Classification: S, A, MSR (eventually) but I think friendshippers can handle it. Rating: PG, a few curse words Spoiler Warning: parts of season 2, Paper Clip and Momento Mori Disclaimer: All characters herein are the property of Chris Carter, 1013 Productions and Fox Broadcasting. The song "Let Your Spirit Fly" is sung by Francesca Beghe, written by C. Midnight. No infringement is intended, and no profit will result from their use. Author's Note: This is my first attempt at fanfic, so feedback would be greatly appreciated. Special thanks to Laura Lee for her help and encouragement. **Feel free to archive or distribute this, but keep my name, e-mail and disclaimers with it.** Summary: Mulder is shocked to discover Scully's secret project, and many things are brought out into the open. There Will Be Time by Katrina Coffman Condrons@msn.com completed 3/7/97 His knock echoed around her door and was swallowed by silence, like the few before it. 'Relax, Mulder,' he told himself. The concern that gripped him so quickly and so often lately was beginning to frustrate him, but it was unshakable. 'She's probably in the bathroom, or taking a badly needed nap'. He slipped his key ring from his pocket and found the one to her door, opening it slowly and quietly. His eyes scanned the living room, giving particular attention to the floor. No sign of Scully, but a single lamp illuminated her coffee table. It was uncharacteristicly cluttered. Nearly the entire surface was covered by papers, books, tapes and CDs. Scully's laptop was set up on the far right side, its screen glowing with scattered text. "Scully?" he called gently, and was answered by the sound of a flushing toilet. Letting out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding, Mulder walked up to the back of her couch, curiously drawn to her project laid out before him. He heard water begin to flow in the bathroom as she turned on the faucet. Three books of poetry lay stacked toward the back of the coffee table, and one was opened in the center to a selection by Robert Frost. Just to the right of it was a bible, also opened, to somewhere in the New Testament. His gaze skimmed the collected music, not focusing on any one title. His eyes came to rest on the laptop, and without hesitation he leaned in closer to make out the words. As he faintly heard the bathroom door swing open, he could just make out, at the top of the screen: In Memory Dana Katherine Scully "What are you doing here, Mulder?" Scully asked tersely as she crossed the room to stand between him and her work. Her arms were crossed defensively, and he was caught off guard for a moment by how young she looked in her baggy UVA t-shirt and dark sweatpants, her hair pulled haphazardly into a short ponytail. Her eyes were locked on his and held an iciness that struck him painfully as mistrust. "What is this, Scully?" he asked quietly, his hands gripping the back of the couch. She didn't answer, but turned and closed the bible on the table and moved to do the same with the book of poetry. He was around the couch and behind her immediately. "Answer me, Scully, what are you working on here?" His voice was distinctly louder and more demanding, but still she gave no response, reaching to collect the sheets of paper tucked here and there into one pile. In a flash Mulder grabbed her right arm at the elbow and pulled her roughly around to face him. He was met with her blue eyes shuttered slightly in fury, her lips set in a firm line for a fraction of a second before her voice exploded from between them. "Get you hands off of me, Mulder!" she shouted, and, with a speed he was unprepared for, pulled her arm from his grasp and shoved him away with both hands planted hard against his chest. As he staggered slightly from the contact, Scully moved rapidly around the coffee table to her stereo and hit the button that opened her CD changer. Its soft whirring was the only sound in the room as Mulder regained his balanced to stare at his partner, her hands planted on her hips as she waited for it to open. As the tray glided out, revealing five colorful discs, Scully snatched out the closest one and turned back to the coffee table. "Go away, Mulder, now." She said it quietly but firmly, not raising her head to look his way as she reached for an empty CD case and flipped it open. Her partner remained silent as she snapped the disc in place, shut the lid and dropped it roughly onto the table. She picked up another case and turned abruptly back to the stereo, pausing only to scan for the matching disc before popping it into place in its holder. As she turned back toward the center of the room, she stopped and looked at the man still standing by her couch. "Get out, Mulder!" she snapped again, "I want to be alone right now." She punctuated her point by flinging the CD case she held across the open space to hit loudly on a bare spot on the table. "Not until you tell me what you're doing," he blurted, finally finding his voice through the shock brought on by her reaction. "That's none of your business," she stated bluntly. "At the office you can ask me what I'm working on, but not here and NOT NOW!" The volume of her voice had climbed steadily through the sentence, and the final words made him wince as if struck. She turned her back to him once more to take another CD from the changer. He took in the ramrod stiffness of her back, her squared shoulders and the way she held her head high, anger giving her strength. Swallowing - his pride? - Mulder took a couple of small steps toward her and one deep breath. "Scully," he began quietly, "I'm sorry...please look at me". For a few eternal seconds she stared at the wall above her stereo. Finally she dropped her head and turned it to meet his eyes. The rest of her body followed slowly. The ire was gone from her eyes, replaced by a flatness that frightened him. She waited. "I didn't mean to intrude, I just wanted to..." He caught himself before 'check up on you' came out. He could think of no safe way to finish. "But now that I'm here, please explain to me what all of this " both hands gesturing to the table "is about." After a moment, his hands dropped back to his sides, but he held her eyes. "Please, Scully." It was almost a whisper. Scully stared back at him, not moving. He knew she was contemplating several options, because her head was cocked slightly to one side as she listened to her inner thoughts. Suddenly she sighed and looked away from him, and moved slowly to sit down on the couch. She rubbed both temples for a few seconds, released another long sigh and looked up at him where he still stood, a world away. "Sit with me, Mulder." It