This story is based on characters created by Chris Carter and Ten Thirteen
Productions. Characters used without permission. No infringement intended.

TITLE: She Loves Me Not (1/2)
AUTHOR: Jo-Ann Lassiter
EMAIL ADDRESS: 70302.3654@compuserve.com
DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: Post anywhere. Thanks.
SPOILER WARNING: None
RATING: PG-13
CLASSIFICATION: S, A
KEY WORDS: Mulder/Scully Romance
SUMMARY: Mulder tells Scully he loves her, but the sentiment is not
reciprocated. Can they still work together?
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story carries a severe sap alert.
THANKS: To Gerry, Cheryl, lore, and Jill for beta reading.

I am two fools, I know, for loving, and saying so. - John Donne

She Loves Me Not (1/2)
by Jo-Ann Lassiter

On the road to National Airport
Washington, D.C.
Tuesday
6:50 p.m.

"Achoo!"

Mulder had been dozing, and the explosive sneeze was a thoroughly rude
awakening. For Scully, too, it seemed, as she nearly hit the roof--which
was quite an accomplishment, even if it was unintentional. "Sorry," he
sniffed.

"Bless you. Mulder, are you sure you ought to be traveling?" Scully took
her eyes off the road to gaze at him in concern, and he felt warm all over.

"It's just a cold, Scully." He pulled out his handkerchief and blew his
nose. "People travel with colds all the time."

"And infect the passengers around them." Her frown only diminished his glow
a few degrees.

"I promise I won't breathe on you." He sneezed into his handkerchief. "Or
sneeze on you." Another sneeze. "If the plane's not full, I'll even
sequester myself away from all the other passengers."

She gave him a sideways glance. "That might not be a bad idea."

He had been joking. He had been looking forward to the three-hour flight to
Denver sitting next to his partner. "Um... yeah."

"Don't look so dejected." She patted his knee. "I'm sure you've already
infected me, so I'll sit next to you."

He felt warm again. A good warm. The best warm. Scully loved him. He was
tired, he was irritable, and he didn't feel well. If there was ever a time
for her to keep her distance, this was it. Yet she didn't. She told him to
sleep while she drove, she let him keep the heat on 'high' even though she
was sweltering, and just a second ago she looked at him so... intimately.

"Hey, Scully," he said, very quietly.

She darted a look his way before returning her attention to the DC traffic.
"Yeah?"

"I love you."

It seemed to him that she'd stopped breathing. Certainly she'd ceased all
movement. He wondered if he'd managed to shock her and then decided that,
yeah, he'd most definitely shocked her. Hell, he'd shocked himself. After
all these years, after all they'd been through, it took a sneeze to
discover she loved him. Granted, it was one hell of a sneeze, but it was
one hell of a discovery.

"Scully?"

"What, Mulder?" He blinked at the flatness of her tone. Was this the voice
of a woman about to profess her undying love to him?

"Did you hear what I said?" When she kept on driving and didn't acknowledge
him this time, he began to worry. Is it possible she just didn't hear him?
Either time? "I said--"

"I don't want to have this discussion with you."

All the air left his lungs. His heart stopped beating in his chest.

She didn't love him.

He loved her, and she didn't love him back.

*****
National Airport
Washington, D.C.
7:10 p.m.

Scully parked in long-term, and he picked up their bags and carried them to
the terminal. After they checked their bags with the skycap, they proceeded
to their gate, Mulder walking slightly ahead of her, never letting her
catch up.

He didn't want to see her face, didn't want to see the pity, or the
repulsion, or the indifference. Whichever it was, he didn't want to know.
She didn't love him back. The reason really didn't matter.

Almost to the gate, he noticed the absence of her heels clicking after him.
He slowed, then stopped, then looked behind him. Scully was about fifty
feet back, paying for a carton of juice and a small coffee. He waited while
she accepted the bag and walked up to him.

"I got you some orange juice," she said, and she sounded so much like
herself that he wished the floor would open up and swallow him. Obviously
she received confessions of love on a daily basis.

"Thanks," he said, attributing his unsteady voice to his cold.

He let her precede him through Security, then followed her to the waiting
area. "Why don't you let me check you in?" she asked, holding out her hand,
glancing over at the people standing in line. "You look like you're about
to fall over."

