Classification: UST

Rating: G

Spoiler: Sein Und Zeit

Summary: What happened after Mulder broke down 'till before Skinner
arrived.

Disclaimer: How we all wish they're ALL ours. :/

Feedback: Please???? at scambeliever@hotmail.com


Broken Comfort
by ScamBeliever

I slip my fingers through his hair, smoothing it gently as wave after
wave  of hidden pain is unburdened by this man who has me in a
crushing embrace,  unaware of my growing physical discomfort.

But this is not supposed to be about me nor is it remotely about us.
This is  all him. Just Mulder. And I let it be because he needs this.
This release,  my comfort. And I try, the best way I can, just to
absorb his pain, his  guilt, his overflowing remorse.

It's an overwhelming task and I struggle to keep my own composure.

I feel him.

I feel his every wave of tears coming and I feel my eyes fill with 
restrained ones. I feel him as he muffles his cries on my neck, as he
holds  me impossibly tighter, as his tears soak my shirt.

But no matter how uncomfortable, how uneasy, I bite my tongue from 
expressing superficial pain while he relieves gut-deep of a lifetime's
worth. This is one of the rare times I could repay him for his
constant  hovering and unwavering concern that sometimes seem to
alarmingly supercede  his quest which, to be honest, scares me a
little.

So no, I will not complain even if he manages to squeeze the life out
of me,  if he somehow is still able to hold me even tighter.

I answer his firm hold with my loose one, caressing his back, trying
to calm  Mulder's shaking body. I cup his head as my lips occasionally
graze his hair  and his temple, rocking him slightly like a mother
would to her child.

In a way, Mulder is like my own child.

I feel protective of him, making sure that I block any weapon aimed at
him  with anything I could possibly get a hold of even if it means
sacrificing my  life. He has done it for me too many times than I can
remember.

I hold him now, protecting him from the danger of fully breaking
down.

I feel him calm down and I can finally breathe easily. I take a deep
breath  and inhale a lungful of Mulder-hair scent. He stills suddenly
and I'm afraid  he might've come to a sudden decision to do something
incredibly rash.

For a whole minute I wait for him to move, anticipating a bolt to his
front  door. But to my relief, he just slowly extracts himself from
me.

A little too slowly, I observe, seemingly uncertain of what to do with
himself. I lean back slightly to assess him but he keeps his face down
reminding myself again of how childlike he can be.

I place my hand on his cheek and slide it down his chin, urging him
gently  to look at me. He raises his head but his eyes remain
downcast. My thumb  wipes a few escaped tears from his cheeks and I
force my own not to reach my  eyes.

How I wish I knew what could, at the very least, dull his pain for a
few  moments.

We are still in a loose embrace, neither one of us has moved yet to
part. I  know Mulder needs to rest and I move to disentangle myself
from him. His  eyes, which earlier did not dare meet mine, follow me
as I slowly move to  stand up.

I feel my spine and my neck pop almost simultaneously and my muscles
ache  from my previous uncomfortable crouch. I keep my face neutral as
I mask the  groan I am dying to blurt out, fighting the urge to
stretch my every limb.  His hands have slid down to mine and I tug
them gently.

"C'mon Mulder. You get some rest."

He slips his eyes shut and takes a breath, exhaling heavily. Finally,
he  shifts to his side to push himself off the floor. He lolls his
head back,  his face a picture of total exhaustion.

I wait for him to compose himself more, willing him to rest, to hold
every  thought at bay 'till tomorrow. He slowly levels his head and
warily eyes the  couch. I shake my head and beat him to it.

"No Mulder. You'll be more comfortable in your own bed."

I release my hand from his hold to place it on his back, gently
ushering him  towards his bedroom. He gives in without complaint, no
strength to spare for  argument.
But as we enter his bedroom, he stops a foot short from the bed. He
lowers  his head and rubs his eyes.

"Mulder?" I ask, surprisingly, with a tired voice.

"Yeah, I'll...I just need a minute." he whispers.

I wait for him but somewhere into the few seconds of his 'minute', I 
suddenly realize that he may have meant to be alone. But before I
start to  leave, he moves to the bed and tentatively climbs on it.