came out as a command, and he obeyed it as such, lowering himself beside her. "All of this," she emphasized, repeating his words as they both looked to the table, "is my funeral." He looked at her again quickly as she continued, "I'm planning my funeral. Wanna help?" Her question was met with stunned silence, her usually flippant partner suddenly at a loss for a snappy comeback. He took in a quick breath and his lips parted as if to begin a reply, but words never came. She sat still and watched him, trying to interpret the quiet. He looked again to the coffee table, and she could see each item register a new significance upon his reconsideration. His gaze held fast to the closed bible, and it was this tangible evidence of her faith that brought the reality of her words to clarity in his mind. "Your funeral." The monotone statement was directed to the room in general, as if he had forgotten that Scully was still there. It took only a moment before she was once again the center of his attention, and as their eyes met she felt the anger in his engulf her. Had she made a terrible mistake? "Your funeral?!?" - it came out as a challenge issued. To be accepted or refused, but not ignored. "Scully..." It was all he could manage before his racing mind left the words behind. "Let me...", Scully started. "NO!" He cut her off through clenched teeth, unwilling to surrender to her gentle tone. "Let ME, Scully," he said harshly, still holding her gaze, "let ME get this straight!" He stood suddenly, now towering over her as she forced her eyes to follow him. "You've given up?" It came out with hint of a sneer, pain disguising itself as disgust. "After telling me how important it was for you to go on with your work, your LIFE, how we were going to beat this thing, you're picking out dirges and a one-liner for your tombstone?!?" His eyes sparked with anger, and Scully felt the muscles of her shoulders tense as if preparing for a blow. "It's not like that, Mulder!" she blurted, taking advantage of his need to draw a breath, and as quickly as he had risen she was standing before him. He turned away, one hand cradling his forehead, recognizing the taste of betrayal in his throat. "Dammit," she shouted at his broad back, "I knew I shouldn't have told you, that you wouldn't understand!" He rounded swiftly, his face closing to within a few inches of hers. "Make me understand, Scully," he shouted at her. "Make me understand why you're so ready to go!" Scully flinched but stood her ground as he continued. "Make me understand why you've let them win!" His chest rose and fell rapidly with the rush of words, and her eyes fell to stare at the spot where his heart would be, sure she could hear it pounding. Suddenly her head was against the same spot, and yes, his heart was pounding, along with hers. She recalled, oddly, the first time she had thrown herself against him. Their first case. And now, as then, he had stiffened at her touch. And then, as now, his arms failed to embrace her at first. But then they were strangers, and now he was furious. She held fast, anyway, locking her hands together behind his back. "Mulder" She managed to get his name out, exhaling it against his neck, and with that single word she felt him shudder and begin to relax. "Mulder, it's not like that," a gasp as she struggled not to cry. This brought his hands to her body at last, but only to push her head back and hold it still in front of him. "Isn't it, Scully?" He said it quietly, but she heard a tone she barely recognized - defeat. His eyes shone, even in the low light of the room, but she knew no tears would fall. Not yet. "Mulder", again, a plea reinforced by her hands moving to cover his on her face. He didn't resist as she pulled them away and laced their fingers together, folding their hands prayerfully in the space between their heads. She dropped her forehead briefly to rest on them, and with a sigh lifted her eyes back to his. She held his gaze as her lips grazed his fingers, to seal the union. "Trust me." It was a whisper, a question and a plea, a dare and an invocation. Challenging him to let go of his anger and doubt, to let her lead him down a path that terrified him. She knew it wasn't fair, to call on him to prove his commitment, but she also knew it would bring down this wall. Her words struck their mark, as a single, heavy tear streaked his cheek and was gone. Then she was pressed against him again, his hands on her hips and his face buried in her hair. Neither spoke for a few long moments, as she rubbed his back gently and he lightly stroked her sides, making their silent apologies. "OK, Scully," he said at last, lifting his head back to gaze down at her. The anger was gone from his eyes, but not the fear. She knew it would remain for a long time, and she would have to work very hard to free him from that. But at least he was ready to listen, and with Mulder that was often the most difficult part. She gave him a small smile and, taking one of his hands in hers, began walking toward her kitchen. He let himself be pulled along, his brow furrowed in an unspoken question. "Soda, Mulder," Scully said gently, squeezing his fingers in quick reassurance. "We'll start with sodas, and move on from there." Finally, she got a half-smile. It was enough for now. ********** They ended up back on the couch, Scully sitting cross-legged at one end, her body turned to face Mulder sitting in the middle. He hadn't said much during the few minutes they were in the kitchen, just small talk about work. Now he took a long swallow of his drink and, after setting it on a coaster on the coffee table, twisted slightly toward Scully and propped his head up on one fist, elbow on the back of the couch. 