TITLE: BREACHING BARRIERS 
 AUTHOR: Ewa
 E-mail:    ewa@whatewa.com
 RATING:  G 
 CATEGORY:  V S POV
 SPOILER:  Three Words post ep
 KEYWORDS: M/S A, 
  
 SUMMARY: Catharsis may be caused by the most 
 unlikely things.
  
 DISCLAIMER: Any characters you recognize belong to 
 Mr. Carter & Co. Lyrics of Possession written by 
 Sarah McLachlan. Rule of thumb, if you recognize 
 it, there's a good chance it isn't mine. Doesn't 
 stop me messing with them though, purely to try to 
 sort the lives of these two out, monetary gain has 
 never been an issue here.

 ARCHIVES: You mean, I don't have to pay? Please 
 leave author, declaimer etc attached. Let me know 
 where it's gone!
 Feedback please!
 ewa@whatewa.com

 AUTHOR'S NOTES: At the end

 Visit me and read my other x-phile stories at 
 http://www.whatewa.com
 Thoughts on season 8 
 http://www.whatewa.com/contents7.htm
 04.20.01

 BREACHING BARRIERS


 "Listen as the wind blows 
 from across the great divide, 
 Voices trapped in yearning, 
 memories trapped in time, 
 The night is my companion 
 and solitude my guide, 
 Would I spend forever here 
 and not be satisfied."

 I allow the soft sounds of the melody wash over me, 
 soothing me. It hurts me so much that he can't or 
 won't confide in me, won't let me in. 
  
 "And I would be the one 
 to hold you down, 
 kiss you so hard, 
 I'll take your breath away 
 and after I'd wipe away the tears, 
 Just close your eyes dear."

 I couldn't let him go before, I can't do it now, 
 although he turns away from me, shutting me out.  
  
 "Through this world I've stumbled 
 so many times betrayed, 
 Trying to find an honest word, 
 to find the truth enslaved, 
 Oh you speak to me in riddles and 
 you speak to me in rhymes 
 My body aches to breathe your breath, 
 you words keep me alive."

 I swallow hard, as I listen to the track on the CD 
 player, the words really getting to me. I'm in the 
 process of making coffee and some French toast for 
 Mulder's breakfast.
  
 I had assumed he'd still want me, that he'd still 
 want us, but maybe I was wrong. I'd forgotten what 
 can happen when you assume things. I want so much 
 for him to feel safe with me again, to have that 
 unspoken honesty between us once more.

 "Oh, Mulder, Mulder. Come back to me."
  
 "And I would be the one 
 to hold you down, 
 kiss you so hard, 
 I'll take your breath away 
 and after I'd wipe away the tears, 
 Just close your eyes dear."

 The baby is training me for early morning feeds for 
 when it's born. I can seldom sleep in longer than 
 six AM. 

 This morning was no exception, knowing that sleep 
 would not be an option, I drove over to make sure 
 Mulder eats something. He insists he's fine, but he 
 won't talk to me, not really *talk*. Since his 
 return everything has been so muddled between us. 

 I don't know what to do, what to say. It was a dumb 
 idea to come over this morning, but I've got to 
 keep trying. 
  
 "Into this night I wander, 
 it's morning that I dread, 
 Another day of knowing of 
 the path I fear to tread, 
 Oh into the sea of waking dreams 
 I follow without pride, 
 Nothing stands between us here 
 and I won't be denied."

 There's an awkwardness between us, far worse ever 
 before. Thankfully, he didn't seem too upset when 
 he opened the door to me in his old gray sweats. He 
 feels the cold, and is very self-conscious of the 
 scars those bastards left on him. He sleeping 
 pattern, always bad before, are worse now. I know 
 about the nightmares, but he never speaks of them, 
 won't acknowledge them at all. Who is he trying to 
 kid?

 He allows me to make breakfast for him, saying that 
 he's going to take a shower. This tiny acceptance 
 of my presence means so much to me. I want to make 
 a fuss of him, try to make up a fraction for all 
 he's so obviously suffered. His turning away from 
 me hurts so much, but I try not to take it 
 personally, even when he goes out of his way to 
 make it personal. 
  
 "And I would be the one 
 to hold you down, 
 kiss you so hard, 
 I'll take your breath away 
 and after I'd wipe away the tears, 
 Just close your eyes dear..."

 The track comes to an end and I realize why I've 
 been listening to this sort of music recently. The 
 lyrics say it all. I fight back the tears at the 
 words I hear. I want so much to help him, to heal 
 him.

 God, I'm so emotional at the moment. The doctor in 
 me, tells me it's the hormones plus everything 
 that's happened recently. I try control that urge, 
 Mulder is uncomfortable with my tears.

