Title: This Can't Be Happening: Part 3 Author: Maria O'Rourke Feedback: dk_scully_101@yahoo.com Dustjacket: http://www.geocities.com/itsnottheenofthexfiles/dustjackets/thiscantbehappening2.jpg http://www.geocities.com/itsnottheendofthexfiles/dustjackets/thiscantbehappening.jpg Archive: Anywhere it usually goes, yep. Anywhere else, I'd be honoured, just let me know? Keywords: angst, S, MSR Spoilers: none specifically, set after S9. Rating: PG Summary: "Scully, don't lie to me." He paused, rubbing her arms. "I trust you enough to believe you if you say that nothing is wrong." Author's Notes: This is the third chapter of the "This Can't Be Happening" series. You can find the other chapters at my website - address at the bottom. Disclaimer: Not mine. --- Tuesday, 9th November 2004 --- Droplets of water dripped down her neck, running down her spine until they gathered at the base of her back. She shivered as she reached for the towel that she had draped over the edge of the bath earlier. Goosebumps quickly formed on her skin. Standing on the cold tiles, the hairs on the back of her arms stood on end, sending nervous shivers across her body. She actually felt a little better. The water had taken a few minutes to warm and the brief burst of cold over her body had dulled the aching throb that had developed in her head. Sighing, she towel-dried her hair before wrapping the larger bath-towel around her body. Mulder hadn't come back yet. She wiped the condensation from the mirror with her fist, staring into the eyes of her reflection. The dark circles that underlined her eyes seemed to jump off the mirror in front of her. She had never really noticed the dirt that seemed to be engrained in the small cracks that covered the mirror's surface. They were living one step above squalor. But they were alive. She smiled sadly. Maybe she would wait for Mulder on the bed. It was warmer than the bathroom. She felt a smile tug at the side of her mouth. There really was no point in getting dressed. She realised that the shower must have done her more good than she first thought. She turned, opening the bathroom door that would bring her directly into the bedroom and she froze. Mulder stared silently up at her from the bed. He'd been crying. Oh God. --- It took him about thirty seconds to realise that the shower had stopped running. She must be finished, he guessed. Swallowing, he thought about moving. Trying to appear like he had actually gone out of their motel room. But why bother? What difference would it make? He had to confront her, he knew that. There was no escaping it. She was lying to him. Deceiving him. He knew that he should feel angry. Briefly, he did. Then he felt sad that she had lied to him. Worse, that she felt there was a need to lie to him. All they had was each other. All he had was her. It took him a full three minutes to realise that there was hardly any noise emanating from the other side of the door. Should he go and see if she was alright? God, what if she had fallen and hit her head? Or worse. He didn't want to think of what 'worse' could be. He didn't want to see blood. Not her blood. It reminded him too much of the nosebleeds that she'd had the First Time. They had occurred so frequently that there was a silent agreement just to ignore their presence. If you don't acknowledge it, it isn't there. Right? Is that what she was trying to do now? Hide it from him and then she could ignore it? What the hell was she playing at? Anger again. It took him ten seconds to realise that she had opened the door. She was standing *right* in front of him. In a towel. She didn't look sick. Did she? --- "Hey." She said, staring evenly at him. Her mind raced. Just how long had he been here? What did he hear? When did he get back? Had he even gone? He didn't answer. Not a good sign. She guessed that he had never left. Swallowing, she moved closer to him, trying to close the distance between them. Although she stood only a few feet away from him, it felt like miles. "Mulder?" He opened his mouth to speak but then lowered his head to stare at the floor. She sat beside him on the bed, their bodies nearly touching, and waited. Waiting for what, she couldn't be sure, but there had to be something. Tears? Anger? Or worse- Disappointment. She knew what this must look like to him. He would feel betrayed. He was all that she had, her only link to a life that she had abandoned and left to rot slowly back in DC. He must feel the same about her. Now he knew that she had lied to him. Purposely. --- They sat on the bed, side by side, until his eyes began to travel over her body, taking in everything. She was thinner. Her wrists seemed so frail. Why hadn't he noticed that? He looked at the goosebumps that sat almost defiantly on her arms. Defiant of what, he didn't know. That's just what they looked like. No, he decided, defiant wasn't the right word. There was nothing to be defiant about. Except death. Maybe. It couldn't be back. Could it? He looked into her eyes, knowing that she knew he'd never left the motel room. There was no shampoo. "You're cold." She swallowed, staring at the floor. The damned floor was never