TITLE: Believe (1/1)
AUTHOR: ScamBeliever
EMAIL ADDRESS: scambeliever@hotmail.com
DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: It's all yours. :)
RATING: PG
CLASSIFICATION: S, A
KEYWORDS: Can be just friendship or MSR, however you see it. Character Death
SPOILER WARNING: None but this is cancerfic.
SUMMARY: It takes drastic measures to make Mulder believe.
AUTHOR'S WARNING: I wrote this without a beta so mistakes are all mine. :/


Believe (1/1)
by ScamBeliever

He found her sitting at the edge of the bed, stroking the smooth steel of 
her Bureau issued weapon.  There was something eerie with the way she held 
the gun in her small hands, her eyes seemingly awestruck by it's existence.

She spoke directly to him, sensing his presence in her room.

Not *her* room.  The horrid hospital room she was admitted to.

The doorway seemed like the safest place.  The most non-threatening distance 
without losing sight of her.  At the most frightening scene that he's faced, 
he stood in paralayzed fear.  The stillness pierced it's way through his 
shock, knifing his jarred brain at the impossibility in front of him.

<cannotbehappeningcannotbehappeningcannotbehappening>

"I'm fine, Mulder."

He flinched at her sudden interference to his rising panic.  Those words 
held nothing when she was expertly holding her gun.

Sure she was.

"Really, I am."

Of course she was.  Hand him the f---ing gun and make him feel better.

"NOW, I am." she said with a little more conviction.

His heart was hammering inside his chest.  Cold sweat prickled his skin, 
smearing his forehead with it's uncomfortable wetness.  He had to think 
fast.  Had to think how the hell this came to be.

"You know what I miss the most?" she said so casually.  He thought it was 
not an appropriate time to reminisce fond memories, but it's as good as any 
to stall.

"What?" he croaked back the question.  He was wracking his brain what she 
meant.  'Miss' was a frightening word.  It meant an absence of something or 
someone of value.  He refused to connect her with that word.  Her calm 
demeanor and use of that word knocked off a chunk of his armor and he was 
now left with a gaping hole on his left shoulder.

"People." she said.

She was staring absently at the far wall, her head tilted slightly to one 
side.  She appeared like she was pondering on a puzzling case.  He moved to 
step forward but stopped immediately when he saw her slightly tighten her 
grip on the gun.  He felt the suffocating pressure in his heart.

"People." he repeated.  His eyes darted everywhere, showing exactly how 
desperately he's grasping at straws.  Never in his most terrifying 
nightmares did he ever dream this...this impossibility that he still 
couldn't comprehend that was actually happening.

She sighed and nodded as she bored a hole on the white cement, her thumb 
slowly caressed the angle of the gun.  Warming it, readying it.

"You miss me?" he tried nervously.  His light tease was the only tactic he 
could come up with.

She chanced a glance at him and the blankest look he'd ever seen on her 
robbed his breath.  He never even knew she was capable of wearing one.  She 
was too passionate, too strong for anyone not to see fire in her azure eyes.

His humor landed five inches short from her bed somewhere near her left 
foot.  He didn't attempt to retrieve it.

"I miss you the most."

He never thought things like that happened.  That the world can collapse 
without a single object falling out of place.

Except for maybe just one.

The one that seemed to have burst from his chest and clattered to the floor 
now splattered grossly beside his humor.  For an ungodly moment, he thought 
she'd just aimed the gun at him.

Her lips twitched as if about to offer an insincere smile.  She failed to 
muster even that one and just lowered her eyes to the dangerous weapon 
placed in her hands.

He also never thought things can get any worse.

Watching her contemplate on a coward's route, it was un-f***ing-believable.  
He refused to believe in something so out of the ordinary, even if concrete 
evidence was right before his eyes.  To this, he was a staunch skeptic.  To 
this, he will forever be blind.

He swallowed the aching lump that was caught in his throat.  He had to push 
hard for it to go down before he tried to speak again.

"How do you mean?" he asked.

She kept her chin in contact with her chest and he had to wait for some 
agonizing seconds before she answered.

"You don't see me anymore, Mulder.  It's been a while since you've talked to 
me."

He supposed he was having a psychologist's block and the presence of the gun 
was making it hard for him to understand.

"Scully, I went down to the cafeteria.  What...am I not here everyday?"  He 
cringed at how that came out.  He made his efforts appear like it was a 
chore for him.  It was most definitely NOT an obligation.  It was a need.

Her head snapped up, startled as he was when he heard his own words.  The 
way she was looking at him, it was like the bounty hunter just paid her a 
visit and had suddenly revealed his true face.

But then her eyes narrowed.  Her jaw, her fist and his chest clenched 
simultaneously.

"I never asked you to keep a vigil.  Actually, I remember asking you to go 
home three hours ago."  Ice sleekly and expertly coated her voice.