I immediately help to tuck him under the covers and make sure he's as
comfortable as possible. Such a small thing to do and the feeling of 
helplessness hits me hard. His eyes flutter close and too tightly as
if  concentrating hard on summoning the sandman. I smooth his hair one
final  time and bend to kiss his wrinkled forehead.

"G'night Mulder." I say to his shut eyes.

'Please God, let him rest' I pray silently. I straighten up to leave
but as  I take one step away, I feel Mulder grab my hand. Startled, I
look at him  confused.

His eyes are wide, intense, and something else I can't quite pinpoint.
Is it  fear? Of what?

"Scully..." he croaks and I detect a hint of embarrassment in his
voice.

I cock my head to more thoroughly read his expression. What exactly
can he  be embarrassed about?
Then slowly, it finally dawns on me.

He doesn't want to be alone.

I almost smile at him, knowing he couldn't outright ask me to stay.
Mulder  opens his mouth a couple of times to speak but can't seem to
find his voice.  If this were in different circumstances, I would've
been amused. But in  times like this one, I can't help feeling
annoyed. He should be able to just  simply ask me. What's a friend
for?

At his third try, he manages to whisper, "Scully, thank you."

I push away the feeling, responding by squeezing his hand and giving
him a  reassuring smile. I pull away slowly trying to gage his
reaction.

His eyes dart to my hand and I knew he couldn't work himself to ask.
After  all these years, I can't understand why he is still afraid to
ask a personal  favor from me.

I push the thought aside and decide to relieve him from his dilemma.

"If there's anything you need, I'll just be on the couch." I say, my
back  already turned as I leave his room.
And just as I step out of the doorway, I hear him sigh in relief.

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

I've been in and out of sleep, tossing and turning as quietly as I
can,  willing myself to rest because tomorrow Mulder will still be
needing me. He  will need my strength, will expect a steady hand to
hold.

'Please God, let me rest.' I pray. The same one I had lifted for
Mulder.

As I was about to glance at my watch for the nth time, I hear a
muffled  sound from Mulder's room. I sit up immediately and I strain
to hear more  clearly.

There it is again, a soft whimper.

I am out of the couch in a flash and I couldn't care less if my
footsteps  thud loudly on the floor.

When I reach the doorway, the sight I behold causes me to stop for a
second.  Mulder's covers have fallen to the floor. I reach to pick
them up but I stop  abruptly as Mulder lets out another whimper. Cold
sweat has dampened his  hair and shirt. He is clutching his pillow,
the pillowcase in grave danger  of being ripped into shreds. I shake
him gently, trying to loosen his hold  at the same time.

"Mulder...Mulder..."

I lean further, placing one knee on the bed and leaving one foot on
the  floor for balance.

"Mulder...Mulder!" I say louder and shake him harder, but Mulder's
fingers  remain white and tense and still locked in a death grip.

I shake even harder and just as I am about to slap his face, he bolts
right  up and grabs my hand that is poised to strike.

"Scully!" he shouts at my face.

I jump at his voice and try to pull my hand from his hold as I become
suddenly afraid.

His grip is shockingly painful and that's probably part of the reason
why I  panicked. But what's scaring me the most is the look of utter
terror on his  face.

It is absolute fear.

I never thought he is even capable of that. He has seen too many
monsters,  that I have secretly envied his almost casual detachment to
the most  inhumane characters we have come across together.

What could possibly terrify him anymore? I know I am asking something
I may  not be ready for.

I try to shake off the horrible feeling and try to focus on Mulder's 
condition. His wide eyes are softening to a blank stare, obviously
confused  as to what had just happened.

After a few tight blinks, his horrified expression gradually
disappears.  Everything becomes relatively normal except for his grip
on my wrist.

I exhale slowly as if trying to exorcise the fear that although pushed
aside, would not altogether go away.

"Mulder, are you okay? You had a bad dream." I say trying to sound
soothing.  His grip on my wrist isn't painful anymore but I am dying
to jerk it away.  The prolonged hold has left me feeling uneasy and
imprisoned. I glance at it  and stare back at him, signaling him to
let go.

But then Mulder does something...odd.

