-DISCLAIMER-
The characters of Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, and Samantha 
Mulder all belong to Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen 
productions, and The Fox Network.  Carol Brady belongs 
to whomever is in charge of The Brady Bunch.

The song, I Love You, was written by Sarah McLachlan, 
1997.  Arista Records and a Nettwork Production.  When I 
heard this song, it reminded me of Mulder and Scully.

This is an original work by me, and was sent only to 
EMXC.  This story can be archived or sent elsewhere as 
long as my name stays attached as the author.

Feedback is always welcomed and hoped for.  So, please 
tell me what you think.

-SUMMARY-
This is a very short vignette of Scully's thoughts on her 
relationship with Mulder.  This is a MSR.  Rated PG.


While He Sleeps
By Liz (ernovak)
Started: 7/22/97
Finished: 8/2/97


It had been a long case.  I was so tired.  Mulder had just 
come up to my apartment in order to help me carry all my 
bags up and for a quick mug of tea.  While he flopped 
down onto my couch, I went in to the kitchen to make the 
tea.  By the time that I wandered back into my living room 
with the steaming cups, he was slumped over on the couch.  
I figured that my movement and sitting beside him would 
wake him.  He wasn't known to be a heavy sleeper.  But to 
my surprise, he didn't awaken.  I placed the cups down on 
the coffee table and just looked at him.  He was so innocent 
looking, so young.  It was amazing to me how sleep can 
remove all the lines, worries, and horrors of wakefulness.  
He almost didn't look like himself.  Is this how he would 
look if his soul was not constantly tortured by pain and 
suffering?

He is, what I would call, absolutely beautiful.  His face, his 
body, his hands.  I love the way his long lashes fall against 
his cheeks, how his skin stretches over the bones of his 
face.  I could stare at him like this for hours.  It isn't often 
that I get a chance to just quietly look at this man.  Brief 
glances, here and there, are all I can steal.  I often catch 
him doing the same to me.  I wonder if he ever watches me 
like this when I don't know.  What does he think when he 
sees me? 

There isn't too much of a question whether he feels towards 
me how I do towards him.   I know that the bond between 
us is strong, powerful, and eternal.  It isn't the kind of love 
that everyone experiences.  In fact, I doubt whether there 
aren't more than a very select few that have what we do.  I 
can now understand where the idea of the heart holding the 
power of love comes from.  With so much tearing us apart, 
there is always something that pulls us back to one another.  

When I was little I used to imagine what love was.  To me, 
love was having a husband, a family, and a house with a 
backyard.  I never knew the power that it could wield.  
Love doesn't necessarily mean being Mrs. Brady.  In fact, I 
have doubts as to whether or not Carol Brady even 
understood what true love was.  You cannot control love, it 
controls you.  I can't imagine not having that full feeling in 
my chest that I have now. My feelings for him are all 
encompassing.  They control me, pull me, bind me.  I have 
lied for him, watched him leave me, rescued him, trust him, 
and in return, he trusts me.  HE TRUSTS ME!  Trust is not 
something Mulder gives away easily.  In fact, I know I'm 
the only one he trusts; with his life, his secrets, his heart.  
His heart is what I guard most ferociously.  How can I not?  
Never has anyone else held it before.  I know.  He has 
never said anything, but I just know.

It is all unspoken.  Our love, and the power it has.  We are 
closer than any other two people, but without words, 
without true physical contact.  Sometimes I wish there was 
more, but how could it change anything?  I can't imagine 
feeling more than I already do.  All he has to do is look at 
me and I can see everything.  His beautiful hazel-green 
eyes are a window to his soul, and he only allows me to see 
though.

With any more acknowledgment of these emotions, these 
feelings may cause more pain than ecstasy.  He isn't ready 
to admit these truths out loud yet.  Sometimes it's at the tip 
of my tongue to say something to let him know in words 
part of what it is that I feel for him.  For it would be 
impossible to say everything.  I'm not sure whether it is 
physically possible to express al that I feels for him in 
simple words.

I have a smile stretched from ear to ear See you walking 
down the road. We meet at the lights, I stare for a while 
The world around us disappears. It's just you and me, on 
my island of hope the breath between us could be miles. 
Let me surround you, a sea to your shore Let me be the 
calm you seek.

Every time I'm close to you, there's too much I can't say 
And you just walk away. And I forgot to tell you, "I love 
you". And life's too long, I'm cold here without you. I 
grieve for my condition, for I cannot find the words to say, 
"I need you so".


Sometimes I slip.  I touch him or he touches me.  It is 
electric.  His touch on me can convey so many different 
feelings.  Trust, comfort, love.  I know my touch has the 
same effect on him.  I can sometimes see it in his eyes or 
feel it through his skin.

On nights like this I wish things had taken that next step 
between us.  I want to crawl into my bed with him and just 
hold him, and have him hold me.  To feel his soft, warm 
skin pressed tightly against mine.  To be able to close my 
eyes and know that he is right there with his long arms 
wrapped around me.  He could drive away all my 
nightmares, just as I could hope to do for him.  To be able 
to comfort him when he calls out at the top of his lungs for 
Samantha; to soothe him back into sleep.  Sometimes now, 
he will call me at two, three, four in the morning in order to 
escape from those nightmares.  To hear my voice.

How can a man who is so sensitive, so caring have such 
awful dreams?  I now know that I'm sometimes the main 
character in them.  I hear him call for me when I sleep in 
the next hotel room.  It kills me that I can't go to him and 
stop the memories, stop the pain.

But as he lies on my couch now, he is quiet, peaceful.  I 
wonder what he is dreaming of.  It has been two hours now, 
and I still just sit and watch only him.  How he breathes, 
how his eyes move, the shape of his lips.  I love him, all of 
him.

I then see a flutter of movement, and his eyes slowly open.  
I watch as they slowly regain their focus.  When he looks at 
me, he looks directly into my eyes.  Can he see my 
thoughts, my love, my soul?  As I watches him, he now 
watches me. 

~end~