'He looks so tired', Scully thought to herself, 'and we're just getting to the tough part.' She leaned forward and took his free hand in both of hers, stroking his long fingers. "Is this OK?" she asked in a low voice, looking up at him through hooded eyes. "Trying to soothe the savage beast, Scully?" Mulder responded lightly, the corners of his mouth turning up a fraction. When she smiled with a slight blush, he continued with "Of course it's OK," and tickled her palm until she giggled. "Mulder," she said suddenly, seriously, "promise you'll let me explain everything before you interrupt or yell or try to ask questions that I'm probably getting around to answering, anyway, OK?" She was using her professional voice, smooth, steady and direct, and her pointed stare left little room for joking or complaint. "I'll do my best, Scully," he murmured, "but can I take notes for my rebuttal?" No smile accompanied this remark, but Scully chose not to argue and instead proceeded with a deep breath. "First, and most importantly for you to understand, Mulder, is that this is in no way a surrender to my cancer or an indication that I think I'm dying." He continued staring at her, behaving as promised. "What I'm trying to do here, with this, is take control of something. I have no power over this illness, over the unbelievable things we encounter, over the people that may be playing with our lives at this very moment. This...funeral...is about having things go the way I want them, from beginning to end. No mix ups, no surprises. I make a decision and that's what happens. With me so far?" Mulder merely nodded. "Good," she replied with a hint of surprise and relaxed a bit into the back of the couch. She continued, but switched gears a bit. "Have you ever been to a funeral planned by the...deceased, Mulder?", and though she just managed to get the last words out, her voice remained calm. When he shook he head in the negative, she went on. "I have, once, for a high school friend who died of leukemia. This was a couple of years ago, I don't think I even mentioned it to you at the time. Anyway, it was fun. It feels a little twisted to say that, Mulder, but I actually enjoyed his funeral. I'd have given almost anything for it not to have been necessary, but that wasn't possible. He knew that, Mulder. That all of his friends, his family, would be miserable when they walked into that church, and he surprised us all with a message of love and hope." Mulder looked down at his hand, still entwined with hers. He moved his arm off the back of the couch so that now both of his large hands enveloped her small ones. He glanced back up into her eyes and was almost startled by how calm she looked, despite the upsetting nature of the topic at hand. "How, Scully?" he asked softly. "What did he do?" "Uh...well," she paused briefly, still rather surprised that he was listening so attentively, "he had planned the whole service, over two years ahead of time I found out later. He had chosen the music, he had written some poetry and personal statements, he even had jokes picked out that various people were asked to read. He wasn't a religious person, so there was no one with the typical "on to a better place" speech - that's what his parents probably would have done if it had been left to them. But that wouldn't have reflected Jeff's personality, and we would have been left with tears and sadness and that ache you get when you think of a loved one gone. I left that service in tears, Mulder, but they were overshadowed by the feeling of peace and comfort that he gave me with his goodbye. He guided us in a celebration of his life, and I will always be grateful for that." "And you think you have to do the same, for your friends, your mother, right now, because you don't have much time left?" He said it matter-of-factly but had unconciously tightened his grip on her hands. "I don't know, Mulder!" She raised her voice just slightly, for emphasis. "That's the point! When my sister died, it was so unexpected that my mother and I struggled to plan the funeral. We were both grieving so deeply that we didn't put much thought into it - we basically let the priest walk us through it, and it turned out fine. Just fine. And I remember thinking, as we all sang one of the hymns that he picked out, 'Did Melissa even like this song?'. I didn't know, Mulder. But it was what we memorialized her with. And it was sad. And when it was all over I hurt worse than when we started." "If I die of cancer-" "Scul-" he started. "OR OF ANYTHING ELSE, before my mother, she will have lost both of her daughters earlier than she should have. I cannot stand the thought of her going through the stress and worry of yet another funeral, only to have it end up the same painful way my sister's did. I want her to sit there and listen to the words I have chosen to be my last to her, that they may bring her some measure of peace and help her remember me for what I acheived, not for what I never got to do. I want the thought of me to make her smile, Mulder, not sob. Does that make sense to you?" "I suppose it does to a certain degree, Scully," he replied after a moment, "but you were so confident that you could fight this, that together we'd find a way to cheat death. Why, now, are you feeling so mortal?" "Mulder, I-" "Don't you believe I can save you, Scully?" He sounded almost wounded, like a child who has just caught his parent in a lie. His eyes had darkened and were impossible to read. "Oh, Mulder," her voice quivered, "I know you can. I haven't stopped believing..." Tears welled up in her eyes and she brushed them quickly away, forcing her gaze back to his. "I've been thinking about this for a long time now, Mulder, since well before my...diagnosis. When I joined the FBI I knew that I could be killed by any number of things. Working with you has just added some interesting new ways to the list." She was rewarded with a smile and, comforted, she moved closer to him and turned so that her back was against the couch, their legs touching at one knee. Their hands still gripping gently, she turned her head to look up at him. "My sister's death and, I will admit, my illness have made me think seriously about what I want to leave behind, how I want to be remembered. Not mourned. And not just for my mother's sake, Mulder." She paused and dropped her eyes to study his fingers. Mulder let her have this time, knowing that she was trying to be careful with what she had to say next. "It's also very important to me, especially if I do succumb to this cancer-" her voice caught in her throat. Making a small sound of distress, Mulder lowered his head until it rested lightly against hers "-that YOU get through it OK." His head jerked back up and Scully reached her hands up quickly to hold his face between them. "Mulder, listen to me." She blinked back tears and held his gaze, unwavering. "I will never rest unless I know you can go on. I need that more than anything. That's what this is really all about. It's about making things right for you." "Scully," Mulder blurted, "that makes no sense. How is your funeral going to make things 'right for me'? You'll be gone, my partner, my...best friend." He sqeezed her hands tightly and took a gulp of air. "You. Dead. Where can there be rightness in that?" His eyes had quickly become liquid again. "Oh, Mulder..." She began to stroke his face, and fought back tears herself. "I need to know that my death..." she struggled to continue, "won't ruin your life. That-" "But it will, Scully!" he snapped fiercely, startling her, causing her to drop her hands from his cheeks. His