Date sent: Sun, 08 Jun 1997
Subject:-- Ebb and Flow (1/1)
From: paperheart@webtv.net

RATING: PG, with plenty of Mulder Angst.

CONTENT WARNING: No romance, but angst..angst..angst

E-MAIL me with comments at: paperheart@webtv.net

DISCLAIMER: These characters are not mine. They
belong to Chris Carter, 1013 productions and FOX. No
infringements are intended.

SUMMARY: An unexpected airport delay provides Mulder
with the opportunity to think about things, mainly Scully's
inability to talk to him about her cancer. There is always
so much left unsaid between Mulder and Scully, and
volumes spoken with just a look. What goes on in their
heads? This piece explores the inexorable forward motion
of time and it's effect on their complex relationship from
Mulder's perspective. In my opinion, of course.

EBB AND FLOW (1/1)
By Anna Chait

Nae man can tether time or tide.
Robert Burns

She's sitting so still beside him now. As cold as a statue;
quiet and grave. Their flight was delayed and they were
stuck in the Denver airport awaiting a connecting flight.
They had run out of things to talk about an hour ago, and
now they were sitting in the comfortable silence that was
possible between people who knew each other well. Mulder
was indulging in yet another internal dialog, as the things
they had to talk about were forbidden to him these days.

He struggled to put his finger on what it was that was
different about her. Perhaps it was the weight
loss that had chiseled her features and made her eyes
appear larger than before, giant pools of ice blue crystal.
Maybe it was the reality of her mortality that had hit her
square between the eyes. It seemed to cling to her around
the eyes. No longer was there the challenging, playful look
in her eyes, those eyes that were fixed now on a family
seated across the large room from them. A sad smile
played around the corners of her mouth.

The time has gone by so quickly, he thought. Once there
was so much time, more time than I needed or wanted.
Time to search, time for the truth to be made clear, when
there was a tomorrow that didn't scare the hell out of me.
When tomorrow was just another day. Tomorrow comes
too quickly and time is the enemy. There might not be any
more tomorrow's for her. If I could get some of those days
back, would I live them differently? Would I have made
better choices? Could I have been a little wiser? Time.....

Or maybe our decisions were too well thought out. What if
somewhere along the way we had just said, "what the hell"
and indulged ourselves and our feelings. We would perhaps
have beautiful memories to think about now. Or not.

What if somewhere along the line I had made just one
decision that would have changed the way things have
turned out, perhaps our journey on the threads of time
would have been different. If I had called her five minutes
earlier she might never done the research on him, never
even been in the state when he needed someone to take
as a hostage. And they wouldn't have taken her and done
God knows what to her. Her future might have included
a husband and children. It might have included me.

An icy cold fear grips my soul. I'm losing her. She's slipping
away from me in little pieces every day. Every time she
calls in to say she's going to be late and what isn't said is
that she's going to the doctor on the way in for blood tests.
Every time her nose begins to bleed and she tells me she's
fine. She's not and we both know it, but she won't or can't
share how she feels with me. Why is that? Why, when we
both know that I am the one person on this planet that wants
desperately to hear how she feels; the one person that she
is the closest to, the man who understands her unspoken
fears? There are so many things I want to tell her, so many
things she might tell me if she would only open the door a
little.

She's brittle and unreachable these days.

I don't seem to be able to do anything right. If I don't ask
questions I know what I am feeling is written all over my face
and she gets angry about that. If I ask, she upbraids me for
hovering. How can I get in? I keep waiting and trying to be
patient, but time is running out, I can feel it. Will I be strong
eough to make it through this? Will she let me be with her at
the end? Can I be strong for her, will she be strong enough
to help me? Do I even deserve her help?

So many questions, what if.....why.......how.......will she?
Will I? I look away from her now, not wanting her to see the
uncertainty on my face.

I can only hope that if called upon by my partner, my friend,
my only love, that I will step up bravely to the moment and
do what is necessary. I have blundered my way through this
life in a vain attempt to find my answers, my truths; believing
that I was alone in this journey, without family, friends or any
emotional ties. Now I find that whether I wanted it or not I
am spiritually connected to so many people. Especially
Scully. Always Scully.

The mere thought of her name sends a million moments
flashing through the theater in my mind. There is the cool,
confident, professional Scully extending her hand to me that
first day. There is the Scully who looks like a little girl, her
hair in a ponytail drenched from the rain. She's laughing
with me at the absurdity of our situation and the realization
that what I have been telling her about the implausible state
of Oregon is true. There's the Scully who's frightened;
removing her robe, exposing a tantalizing expanse of warm
skin to my inspection, wanting to know about the spots on
her hip, then launching herself into my arms when I tell her
they are only mosquito bites.

