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Title: In my arms
Author: Josie Marchant
Summary: A late night visit for Scully
Disclaimer: They belong to Chris Carter
and Fox, I promise to return them
http://marchant.freeservers.com
It must have been three am when the knock
came on my door, I wasn't afraid, I knew
there was only one person who would come
knocking at that time, and he wouldn't hurt me,
not for the world.
Pulling myself out of bed I walk to the door,
reaching on tiptoe to check the spyhole I gasp
at the sight of my partner.
Mulder stood there, blood running down his
face from a fresh wound on his forehead. His
lip was split, and a boot print was clear on his
left cheek.
Letting him in I catch him as he morealess
collapses into me, his breathing is nothing more
than a harsh scratchy sound in his chest.
"What happened?" I ask him, his reply is
barely audible as I lead him to my bedroom.
Sitting him down on my bed I go to the bathroom
to get my first aid kit. The cut on his head is not
too deep, and fortunately does not require stitching.
"Mulder, who did this to you?" I try again.
"Got....jumped" he wheezes. "Didn't know..where
else...to go" he flinches as I dab his cut head with
antiseptic.
"Sorry" I murmur. "It's going to sting a little" he
doesn't respond to my remark. "Did you get a bang
on the head?" I check him for signs of concussion,
he's displaying a couple. He slowly nods in reply.
"Sorry....I woke you" is his next statement.
"Mulder, that doesn't matter, you need to rest. I'd
like to take you to the ER to get that head of yours
checked out"
"No....please...just let me stay here" he seems to
plead. I'm not sure what he's afraid of. I know
he hates doctors, maybe that's what's bothering him.
There seems to be something else though, I can tell
by his eyes. Mulder has such expressive eyes,
beautiful hazel orbs, which seem to excrete
every emotion with just one look.
"Okay" I say as I gently reach out to him
I cup his face with my hand, he feels warm. I
think he may be in shock, I can feel him start
to shiver. "Come on, you're in shock Fox" I
use his first name, yet he doesn't even seem
to register. I lay him down and get him into
the bed. He watches me intently as I undress
him and tuck him under the covers. "If you
need anything just give me a shout" I kiss his
forehead and go to my couch. It's now 4 am,
but I can't sleep, I'm too worried, I want to
be awake just incase he has a concussion.
I must have nodded off, because I am
suddenly aware of a presence next to me.
Opening my eyes I look at Mulder, he is
pale, shivering and crying.
"What is it?" I sit up and pat the seat next to
me, he gingerly slides into it, then pushes
himself closer to me. "Mulder?" my hand
moves to his head and I stroke his hair softly.
"What's wrong, do you feel sick?" a shake of
his head is the only answer I receive. "What is
it?" I try again, he pushes his face into my neck,
one arm snaking around my middle, the silence
of my apartment is filled with the huge wracking
sobs that followed. I hold him tighter, unsure of
what has happened to cause this, I think he'll tell
me, just not yet. I find myself beginning to rock him,
softly humming a tune, anything to calm him down.
When his fit subsided he looked up at me, red
watery eyes, filled with pain. "Mulder, talk to me"
"I...." he begins to speak, one of his hands is
running up and down my back, it sends a shiver
through me. "I thought....they...would kill..me"
"Mulder, did you know these people who hurt
you?" I ask him, again he shakes his head.
"I thought...I...I'd die...but that wasn't...what I was
scared of" the words caught in his throat.
"What were you afraid of?" I stroke the bangs from
his forehead, "why were you scared?"
"Because" he sniffed. "Because I thought...I'd never
get to see you a...again" the sobs returned.
"Mulder, it's okay" I whisper, I didn't know what else
to say.
The day I walked into the x files office, when
Blevins had assigned me to debunk the work
of one Agent Fox Mulder, I would never
have believed that a relationship like the one
we share, would ever develop between us. As
he turned around from his desk, those eyes looking
at me from silver rimmed spectacles, and a voice
accusing me of being sent to spy on him; never did I
imagine myself holding this man in my arms, while
he cried. Never did I imagine loving this man as
much as I do right now...nor him loving me. I think
I should tell him that, let him know that I am here,
and that I love him too. I open my mouth to speak,
but my words would have fallen on deaf ears, for
he sleeps. Huddled in my arms, he is at peace.
FIN