eyes followed their descent back to rest in her lap, where he took hold of one again before he jerked his focus back to her face. "When those bastards took you, it almost killed me - the helplessness of not knowing where you were, what was happening to you, if I'd ever get you back. Most mornings I'd wake up and not want to move, not wanting to go back to anyplace you'd ever been. Remembering you..." "Mul-" she didn't get far. "No, Scully, my turn!" The pain and anger in his voice, on his face, quieted her instantly. He was hurting her hand where he held it between his, but she accepted it as she did his harsh words. "I will not let you go again, not without one hell if a fight! But I need your will to survive to help me. You see most things very differently than I do, Scully, you might find something I would have missed. If they take you this way, and I can't make someone pay for it, they might as well put a bullet in my head, Scully. My life won't mean much if I just...hand you over to them!" Scully let out a small gasp and her eyes widened for an instant before narrowing quickly. "Don't you dare talk like that, Mulder!" She practically screamed it, and surged up until she was on her knees in front of him. He recoiled at her attack but had no where to go, trapped against the side of the couch. She stabbed a finger into his chest and continued. "I wake up every morning wondering if this is the day my dying begins, and you talk of not being able to go on without me? If that isn't the most ironic bullshit I've ever heard! You're a perfectly healthy man who has dodged so many bullets, you could probably live forever - but you'd, what? - waste away and die over losing me?! Don't take this the wrong way, Mulder, but I wouldn't do the same for you. I'd grieve, maybe for the rest of my life, but I'd survive, and try never to take living for granted. You have that luxury, Mulder, mourning the dead and moving on. I've been given a death sentence! Would you like to trade places, Mulder? You could let the darkness take you and never have to worry about pain or loss or loneliness ever again! I can handle them - hell, I'd welcome them, if I knew that feeling even terrible things meant I was still alive to feel the good things, too! Dammit, Mulder - if you can't see life beyond my death, why am I even bothering with this?" With that she leaned out and shoved the stack of books off the coffee table, leaping from the couch. She walked swiftly into kitchen. Once again, Mulder was stunned into silence. 'Go to her,' his mind finally prompted, willing his body into action. As he entered the kitchen he saw her leaning forward against the sink, her face covered by both hands, shoulders heaving with her silent sobs. An ache rose quickly in his chest, and he closed the distance between them in few long strides. He opened his mouth to say - her name, 'I'm sorry', his brain hadn't decided yet. Instinctivly, he wrapped his arms around her from behind, in the one way he knew he could comfort her. "No, Mulder-" she began, struggling to free herself, still angry and hurt. Normally he released her when she gave the slighest resistance, but from the back of his mind came the realization that this time, she might not really want to be let go. So he continued holding her, just tight enough to keep her close, and soon the fight left her, but not the fury. She turned in his arms and, never looking up at him, buried her face into his chest. Her arms were pinned by his to her sides, and she made no attempt to move them, to return his embrace. After a few long moments, she had stopped crying and her breathing had slowed to a normal rate. She forced his arms open slightly with her elbows, just enough to allow her hands to move up to rest on his waist, where she made tight fists around the fabric of his shirt. "You know, Mulder," she said finally, mumbling against the pocket of the jacket he still wore, "sometimes I really hate you." Her words stung - it was far from what he had hoped to hear, but at least she was talking. His hands started slowly rubbing her lower back, and he dropped his head onto her shoulder. "Well, Scully," he murmured into her ear, "sometimes I really deserve it." He lifted one hand to stroke the skin at the base of her neck. He raised his chin until his jaw rested lightly on the top of her head, and pulled her more securely against his body. "I am so sorry, Scully," he began, giving her a small squeeze. "I spoke without thinking. I didn't consider how all of that would sound to you - I've tried so hard to ignore the possibility of really losing you that I forgot I can't talk about death figuratively anymore. It's literal for you, now, and I'm a real jerk for forgetting that. I let my fear override all tact and common sense. What I said was...selfish. I hope you can pardon me for letting my heart get ahead of my brain." He had felt Scully relaxing as he talked, and when he finished she pulled her head off his chest and with a sniffle, finally met his gaze. A few wet tracks still showed on her pale skin and her eyes were rimmed in pink, but the anger had left them. In its place was a sadness that he recognized from the weeks following her sister's death. It stopped his next words in his throat. "It really...hurt...Mulder, to hear you say those...things. But you proved my point, better than I could have." She saw confusion register in his eyes, but he didn't question her aloud. "Mulder, I'm still here, I feel good and I'm optimistic that I'll get beyond this. But just trying to talk to you about what...might happen terrifies you, changes you. You go into this mode - one-track, furious, unable to see past the worst-case scenario. If you're like this now, what will you be like when I do die?" "Scully, no, I..." he looked away from her, shaking his head forcefully. She reached up, cradling his chin and moving his face back in front of hers. He looked bewildered. "I am going to die, Mulder, SOMEDAY," she stated firmly to keep his attention, and then added softly, "all humans do. With all of the strange things we've encountered, I haven't seen anything to make me doubt that. I'm hoping for a long, happy life yet - like I told you at the hospital, I have so many things still to do. But I could get hit by a bus crossing the street tomorrow. Or...I could die of cancer within a year. I have no way of knowing. I don't want to know. What I do know, Mulder, is that no matter when, or how, I die, you're going to take it very badly." "Of course I will," Mulder started, voice strained, "you're...one of the most important people in my life. God, Scully I don't even like talking this way. Yes, no matter