No kidding, he thought, nodding and lowering himself into a chair. He dug
his ticket and ID out of his pocket and handed them to her. Their eyes met,
and he had to look away before he embarrassed himself.

Her eyes were full of pity.

"Here, Mulder." She used the same tone of voice he'd once heard her use on
her dog after the poor thing had been begging for some attention. She
handed him the bag. "Drink some juice. It'll help your cold."

Taking the bag, he forced a smile onto his face. "Sure, Scully." She left
to join the crowd, and he fumbled with the carton, vainly trying to pull
out the 'easy spout.' Finally, in frustration, he let the container drop to
his lap unopened.

She didn't love him.

He stared at the orange juice carton until a drop of water splashed onto
it. Startled, he glanced quickly over at Scully, relieved and then hurt,
when he saw her engaged in friendly conversation with the nice-looking man
in front of her. Mulder placed the carton of juice and the bag on the seat
next to him. He rose, walked away from her, and didn't stop walking until
he found himself staring at a wall at the end of the terminal. Suddenly
faced with absolutely nothing to distract his mind, his thoughts returned
to Scully; numbness metamorphosed to despair, and he looked around
frantically for a men's room.

All doors he scanned proclaimed, "No Admittance," and Mulder had to return
to the main concourse before he found one. Shouldering the door open, he
turned away, embarrassed, when the scholarly-type washing his hands met
Mulder's red-eyed reflection in the mirror. Striding quickly to a stall, he
stepped inside and locked the door; he leaned into the wall and closed his
eyes until he heard the footsteps fade away and the outside door open and
close. He took a deep breath and was horrified at the sob that came out
when he exhaled. Angry with himself, he tore off a piece of toilet paper
and blew his running nose, then slammed his palm against the wall.

How could he be so stupid? Of course she didn't love him. What had he been
thinking? That because she'd been kind to him she loved him? Where the hell
were his brains?

Scully could never love him. He realized that now. He could admit it to
himself. He could think it without his heart being torn apart strip by
bloody strip.

She didn't love him.

Oh, Jesus, she didn't love him.

*****

When Mulder sat back down in his seat, Scully handed him an open carton of
juice with a straw sticking up out of it. The nice-looking man was nowhere
in sight.

"Did you have a pleasant walk?" Her voice was tight with anger, and he
looked up.

"I had to use the bathroom." He furrowed his brows, confused.

"You couldn't wait a few minutes?" The intensity of her gaze was making him
nervous.

He looked away. "No."

"All right, then. Here." She slapped his ticket and ID case onto his lap.

Still puzzled, he looked down. "What's this?"

"Since you're so full of energy, you can stand in line."

He searched her eyes. "But I thought you were going to--"

"You weren't in your seat, Mulder. You may be an FBI agent, but you aren't
exempt from the check-in procedures."

It finally clicked. *Did you pack your own bags?* * Did anyone ask you to
carry anything for them?* The security questions. He wasn't there to answer
them. "Yes, of course." He gathered up his belongings, discarded the
untouched juice in the nearest barrel and shuffled to the end of the line.
Only two men were ahead of him, and in less than five minutes he dropped
back in his seat next to his partner.

"The flight's practically empty," he told her. "They said we could sit in
the last row."

She nodded. "I know. I asked, too, before you did your disappearing act."

He remained silent. He really wasn't up to sparring with her.

"You owe me two dollars."

"What?"

"For the juice you threw away. It cost two dollars."

"Oh." He extracted his wallet and sifted through the bills. Hesitating only
a fraction of a second, he pulled out a five dollar bill, then turned his
head away and sneezed. "Excuse me." He held the five out.. "I don't have
any ones. Take the... Achoo!" He sniffed. "Take this so I can..." Another
sneeze. "...get my..." Another. He let the money fall onto his lap while he
reached for his handkerchief and blew his nose, then slumped back,
exhausted.

"God bless you." Scully held out the five to him, and he was puzzled by the
apology in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Mulder. You don't really have to pay me
for the juice."

He pushed it away. "No, no. You're right. You were nice enough to buy it
for me, and I threw it away without even touching it." He closed her hand
around the bill. "Keep it. In case you feel the need to make another
purchase." He made an attempt at a smile.

