Title: Sleepless
Author: Lark
E-mail: theagents1013@yahoo.com
Rating: PG
Category: MSR, Story
Keyword: MSR, UST, S
Spoilers: Orison, Redux, Redux II
Archive/Distribution: I'd be honored, but please ask first and make sure my name stays on it!!



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Sleepless (1/1)
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The Darkness of the human heart is so impenetrable that one strives hard to understand it, but cannot bring any answer to light. We search for those answers, but all we come up with are reasons. The human condition is selfish and most times fatal, but this never keeps us from going after what we want, sometimes no matter what the cost. Why? Why do people murder, rape, steal? There is no solid answer to any of our actions.

I silently reflect back on the events of the evening. Scully did what she had to do, but I know she is dwelling on what she thinks she *wanted* to do. Not that the bastard gave her any choice in the first place. I don't know if she'll ever see it this way.

I don't understand what made us give up so easily on Pfaster. The man escaped from prison, specifically to target her. He came after her, leaving at least two more bodies in his wake, and managed to get into her apartment. I still don't know what could have made us so careless.

Shifting further backward, I recall the feeling of unease I acquired after Scully and I parted ways at the airport. It continued, even as I lay in my bed, and then I realized that I had to see if she was all right. I couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right, and I will never ever forget the moment I walked through her door to see that rotten excuse for a human being standing there, about to walk down the hall to her room. My only thought was for Scully, hoping that he hadn't hurt her, praying (how ironic) that I kept a handle on myself and didn't shoot him right then and there. It took all my self-control, because for once, I was the protector, the reasonable, rational thinker. I wanted the man back in custody, to be tried and convicted for the murder of two other people, but Scully, either too weary, too scared, or a good combination of both, decided that she couldn't take anymore, and would not put herself in this position ever again. I can't blame her, and I never will. She tries so hard to exude an aura of confidence and unattainability, but I know so much better. Underneath all that she is a person, with all the feelings, emotions and vulnerabilities that come with being one. Donnie Pfaster can't claim the same. He's no more human than a mutant cockroach; an absolute monster. I silently applaud Scully for what she did, although I know she wouldn't appreciate that, and I will back her up through everything else to come.

The thing that scared me the most, in those frozen seconds of time, was the sight of the thin trickle of blood issuing from her nose. The image flashed through my head, cutting off all protests that I might have tried to shout to her, as I flashed back to that first nosebleed, the first of many more to come, when she was battling her cancer. My heart must have skipped a beat, possibly several, as I was flooded with all the same emotions that I had known before, when she was dying on me. I wouldn't let it happen again, for as sure as I knew nosebleeds weren't fatal, the only ones I knew from her *were*. Perhaps this is why my protestations were cut off at first. However, when I finally dragged my attention back to the present, I saw the gun she pointed, and then I tried to make her hear me. Although I was shocked by her actions, I was also relieved at the fact that this one threat would be erased from eternity.

Having brought myself back to all that fear, I can feel my heart pounding heavily, my breathing quick and shallow. I take a few deep breaths and close my eyes, trying to relax. I am comforted by the mere fact that she is so close by. Presumably, she is asleep in my bed now, and I have told her she can stay here as long as she needs to. I lay here, staring up at the ceiling of my living room, thinking that as much as she might need my presence, I need her's far more. She didn't open up this time, strong demeanor crumbling as she sought refuge in my arms, and perhaps this is only because she took matters into her own hands, rather than letting the faulty system handle it. Or perhaps it is because she is now afraid of herself, disgusted by what she did, and felt the need to punish herself. I want to go to her and comfort her, hold her close and tell her that everything will be fine, for I love this woman, and I need her to know that I am here for her, to protect her and keep her safe from harm. But she needs to come to me. I sense that strongly, and as much as she might want me to make an effort, she wouldn't appreciate it if I did. What she appreciates is when I am there with open arms for her to fall into, as often as she has been here for me with the same.

I allow myself to relax enough so that I might find a few hours of sleep in this night, and though the tension leaves my body, it doesn't leave my mind. I open my eyes to stare at the ceiling again, and something catches my eye. Standing completely still is my Scully, standing there, in the doorway, looking luminous in her white nightgown. I recall her tossing it carelessly into a bag when we were still at her place, and now, wearing it, she walks silently toward the couch where I am laying. She kneels beside the couch and grips my hand tightly, but gently.

"Mulder?" She whispers my name.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah...I mean, no...I...I can't...sleep..."

I sit up, still holding her hand, and swing my legs over the side of the couch so that she can sit next to me. She stands, but makes no move to the couch, so I stand in front of her, gripping both of her hands now. I stare down into her face, trying to figure out what she wants me to do, when, with a grace that one usually only sees in movies, she drops my hands and almost falls into me, murmuring vaguely as she presses her face to my chest, clutching at my shirt. She speaks more clearly, saying "Hold me, please...just hold me...' and I oblige, wrapping my arms tightly around her. Shudders begin to course down her spine, and I'm not sure if she's shaking or sobbing, so I just hold her tighter and guide her over to the couch so that she can be more comfortable. We sit down, and she is still clinging fiercely to me, curling up with her back facing outward so that I can keep my arms around her, as she keeps hers around me. How many times have we been here? How many times has tragedy or bad circumstance left us with only each other to hold and comfort? I have no idea, for I have lost count, but I know that having her in my arms is the best comfort available, and sometimes the only that will suffice. I gently stroke her hair until she relaxes.

"Better?"

She nods, but doesn't relinquish her grip.

"Do you want to try and sleep again?"

Again, a nod, followed by "But only if you stay with me."

For a moment, I am speechless, until I realize that all she needs and wants right now is someone to hold her without letting go. I think we can handle that, so I tell her okay, and we head to my room. We finally get settled, and she curls up next to me as I wrap my arms around her again. She whispers "Thank you" and we finally drift toward sleep.

You're welcome, Scully. More than you know.



The End.


"No matter how fast we are running, somehow we keep, somehow we keep up with each other...I'll be falling all about my own thing...Do as you please, I'll Back You Up..."

~Dave Matthews Band~