Without letting go, he slowly raises his free hand towards my face. My
unease is quickly replaced by confusion. Out of reflex, I move my head
away  to avoid his hand. His fingers stop at midair and I suddenly
realize what I  have done. I stare back at him, stopping my movement.
After a heartbeat, he  resumes his action and touches a finger to my
temple. He slides it down the  side of my face, pausing a second at
the corner of my ear as if to tuck the  stray lock of hair that had
fallen.

He seems to be observing my every reaction. His eyes narrow a bit and
just  as suddenly, he leans back and drops my hand.

For a minute, I don't move. Finally I sit down slowly, twisting my
hand to  work out my joints. I look back at Mulder who I find, has
buried his face on  his crossed arms atop bent knees. Watching him, I
feel wretched for my  thoughtlessness. I am supposed to be comforting
him, not pushing him away.

'Stupid Dana.' I scold myself, knowing that Mulder is too emotional
and  sensitive that he may take the slightest hesitation as total
abandonment.

I mentally kick myself as I think of a way to remedy my mistake. I sit
beside him and reach to stroke his bent head. I take a deep breath and
hope  for the best.

"Mulder...was the dream that bad?" I started, already wishing I could
take  back the words. I sound like a mom baby-talking her child.
Thankfully,  Mulder doesn't seem to mind.

"Worse." he whispers.

I pause at midstroke, not expecting to hear the fear back in his
voice. The  feeling of dread is working its way back and I swallow
nervously.

"H-how worse?" I ask, unsure if I want to hear his answer.

Mulder doesn't respond immediately. His hands, which were hanging
beside his  knees, are balled into fists. They are shaking either from
the pressure or  from fear. He then lifts his head and stares intently
into my eyes. His eyes  penetrate through me and I force myself to
hold the gaze.

"I dreamt of my one true fear," he slowly says, emphasizing on every
word.

Oh my god. I lean away a bit, shocked at his revelation. I think of
only one  thing he could be implying and I feel like my mind crashed
and altogether  halted from overload.

'No, Dana. He isn't talking about you,' I say to myself. 'He's tired,
he's  confused, and he isn't talking about you.'

I bite my lip and try to think of something to say.

"Lie down, Mulder. You have to get some rest," is what comes out of my
mouth. I try not to cringe at my insensitivity and cowardice.

Mulder doesn't move. I watch him watch me with a look of unmistakable
sadness. I watch him swallow down a fresh wave of tears.

'What have I done, again?' I am more than confused. I am more than 
frustrated with myself and I feel totally helpless about the
situation. I am  grasping for just about anything to be able to say
the right words and do  the right things. I want to break down and cry
for I don't seem to be doing  anything to help my friend.

He has torn his gaze from me, making me able to somewhat think more
clearly.

'I am simply here to be at his side and that's what I'm going to do.'
Literally.

I pick up the covers that have fallen. I can feel Mulder's eyes on me
as I  climb on the bed beside him. I prop a pillow against the
headboard and pull  the covers to my waist.

When I finally look up at Mulder, he is staring at me again. Who could
blame  him? His confusion is understandable. One minute I'm distant,
the next  I'm...well, right here beside him.

I give him a small smile and pat my lap. I reach out and put my hand
at the  back of his neck, urging him to lie down on it. Suddenly it
occurs to me  that he might decline, and I almost pull back my
outstretched arm.

But to my relief, Mulder takes my offer and slides back down on the
bed. He  settles his head on my lap and his right arm snakes around my
legs. I stroke  his hair gently, hoping the rhythmic caress would lull
him to sleep.

After a few minutes, I feel my exhaustion creeping back and my eyelids
begin  to lower. I try to stay awake 'till I'm sure that Mulder has
gone to sleep.  The last thing I am aware of is the feel of Mulder's
arm tightening its hold  on me.

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

I can feel the soft rays of the sun on my face. I can almost see it
through  my still drunken shut eyes. I try to snuggle closer to the
warm pillows  surrounding me. I shift a bit, making myself more
comfortable, but for some  reason find it hard to maneuver.

'The pillows may have been too much.' I think sluggishly.

With eyes still stubbornly closed, I turn to face the other side. I
can now  feel the warm pillow on my whole front side and I reach out
to pull it  closer.

But the moment I touch it, I still from the contact. It is soft, but
not as  soft as I had expected it to be. It is *not* what I think it
is but it feels  oddly familiar.