"Mulder, you don't--"

"Please keep it, Scully. I really don't have the energy to put it back in
my wallet."

He closed his eyes against compassion he couldn't bear to see. Why did he
have to love her? Why couldn't she love him? He moistened his lips; he
hated having to breathe through his mouth. His lips always ended up dry and
cracked. He swallowed and then was sorry he did as the saliva burned a hot
trail down his enflamed esophagus. He wished he hadn't thrown the juice
away. Absently, he patted his pockets, wondering if he'd taken his lip
balm. And didn't he have a package of throat lozenges somewhere?

He started awake when the announcement to board rows 25 and higher blasted
from the speaker directly above him. His heart was still pounding when he
felt Scully's hand cover his. Unable to shake the cobwebs from his head, he
turned to gaze at her.

"That's us, Mulder," she said softly. "Come on. Let's go." Standing up, she
brushed the wrinkles out of her suit pants and headed for the ramp.

Mulder watched her walk away, then realized that he was supposed to be
following her. By the time he stood up, several passengers had come between
him and his partner. When he reached the attendant, Scully was standing off
to the side, scowling at him.

"Here he is," she told the woman.

Mulder produced his ticket and showed his ID, then pulled his jacket aside
to reveal his firearm. The airline employee handed him his boarding pass
and nodded him through. He walked over to Scully and followed her to the
plane.

"Where the hell were you?" she whispered as they moved down the ramp. Her
tone was unmistakably annoyed. "I told her my partner was right behind me,
and some guy almost fainted when she asked to see his weapon."

"For Christ's sakes, Scully. Give me a break, will you? I just woke up. I
can't help it if you're three leaps ahead of me."

She seemed to take a good look at him then, and Mulder wished he'd never
said a word when he saw it again: the pity.

He pushed ahead of her, nodding to the flight attendants as he boarded the
plane. Eyes down, he hurried through First Class to the very rear of the
plane. He stopped when he heard her behind him. "If you don't mind, I'd
like to stretch out and sleep." He moved his head only enough so that she
could hear him clearly.

"How are you feeling?" Her tone was so gentle, so caring. He hated it. He
loved it.

"I feel fine," he said, and he was surprised that the lie came out sounding
so convincing.

"Mulder..."

He lifted the seat dividers from in between each of the three seats. "I'm
really tired, Scully." He climbed in and curled atop the seats, his back to
her.

She sighed, and he heard her moving away, down the aisle, back to her own
seat in 14A. He was relieved she would be so far away, although a part of
him still wanted her near. A part of him would always want her near.

He wished he could die.

*****
On board the flight to Denver
9:30 p.m.

An ungodly screech jolted Mulder out of a deep, dreamless sleep. He sat up
abruptly, blinking in the dim cabin light.

"Oh! I'm so sorry. I didn't realize anyone was back here." A young woman
holding a crying baby was speaking to him, and Mulder wasn't sure he'd
caught everything she'd said.

"Um... that's okay," he mumbled, wincing as the screaming still assailed
his ears. "What's wrong with... her?"

The woman smiled grimly. "Him. And I don't know what's wrong. He's been
crying since we took off."

Mulder nodded. As a veteran of more flights than he cared to remember, he
had an idea of what the problem could be. "How long have we been in the
air?" he asked. He had no clue as to how long he'd been asleep.

The woman didn't look at her watch. "About an hour." She looked totally
frazzled.

"I think it might be his ears," Mulder told her. "Did you give him a
bottle?"

She shook her head. "It's not time for him to eat yet." Then he saw it dawn
on her. "Oh, of course. He doesn't know enough to swallow against the air
pressure." She smiled at him. "Thank you very much." Her gaze drifted to
the blanket that sat bunched in his lap. "I'm sorry to have disturbed you.
I hope you feel better."

Mulder didn't want to think about how bad he must look if a mother who'd
been dealing with an hysterical infant noticed enough to comment. He smiled
weakly and nodded as the young woman made her way to the front of the
plane.

For the first time, he noticed the pillows that his head had been resting
upon and the blankets spread over him. Scully? Who else on the plane cared
enough about him to take care of him? Who else anywhere cared enough about
him at all?

