Title- Spark (1/1)
Author- Chel Scully
E-mail- delphia@mailcity.com
Classification- VA
Rating- PG-13 (Swearing, minor blood scenes)
Keywords- 
Summary- Mulder is very close to death as a result of a car accident, 
and Scully spends the night wallowing in her self-pity.

Disclaimer- Sing with me now! To the tune of Tori Amos' "Spark!" She's 
addicted to writing fanfiction, she's afraid that the network'll sue, 
Gossamer Net are you sure that my fic is, here, here, here? She's 
convinced she could write down her fant'sy, but she couldn't keep 
Mulder himself, doubting if Fox finds a suable offense, here, here, 
here. I say I don't own it, again and again, but you don't, don't 
really care, though,  I say I don't own it, the characters here, but 
you don't, don't really care, though, you don't, don't really care, 
though...

Author's note- I like Tori Amos' "Spark"... so I wrote about it. 
*Shrug* Thanks, as always, to Trusty, and Liv, and, for the first 
time, to Mark, b/c they always read my stuff, and give me nice 
constructive criticism. ;) And, a note to all shippers: We rule.
'Nuff said.

Pay attention to the times... this story jumps around a lot. 

X~~~~~~~~~~~~ Spark ~~~~~~~~~~~~X
November 15
6:39 pm

     <It's raining.>
     The only clue that gave this away was the tapping of the water 
droplets on Dana Scully's apartment windows. The curtains were drawn 
tight. The lights were off. She sat alone in the farthest corner of 
her living room, next to a clock and a phone, her knees pulled to her 
chest, a cigarette jutting angrily out of her mouth. She took one last 
drag out of it before snuffing it out in the half-full ashtray next to 
her.
     <I'm not depressed,> she insisted to herself as she stared at the 
ashtray. She only smoked when she was depressed.
     Scully hugged her knees closer to her body. <I have to go to the 
office tomorrow... I don't want to go...> She looked away from the 
ashtray to a darker part of the room for more comfort. <I can't face 
them... I'd never make it through the day...
     <They think something's wrong with me. They treat me like I'm in 
a wheelchair, like I have a disability... someone said I was missing 
my spark...>
     She smiled in spite of her hollow mood. <I wouldn't call him my 
spark, exactly...>

~~~~~~~~~~~~X
November 7
1:27 pm

     <This couldn't happen... this never happens...>
     Scully frantically tried to convince herself as she walked as 
quickly as her legs could go down the hospital's highway.
     <We get attacked by liver-eating men, shape-shifters, moth-men... 
we don't have automobile collisions...>
     "Can I help you?" A nurse tried to stop her, but ended up putting 
her arm in front of her to get her attention. "Can I help you?" She 
asked again.
     Scully took a second to prepare her voice. "I'm looking for... a 
crash victim, just brought in recently..."
     "Can I have the name, please?" The young nurse asked politely and 
forcefully.
     She almost choked. "Fox Mulder."
     The nurse started down the hallway immediately, without so much 
as a "follow me."
     A.D. Skinner was standing outside the room. He looked up, 
acknowledged Scully's presence with a nod and an "Agent Scully" that 
held more sympathy than Scully would have liked.
     She took a deep breath to steady herself. "How is he?" She asked 
the doctor as he stepped out of the room.
     He looked up from his charts. "Are you relation?" He asked her.
     Scully's stomach gave a twist. "No. I'm his partner."
     The doctor didn't answer her question... he simply set his face 
into a grim wall of flesh. "I don't know what to tell you," was all he 
could say as she pushed past him into the room...

~~~~~~~~~~~~X
November 7
12:11 pm
	
     Mulder smacked a pile of papers onto his desk. "I'm so *tried* of 
this..." He kicked the wastebasket. "You know how many times I've been 
called 'Spooky' today?" He ranted at Scully.
     She looked up from her book and the yogurt she packed as a lunch. 
"More times than we've gone chasing after UFOs?"
     He pressed his mouth into a thin angry line and went back to the 
papers on his desk.
     <God, that was almost as bad as his puppy-dog look...> She 
commented to herself. "I'm sorry Mulder, you wanted Sympathetic!Scully 
today."
     He didn't answer.
     Scully stood up, and walked over next to him. "I'm, sorry, 
Mulder," she stated slowly, as if he would miss a word if she spoke 
too fast. "I didn't mean to insult you."
     He sighed. "I'm sick of being treated like some kind of fallen 
angel... Like somebody's wasted resource." He stopped shuffling papers 
and walked over to the file cabinet, all without looking anywhere 
around him. He opened a few drawers and flipped through a few files. 
"I don't want this... this, *circus* we're in." He slammed the drawer. 
     <He doesn't really mean it.>
     Scully smirked in spite of herself. "Maybe if you cleaned the 
desk a little..."
     He glared at her. 
     <Shit,> she recoiled inside, <I didn't mean to piss him off.>
     Mulder sat in his chair, and pawed through the papers on his 
desk.
     "What file are you looking for, Mulder?" She asked, trying to get 
him to forgive her by being helpful.
     He stopped searching for whatever it was. "I..." He started, but 
didn't seem to know how to finish. He leaned back in his chair, and 
closed his eyes tight.
     Scully remained standing where she was. <Why can't you just tell 
me what's bothering you?> She pleaded with him in her mind. It tore 
her conscious apart to see him in states like this.
     "I've been under a lot of stress lately." He opened his eyes. 
"How about I get us some lunch?"
     She sighed, and went over her possible responses. <We need to 
work on communication skills. I feel like I'm being left in the dark. 
Why can't we ever talk. You can trust me with your emotions...
     <Sure, I'd love some lunch...> 
     He was already getting up and heading for the door. "What do you 
want, Scully? McDonald's, Wendy's...?"
     "I don't need anything, thanks..." She showed him her yogurt 
cup.
     "You can't live off of that stuff Scully." He gave her a diluted 
grin. "You might avoid a coronary, and then where would we be?"
     He was gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~X
November 15
6:45 pm