Awareness jolts my mind back to the events of the night before and I
finally  realize who I am touching. I could feel my face grow warm as
I become aware  of the heavy arm that is wrapped around my waist that
is probably the cause  of my rather limited movement. If I had
blushed, I'm a bit comforted with  the thought that Mulder is still
asleep to notice.

For one thing, I'm pretty sure he would've discreetly disentangled
himself  if he found us in such a position - just as I would.

Finally, I decide to open my eyes. I let out one heavy breath and
brace  myself. Slowly, I peek through and I raise my eyes to look at
Mulder's face.

'OH MY -'

I shut them almost immediately. I feel my heart race and pound so hard
it  almost hurts. With my ears pressed on the pillow, I can hear it
echo  thunderously, quite certain he can hear it himself.

'Open your eyes, damnit! Stop being a coward and just face it!'

I do, after a couple of heartbeats and again I dare to look.

Mulder is how I last saw him, staring back at me. I try not to dwell
on the  thought that he seems to have been awake for a good long
time.

Maybe he's just in a daze and my face just happens to be a few inches
away.  Maybe he isn't even aware that I'm already awake AND looking
right back at  him.

But then I see his eyes shift slightly as he stares at my left eye and
then  to my right. He then lowers his eyes to observe my nose. I could
feel my  eyebrow arch a bit. I'm genuinely curious as to what he is
thinking. But  when he shifts his gaze even lower to my lips, I bite
down the gasp of  surprise.

He lingers there and alarm bells ring furiously within my head. I
think fast  as to how to distract, not sure if it's for his sake or
mine. Maybe both.

I push away gently using the hand I have placed on his chest. I
probably got  as far as an inch difference considering Mulder still
has his arm wrapped  firmly around my waist.

"How are you feeling?" I blurt out.

He doesn't respond immediately. His gaze leaving my lips, now focuses
on my  hand on his chest.

"Better." he whispers, without taking his eyes off it.

'No, no, no, no...' I flinch, pulling my hand away from him.

"That's good..." I say as I pat his arm, not knowing where else to
place it.

Suddenly, I feel his fingers slightly strumming my lower back. I
contain my  shiver brought about by his touch. I lower my head, too
conscious of his  eyes, his fingers, his warmth. But I let him hold
me. If this will help him  heal, then this I'll grant him.

His pain has ebbed a bit but is still within reach and one more Scully
Screw-Up can haul it back with a vengeance.

But the nagging feeling of us somewhat crossing the line tugs at my 
conscience annoyingly. Without looking directly at him, I find a way
to hold  on to the boundary we're threatening to cross.

"Are you hungry?" I lamely ask.

"No." he answers rather flatly.

"Do you want some coffee?" I try again.

"Not yet."

"Have you considered asking Skinner to take a few days leave?"

"No...I don't know. I'm not sure yet."

"But Mulder-"

"Scully?"

"What?" I jerk my head up, distracted by the interruption.

"Do you want me to let go of you?" he asks.

I feel embarrassed with my transparency and I'm left dumbfounded.
Mulder's  eyes are daring me either to say yes or to say no.

Coward that I am, I ask, "Do you?"

He holds me with a penetrating gaze for what seems like an eternity. I
open  my mouth to speak thinking he wouldn't answer, but I stop when
he moves his  face slowly towards mine.

My heart is definitely breaking through my chest now. Oh my God.

And then, Mulder touches his forehead to mine, his eyes closed. I
strain to  look at him in the closeness.

His eyes remain closed but what surprises me is the small smile
playing on  his lips. The overall picture of his face is...contentment
?

Maybe I'm mistaken but I'd know a smile from Mulder anywhere. I'd
detect  even the ghost of it and here it is. I let myself believe that
somehow, *I*  contributed to it. That somehow, amidst all my
shortcomings, I have  delivered what was needed of me - to bring
comfort.

I am here for him, with him, now.

"No." I hear him whisper and it takes me a couple of seconds to
remember  what he was answering to. I give in to the urge to soothe
him more,  caressing his arm where I had patted it. He rubs his
forehead gently on mine  and sighs heavily.

"If I can stay like this..." his voice trails off but it's not hard to
guess  what he meant. Knowing it and feeling what he meant is almost
frighteningly  inexplicable.