He lay back down but found that he was wide awake. He sat up and looked
along the aisle to row 14. Not bothering to put his shoes back on--he added
yet another item to his list of thanks for his partner--he headed toward
her.

Maybe he'd join her for awhile. He'd been rude to her after they'd boarded,
and he'd never get a better opportunity to apologize than right now.
Besides, even if she didn't feel anything for him, he still loved her. And
now that he was awake, it was lonely back there by himself. He needed a
little human companionship of the Scully kind.

He heard her before he saw her. She was laughing. He supposed it could be
because she was reading a really humorous book. But he didn't think so.

He moved close enough to recognize the nice-looking man from the check-in
counter. Sitting next to Scully. In Mulder's seat. He stared, stunned.
Scully never laughed at his jokes anymore. She hardly laughed about
anything with him.

He felt cold all of a sudden, and exposed, and yearned for the anonymity
the back row would afford him. Before he could take a step, though, he felt
a tickling in his nose and, try as he might, he couldn't prevent the
sneeze.

As he stumbled toward the rear, he could have sworn he heard Scully's
voice. "I know that sneeze," it said.

But, no. He'd seen the look on her face. He'd heard her laughter. She was
with a man who wasn't him, and she was having fun. She wouldn't be attuned
to a partner with a head cold and a man she didn't love.

Falling into the seat, he pulled out his handkerchief and kept it handy
until his sneezing stopped. He lay down and cradled his pounding head. And
then he remembered and he hurt all over.

"Mulder?"

He was too surprised to even think about hiding his feelings from her.
"Scully?" All he could do was stare up at her. His eyes darted behind her;
he half expected to see Nice-Looking-Man bringing up the rear.

Suddenly her eyes widened and she went still. "He's not behind me, is he?"
she whispered.

Mulder spared another glance to the aisle. "Who?"

"That guy. He didn't follow me, did he?"

Mulder was thoroughly confused. "No, but..."

She breathed out, and he felt her relief. "Thanks for rescuing me,
partner."

He nodded, still bewildered. "You didn't look like you needed rescuing," he
said softly.

"Looks can be deceiving, Mulder. You know that."

He did. Yet he had the feeling that she was referring to something else
entirely.

It suddenly occurred to him that Scully was truly standing there; she had
left Nice-Looking-Man and come to him. But why?

He sat up and moved over, and she lowered herself into the seat next to
him. "Head hurt?" she asked.

Wondering how she knew, and then realizing that he'd been peering at her
through squinting eyes, he nodded. "I was going to take a couple of
aspirin."

"You have some?" She sounded surprised.

"I have a whole drug store," he answered, only slightly annoyed.

"Well, you get them out, and I'll get you a cup of water." She had only to
stand up and pivot to reach the water.

Mulder stood up to look for his suit coat in the overhead. The jacket was
at the very back of the compartment, neatly folded. Pulling it out, he
looked at his partner. "How did you get this way back there?" Without
missing a beat, he asked, "How did you get this off me? Didn't I fall
asleep wearing it?"

"To answer your second question, Don Juan--that guy who was sitting with
me--helped me get you out of it. To answer your first question, he put it
there." She heaved a mighty sigh. "And I had to make polite conversation
with him for over an hour."

"I guess it was lucky for you I woke up then."

She looked down, and she looked embarrassed. "Um, yes. Yes, it was." Her
eyes met his, and she looked so miserable he wanted to take her in his arms
and kiss away whatever was bothering her. But that was out of the question.

"Mulder, I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"The mother. The baby. I sent them back here."

"You?" He was flabbergasted. That shriek had nearly given him a coronary.
He had a splitting headache, his legs felt like rubber, and he considered
himself a good candidate for zombie of the year. Yet it brought a smile to
his heart. Scully had sent the mother and the screaming baby back here. To
wake him. She had not wanted Don Juan. She wanted Mulder. Did she love him
after all? Or did she just need the help of a friend? The friend he was.
The friend he'd always be.

And nothing else.

The thought hit him square between the eyes, and everything swayed
suddenly; he sat down in the seat quickly.

"Mulder? Are you okay?" She sat next to him, and he nodded, feeling not
entirely there.

"Sorry. It must be the cold and the altitude." He closed his eyes.

