Almost
by Barbara Barnett

Spoilers:  Tithonus
Rating:  G
Mulder Angst, Post ep, Vignette


I almost lost you again the other day.  And although you are
now safe, no longer critical, my hands still tremble at the
thought of my powerlessness to have stopped it.  I had to
smile when last we spoke on the phone, after, of course my
momentary shock at your agreeing with me that it *was*
and X-File.  That you came to the conclusion on your own
made it all the more astounding to me.  I sit here at your
bedside, gazing (yes, I guess I *do* gaze at you, from time
to time, at least) at your pale face, half of me enraged at the
carelessness with which Peyton acted, endangering you,
nearly killing you.  Maybe OPR will have something better
to do next week than bother us. Maybe turkeys will fly.
The other half of me Scully is in prayer.  Don't laugh.  Or
do.  I wouldn't mind if you chose this moment to have
heard my admission and chimed in with your uncanny
ability to laugh at the contradictions of my life.  Disarming
me completely.  As always.  So, yes, Fox Mulder, avowed
atheist affirms:  he is in prayer.  Not sure to whom, though.
I guess to whomever will listen.  Make her well; heal her
body and spirit; restore her to her old self.

I've noticed, Scully, that over these past few weeks,
especially, you've looked tired and drawn.  I know this
background-check detail has gotten you down.  But we
can't let them win.  Let them take our minds, waste them in
the pursuit of trivia, in a bullpen of has-beens and
wannabes; we can't let them take our integrity or our spirit.
And we can't quit.  Make those bastards way to happy.  I
envied you this assignment, Dana.  Knew in my heart what
they wanted to do.  And if that was to be, at least one of us
would get to see the light outside Headquarters and
experience the sniff of the hunt again.  And in a way, I'd
hoped it had worked out for you.  I did.  Really I did.  It's
like I'd said to you all those many months ago.  Go be a
doctor.  Have a life.  And if pairing you with Agent Peyton
Cipher..sorry, couldn't help myself.  Agent
whatever-his-last-name-was, was a conduit to that life.  So
be it.

But I didn't trust him, Scully.  Nothing is that easy.  You
and I both have the scars to know that, at least.  But I was
good.  Tried not to interfere; only to help when I knew it
wouldn't harm your chances of success...only help.  I only
tried to help.  How could I have known...I'd called him,
Agent Ritter...see I did know his name, unfortunately for
him.  I called him when I couldn't find  you.  You told me
to call you back, but your cell phone was turned off.  That's
when I got scared.  I talked to Ritter, told him to find you.
That I was concerned.  By the way, Scully.  Paragraph 3,
Section 12.  Remember?  Two pairs of agents on
surveillance?  Tsk. Tsk.  You should have insisted, Scully.
Could it have been that sharing a car with agent Dweeb
was too appalling a thought for you?  C'mon.  That was
another smile cue, Scully.  God you look so pale.  I know
it's from the blood loss; the surgery.

Your eyes flutter under your closed lids as you sleep.  I
wonder what you're dreaming.  Your hand in mine is warm.
Your face angelic and I can't resist brushing a stray strand
of you hair off your forehead.  When they told me upon
arrival in New York that you'd been shot in the stomach I
had just deplaned.  The head of the NY field office me at
the gate.  That in itself I knew was a clue that something
was terribly, terribly wrong.  "It's your partner," he'd said.
We were still in the gate area, and the next few moments
were a blur.  "In the stomach," he'd said.  I just froze
standing there near the open door as people pushed by me,
wondering, I'm sure, about why I was blocking their egress
to destinations unknown.  I vaguely remember him taking
my arm; guiding me to a bench.

Powerless.  Empty.  Angry at a system that would leave you
without backup.  My backup.  "She's in surgery.  They say
she'll be OK, Agent Mulder."  Again a vague echo reached
into my head.  This one preventing my soul from cracking
in two.  But just barely.  I must have been one hell of a
sight, Scully.  Finally he brought me to you.  You'd just
barely gotten out of recovery and were in ICU.  The SAC
was mumbling something about Kersh granting me
permission to follow up on your investigation.  Ritter
would be tied up in OPR for some time regarding his
actions.  The best part of it is that I got to stay in New York
with you.  Not that I'd go back to DC, in any event, without
you.

The nurses keep offering me the recliner next to your bed.
Wouldn't you be more comfortable there, Agent Mulder?  I
nod politely and continue to sit on your bed.  I hope you
don't mind.  Do you, Scully?  I want you, I need you to
know I'm here.  Waiting.  Just waiting.  I've finished the
investigation, and now all I have is time.

I went out briefly to buy you some flowers.  I know you
love them.  It brough back some pretty awful memories,
I've gotta say.  God, Scully, what you've been through these
past two years.  I'm so very, very sorry.  I hope you like
roses.

Your doctor wants to talk to me now.  Let me know how
your're doing.  But I'll be right outside.  Promise.  Shit. That
asshole Ritter is here.  I suppose I should let him make his
peace with you, hmmm?  Let him grovel awhile, huh?

Your forehead is cool to my lips. I guess it's a good sign,
right?  Couldn't resist kissing your eyelids, long as I was in
the vicinity. Let Ritter think what he wants.  A final kiss to
your hand, and I'm gone to leave you with Ritter.  But I'll be
right outside, I promise.  OK?

end