studied in so much depth before, he thought wryly. He rose slowly and walked slowly to her side of the bed. Reaching under the pillow, he retrived her pyjamas and handed them to her. He didn't touch her. And both of them noticed. --- "Mulder, do you want to talk about this?" she asked quietly, holding the pyjamas in her hand. She watched silently as he walked over to the chair facing the bed. He sat down quietly, avoiding her eyes. "Mulder?" "What?" Had he not even been listening to her? "Mulder, what you heard-" He held up his hand and she stopped talking. "Scully, you said you were fine." He stated, staring into her eyes. They reminded him of a show he'd watched a few days ago, in a different motel room, in a different state, in a different life. A different life? Was that too dramatic? He mentally shrugged. It was an animal programme. Endangered Animals? Something like that. He was supposed to have a photographic memory, but right now it wasn't working a hundred per cent. The look in her eyes reminded him of the tiger that a group of hunters had cornered. Frightened. Scared. "What's going on?" he asked. There was no anger in his voice, only a calculated calmness. To her, it was worse than if he shouted bloody murder. "I," she paused momentarily. "I felt dizzy. I threw up." She met his eyes reluctantly. "End of story." He stared evenly at her. Seven years ago Skinner had remarked to him that he thought Scully was a poor liar. It wasn't that she didn't want to lie, he explained, it was just that she was bad at it. But that was when Scully was nearly fresh from Quantico and hadn't been corrupted by the X-Files or Mulder's paranoid nature. But, over the years, Scully's ability to lie had changed. Dramatically. Mulder had realised this shortly after he had been 'resurrected'. It had dawned on him that Scully had changed from the person he had met in his office in 1992. She could lie. And lie well. He couldn't count how many things she had kept from him. To protect him, she had admitted once. Was that what she was trying to do now? Protect him? "Scully, I don't need you to sugarcoat things for me." He chided bitterly, sighing. He didn't want to fight with her. He didn't want to fight at all. He rose and kneeled in front of her, taking her hands in his. "Please tell me what's wrong. You had that episode last week, now this… I'm starting to think that there's something going on that you're not telling me." Or that I haven't noticed. She stared at him with tears in her eyes, biting her lower lip and shaking her head. This was her chance to tell him. "Mulder, I-" she shook her head again, avoiding his eyes. He pulled her into an embrace, her chin coming to lie on his shoulder. "There's nothing serious wrong with me Mulder. I just felt a little tired. You know I don't sleep well now." He stared at the headboard behind her, trying to decipher if she was lying to him or telling him the truth. He swallowed, pulling away from her in order to get a clear look at her face. She was pale. Paler than he could remember. Had he been missing things? Headaches? Trips to the bathroom? "Scully, don't lie to me." He paused, rubbing her arms. "I trust you enough to believe you if you say that nothing is wrong." Her eyes filled with tears as she clung to him, crying on his shoulder. He held her, stroking her hair. "Is it back?" he asked finally, closing his eyes. A lump began to develop in his throat and he swallowed it, waiting for her to answer him. It seemed to take her forever to say the single word. "No." He nodded, releasing the pent up air in his lungs. "I'm sorry Scully, I just needed to be sure." --- She had dressed in the blue silk pyjamas that he had bought for her about two months ago, when she had been feeling down and missing her family. He knew that pyjamas wouldn't help, but he just wanted her to know that he was thinking about her. He had placed his arm around her, clutching her body to his in an attempt to help her sleep. She had promised him that she was telling the truth. There was nothing wrong, except that she was overtired and a little dizzy. She hadn't explained the vomiting, but he didn't question her. Ignore it and it doesn't exist, right? After nearly an hour, she had finally drifted off to sleep, one arm lying across his stomach. He must have watched her for hours, before slowly peeling her arm away from his body and making his way to the bathroom. He closed the door quietly, so that the light wouldn't wake her up. Sighing, he sat on the edge of the bath, his head slowly lowering to meet his hands. It didn't occur to him that this was where she might have spent the better part of the evening. But as he opened his eyes, he saw the blood on the tiles. It looked like maybe five or six droplets. Red on white. And suddenly everything clicked into place. --- You like? You don't like? Comments, suggestions and feedback gobbled up at dk_scully_101@yahoo.com www.geocities.com/itsnottheendofthexfiles/entrance.htm ===== My website: http://www.geocities.com/itsnottheendofthexfiles/entrance.htm Yahoo nickname: dk_scully_101 AIM: reyesgish "If today was perfect there would be no need for tomorrow"