She started to dig through the pockets of the jacket from where it was
resting on his lap, her hands brushing against his legs and groin. He felt
his eyes burning when he thought about how he was the only one for whom
that action held any significance.

"Hey." Her voice was soft, and he forced his eyes open. He had to see her
face. To see her kindness, or compassion, or even pity. He just had to see
that she cared about him, if not as a lover, then as a friend. He had to
know that it wasn't over, that she would continue on with him, even though
he loved her.

She was worried about him--he could see it in her eyes--but she was also
smiling, and he got the distinct impression that she was trying very hard
not to laugh at him. Her gaze left his, and he followed it down to her lap.

She had his entire supply spread out on her legs. Bottles, boxes and
packages of aspirin, cold pills, cough syrup, throat lozenges, fever
reducer, and anti-nausea capsules. "Think you have enough medicine here,
Mulder?"

Ordinarily, he would have tossed off her teasing with a shrug and a bit of
witty repartee. Ordinarily, he would have found her amusement only mildly
irksome. But ordinarily he wouldn't have just declared his love to her. He
wouldn't have taken her jab so much to heart--a shattered, bruised, mangled
heart.

He stared stonily at her; he resented her joke at his expense. He resented
her for not loving him.

"I, um... Here." She held out three aspirin in her open palm.

Gathering up the pills, he popped all three into his mouth then took the
water from her and swallowed them. They hurt going down, and it felt good.
Physical pain was easier to tolerate and didn't last nearly as long. "Thank
you," he mumbled.

"Mulder?"

He looked up. There were tears in her eyes. And pity.

"I'm sorry."

He blinked. Oh, Jesus.

It was official. She'd severed that one slim thread to which he'd been
clinging. The one that held tight to the fact that she'd never actually
come right out and told him.

He nodded numbly. "It's okay," he said, and he was shocked by the sympathy
he felt for her. "Come here," he said softly, holding his arms open. He
wasn't surprised when she came unhesitatingly.

"Oh, Mulder..." she cried into his chest. She hugged him fiercely.

He clung to her just as possessively. "It's all right, Scully. It'll be all
right."

"I don't want to hurt you."

He kissed the top of her head. "Too late."

Blearily, she looked up at him. "I do love you, Mulder. Just not in the way
you want me to."

He blinked furiously to hold the tears in check; he had to swallow before
he could speak. "I know." A smile eked out. "That's the only thing that
keeps me going."

He gathered her into his embrace and held her until they fell asleep.

*****

End of Part 1
 

She Loves Me Not (2/2)
by Jo-Ann Lassiter

Twin Forks Lodge
Outside of Denver, Colorado
Wednesday
9:36 p.m.

The ASAC at the local office was an old friend of Scully's, and she had
gone to dinner with him. Mulder was invited, too, but he had declined. The
day had been tiring and had worn him down. His head ached; he thought he
might have a fever. And he didn't want to cramp her style.

That old adage about if you love her, you'll let her go didn't just hit
close to home. It damn near knocked it off its foundation.

The field office had surprised them by putting them up at a cozy bed and
breakfast rather than a cold, impersonal motel. As he lay there, Mulder
supposed he should be grateful for his soft bed, clean sheets, and plump
pillows, but he longed for the indifference a motel would have provided
him.

The proprietors, Mr. and Mrs. Agerson, a charming older couple, had
mistaken them for lovers. A twosome. Husband and wife. Mrs. Agerson didn't
understand why they needed two rooms, and she didn't understand when Scully
left for her date.

Mulder understood, but he didn't want to. He thought he could do this,
could cope with her seeing other men. After all, he only wanted her
happiness, didn't he?

He slammed his fist hard on the mattress. Was it wrong for him to want a
little of that happiness for himself, too? Was he being selfish?

A soft knock sounded on his door. Again. "I'll eat at breakfast, Mrs.
Agerson. I'm just not hungry right now. All right?" She'd been kind enough
to bring him some supper, and while it looked delicious, he'd had no
appetite. He'd left it on the braided rug outside his door.

Sighing as the knob turned and the door opened, he shifted onto his side,
facing the wall. Mrs. Agerson was a loving, nurturing, considerate hostess,
but she was beginning to get on his nerves.