when or how you die, I will be extremely upset. I'm allowed that, Scully, grief is a normal reaction. Would you rather I stand next to your casket saying 'See ya, Scully, nice knowing you'?" "Calm down, Mulder," she commanded quietly, and surprised him by pressing a finger to his lips. Her touch quieted him, but did little to calm. She moved her hand away from his face and rested it again at his side. "What I don't want is for you to lose yourself in that grief. I'm not on an ego-trip here. If I die in an accident or on a case, as tragic as that might be, I know you won't throw yourself off a bridge." She ended the statement with a half-smile, and that small warmth did wonders for his soul. He grinned down at her in reflex. "Are you sure, Scully?" arching one eyebrow, then "Yeah, I guess I'm not the bridge type." He felt much of the tension drain from his body. "But," she continued, serious once more, "If this cancer, or anything else possibly resulting from when I was...unaccounted for...does cause my death, I know it will haunt you, that you'll feel responsible somehow. Can you honestly tell me right now that IF I die from this illness you'll be able to go on with your work and treat my death as that much more evidence in this mystery?" "How can you be so professional about this, Scully!" Quiet no more, he released her and stepped back to stare at her. "No, I cannot say that, I won't! I will never see you, whatever happens to you, as evidence, like you're just one piece of some twisted puzzle. If that's your goal, forget it now. I said I won't curl up and die, but I won't chalk you up as a learning experience either. Do you really think you mean so little to me, that I'd just let them get away with it? They thought they could take Samantha and not have to answer for it, but I'm getting damn close, Scully. If they...kill...you, know now - I won't stop until they're exposed as the murdering cowards they are, if it takes-" "What, Mulder, if it takes, WHAT? Your entire life?" Her face was flushed with anger again and she trembled, the rapid change of emotions taking a toll on her. "Don't you see how unfair that is to me? To burden me with the fact that my death will put this "curse" on you? You are not some knight in shining armor, Mulder. You don't have to pledge your life to me in some quest for vengence. It's not noble, it's not chivalrous and it won't bring me back! Get it, Mulder? Nothing you could possibly do would bring me back! But it might destroy you! How can I face my death with any sort of dignity if I know that I'll be leaving you behind like this? How could you make this so hard for me?" Guilt hit him in a deep wave, and his legs buckled slightly from the weight of it. He'd been thinking of himself again, not of her. How he could channel his pain into something he thought would be productive, how someday he might stand by her grave, look up into the sky and say 'I got them, Scully. I got them for you.' and be free. The realization of what he had done to her shook him. He only hoped it wasn't too late... Before she had time to react she was back in his arms. This place, where she fled for comfort when independence failed her, now felt confining, its price to high. Only her emotional exhaustion kept her from pushing him away. He'd never understand, never let her explain, not that it mattered. She didn't feel like talking anymore. He could hardly believe how fast she'd changed - rather, how fast he'd changed her. She had been almost smiling minutes before, almost joking, and now his inconsiderate words had erased all of that. She stood still and let him hold her, but he sensed her retreat behind a wall he had helped her to build. Coaxing her out could prove difficult. "What do you want from me, Scully?" He asked it sincerely, knowing suddenly that he had to let her have control in this. "I'll try to do it, give you whatever you need. Just tell me how to make it easier for you. Your way. But please don't give up on me. I can do better, I promise." He refused to let tears fall. He wanted any progress with her to be earned, not given out of pity. She took a deep breath and looked up at him finally. He was shocked to see that her eyes held - hope? "Do you really mean that, Mulder?" she whispered, afraid she'd heard him wrong. "Trust me." It was his turn to lay it on the line, challenge her to honor their bond. It seemed an eternity that he searched her eyes, waiting. And he saw the moment his words connected with her heart. Her lower lip quivered and the tears began to fall unhindered. He pulled her close, lifting her feet off the ground as her arms encircled his neck. "Always, Mulder...always." She sobbed it into his neck as he set her gently down on the edge of the sink. Her legs parted to let him nearer, and he moved to close the space. With any other woman it might have been erotic, but this was his best friend, offering an invitation of a different sort. Forgiveness. He let himself cry, now. *************** They remained huddled together for several minutes, Mulder's tears stopping before Scully's. As she began to move, lifting her hands to wipe her eyes and cheeks, he moved backed to give her space but maintained their contact with his hands resting lightly on her thighs. He noticed a wisp of her hair stuck to her forehead and raised one hand to brush it back from her face. When she beat him to it, he moved to gently trace a lone tear down the bridge of her nose. He was rewarded with a smile, teeth and all. "I guess we should have talked about this earlier," Scully said through her sniffles. "Or later. I certainly didn't expect all of it to come out like this, for it to turn into a fight. I figured I'd keep working, we'd keep searching, until something... happened. And I guess it did. I just..." she stopped and inhaled deeply, letting her breath out through pursed lips. "Mulder, I just want a better goodbye than one from a hospital bed." Visions of Penny Northern's pale face, the feel of her limp hand in Scully's, came to her suddenly, and she shivered. Mulder saw it, and took both of her hands in his once more. "I'm glad I found out now, Scully," his voice low and husky, "I obviously wasn't aware of what you've been feeling recently. I should have been more observant, I guess. I figured you'd talk to me when you were ready, and I didn't want to smother you." He bit his lower lip and went on. "I really do believe you when you say you're going to fight this illness. And I accept your not wanting me to obsess about whatever, or whoever, might be behind it. Scully, you of all people know how I get tunnel vision when I'm really into something, but I swear I'll do