     <I should've stopped him...>
     Scully lit up another cigarette and waded deeper into her ocean 
of self-pity.
     <I should've said I didn't need lunch.>
     That last image of his face, whole, unbandaged, before he left to 
get in a car wreck, lingered in her mind. Her throat tightened.
     <I should've DONE something,> she thought, clenching her teeth 
and fists against the threat of an onslaught of tears. <I can autopsy 
four bodies in one day, I can fully recover from cancer, I can make it 
in the FBI even as a woman, but I can't stop my fucking partner from 
buying me lunch...>
     Her throat almost closed up completely. She took another drag 
from her cigarette, and hoped the emotions would go away. She couldn't 
cry now... that would mean that the car wreck had won, that seeing her 
partner for five years bloody, broken, and bandaged, had left her more 
of a mess than the two cars involved in the crash. She couldn't give 
up to her emotions, not now. Not ever.
     <How could I be afraid of emotions?> She snapped inside of 
herself. <Women cry, women get sad! How in-feminine *are* you?? You 
can't keep your parents proud, you can't keep track of Mulder, you 
can't even feel emotion without guilt...> She glanced over at the 
ashtray. <You can't even QUIT SMOKING!!>
     Scully exploded inside. She picked up the ashtray and threw it 
across the room. It shattered as it hit the wall, and ash and 
cigarette butts scattered across the room.
     <I don't care,> she thought miserably, and put her head on her 
knees. <Nothing matters.>
     She sniffed. Her body took the few precious thought-less seconds 
to recompose itself.
     <Ice cream.>
     She looked up.
     <I need ice cream.>
     Scully got up and walked to the fridge.
     <If I don't have ice cream I'm going to shoot myself.>
     A frosty half a carton of mint chocolate chip cheerfully greeted 
her. She yanked it out, slammed the drawers until she could find where 
she put the scooper, and sat down on her couch.
     The ice cream was the best she'd ever tasted in months.
     <I feel so hollow...> She thought as she ate another small scoop. 
<Like something washed out my soul.> The chocolate chips crunched in 
her mouth.
     <I'm upset over Mulder.>
     That simple thought made her mind react like it was a powerful 
toxin. <I *can't* be! It's not about him, *I* didn't do what I should 
have...>
     She clutched the scooper like a knife and stabbed at the ice 
cream. <I can't be vulnerable over any person, not Mulder, not 
anyone.>
     The more ice cream she ate, the less hollow she felt. While she 
trusted her soul to the ice cream, she tried in many different ways to 
convince herself it wasn't Mulder, it was herself.
     <How selfish are you, that even your partner's accident is all 
about you?> She berated herself. <*Mulder* is in the hospital, 
attached to machines, he is the one who's dying, not...>
     All thoughts stopped.
     <He's dying.>
     The thought hit her with such force, when she had been aware of 
it all the time. It never sank in until that moment.
     Her throat closed up. <My God, he is... he's dying... and I 
never... I couldn't...>

~~~~~~~~~~~~X
November 7
12:32 pm

     "Agent Scully!" 
     Scully glanced up from her files at the man in a suit frantically 
knocking on her open door. "Agent Scully, there's been an accident, 
Agent Mulder's been in a wreck..."
     "*What?!*" She stood up immediately.
     "On 4th and Main," the man said.
     She didn't even think. She didn't need to. 4th and Main was four 
blocks away. She ran. Both her heels broke halway there. 
     The two cars were a mess. Scully couldn't tell where one car 
ended and the other one began. Three bodies were being pulled from the 
wreckage by the paramedics. Scully could just stand there in an 
adrenaline after-effect, staring at the mess.
     "Excuse me miss," a paramedic said to her. "I'll have to ask you 
to step aside and let..."
     Her mind clicked back on, and she brought out her badge in a 
hurry. "I'm a doctor, and that's my partner's car..." Her voice 
cracked on the word "partner" and she pointed at the car.
     The paramedic winced, which was more than enough for Scully.
     "You can ride in the ambulance to the hospital, if you..." The 
paramedic started.
     "Agent Scully!" Assistant Director Skinner pulled up alongside 
the taped-off crash. He motioned for her to come towards him.
     Before she turned to go, she saw the paramedics lifting someone 
out of one of the cars. Scully couldn't recognize him immediately, his 
face was covered in blood. But all it took was one look through the 
blood-stains on the tie, a look at the gaudy design, and she knew who 
it was.
     Her throat closed up. She turned on her broken heel and walked as 
fast as she could away from the blood.