I see her angry. Angry at me, at Skinner, at life. And the
Scully who is sad, over the deaths of her father and sister.
Oh, and Dr. Scully standing over me with that concerned
medical face. I understand these women, these moods.
They all make sense, they are a part of the woman I know
as Dana Scully.

But there is another part of her that I have only just begun to
understand. The woman who sat across from me in the
office after that fiasco with Ed Jerse. The one who said it
was her life, as though there was no place for me in it. That
was the day I lost my grasp on my partner and my hold on
the truth. And then there is the Scully who I held in my
arms in the hospital after Penny's death, telling me she had
things left to do yet.

Now there is another Scully that I don't quite recognize. Has
she given in, given up? My rational mind says she telling
me she's not, but there is something about her these days
that is so weary and resigned. Have I given up? I'm thinking
now that her death is inevitable, aren't I? Or maybe I'm just
responding to her signals. I wish we could talk about this.

Our mysterious non-verbal communication skills seem to
have vanished. Hell, I can't even interpret "the eyebrow"
looks anymore. Come to think of it, I haven't seen that
look in a while.

Nothing in my life has prepared me for this. Not the loss of
my sister, or the murder of my father has given me any
insight into this abyss of sorrow I'm heading for. I am
already overcome with grief and loss and she's sitting right
beside me. How will I be able to face life without her? The
rest of my life stretches endlessly before me but it is all
black and meaningless. I can't see anything beyond the
cancer for me. It has as tight a grasp on me as anything
ever has.

I want to help her, I want to be with her and the truth is that
she doesn't need or want me. But is it me, or is it anyone?
Can she only do this alone? Maybe you are a selfish
bastard Mulder. Forget about what you need, this is about
Scully. There is only this little bit of time left for her and you
need to do whatever she needs. But what if what she needs
is time? Time is not mine to give or take from her.

As he shifts away and begins to stand he feels her hand
cover his. His eyes are immediately drawn there, to where
her hand holds his fiercely. She turns to him, her huge blue
eyes swimming in tears. The bustling noise of the airport is
suddenly silenced as her soul speaks to his. Oh...there it is!
The old connection. In her eyes he sees all her fears,
knows how much she feels for his inability to communicate
what he feels to her. All the questions he posed to himself
in the last 10 minutes are no longer important, because
now he knows without a doubt that whatever she wants
he will do it. Whatever she needs. He will only get one
chance to be the man that she needs and he will be up
to the test.

Silently the tears fall from her lashes and with his free hand
he reaches out to brush them away. He tries to smile, but
seems unable. She takes a deep breath and says in a
voice barely above a whisper, "I know, Mulder. I know."

And he knows too. We will be brave for one another, do
whatever it takes to do the right thing by each other to honor
the time we've had together. And when the time comes to
let go.....

He had no clue what would happen at that time. Maybe
Skinner will come through for her. Maybe he could find that
faith healer they had run across years ago. Scully believed,
maybe God would grant her a miracle. He remembered a
night not so long when he had acted badly and challenged
her faith in a cruel way. She had spent an entire day with
her doctor, submitting herself to a grueling battery of tests
trying to establish a baseline for the state of her health.
He had been a nervous wreck all day and barely been able
to contain himself. Finally giving in he phoned her, only to
get her answering machine. He waited until 6 o'clock, then
made a bee-line for her apartment, needing to see for
himself that she was all right. He knew if he called he would
get the dreaded "I'm fine, Mulder." So he rang the bell and
tried not to look like a maniac. She looked pale, dark circles
wreathed her eyes, but she asked him in and tried to make
small talk.

"Are you going to tell me what happened today, or do I have
to go to the hospital and annoy it out of your doctor?"

She sighed, and answered his question. "I appear to be in
fairly good health. My blood tests are within a normal range
and the tumor doesn't appear to have grown."

"They why do you look so awful?" he asked, sitting down
beside her on the couch.

"Stress. My partner is stressing me out." she answered,
flatly. "What happened at work today?"

All right, if that's the way she wants to play this. "Several
possibilities. Skinner sent down a possible serial killer case
with some interesting clues."

She was sitting sideways on the sofa beside him, her arm
along the back of the couch, her hand brushing away the
hair from her face. He knew she wasn't paying attention,
she appeared distracted but wasn't willing to talk about her
day with the doctor.

"Do you ever wonder if God looks down at us, at the
miserable mess we have made of his creation? Wonder
what he thinks about it all?"

He didn't believe his ears. The only thing he wanted to
know was how long she had left, and she wanted to discuss
religious philosophy? Give me a break. It seemed more
than he could bear at this moment and he exploded.

"What? It's amazing to me that after all we have seen, after
everything we've witnessed together that the only thing you
believe in is....this."

His hand lifted the cross away from her skin and he pulled
on the necklace hard, snapping the chain from around her
neck. In shock, Scully's hands instinctively went to her
throat. She couldn't believe he had done that. Neither
could he.