my best to keep this from overwhelming me. I can't guarantee that it won't, though. I can't imagine or prepare for something so final." "Oh, Mulder," she whispered, and held his hands more tightly. "During your...disappearance, I never stopped hoping that I'd find you. It's kind of like with Samantha - as long as there's no body, there's that chance, right? But, if this cancer-" his eyes strayed from hers for a second before he focused on her gaze once again. "I won't be able to find you and bring you back, Scully. The only satisfaction I could possibly have is in revenge. I know I shouldn't be thinking about what may never happen - you have a lot going for you that the others didn't. But I can't stop thinking about never seeing your face or hearing your voice or feeling your touch-" he paused and stroked the back of her hands with his thumbs, "ever again. I know I'm supposed to be strong, for both our sakes, but this scares me more than anything we've ever faced. My fear turns so easily to anger, Scully, and I don't know how to stop it, how to let it go like you want me to." "I'm scared, too, Mulder," Scully said softly. "Not of dying - I believe in a life beyond this body and, while I'm not ready to go just yet, it doesn't terrify me. What does frighten me is the thought of you, alone with your rage, thinking nothing is more important than getting justice for me. I know you can focus your frustrated energy on helping me try to save myself, now. But you're right, I do know better than anyone how consumed you can become by one goal, at the expense of other things in your life. And I don't want that to happen because of me, ever. You have lots of things to do yet, too, Mulder. You have to find Samantha, you have to reveal the secrets we know have been hidden for so long, you have to show them all that they picked the wrong guy to stick in the basement. Or the right guy, maybe." She grinned at him, but he couldn't return it. She took his face carefully in her hands and their eyes locked. "I don't know if I'll be standing next to you when all of this happens, Mulder, but it is going to happen. Please don't ever get sidetracked, don't ever stop searching until you find all your answers. That is what you can do for me, Mulder. That's what I want most of all. And remember that I'll be with you, somehow, always, I promise." Her name, murmured only once as he pulled her to him again. It was all he could manage, but it was all she needed. This man, who constantly amazed her with his ramblings about the mysteries of the universe, was also able to move her with a silence that spoke volumes. She would never be sure when his quiet comfort first came to mean so much to her, but she was no longer embarassed to need him this way. She was glad that she could provide solace for him, too, and secretly pleased that their mutual concern was often conveyed through physical contact. That closeness provided a sense of security no words could match. But she knew they could only hide in each other's arms for so long. "As good as this feels, Mulder," she said with a sigh, "it has to stop, now." He took his head from her shoulder quickly and looked away nervously, starting to step back. She grabbed his arms suddenly and held him still, a mischievious grin lighting her face. "Because," she continued in a low voice, "my rear end is going numb." It took a second for the joke to register with him, but when it did relief swept his face and he laughed out loud. "We can't have that, Scully," he said with a smile, and in one motion picked her up at the waist and stood her up in front of him. She bent her head back to look up at him, her hands resting on his forearms. "Do you need any help with that...problem?" His gently suggestive tone reassured her. Their arguement had done no permanent damage, and she was surprised to feel the heaviness gone from her heart. 'That's my partner' she thought happily, and the emotion spilled over into her words. "Come on, Mulder," she said, failing to sound as stern as she should, and he caught her smiling as she turned from him. She had him by one hand, and he followed her willingly out of the kitchen. "Where're we headed, Scully?" he said huskily, trying to lighten the mood further. She slowed, and looked back at him over her shoulder. Her eyes were bright, and the half smile she gave him made his stomach flutter. "We are going..." she paused and turned to fully face him, "back to my funeral." ********** "Get comfortable, Mulder," she said, finally going to the closet to hang up his jacket. He still hadn't seated himself as she walked back to the coffee table, squating to pick up the books she had knocked off earlier. From that position she looked up at him and saw the ill-concealed doubt once again inhabiting his eyes. He could be so stubborn. She rose and walked over to stand before him. "I think you'll like this part, if you just relax and listen to what I have to say. We got a lot out in the open, Mulder, but there's more I need to explain. Help me out here - try to have an open mind." She grinned at the quick look of surprise she got in return, and backed away. Challenging him - a man who was willing to consider just about any possibility long after others had made their judgements - to expand his viewpoint. How dare she? But it worked. He shook himself a little, almost like a runner getting ready to race, and then eased himself down onto the couch. "OK, Scully," was all he said as she sat down at the other end. He could not help but notice how at ease she looked. She had rebounded well from their emotional exchange and looked almost eager to continue. He simply nodded, signaling her to start. "OK," she echoed, sounding like a teacher calling for everyone's attention. Her mouth turned up at the corners in a tiny smile as her eyes met his. "Interestingly enough, Mulder, you are what got me thinking about my funeral in the first place." She noted the way one eyebrow arched in slight astonishment, but he didn't try to interrupt. "Last weekend, I was just...cleaning, straightening, whatever, there was nothing good on TV, so I decided to listen to some of my CDs that I hadn't heard in a while. There's this song, I've always liked it but hadn't thought about it since...I don't know when, but hearing it this time it made me think of you. I listened to it three or four times in a row, and each time I felt stronger that it was saying something I wanted to share with you." She paused to look at him more clearly - she definitely had his interest piqued. "So, then I tried to figure out how to do it - to get you to listen to the song. I considered so many things, from just popping