~~~~~~~~~~~~X
November 15
6:50 pm

     <He's dying.>
     The thought still thundered through her head as she wondered how 
that could be. He couldn't just die... he never would just *die*.
     <He'll be dead. Soon. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe he's dead now.>
     The thought of Mulder dead was heavier than the thought of going 
back to the pitying offices, multiplied by twenty.
     <What'll it be like... never hearing him say your name again?>
     She put her head on the couch arm. He always just said "Scully," 
but there were so many different ways he could say it... sometimes he 
called her "Dana," and when he did she was always glad she wasn't 
named anything else. 
     <He's dying.>
     Scully squeezed her eyes shut, trying desperately to fight back 
the tears. "He'll be fine..." She gasped out loud. "He's always 
fine..."
     <He'll never say "I'm fine" again.>
     The careful barrier she had set up to block all emotion crumbled, 
and a choked sob tore out of her throat.
     She cried as hard as she could for as long as she could hold out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~X
6:58 pm
	
     Scully was back in her corner again, by the clock and the phone. 
She had found another ashtray, and was smoking one of her last three 
cigarettes.
     <Life'll be empty without him,> she thought desolately. <There 
just won't be any life at all.
     <I lived fine without him, before I knew him... but now that he's 
dying, I know I can't live without him.> Scully pondered over this 
coolly for a while, as the hollow space in her chest grew bigger.
     The phone rang.
     She got up on her knees and looked at the Caller I.D. <Hospital.> 
She blinked her tear-blurred eyes. <Calling to say he's gone? He's on 
his way out?>
     She sat back down again, dreading picking up the phone. She 
glanced at the clock. <6:58... are you sure where my spark is?>
     The answering machine picked up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~X
General Hospital
7:23 pm

     Scully practically knocked the hospital doors down as she flew 
through them, almost pushing over a few of the doctors in her way.
     "Ahh, Miss Scully, I see you got my message..." One of the 
pudgier doctors stammered nervously as he caught up to her.
     "You say he's improving?" Scully asked him, never looking at him, 
and trying to keep as much excitement out of her voice as possible.
     "Yes, very much so..." The little round doctor started puffing, 
and eventually gave up trying to follow her.
     <All the better,> she thought. <I don't want him around when I'm 
with...>
     She entered Mulder's room.
     He was slightly propped up on a reclining hospital bed. He had a 
few bandages on his face, and his eyes were closed.
     Scully's breath caught in her throat. She knew he was alive, but 
it scared her to see him lying so motionless like that, after the car 
accident...
     Mulder opened his eyes. She didn't think she'd ever be so happy 
to see the color hazel in her life. He grinned at her slowly. "Hi 
Scully."
     She bit her lip to keep those damn tears from spilling again. "Hi 
Mulder."
     Scully stood by the door for only a few seconds longer, when she 
couldn't take it anymore, and almost literally jumped to the bed side. 
She threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in his 
shoulder. "I thought you were dead," she told him through his hospital 
gown, and just barely choked down a sob.
     "It's okay..." He awkwardly stroked her hair with his good hand 
(his other arm was broken, Scully was sad to notice). "I'd never just 
die like that, you know that, Scully."
     "Yeah..." She raised her head, and smiled at him. She sniffed, 
and closed her red-rimmed blue eyes. "Mulder..." She opened her eyes 
again, looked at his now-momentarily-serious face. "For the rest of 
the time I'm here, do you think..." Scully bit her lip, but her eyes 
were already overflowing with tears. "Do you think you could call me 
Dana?"
     Mulder regarded her through caring and sensitive hazel eyes she 
now loved looking at. "Yeah." He grinned slowly. "Yeah, I could do 
that."
	
X~~~~~~~~~~~~ And now, back to the silliness... ~~~~~~~~~~~~X

So there. My first try at angst. Be nice... or I'll sick my 
psuedo-intellectual emotionally-unstable potentially dangerous rabid...
cheese demon... on you.

To send compliments, constructive criticism, cute Mulder pics...
On AOL Instant Messenger: 
     ChelScully
On ICQ: 
     14580789, Chel Scully or Chel
On Mailcity: 
     delphia@mailcity.com
On WBS: 
     Chel12562
New! On Tripod, my silly pillow page: 
     http://members.tripod.com/~Ra_Chel/pwindex.html

Liv: "He's so *cute* when he's drugged..."
Ris: "You have a million rounds of atomic beaver weapons coming through
your beavering spiral of pine scented-ness, and it makes me feel like
a big tub of good things."
Jess: "I'm Flying Jack!"
TrustyCaro: "And I'm NOT strange!"
Sam: "I can no longer live in this world of hate and ceramic clowns!"
Me: "My flam hurts."