Part V The fish swam in lazy circles in the murky tank. The water was in dire need of being changed, Mulder noted, but made no move to do so. He had been sitting in front of the tank for close to three hours, wondering why he couldn't have been born a fish. Fish didn't have to worry about love, or duty, or regret. Fish didn't care about missing sisters, dead fathers, hybrid children, or having their hears torn out by their soulmates. She had laughed. He had asked her the most important question of his life, and she had *laughed* at him. Mulder had made no response to her shocking reaction. He had simply stared at her blankly, then walked out the door and driven blindly home. He vaguely remembered her calling out to him just before he slammed the door, but he couldn't have turned around even had he wanted to. It had stunned him beyond all rational sense. He had been half expecting her to say no, but for her to *laugh*, to take such obvious delight in his pain....it was so callous, so shallow. So unlike Scully. Mulder's head dropped into his hands and he felt teardrops winding through his fingers. An image of his partner's face flashed in his head, and he gasped as the dull, throbbing ache in his chest flared into a sharp, jagged pain that pierced to the core of his soul. How had this happened? How had his feelings for Scully changed so radically that to be rejected by her rendered him breathless and immobile? When had it happened? And most importantly, *why* had it happened? It was so rare that he opened himself to the point of being this vulnerable, this fragile; in fact, he wasn't sure that it had *ever* happened before now. Why had he allowed her this close? //Because she's the only person I've ever needed,// he thought glumly. It surprised him, this necessity to have Scully in his life. There had been other people, other things, that he had thought that he could not live without. The X-Files, Samantha, the Truth....it all paled in comparison with Scully. It was beyond comprehension. "I would have given you everything, Scully," his anguished whisper seemed to echo through the empty apartment. He had never thought that things would come to this. Through all the frigid, lonely nights, when the fantasy of her beside him was all he had to keep him warm; through the dreams of her hands and lips caressing him, her arms holding him; even when he had made his decision to ask her to marry him, when he *knew*, beyond all question that it was what he wanted: it was not until she shattered his heart that he realized how completely it belonged to her. Only now did he know that loving her was the only thing that had ever really mattered to him. "Scully...." he sobbed, his voice so saturated with grief that it sounded alien to him. Gradually his cries decreased in volume and intensity, and his tears began to slow. He raised his head and looked around his apartment without recognizing it; everything looked different now. A final sob shuddered through his chest, lodging in his throat. He swallowed hard, shoving it down, and got up to clean the fish tank. ********** "Dammit, Mulder!" Scully slammed the phone down in frustration. His line had been busy---off the hook, most likely---for the past 2 1/2 hours. She knew that he was deliberately avoiding her call; he would have assumed that she would call to check on him. She also wanted to apologize, and explain. She knew that she had wounded him deeply. The laughter that had bubbled out of her throat had come as a surprise to her, too, but she hadn't been able to stop it. She had been well aware of what his reaction would be; had watched the excruciating transformation of his face from hopeful eagerness to furious anguish, and had been helpless to stop it. Of course, the psychologist in him should have seen the depth and layers of her reaction, but he hadn't. When Mulder was hurt, his logic disappeared, and he focused solely on the pain. Therefore, what was truly a misunderstanding, an unfortunate and unexpected mistake on Scully's part, had been misconstrued as a betrayal. It was now up to her to gauge the depth of the wounds and attempt to make repairs. Scully knew that the best thing for her to do, indeed, the first thing she should have done, was to go to him. He needed to feel her arms around him, hear her apology spoken in person rather than through an uncaring wire, needed to see the sincerity of the regret on her face. Scully knew that that was what she *should* have done, but she hadn't. She couldn't. To face him now would force her to face his question, to face her own questions, and the answers that she wasn't quite ready to find or give. She felt torn between his fear and her own. She sensed the rift between them growing wider and deeper with each passing moment, but felt helpless to stop it. Would it be wise to go to him now, with no answer for him? Could this broken man hold himself together long enough to give her the time she needed? Or would her indecision only push him farther away? She dialed the phone again and rolled her eyes at the buzzing sound of the disconnected line. She replaced the receiver and began walking aimlessly through her apartment. It dawned on her that Mulder was in every room; some memory of him lurked in every corner, except one. Finally, she had to admit to herself that the one place that bore no trace of her partner was the room she most wanted him to haunt. Her bedroom seemed to echo with the absence of him; he had visited her there in countless dreams, but she wanted him there flesh and bone. She wanted him. Finally admitting it to herself after the years of repression came as something of a relief, but she was terrified to go any farther with it. //I want him, I think I even need him, but.....marriage? That would mean that I love him. *Do* I love him???// Scully began unconsciously to chew on her thumbnail. She couldn't believe that she was even considering such an absurd idea, and yet..... //Love, Dana? Do you know what loving him would mean?// She did know, very well. It would mean living every day of the rest of her life with him beside her. It would mean giving up a large part of her own life. It would mean nursing his scars while her own wounds went unattended. //Well, I do that already.// Scully shook her head, irritated and amazed by the arguing voices in her mind. Suddenly, a vision flashed through her head; an image of Emily running into her partner's outstretched arms. A third voice, small and innocent, joined the others in her head. "Daddy....." Scully could almost hear her speaking aloud. She gasped at the sharp pain that twisted in her chest, and the vision faded as quickly as it had appeared. She stood without moving or breathing for several moments. Finally, blinking, she gazed at the phone. Her arm stretched toward it, but instead of picking up the receiver, her fingers closed around the keys laying beside it. ********** He could hear the floorboards creak behind him, and he winced. "Go away, Scully." "Mulder..." She paused, then continued hesitantly, "We need to talk." He laughed, an acidic sound that bore no trace of humor. "Talk? What could we possibly have to talk about? We don't *talk*, remember? We work. We don't *need* to talk." The depth of the bitterness in his voice surprised them both. Undeterred, Scully pushed gently forward. "You...you've been to Emily's grave. You left flowers." It wasn't a question, but a statement. Even though she wasn't completely sure, she decided to play the hunch. He whirled around, his eyes blazing. "Yeah? So what? so I'm not the unfeeling bastard that you thought I was? You already knew that, *Agent* Scully. I think I showed you as much earlier today. You didn't give a damn then, so why the hell are you here now?" Scully's mouth dropped open in shock, and she lost her voice. "That's what I thought. You don't even know why you're here, do you? You came to make sure that your charge was still intact. I'm your responsibility, right? The lunatic they stuck you with babysitting? Well, spare me your damn pity, Scully, because I don't need or want it." An anguished sob wrenched its way from his throat before he could stop it, and the crack in his resolve only seemed to infuriate him more. "Just leave, Scully. Just get out." He turned away from her. "Mulder..." Her voice was so faint that he wasn't sure if she had spoken aloud or only in his mind. He looked at her, trying to ignore the glimmer of unshed tears in her eyes. He said nothing, allowing her to speak. "Mulder, I....I'm sor..." The warning in his eyes stopped her, and she abandoned her original plan, knowing that there was truly only one thing left to say. "Yes. Yes, Fox." End Part V ~~~Moon (MdmSpooky@aol.com) https://members.tripod.com/~Ms_Spooky/index.html