2/3/97
FEAR
by Julie John (DFaonxa@aol.com)

Spoilers:  This is a post-Leonard Betts story, and contains 
slight spoilers for Neisi, as well. Mentions of Irresistible 
and One Breath.  Other than that, though, it's clean <g>.  

Category: angst/romance

Rating:  PG

Disclaimer:  Fox Mulder and Dana Scully belong legally to 
Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, and FOX Broadcasting 
Network.  However, I feel that they also belong to David 
Duchovny and Gillian Anderson, who are so wonderful in 
bringing them to life week after week for us.  Also, I 
believe that they also belong in spirit to the fans, who really 
make their continued existence possible!

Dedication:  To all my wonderful friends who have joined 
me in my obsession over The X-Files and fanfiction:  Jen, 
Abby, Paula, and Allison, in particular.  Thanks so much 
for being such great friends!

This is my first time posting a story, so any and all 
feedback (got that?  Feedback, not flames!) will be 
treasured and replyed to.  


******************
Dana Scully's Apartment
2:08am

        Dana Scully tossed and turned on her bed as hard 
coughs racked her body.  It sounded bad and felt worse, 
and when the bout was finished Scully rolled over and 
turned on her light.  As she looked down at her pillow she 
saw two small, dark spots on the white pillowcase.  With 
some trepidation she reached down and touched one, then 
slowly lifted her fingers to reveal fresh blood on them.  A 
wave of fear washed over her anew as she recalled Leonard 
Betts' words to her in the ambulance: *You have something 
that I need.*  That had frightened her, as the words of the 
MUFON women came back to her memory.  Yet she was 
not ready to accept the word of a man such as Betts as 
proof.  But this-this was hard to deny.

        She got out of her bed and hurried into the 
bathroom, flipping on the light.  She looked in the mirror 
and was horrified to see blood dripping out her nose.  A 
wave of fear so great that she was hard pressed to 
remember an equivalent washed over her as another bout of 
coughs seized her.

        She straightened up and saw more blood on her 
reflection's face.  That face was deathly pale with wide, 
terrified blue eyes.  Scully had had many terrifying 
experiences in her partnership with Mulder, but most had 
been so outrageous that to Scully they almost weren't real.  
Her experience with Donnie Pfaster had terrified her; he 
was human with nothing more abnormal than a warped 
mind.  Yet her abduction did not hold the same fear, 
because the whole experience had a surreal quality, and to 
her scientific mind, was frankly unbelievable.  Though her 
missing three months, Mulder would be quick to point out, 
was all to real.

        Her encounter with Leonard Betts had been one of 
those strange experiences which she found incredible.  She 
had seen the man die; how then could he still be alive?  
The entire experience had unconsciously been filed in her 
mind as something she did not accept.

        But cancer- cancer was something that she as a 
medical doctor was forced to accept.  She had never given 
a tremendous amount of thought to the possibility of her 
body being ravaged by cancer; while after hearing the 
MUFON women she had been more cautious, it was still 
one of those things she did not really accept as a 
possibility.

        Yet here she was, standing in front of her mirror 
with blood dripping our her nose after a coughing fit, mere 
hours after a man with an acute ability to sense cancer had 
told her she was infected.  

        Scully turned from the mirror and rushed into her 
room, where she blindly pulled on sweatpants and a 
sweatshirt.  Almost unaware of what she was doing, she 
slipped on some shoes and grabbed her keys, making her 
way out to her car.  All she knew was that she had to see 
Mulder.


        As she parked in front of Mulder's building, she 
grabbed a tissue to wipe the blood from her nose.  She had 
had to stop twice on the way over because of the coughing.  
A tiny part of her brain wondered at the speed with which 
the symptoms had surfaced, but the rest was too overcome 
to care.

        She practically ran to the elevator and hit the button 
to level four.  The elevator creeped upwards, finally letting 
her off where she wanted to be.  She quickly walked to 
Mulder's apartment and stuck her key in the lock.  She 
didn't want to wait even for Mulder to rouse himself from 
sleep or TV to answer the door.  All she wanted was to see 
Mulder as quickly as she could.

        As she stepped in she saw Mulder sitting alert on 
the couch, staring at the door with gun in hand.

        "Mulder, it's me,"  she said in a voice unlike her 
own.

        "Scully?"  Mulder asked.  "What are you doing 
here?"  He flipped off the TV and turned on the light by the 
couch.

        Scully was suddenly too overcome to say anything; 
she just walked toward him as if pulled by a magnet, 
stopping just short of the sofa.

        As she stepped into the light, Mulder saw her ashen 
face and frightened eyes.  Then he asked the question that 
he had conspicuously avoided earlier that night.  "Scully, 
what's wrong?"  His voice rang with alarm.

        Scully took in a shuddering breath.  Mulder rose 
and walked over, placing a hand on her shoulder.  

        "You remember how we determined that Betts 
needed cancer to survive?"  she asked in a thick voice.  At 
Mulder's silent nod, she continued.  "When he attacked me 
in the ambulance tonight, he told me I had something I 
needed."

        Mulder was horrified.  No wonder she had been so 
shaken and vulnerable earlier.  And he had been foolish 
enough to believe that the experience had been too intense 
for her and had praised her for her efforts.  He opened his 
mouth to say something when Scully spoke again.

