Mom.” His angry blue eyes are practically floating in a sea of animosity. “That partner of hers and his crazy ideas are nothing but trouble.”
“Bill…”
“This isn’t the first time that man has messed with our family, and if it weren’t for him, she wouldn’t have half the heartbreak she has now,” he scoffs, his hands balling into fists behind his mother’s back. “God knows my sister’s name is sullied enough by association.”
“That’s not true, Bill,” Mrs. Scully says softly, wiggling out of her son’s embrace. “Dana is her own person and F- Fox?”
Two sets of eyes lock onto Mulder’s frozen form just feet away. He knows his eyes are swollen and raw. He feels like a deer in headlights.
“You,” Bill sneers. His glare is searing enough to melt the sun. “ You did this!”
Then all hell breaks loose.