it in the next time you came over to taking you to a karaoke bar and singing it myself." She laughed then, and blushed, before continuing. "But that's certainly not my style, and I could never do it justice anyway. So, I started writing you a letter, using to lyrics as a foundation for the feelings I wanted to convey. I compose my thoughts much more clearly that way, writing - in my case notes, my journal." She saw recognition in his eyes and knew he remembered what he read the night Penny died. Good. "Anyway, I quickly realized that not only did I have a lot to say to you, but to my mother, Skinner, other friends. And I wanted you and the others to get these...messages...when I thought you would need them the most - if I died. Instead of grieving for my loss, I wanted you all to rejoice in my life and the connections we had made. Then I decided that rather than writing a goodbye "novel", I would create the perfect funeral and say it all there. My way. No sorrowful hymns and painful prayers, but poetry, music and scripture that would remind you all that I loved my life and was grateful for every minute of it. That with your help I tried to make a difference. That each of you shaped the person I was and that hopefully I, in turn, contributed something positive to your lives." "Please, Scully," he interrupted at last, "please stop talking about yourself in the past tense." His voice quivered and he was breathing hard. "I'm sorry, Mulder," she said as she slid down the length of the couch to sit close beside him. "I'm just trying to outline my thought processes. This wasn't a hasty decision, brought about solely by my diagnosis. I had thought about this before - more and more healthy people plan their funerals all the time. I wouldn't want my mother planning my wedding for me - why should she, or anyone else, plan my funeral? I want to take charge, to make sure it's a true reflection of me. And, it's kind of like writing a will when your young - if you have anything valuable to leave to those who mean the most to you, you'd better make sure each of them gets what you want them to have. And, also like a will, my funeral is subject to change as my life changes, as my relationships change. In five years I may look at this and want to redo the whole thing. I honestly believe I'll still be here in five years to do just that." He wrapped his arms around her in a strong hug, which she returned. "That's what I want to hear, Scully," he sighed. "And as much as I didn't want this thing to make sense, you have managed to clarify your position quite well." He relaxed his hold a bit but didn't let her move away. "I haven't gotten very far along with it yet, Mulder - I'm in the middle of finding poems for my mother. But the song that started all of this, the one for you...I was wondering if you'd listen to it...now." She looked at him, shyly, a little embarassed, half afraid he'd jump up and run out the door. "I really think it would mean more, when we are both here to share it." Her heart was pounding, she was sure he could feel it. "If that's what you want, Scully," he said after a long moment, "I'd be honored to hear it now." His eyes swirled with emotion - she saw fear, compassion, tenderness and trust, along with others she couldn't quite name. Her breathing became shallow and her mouth went dry with the coppery taste of doubt - had she hoped, deep down, that he'd get them both out of this? That she could offer to bare this part of her heart to him and have him politely refuse? 'You want him to know,' her mind told her, 'and now he will.' "OK, " she said quickly, trying to sound calm. She sat up, away from him, and fumbled with the CD cases in front of her. "Looks like it's still in the stereo." She picked up the remote and pointed it across the room. "Come here, Scully," he demanded in a low voice, but didn't move to touch her. She turned back to stare at him, and reading the depths of his eyes suddenly knew that he was requiring a decision from her. To let him in, past all the walls. Or to mark this moment as the time their boundaries were permanently established. It was never even close. She moved against him slowly, her back to his chest, his chin coming to rest on her shoulder as he closed his arms around her and pulled her close. He nuzzled the back of her neck and inhaled deeply, taking her in. "Now, Scully," he murmured, letting his warm breath stroke her ear, "play our song." She managed to hit the right series of buttons and then dropped the remote onto the carpet, freeing her hands to lock with his. She let herself fall back, his strength holding both of them as the first slow notes, and then the singer's voice, drifted in. When you walk your longest mile When you face your hardest trial If it hurts too much to cry Let your spirit fly There will be love on the windwill be hope in the end So let us go you and I And let our spirits fly I will be there by your side And we will try to catch the wind and ride Above the heartache and the pain Above the dark and never-ending rain Oh this I swear I will try To help your spirit fly May you be wise May you be kind May you be happy with what you find May you dance on higher ground May you hear a simple sound And never have to question why Just let your spirit fly I will be there There will be time You will be a lover And a friend of mine And this I swear I will try To help your spirit fly When we arise from this sleep There will be promises to keep And if we must say goodbye Let your spirit fly Oh and if we must say goodbye Let your spirit fly As the music faded Scully leaned over just enough to retrieve the remote, stopping the disc before the next song could start. "Dance tune," she mumbled, "not appropriate." "Hey," Mulder whispered to the back of her head, causing her to turn to look at him. His eyes were wet but held no sadness, and the smallest smile shaped his lips. He lifted one hand to her face, his fingers brushing along her jaw, her cheek, tracing her hairline. He searched her eyes - she looked exposed, vulnerable, and suddenly trembled against him. "That was really beautiful. I think I understand what you've been trying to tell me, Scully, but I guess I knew it already. We will always be here for one another, no matter what. That you, in the flesh or in memories, will give me the strength to go on, even thrive, as long as I don't hold myself back. Something like that?" "Yeah," she whispered, "something like that." She couldn't stop the tears then, pent-up emotions finally overwhelming her determined control, and she curled up into him like a child. "I need to thank you, Scully," he said softly, "for reminding me of what's