"Mulder?"

He rolled onto his back. "How was dinner?"

"Okay."

Glancing at the clock, he gazed at her in confusion. "You're back early."
His heart was turning somersaults.

Then his paranoia kicked in. He performed a quick appraisal of her
appearance: she looked a little distracted. "Is everything all right?"

Walking over slowly, she sat on the edge of his bed. Her hand gravitated
toward his forehead but she didn't touch him. "Everything's fine." She was
staring at him as if he were a newly-discovered genus of bacteria.

He was growing apprehensive under her unwavering scrutiny. "Scully, did I
do something to ruin your date?"

This was it. She was going to tell him that he'd done or said or *thought*
something that had prevented her from enjoying her dinner. And any dinners
yet to come. His last memory of them together would be her sitting beside
him, looking stunningly beautiful in her green suit, and him lying in bed
wearing nothing but his shorts.

"Scully, whatever I--"

"You didn't do anything, Mulder."

He could have fainted with relief. But was she still going to leave him?
Was just his presence reason enough? "What happened?" he whispered.

"Nothing."

She rested a hand on his bare chest, and he stiffened. Was this her way of
breaking it to him gently? If so, then it wasn't working. Surely she could
feel his heart pounding beneath her palm.

One of her fingers began tracing along his collarbone. "Andrew was
charming, and witty, and--really, just about everything a girl could ask
for."

Mulder was sure he didn't want to hear this. She'd come to tell him goodbye
then. She and Andrew Perkins were running off together and--what? She
wanted to give him a little something to remember her by? He mentally shook
his head. No. Not Scully's style.

Then what in hell was she doing?

"Scully, you're killing me here," he rasped.

Her hand stilled, and she removed it to her lap. "Sorry."

He swallowed and nodded, already missing her warmth.

"You asked about my date. I was telling you."

He nodded.

"Andrew had everything I've ever looked for in a man. But as the evening
wore on, I realized something." She looked at him, and his breath caught at
what he imagined he saw in her eyes. "As charming and as witty and as
attentive as he was... he wasn't you."

He stopped breathing. "What... are you saying?" He was too afraid to reach
the conclusion on his own.

"That I was wrong." She leaned over and kissed him very gently on the lips.
"That I love you, Mulder. In the way you want me to."

He started to cry. It was the damned cold; it was screwing with his
emotions. Making him into a 'sensitive male.' God, how he hated that term.
Just another word for 'wimp.'

But Scully was reaching for him. Hugging him. Telling him that, "It's all
right, it'll be all right."

He latched onto her and didn't want to ever let go. "Say it, Scully. Please
say it again."

She released her hold on him and cradled his face in her hands. "I love
you, too, Mulder."

He smiled at her through watery eyes--and then he sneezed. Six times.

Scully recoiled from him, getting to her feet and moving swiftly away. He
watched her go, and would have worried about her whereabouts, but each
sneeze was a nail hammering into his head. He groaned and fell back onto
the pillows. The only thought he could manage was that Scully must be
kicking herself for being foolish enough to fall in love with a loser like
him.

He felt her before she touched him. "Mulder, here." Several tissues were
pressed into his hands.

"Thanks," he gasped, quickly putting them to use.

"When was the last time you took a cold capsule?"

"Um... I didn't. I wanted to wait and take the green stuff so I could
sleep."

"Do you want to sleep now?"

God, did his body ever want to. "No," he answered softly.

"I think you do," she said, smiling, patting his head lovingly.

"I don't want you to leave."

She toed off her shoes and lay down beside him, on top of the covers. "I'm
not leaving," she said gently.

Looking over at her trying to get comfortable in her stiff suit, he
suddenly felt supremely selfish. "I won't mind if you want to leave to get
into your pajamas."

She shrugged out of her jacket, then pulled off her pantyhose. She began
unbuttoning her blouse. "I don't think I'll be needing pajamas."

He stilled her hand as it reached for the last button. "As much as I want
this, Scully, and please know that it's killing me to say this, but... I
really feel like crap."

She took his hand and brought it up to her mouth, then laughed lightly. "I
wasn't offering, Mulder."

He felt his face heat up. "Oh."

She kissed his knuckles, one at a time. "It's not because I don't want to."

