TITLE:  Awakening
AUTHOR:  Susanne Barringer
EMAIL:  sbarringer@usa.net
ARCHIVE:  Anywhere okay with these headers attached.
CLASSIFICATION:  VR 
KEYWORDS:  Mulder/Scully MSR.
RATING:  G
SPOILERS:  post Fight the Future
SUMMARY:  Scully wakes to a realization.
DISCLAIMER:  Characters belong to Chris Carter, 1013, and Fox, not 
me.  No money is being made off their use.

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Awakening
by Susanne Barringer


I open my eyes slowly to find Mulder gazing down at me.  It takes me a 
moment to get my bearings, then I realize I am lying on Mulder's sofa.  He 
is sitting on the coffee table next to me leaning forward, arms braced on his 
knees, watching me intently.

"I must've fallen asleep," I mumble, shaking myself out of the fuzziness.  
Mulder nods.

"Yeah, I'm glad to know my conversation is so . . . invigorating," he teases.  
I suddenly recall what was happening right before I closed my eyes.  
Mulder was sitting where he is now, telling about his plans, how to keep us 
together now that the X-Files have been closed.  I just shut my eyes for a 
second, just to overcome the heavy feeling I was getting.

"I'm sorry, Mulder.  I didn't mean to fall asleep on you."  He smiles at me 
gently, a caress of my soul.

"You're not getting enough rest, Scully," he scolds me softly.  He reaches 
out and brushes an errant strand of hair away from my cheek.  "You're not 
fully recovered yet.  You need to rest."  His hand lingers on my cheek a 
moment after the hair has moved, then his fingers flutter around my face as 
if he wants to touch me more.  When he pulls his hand away, I shift so I am 
sitting up, leaning against the arm of the sofa.

"I'm fine, Mulder," I say with my usual warning tone.  Mulder smirks and 
shakes his head in mock annoyance.  I am reminded why I love him.

"I've never seen you sleep," he says gently, once again reaching out to 
brush away that same strand of hair that has dropped onto my cheek with 
my movement toward sitting up.  I look at him curiously.

"What are you talking about, Mulder?  Of course you have."

He nods his head in the negative.  "No," he responds.  "In cars, on planes, 
when you've been sick.  Not purely, though.  I've never seen you sleep, 
really sleep.  Purely.  You know?"

I look at him carefully.  I do know.  I know all too well.  Lately, it's been 
sleep snatched ten minutes at a time, fitful, full of horror and nightmare, the 
sleep being worse than the waking terror I've been through.  Yes, I know 
exactly what he means.

"How long was I out?" I ask, thinking maybe his definition of "purely" 
means like a rock.

"I don't know, half an hour maybe."  The intensity with which he looks at 
me suggests that he has been sitting here the whole time, that his eyes have 
not left me.

"Have you been watching me the whole time?" I ask.  I want him to admit 
it.  His eyes move away from me and study the wall above me.  

"Yes," he finally says, and I am surprised at his honesty.  There is much 
more in the admission than simple guilty pleasure.

I feel the heat rising in my face.  Not because he was watching me sleep, 
although the intimacy of that sends some kind of thrill soaring through my 
body, but because I have slept so well under his watch.  I feel rested, 
perfectly and completely rested, as if the thirty minutes has been eight 
hours.  I have slept soundly, purely, completely, under his protective gaze.  
I have slept while he has studied me with his analytical mind and his eye for 
detail.  I have trusted that and slept anyway.

"You're beautiful," he says softly but matter-of factly, returning his eyes to 
meet mine.  His hand approaches my face again, cups my cheek.  His eyes 
corroborate his words.

The statement sinks into me, warms me, kindles in my soul.  Recently, 
Mulder has been generous with the praise.  "You're my one in five billion.  
You make me a whole person."  For some reason, these words, that I am 
beautiful, mean even more to me.  They are simple, cliché even, but they 
enlighten me, clarify Mulder's perception of me in a way I have never 
known.  To be honest, I am never sure Mulder sees me as anything but a 
partner, sidekick, friend.  Crazy, I know.  I want him to think I'm beautiful.  
I want to be beautiful.  For him.  With him.  

I smile at him and lean into his hand; his thumb runs lightly across my 
cheek as it has so many times before.  I want to wake up like this always, 
with Mulder watching me, thinking I am beautiful.  


END

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