"I'm sorry, Scully. Really. I don't know what.....I'll have it
repaired for you."

She looked at him, unwilling to believe that this was her soft
hearted, sensitive partner.

"Get out." she said in a very controlled voice that barely
covered her disbelief and confusion.

He had no choice but to go. She clearly did not want to hear
his apology. He left dejected, and went home more unhappy
that he had been in a long time. What a shit you are
Mulder. She not only has nothing else to think about, but
now she's doing it alone. Damn you. He went home, but he
didn't sleep. He couldn't. He dressed and went downtown
the next morning and purchased a new chain, slipped the
cross back on it and went immediately back to Scully's.

He half expected her not to answer the door. He wouldn't
have blamed her if she hadn't.

"What do you want Mulder?"

"I wanted to bring you your necklace, and apologize again."

She took his arm gently, leading him inside, and closed the
door. To his surprise, there was coffee already made, and
two cups set out almost as if she were expecting him.

"Sit down. I want to talk to you." she said and handed him a
steaming mug.

He took it and quickly gulped down half of it, hoping for
added courage to accept his punishment.

"I'm sorry I acted like such a jerk. It was inexcusable of me
to question your faith. I had no right, and I didn't want to
bully you around. I'm just having a hard time."

She looked at him, thinking about what he had said. "What
do you believe in Mulder? What have you put your faith in?"

Before he realized what he had done, he responded. "I
believe in you, Scully. I believe in you courage, your
strength. And I trust you to tell me what I need to know."

She smiled and patted his hand.

"I'm sorry Mulder."

"For what?" Now he was really confused.

"You acted like a jerk, but I'm the one who sent you there.
I'm sorry I've been so closed off. This is very difficult for me,
and I don't mean the cancer. I can deal with the disease. It
I understand."

"You mean me? Am I making this hard for you?"

"No, it's not you exactly....God, this is so stupid." she said,
standing up impatiently.

"What? Just tell me what it is?" he said, wanting so badly to
hold her and comfort her but knowing that's not what she
wanted.

"I,....I'm afraid of letting you down, of disappointing you."

It hung in the air like one of those cartoon bubbles.
Disappointing him?

"I know that you depend on me. I feel like you have relied
on me to follow your quest with you. Geez, it's sounds so
melodramatic when I put words to it. But, I feel like I've let
you down, and it's killing me."

He ran his hand over his face impatiently.

"I do depend on you. You are the only person I really care
about and I don't know how you could disappoint me."

"Even when I don't believe some of your wilder theories? I
can see it in your face, Mulder. I know that sometimes you'd
like to slap me when I refuse to believe. That's what
happened yesterday, isn't it?"

"I guess you're right about that one. But that was more
about your inability to share the condition of your health with
me. And don't tell me that it's none of my business. Can
you honestly tell me that if the situation were reversed and it
was me with cancer that you wouldn't be pestering me to
death to find out all the details? Wouldn't you want to know
everything, all the test results, hoping that maybe you would
be sharp enough to stumble on something that was
missed?"

"You're right. I would. But it's not you, it's me."

"And I still need you to tell me. But if it's too difficult, I'll
wait."

He stood up and went and put his cup in the sink, then made
his way to the door. She followed him slowly, thinking about
all that he had said. He stopped at the door and turned to
her, placing his hand on her shoulder.

"But, Scully? Don't wait too long."

She smiled weakly at him, and watched as he turned to
leave.

"Mulder?"

"Yeah?"

"God isn't the only thing I believe in. I believe in you."

After that night, we went on as before, working and dealing
with things. I still don't have any answers from her. Will her
belief in me be enough to get me through this? Maybe not,
but the hours are spinning by and the end draws closer to
me.....to us.

I trust her, so I must trust in her opinion of me.

I smile back into those icy cold blue eyes and try to cover
my feelings. I notice that her nose has started to bleed
again and reach into my coat pocket for the extra
handkerchief I have taken to carrying. I'm not going to ask
this time. I don't want to hear the stock answer she'll give
me. All I can do is wait to see if it will stop. When it does,
she slips the handkerchief into her pocket, embarrassed
again by the outward manifestation of the tumor.

"Come on, Scully. I'll buy you a drink."

She accepts the invitation wordlessly, stands and heads for
the airport bar. I will try to lighten my steps, if not my heart.
It seems that all I can do is wait. The tide of time will surely
wash over us some day and bring an end to this. Until
then, we wait. And the icy grip of fear squeezes my heart
again.

*******************************
Authors note: I began this piece shortly after the "cancer"
episode. I have since been distracted by events, but decided to
forget about the last 3 episodes of the season and finish
it up. E-mail is gatefully accepted and joyfully read.
I write for my amusement, but I love to hear what people
think. This has been a shameful plea for mail, I know.
paperheart@webtv.net