But somehow, I lose the awkwardness and fear. I simply know that I'm
at the  right place, at the right time, doing the right thing.
Boundaries, lines and  other complicated issues be damned. I know this
is where I'm supposed to be.

We stay that way for a long time, neither one of us wanting to break
away.  It feels so comfortable and I feel the start of a light slumber
coming. Just  as I am about to surrender to it, I feel Mulder's lips
lightly brush my  forehead. I couldn't help stiffening at that and I'm
immediately wide awake  again. I don't look up, pretending it was
nothing. But then I feel him plant  two kisses on my nose. One at the
bridge then another down at the tip.

It is dangerously lower and I feel a panic rise within me. I open my
eyes  wide just then. He watches me search his eyes, full of questions
and fear. I  see him suppress a smile as he looks at me with
amusement.

For a moment, I was ready to wipe his smile with my fist. Damnit, he
should  know better. This is *us* for crying out loud.

Part of me wants to see what happens, because it sure feels...I don't
know,  exhilarating. But part of me is still gripped with fear of what
we may  compromise if we actually pursue it. And a part of me doubts
that he  actually wants it, that he's not just emotional and sensitive
from mourning  that he craves some sort of intimacy and I just happen
to be the one with  him right now.

And there is also a part of me that craves it as well because he is
hurting  and I feel it with him. And I feel the need to be of comfort
to him, try to  shield him from all that is painful. Such is the need
to do anything and  everything for him to make him happy, even push
our boundaries to the limit.

I think my decision has just been made.

His amusement quickly vanishes as he reads my expression with a bit of
surprise. He stares at my eyes, which have grown somber, leveling
evenly  with his. When he still doesn't do anything, I muster enough
nerve to  continue what he started.

Slowly, I lean towards him. Mulder for his part, shuts his eyes and
waits  expectantly for me. I am incredibly close, almost feeling the
beginnings of  his stubble. I slightly part my lips, and surprisingly,
so does Mulder.

*BANG! BANG! BANG!*

The sharp rap on the door reverberates through the whole apartment and
I  jerk away instantly. As I am suddenly alert, Mulder remains the
same. He is  still waiting, and a frown is forming as he realizes I
still hadn't touched  him.

His eyes fly open and he looks accusingly at me as he sees that I've
moved  away.

"Someone's at the door, Mulder." I explain.

His frown deepens making me feel traitorous. Mulder's stern gaze
lowers down  to my lips. With a determined look he leans towards me
with purpose.

*BANG! BANG! BANG!*

I push away slightly but firmly.

"I think I have to get that. It may be important." I say.

He stiffens at my words. He stops but never takes his eyes off my
lips. I  see the hurt on his face for a split second before he masks
it quickly, now  staring blankly at my mouth.

I extricate myself from him slowly and I brace for any resistance.
There is  none.

He doesn't make a move to remove his arms from me, but he doesn't stop
me  from removing them myself either. I want to cry at that very
moment, seeing  him looking more resigned and tired than he did last
night.

'I'm so sorry.' I want to apologize but I'm not yet sure what for.
Before I  stand right up, I kiss his forehead softly. It's a bitter
consolation, but I  could only hope he accepts it.

My hand finds his cheek and I rub my thumb across. He refuses to meet
my  eyes and remains unmoving. I swallow a forming lump, retrieving my
hand that  seemed to offend rather than soothe.

Walking towards the front door, my legs seem to grow heavier with each
step.

As I am about to reach for the handle, I momentarily stop when I
realize  that my hand is partially wet, particularly my thumb. I stare
at it, trying  to figure out where I could've gotten it from.

And then suddenly, it dawns on me like a bullet through the chest. It
feels  exactly like it, knowing that *I* am responsible for it.

It came from something I may have wiped away that I wasn't able to
notice.  One fresh tear.

One fresh, lonely, Mulder tear.

At that unbearable thought, another drop settles on my palm. This
time, it  is one of my own.


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

Author's note: This short piece took me awhile because I've been
sidetracked  by a lot of things. My thanks to Shigger for beta reading
and her all out  support. Thanks for the ideas, keep 'em coming.
Comments please at scambeliever@hotmail.com.