He deserved that.  He felt like being pulled under freezing water and he's 
flailing helplessly as the iceberg that sank the Titanic moved above him.

"No, that's not what I meant.  You *know* why I'm here." was his stumbling 
reply yet the save was too late.

"Well, isn't it obvious?" she said dryly.

An empty stare, sarcasm, he wondered if he was supposed to light a stick of 
Morley.  He only dared to step forward.

"What's going on Scully?" he pleaded, his eyes not leaving the gun.

She shifted uncomfortably.  The thin hospital gown that moved with her was 
the only sound in the room.  He took another step towards her.

Almost there.

She drew a tired breath and slightly shook her head.  "I'm...just tired.  I 
better get some rest.  Thanks for coming Mulder."

He visibly flinched when she raised the gun as she tried to tuck a stubborn 
lock of her hair.  Such a ridiculous gesture as she could've used her other 
free hand.  She may not have meant anything by it, but the nozzle was too 
close to her temple for him to suppress his panic.

"If you don't mind, I'd rather stay." he blurted out after he had caught his 
breath and had held it far too long.

"Mulder, can you at least give me the pleasure of actually doing something I 
said?"

Yet her anger lacked the passion.  It was hollow and almost practiced.  
Nevertheless, his own was easily incited especially when he's being flicked 
away like a pesky fly.

"I'd rather keep watch, thank you." he spat out, not caring if he sounded 
like a rebellious adolescent.  "I'd rather not leave you alone-" he cut 
himself off immediately before he added 'with that gun.'

"Which is scaring you more Mulder?  This?"  She swiftly poised the nozzle to 
her temple.  "Or waiting for the flatline to come?"

Her eyes held him in place, forcing him to make a choice.  It was an unfair 
not to mention ludicrous decision he was forced to make.  He can't be swayed 
by her rash words.  He can't and won't choose a death preference.

"Don't do this." he said through gritted teeth.  He was still seething why 
he couldn't draw his own weapon.

"C'mon Mulder.  I'm giving you a chance to choose.  Which would be easier 
for you to handle?"

Dear God.  Where was the woman who wanted to fight it out?  Where was the 
strong person who chose not to let the cancer beat her?

"Stop it Scully.  Put down that gun!" he whispered harshly.

She tilted her head, the gun still connected to her head.  "I will, if you 
leave."  He obviously wasn't the only stooping to wonder years level.

The struggle to mask his emotions was easily lost and she could very well 
see how much he wanted to lunge for the gun.  If it was some test, Scully 
had managed to create the cruelest exam imaginable for him.

If all else failed, go for brutal honesty.  Even if the blow would surely be 
harder on him and the damages would more likely be permanent.

"Scully..." he started but had to choke down another golf ball-sized lump in 
his throat.  "You're scaring me.  Please put that away.  Aim it somewhere 
else if you wish, point it to me rather than to yourself."

He never thought he could sound so small.  He felt like he was tugging 
Scully's sleeve and sniffling noisily as he asked for help.

She softened at his tone and slowly lowered her gun, stunned that Mulder 
would actually admit the fear they shared.  Tired yet incensed eyes turned 
to simply exhausted and he thought they've reached the denoument of this 
drama.

Until she spoke.

"What if it's my choice?" she said quietly.

<thiscannotbehappeningnothappeningnothappening>

He shook his head in rhythmic timing with the denial he was chanting in his 
mind.

"So you'd rather take the easy way out.  Isn't that selfish of you?"

He hadn't meant to say that out loud.  It was too late to take back his 
words when he jammed his jaw close.  He knew the unreleased adrenaline from 
his panic had to come out one way or another.

He waited for Scully to shoot him but the bullet never came.  Only her 
renewed fury in her blue orbs hit squarely on his chest.  They could easily 
defy the laws of physics and kill him on the spot.

"I'm not being selfish.  I'm doing you a favor.  I'm doing *everybody* a 
favor.  Why prolong the inevitable?"

This was not Scully.  That was the only explanation for her to be able to 
say those words.

"So you're giving up.  Just like that?"  He diverted his eyes and picked her 
feet as a better view rather than match her eyes.  It was just too much.  
Too damn much.

"Haven't you?" she asked back.

What?

The force of what she just implied caused him to look up.  For her to assume 
he was giving up on her was...was...he just can't...how can she think...?

He kept silent because the impact of what she just asked and what she 
believed was burning his chest.  It hurt too much to try to speak and he 
knew if he tried to even argue, his now blurring vision would clear and come 
spilling down.

Damnit, he wasn't the one going mental here.  He wasn't the one who just 
aimed a gun to his head.  So why does he feel like he's the one who's done 
something terribly wrong?

"As much as I appreciate and am touched by your denial, I can't stand 
another day seeing you walk through that door with that pained look on your 
face that clearly shows your reason for being here."

He opened his mouth but she wouldn't allow him to speak just yet.