 The muffled cry of anguish startles me. The ensuing 
 crashing and sounds of breakage terrifies me. I 
 jump at the sound, knocking over the cup; the china 
 smashing on the kitchen floor into a hundred 
 pieces, cascading hot coffee everywhere. 

 I follow the heart-wrenching sound into his bedroom 
 as fast as my bulk will allow. He's on the floor 
 amid the wreckage, dressed only in his boxers, 
 rolled up tight and rocking like a child trying to 
 comfort itself. 

 I look at the damage to the room, where his 
 violence has exploded. I am afraid, but not for 
 myself, never for myself. No matter how out-of-
 control this man may be, he could never hurt me 
 intentionally. 

 I don't think he's aware of me as I call his name. 
 Mulder's staring at something lying on the floor a 
 little way away from him. He looks totally 
 hypnotized, horror and sweat on his face. He stares 
 at the small black object as if it were a black 
 mamba, about to strike. 

 The keening sound takes on a higher pitch as the 
 front of his boxers darkens and a puddle spreads 
 out over the floor beneath him.

 Now I'm really fearful. I've never seen my partner 
 so terrified, so out of control. I freeze, not 
 knowing what to do, what to say next, my mind a 
 blank.

 I took towards the object of his terror. 

 After a moment I recognize what it is. Something 
 inside me wants to burst out in hysterical laughter 
 as I see the joke Christmas present I bought him a 
 few years back; black sox with little green aliens 
 on them. This would be funny, if not for the effect 
 it's having on Mulder. He could have just *said* he 
 didn't like them, part of my brain whispered; while 
 the rest of it is trying to work out the reason for 
 my partner's distressed state. His dry heaving 
 force my feet towards him.

 He stares at me, no recognition in his eyes, only 
 terror. What did those SOBs do to him?

 With his arms over his chest he's trying to catch 
 his breath. One hand comes up to cover the grayness 
 of his face, his fingers tracing over the remains 
 of the scaring on his cheeks. He's trembling. I put 
 my hand on his shoulder, softly calling his name, 
 but he flinches away as though I'm likely to hurt 
 him.

 "My God. Mulder. It's me Scully, you're safe now. I 
 won't let anyone hurt you."

 I lean into him, as far as my altered shape will 
 allow me. I try to take him in my arms, but he 
 doesn't respond. He holds himself separate, his 
 face turned away. He's holding on so tightly to his 
 emotions, to his fear, I want him to let go, I want 
 to help him break down those walls that he's 
 incarcerated behind. I need to hold him, comfort 
 him. 

 I*have* to be strong for him. He once said, that I 
 was his touchstone, his one constant; I need to be 
 that for him now.

 Unsure of what he needs from me, I squat in front 
 of him and touch his knee as I look up into his 
 face, my hand, of it's own volition, brushing the 
 stray, bangs of hair off his forehead.

 Suddenly he's burying his head in my shoulder, 
 clinging on so tightly I could scarcely breathe. 

 I barely recognize his voice as he begs, "Hold me 
 Scully, just hold me." 

 There is only one thing I *can* do. Hold him and 
 comfort him, protected him, while his large frame 
 shakes with dread and grief at all he has had taken 
 for him, at all he's had to endure.

 "Tell me Mulder, tell be what you need."

 For a while he lays in my arms, allowing me to hold 
 him, allowing me the physical contact, allowing me 
 to get close to him, allowing my hand to move over 
 his back, his head, his face, allowing me to inhale 
 the scent of him.

 I feel myself starting to tremble as he finally 
 relaxes against me.

 "It's okay Scully. Just don't leave me, just never 
 leave me. If you're beside me... we'll get through 
 this."

 I'm not sure who is trying to reassure who here. 
 His hands move up to cup my face, and I can't stop 
 the trickle of my tears, hard as I try.

 His soft, warm mouth moves down my face in tiny 
 butterfly kisses and I taste the saltiness of our 
 tears on them, as his lips finally come home to 
 rest on mine.

 "Mulder..." I hug him fiercely, trying not to cry.

 "Scully. It's going to be okay," he said softly as 
 I meet his eyes. 

 He believes.

 He's right. 

 We're in with a chance. He may never be able to 
 tell me what he suffered. He may never remember 
 fully, never want to remember, but I've found a 
 chink in the wall, and he trusts me enough to 
 allowed me to squeeze in through that chink, into 
 wherever it is that's holding him. I'm beside him 
 now and we'll help each other to live, to survive 
 this.  

 Fin

 Any suggestions?
 ewa@whatewa.com



 AUTHOR'S NOTES: I hasten to add that I've not seen 
 anything of Season 8 yet. This piece is pure 
 conjecture, from one or two spoilers and from what 
 I've read of other authors. Maybe, given a chance 
 they will work it out step by tiny step.

 'I have spread my dreams under your feet;
 tread softly for you tread on my dreams.'