        "Then, tonight, I woke up coughing.  I coughed up 
blood, Mulder.  I coughed up blood and I'm so scared,"  her 
voice hitched and she could no longer hold in the sobs.

        Mulder reached out and held her close as she cried 
into his chest.  He stared down in shock at her red head as 
her tiny body shook in his arms.  He reflexively rubbed her 
back in a comforting motion, but stopped when the sobs 
gave way to coughs.  He loosened his hold on her but did 
not release her as her body now heaved and shook with 
coughs instead of cries.

        As Scully's body was once again overcome by the 
coughs, she reflexively, automatically overpowered her 
fear.  She had allowed it a release -and what more 
comforting a release was there than Mulder's arms?- so 
now she put aside the fear and drew upon her strength to 
deal with reality and think practically.  The fear was still 
there, but it was no longer debilitating.  Now she could 
move past it.

        When the coughs were finally still, she lifted her 
head and Mulder saw the blood.  A wave of horror and 
panic even greater then what he had felt in the wake of her 
abduction engulfed him as he stared at her face.  His long 
fingers came up and danced around her upper lip, just 
skirting the blood.

        "It's true, isn't it,"  he asked, his fear evident in his 
voice.  Scully nodded.  "Oh, Scully,"  he whispered, face 
and voice drawn with emotion, "Scully, I'm so sorry,"  his 
voice cracked.  Scully, through her own tears, saw his eyes 
grow gray with pain and a tear fall out of them.  She 
reached up a trembling hand to brush the tear away.  "It's 
not your fault, Mulder,"  she assured him in a tremulous 
voice.  "None of it ever was."

        Mulder's eyes shut and then he was crying, 
trembling on her shoulder much as he had done when his 
mother was dying.  Now, however, his cries were laced 
with fear, for Scully was everything to him; she was life 
itself.  He knew all too well that he could not live without 
her.  Yet she was much more than life; she was sanity, 
reality, and the only source of love that he had in his life.  
How he treasured that love; she didn't know how much, and 
he doubted he did, either.  And he had never told her.  How 
could he be so blind, so hard, to not realize that she could 
be taken from him in a second, and he would never be able 
to tell her?  Did it take this... this death warrant for him to 
finally realize that life could pass in the span of a breath, 
too short a time for regrets?

        "Scully,"  he said into her shoulder.  "Scully.  I love 
you so much, and I never told you.  I'm so sorry, Scully.  I 
should have told you sooner, I should have realized..."

        "Shh."  Scully said, lifting his head off her shoulder 
and wiping his anguished, tear-streaked face.  Now that she 
had gotten over the initial, all-too-human fear of her own 
death, she realized what her death would do to Mulder.  
She knew that she was what had allowed him to get to 
where he was.  She knew, though she would never admit it, 
that if it wasn't for her Mulder would have lost his job a 
few years ago and his life not long after that.  Now, instead 
of fearing her death for herself, she feared it for Mulder.  
She had always hoped and prayed that he would go first, 
that he would never have to go through this.  Her life would 
be empty, miserable without him, but she knew that she 
had the strength to stay alive.  Not that she thought Mulder 
was weak; she secretly regarded him as stronger than 
herself.  He had been through hell so many times, yet had 
still managed to keep his sanity.  Not only was he sane, but 
he was one of the most sensitive, empathetic human beings 
she had ever had the privilege of meeting.  Yet every 
person had a breaking point, and she feared that her death 
would be Mulder's.  She didn't want Mulder's life to end 
with hers.  There was still too much out there for him to 
find, for his will to live to die with one person.  Indeed, 
there was far too much for any one or two people to learn.  
Yet she felt that Mulder could make a difference- had 
already, even.  His life had revolved around his search for 
the truth- it should end in the same pursuit, not one fateful 
night after she had been buried when Mulder ate his gun.  
Specifically, Scully could think of no more fitting a death 
for her partner than in his search for his sister.  Mulder, 
however, did not feel that way, so she had to be strong for 
him, so that perhaps he could go on, to die a noble death 
for a noble cause.  

        Yet right now, it was not so much death that was 
important, but life.  Her life was suddenly made mortal.  
She had known that everyone dies, but now her lifespan 
had been defined, and it made her even more aware of what 
she still wanted and needed to accomplish in her life.

        She led Mulder a couple of steps to the couch, and 
they both sank down, arms around each other.  "I love you, 
too, Mulder.  More than you'll ever know."  She spoke 
softly in his ear, his head once again on her shoulder.

        "I know,"  Mulder responded.  "I know.  And thank 
you so much for your love.  It means so much to me, 
Scully.  That's what's kept me alive, kept me sane.  I don't 
know how I could live without you."  He clung to her, his 
strength, his sanity, his link to humanity that suddenly 
seemed far more frail.

        Then Scully spoke, her voice steadied by a strength 
that surprised him.  "You'll always have my love, Mulder.  
That's something that will never die.  No matter what 
happens, you can always know that I love you.  It'll be all 
right, Mulder.  It'll be allright."

        And suddenly, inexplicably, he knew that she was 
right.

The End.

DFaonxa@aol.com