"No Mulder.  Protest all you want, but you better check the mirror first and 
see what I see from every well meaning visitor."  Her eyes begged him to 
understand, to see her point that she was trying to make using drastic 
measures.

Sadly, she didn't seem to know that she need not use weaponry for him to 
listen.  How devastating to learn that she thought a gun to her head would 
be the only way for him to see through the fog.

"Mom wears that look the best.  It never changes."  She swallowed and she 
amazingly was able to keep the flood behind her eyes from spilling.

"You were the last person I thought who would grace me with it.  And since 
my treatments, you never did."  She paused as she fought for control and 
keep her voice even.

"But for the past week..." she trailed off unable to continue.  She bit her 
lower lip and the struggle not to cry needed herculean effort.

God...he was so sorry.  He never meant...

Maybe she's right.  The dread just sneaks up on him when he comes by and 
seeing her pale and frail, it was a far cry from his monster chasing 
partner.

"You limited my choices to two, Mulder.  When and how.  If that's the way 
you seem to believe, then why pretend there's hope when you've already made 
up your minds?"

"So I ask again, Mulder, which do you think can you live with?  Swift and 
almost painless or torturously slow?"

<notagainnotagainnotagain...>

He was so, so sorry.

He couldn't stand it anymore and reached for her.  He needed the physical 
contact to assure himself she's still real.  To keep her real.  To keep him 
afloat above the arctic waters.

But before he could touch her, Scully's hand swung up and pointed the gun 
back to her temple.  His eyes opened wide and his intention to simply reach 
for her hand was completely forgotten as he leapt towards her.  However 
impossible, there was only one thought.  One goal.

Stop the bullet by any means possible.

He collapsed on her at the exact moment he heard the 'click' that echoed 
repeatedly in his mind.

<F--K NONONONONO!!!>

Oblivious of his heavier frame crushing her frail one, he only managed to 
raise his upper body as he frantically covered the side of her head to stop 
the bleeding.

Miraculously, she faced him without difficulty and whispered, "I'm not dead 
yet, Mulder."

There was no blood.  None on her head, hair, face or anywhere else.  The gun 
wasn't loaded.

He slowly lifted himself from her, pulling themselves upright but he didn't 
totally let go.  His hand was still holding the side of her head, unwilling 
to remove it.

He stared and stared and stared.

She placed her hand on top of his.  When she tried to unlatch his hand, 
something in him cracked.  His body gave in and all the emotions he had 
contained broke free, wracking his entire body and beating it in fifty 
different areas simultaneously.

He buried his face on her neck, his fingers bruising her temple and ribs as 
he held on tightly.  She rocked him and hushed him as he purged his fears in 
the comforting arms of his personified shelter.

She will not die.  She said so.

He believed her.

********************

For the first time since she started her treatments, he felt light.  Free.  
The world seemed less bleak and he savored the feel of the crisp morning, 
albeit polluted, D.C. air.

Last night, she helped him believe again, reinforcing his faith in her.  
Now, he's focused and determined as ever.

His walk down the hospital hallway was easy.  He didn't feel the dread that 
crept up his spine everytime he neared her room.  He was ready to face her.  
His smile was poised to urge a smile from her as well.

He planned to wring out a laugh or two from her.  He planned for them to 
talk about the mundane and the insane while they eat the bagels and 
chocolate he brought with him.

He owed her that.  Actually, he owed her more than that. But for now, his 
simple plan for today would have to do.
Life was not great, but it will be.

He believed her.

As he rounded the corner, his steps faltered a bit when he saw Margaret 
Scully, Asst. Dir. Skinner and Scully's doctor huddled together.  The doctor 
was telling something important, but every single update on Scully's health 
was important so he wasn't in anyway alarmed.

Until Margaret Scully's face crumpled.

Time slowed as he watched the woman sob through the white handkerchief she 
pressed to her mouth.  He watched as Skinner awkwardly held her as she shook 
through the tremors.  He heard the doctor say "I'm sorry." but he wasn't 
able to hear anything else from there.  Something was pounding painfully in 
his ears and his heart was punching it's way out of his chest.

Skinner finally caught sight of him and delivered the news without uttering 
a single word.  Skinner shook his head and Mulder felt his world twist and 
spin in synchrony.

He vaguely felt the bag of bagels slump on his left foot.  He didn't know 
how long he'd dropped it.  He didn't know how long he'd stood there in the 
middle of hospital traffic.  He didn't know if there was still a reason to 
take the remaining steps to reach them.

All he knew is that God took the one thing he truly believed.

He believed wrong once again.


END

********************

For those who kept on reading after seeing 'Character Death' in the headers, 
thank you for braving it.  This is the darkest I've ever written.  How was 
it?  Feedback cherished at scambeliever@hotmail.com.

Thank you for taking time to read a bit of my X-Files insanity. :)