He gazed into her eyes then and saw so much love that he was tempted to
look behind him for the *real* recipient. She couldn't possibly love *him*
that much.

Could she?

She reached for him then, and fingered his damp hair gently. "How's your
head?"

His eyes closed and he leaned into her touch. "It hurts."

Her hands massaged his temples. "I'll bet." She kissed the middle of his
forehead. "Do you want to take the green stuff now?"

He shook his head. "I want you to hold me. I want you to hold me and make
me feel better so I can love you properly."

She wriggled beneath him until his head rested on her chest."I want to make
you feel better, too, Mulder, because I love you and don't like seeing you
suffer. You don't have to love me properly, just so long as you love me."

"I do," he whispered. "I love you so much..."

"It hurts," she finished softly. "I know."

"I'm sorry."

She hugged him tenderly. "I know that, too." She rubbed her hand across his
back, and he shivered, not certain if he was cold or if it was just the
touch of the woman who loved him.

"I'll make you a deal, Mulder," she said, pulling the blanket over his
back. "Green stuff tonight, wild sex tomorrow."

"Deal," he whispered.

Sliding out from under him, she retrieved the bottle from the table and
filled the medicine cup with green liquid. "Bottoms up, G-man." She handed
him the cup and he drank the vile elixir as quickly as he could. He took
the offered glass of water gratefully, downing the entire thing.

"God, that stuff is awful. If it didn't work so well, I'd never touch it."

She climbed into bed beside him. "Looks like Mrs. Agerson was right to
question those two rooms," she said, smiling.

He yawned, already feeling the effects of the codeine; his arms flopped
around her gracelessly. "I can't believe this is finally happening and I'm
going to be dead to the world in two minutes."

She pressed her cheek to his; her breath was warm on his ear. "You think of
it as 'dead to the world.' I think of it as a sneak preview."

He was fighting to stay awake. "Don't damage anything I might need."

"Not a chance. What you need, I need."

He smiled, then his eyes widened with sudden realization. "Scully."

"Hmm?"

"You love me." He hugged her as tightly as he could.

"And you love me." She gave him a peck on the cheek.

"That's a given. But... Oh, Jesus, Scully." He knew what it felt like when
she didn't love him, and he didn't ever want to feel that again. He tried
to pull her inside him so that she'd have to stay with him forever.

"I'm sorry, Mulder," she said, and a burst of agony jolted through him.
"No, no," she said quickly, rubbing his back. "I'm sorry for hurting you,
for what I put you through. I'm here, and I'll always be here."

"Promise?" God, he sounded pathetic, but he didn't care. All he wanted was
for her to love him and to tell him that she'd never leave him. He'd be
strong tomorrow.

"I promise."

That was all he could ask for. A promise that she would stay with him
forever. He couldn't make her promise to love him forever because that was
something he couldn't control--nor could she. But even if she stopped
loving him, she wouldn't leave him. She promised.

A promise he knew he'd never hold her to.

*****

Scully knew the second he fell asleep. His arms didn't loosen, but his
breathing lost that desperation, that anguish she knew he still felt.

He thought she didn't understand. Didn't know how it felt when the one
person you loved didn't feel the same.

He was wrong. She knew. And knew with a certainty that had shaken her when
she'd realized just what she was doing to him.

It had often been speculated by the Powers That Be that she and Mulder were
too close. That though the bond between partners was tight, theirs was
fused. Unbroken. With not even a hair dividing where he left off and she
began.

She'd always scoffed at these conjectures.

As she'd sat in the restaurant that evening, however, she knew that 'they'
were right. She 'felt' him. It was something she'd never admit, to him and
especially to herself, but he'd been there. Inside her. His heart was
breaking, and the pain she'd felt had been nearly unbearable. She didn't
know how he'd managed to keep something so terrible from her. How did he
function when her every word, her every look plunged the dagger in ever
deeper?

She looked at him then, and she smiled. But she'd felt more than his
torment. Beneath all the hurt, and the grief, and the hopelessness, there
was the love.

There was the love.

The End

The eternal quest of the individual human being is to shatter his
loneliness. - Norman Cousins

In keeping with the theme, I would love any feedback! Jo-Ann at 70302.3654@compuserve.com