really important. Us...together." He rubbed her back lightly, moving his cheek against her soft hair. "I cherish every day we've had, every day we will have. We've come so far in four years, and I am constantly amazed that the spy sent to stop me has become my best friend, my anchor and my guide. Look at me, Scully." He tucked one finger under her chin and lifted her head. "I'm a mess, Mulder," she said, embarassed, but didn't look away, his eyes demanding her attention. "You're perfect," he murmured. "Listen, carefully. You complete me, Scully, as much as anyone possibly could. You keep me focused when I try to drift away, and even though I often resist your logic and reason, deep down I know I need it to stay on track. You are the one person, Scully, the only one, who knows my demons and doesn't judge me, and that has done wonders for my own self-respect. I'm learning so much from you, growing, letting myself feel pain and doubt and loss instead of burying them because I know, now, that they won't destroy me - I can go on. You've made me trust you, against my will it seems, and you've never betrayed that trust - I'm a stronger person just knowing that you, if no one else, are always on my side. And you have been so brave, Scully, facing things you don't understand, things no one should have to deal with. But you stick with me - even when I'm alone I feel you near, and sometimes that's all that keeps me going, gives me courage. I'm not the same person you met that very first day - I hardly remember him. That is the impact you have had. These are the gifts you have given, and I will treasure them forever. They will keep you alive in me, in my heart and soul." He lowered his head and brushed his lips against hers for the briefest second. She stared at him, amazed and speechless, so he went on. "These are permanent changes, Scully - I won't lose them if I lose you. I still don't want to dwell on that possibility, but understand that I'll deal with it if I have to. You've taught me how to cope, Scully, so please don't worry that I can't." "I'll try, Mulder..." she gasped, hugging him fiercely again. "I know I shouldn't have gotten so...bothered...about how you'd take all of this. You have changed a lot, haven't you?" She held on to him a little longer before reluctantly letting go, but she didn't move far, needing to watch his eyes. "You know, Scully, I used to keep people at a distance - they couldn't hurt me if they couldn't touch me. But you've made me realize that the rewards are more than worth the risk. If I knew for a fact you were going to die tomorrow, I wouldn't change anything. I am so lucky to have you in my life, for any amount of time. I simply choose to believe that we have lots of time left, and I want us to be together for all of it." He surprised her with another gentle kiss, lingering a bit this time, before pulling back to study her face. Her tears had dried and she blushed under his scrutiny. He just smiled, hopeful. "Mulder," she began slowly, trying to be cautious. '"What?" he question, his lips at her ear, teasing. "I, uh, have to admit that the one good thing to come from this illness is the new...physical ...closeness we've developed. I mean, we've always been able to comfort each other at some level, but I think we both know this is...different." His breathing tickled, and when she felt goosebumps rise on her skin she pushed him away, just a little, with one hand. He grinned at her, pleased with himself. "Seriously, Mulder. It's been building, hasn't it, for a long time, but we seem to have needed an excuse to let ourselves open up like this. Doesn't that worry you? Would we be here if I hadn't gotten sick?" She bit her lip nervously, half afraid she might talk him out of it. He knew what he wanted to say, but not the best way to say it so that she wouldn't misunderstand. They were almost there, he didn't want to jeopardize their progress. But he owed her the truth. "Honestly, Scully? No, we wouldn't be, because things were great the way they were. We could rely on one another as best friends and partners, and it was enough. We both knew that there was the potential for something deeper, but why mess with a good thing?" She felt the faintest uncertainty rising in the back of her mind - where was this going? He had kissed her, twice, but now... "But now we've been reminded, rather bluntly, that we can't just keep existing day to day and be satisfied with what we've got, because it all can change so fast. We still have time to explore our options, Scully, to quit ignoring what could be the best thing that's ever happened to either one of us. We are best friends, who could be so much more. I know you want this as much as I do, Scully, I feel it every time we touch, how much we need and want each other. Why should we keep this distance between us, when it serves no good purpose? We belong together, and we deserve to be happy. Not just content - really happy. Give us that chance." He knew he sounded desperate, but he was. She knew she should say something, but too many things came to mind, mixed with the echoes of what he had said. So, impulsively, she moved in closer, her eyes holding his, closing only when their lips met. She had meant to kiss him once, softly, and pull away. But many long minutes later she was still in his lap, his mouth exploring her neck, when tears filled her eyes. "Mulder, wait," she pleaded, taking his face in her hands, "there's something I have to say." "Sure, Scully," he murmured, "I need to catch my breath, anyway." He couldn't help grinning at her. "Mulder, I...", she took a second to compose herself. "Thank you, Mulder, for staying and fighting...no, working...all of this out with me. Thank you for you honesty and your patience. I was sure, earlier, that you'd get mad and leave, and if you had we'd be in our seperate worlds right now, hurt and angry and alone..." "You're worth fighting for, and with, Scully. And now there's no more 'alone' for either one of us. Unless you mean like 'Take me home, Mulder, I can't wait to get you alone,' in which case alone is a very, very good way to be. Our song did say something about being 'lovers', didn't it?" His mouth was irresistable when he smiled, but she limited herself to a single deep kiss. "Yes, Mulder," she whispered against his lips, feeling whole at last. "As it said: 'there will be time'." The End *************************************************************************** Love does not consist in gazing at each other but in looking outward together in the same direction. Antoine de Saint-Exupery ***************************************************************************