You can send anonymous feedback about this story using our Feedback form

The characters herein are the property of 1013, Fox and Chris Carter. No infringement on their copyright is intended. Their usage here is for entertainment purposes only.

Author's notes: This story is for the Haven fic writers-Hettie, Sabrina, Just Wondering and danamulder-without whom I never would have had the courage to allow this story off my desktop. A special thanks to dm, who insisted Scully return to the hospital.

x x x x

Here by Willa
November 1998

x x x x

She slid the jacket off her shoulders carelessly, placed it on the high-backed chair, and appeared not to notice when it slid on its lining to land in a heap on the hardwood floor.

He had said it. Those three little words. They fell out of his mouth, just like that.

Without ceremony her black pumps landed with a thud in the corner. She peeled her slacks over her slim hips and let them fall to pool around her ankles. Dark stockings followed, until she was standing in her bedroom clad only in a pair of white cotton panties and the white, long-sleeved top she had been wearing under her suit.

He loved her. Scully.

She walked across the room to stand in front of the mirror. Her gaze briefly assessed her tiny waist, the slope of hip into thigh, the muscle of her calves before returning to her pale face in the mirror. No one had ever used those words together before. Dana had been loved before. Dana had been in love before. But Mulder had created Scully and he loved her. Scully.

She had always thought it would happen at a time of desperation. When the fear would take the words from them and they would give love a voice. She adored the thrill in his tone, the joy on his face as he told her lunatic stories about Nazis and saving the world. But it was the look in his eye, the tilt of his head she wasn't prepared for as he said the words. So she had left.

She walked away. Even though he loved her. Scully.

x x x x

It was well past visiting hours when she flashed her badge at the desk nurse. Three hours of tossing in her lonely bed had left her with few options of where to turn. She had come back to him.

"I think he's finally fallen asleep," the attendant told her with a smile, somewhere between annoyance and gratitude. "It's a good thing you're here, though, he's been asking about you since the moment you left."

She knew he would cause trouble when she went home. He always grew antsy in hospitals when she wasn't around to soothe him, a behavior she knew she had somehow fostered in him with long hours by his countless bedsides. She also knew he wouldn't really be asleep, not until she came back. Because he knew she would. She had to. She was his Scully.

The corridors were empty, and she made little noise as she made her way to his private room at the end of the hall. She paused at the door and looked in on his still figure, lit only by the various monitors surrounding the bed. He rested on his left side, facing the door, with one arm drawn up to support his head and his legs tucked into his torso. It was a defensive position; a child's protective stance.

The door groaned slightly at the hinges as she eased it open. She didn't want there to be more words between them...only the closeness of being together in the near-dark. The rubber soles of her tennis shoes squeaked softly as she made her way over to the bed to look down on him.

Within minutes a chair was pulled next to the bed, and the guard rails were locked down into a resting position. She perched on the edge of the chair, elbows resting on the mattress beside him, and watched him inhale and exhale. Her head dropped to the pillow beside his own, close, but not touching. His slow breathing calmed her, and soon she was matching her rhythm to his own. And yet, still he hadn't stirred. Whatever medication he was on, it must have lulled him to sleep. She knew he would be angry about that when he woke. Not even after his worst nightmares would he accept sleeping aids from her. He said they clouded his judgement, they made him feel weak.

Absently she threaded her fingers through the hair at his temples, wishing it were long enough for her to brush from his silent face. In sleep he looked very peaceful, the only reminder of the day surviving in a small smile on his lips. Her hand drifted over his face, noting the stubble growing on his usually-smooth cheeks. She liked it. It made him real to her, the way it scratched against the pads of her fingers. As she reached his mouth her hand stilled, afraid this would finally be the move to wake him. When he shifted closer to her and resettled himself, she began running her fingers lightly over his slightly-chapped bottom lip.

When he had said it her eyes had been drawn to this mouth, the way the words carefully shaped themselves before being spoken. The way he said her name. Scully.

"Scully."

It came from his lips on a sigh, and his body pressed closer against her arms as his head sought hers on the pillow. His eyes remained closed, but his breathing was more rapid. She naturally matched his rhythm until they were again in tandem, and moved her hand to his chest.

"Shh, Mulder" she told him softly. "You need to rest. You know I'll be here when it's time to wake up."

"Here, Scully." He whispered, eyes still closed.

"Yes, Mulder, I'm here. I'm not going to leave again tonight."

"No," he said, in a tone that meant she hadn't understood him. "Here."

His right arm reached for her left and he pulled her gently toward him. And she knew. He needed her next to him, around him. He loved her. Scully.

She moved carefully, fitting her small body into the curve of his own. His arm came around her, his face nuzzling into the hair against her neck, his nose coming to rest in the tender spot below her ear. This time it was her lips that allowed an errant sigh to escape unguarded. She felt his mouth curve into another smile where it rested near her collarbone.

"Scully, I love you," he said the words again, testing them in the quiet room. His voice held no question. He did not need to hear her response. She snuggled further into him, letting the words enshroud her, comfort her.

She felt his arm grow heavy around her waist, and his chest rose and fell more slowly. He had drifted off again, and she let him go. She needed time with herself, to feel the heat of his arms holding her to him. Soon she, too, was falling into darkness. Cradled by him. Nestled in him. Scully.

x x x x

end

You can send anonymous feedback about this story using our Feedback form