Title: Milagro: The Long Walk Retracing the Steps

Rating: R

Spoilers: Milagro

Class: Angst, Post-ep

Keywords: MSR

Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters I am only borrowing them temporarily.

Archive: Anywhere

Summery: Perhaps the toughest challenge is giving up a place to rest and discovering new truths.

Authors Note: A special thanks to Mayle who made me think that maybe another follow-up was in order. Thank you.

Milagro

The Long Walk

Retracing the Path (1/1)

I feel myself drifting out of a deep sleep one in which I felt at peace with and comforted by. I'm lying on my left side my arms draped across another person. No not just another person, Scully, the woman I'd just had an emotional and passionate encounter with just a few hours earlier.

I sigh. Before nuzzling my nose into the nape of her neck my breath stirring the soft hairs there, her skin is cold. I feel a chill travel up my spine as I notice the lack of warmth from her body where it is pressed next to mine.

I move my hand slightly encountering wetness...

"What the?"

I pull my arm out from under her shoulders causing her to roll onto her back. I fumble blindly for the lamp on the nightstand, searching for the switch and when I do the room is illuminated in a soft blue light.

<NOOOOO>

My mind screams out as I take in the scene. Blood on my hands, the dark red color soaking the sheets, her torso covered in partially dried blood with a huge gaping hole in her chest and her eyes, open, staring at me with same intensity in death that she exuded in life.

"Scully," her name is torn from my throat in a sob.

Laughter...I hear laughter that permeates my soul with it's blackness, the sound of evil. I know the voice, it's a demon returned from hell to torment me.

I look to the foot of the bed. Standing there eyes wild, as he gazes through me, is Phillip Padgett holding in his outstretched had a heart. Almost like he's offering it to me in some sort of sick gesture of peace it still seems to be pulsing, the blood dripping over his hand. He smiles at me and laughs again.

"You see Agent Mulder *I* was right. Agent Scully is...or should I say *was* in love."

He steps to the side of the bed I seem to be paralyzed I can't move. I watch as her reaches into his chest pulling out his own heart replacing it with...

<Oh God...NO>

He puts Scully's heart into the void left by the removal of his heart he drops his heart onto the floor and crushes it under his foot. He looks at me once again.

"Now...you know how *I* feel, you had her love yet you failed to act until tonight. I have her heart and you have nothing."

He starts laughing again I lunge across the bed and...

* * * *

I sit up, sweat beading my body...a nightmare, nothing more, yet terrified I reach over turning on the light only to find I'm alone. I throw off the sheet, taking the time only to yank on my boxers and grab my gun.

I check the bathroom; my jeans are still lying in the shower where I left them after Scully pushed them off me. I pause in the living room my eyes lingering on the floor where Scully allowed me to hold her.

I listen and hear...something...sounds like typing.

I open my door and rush to the next apartment the yellow crime scene tape has been removed from one side. I quietly open the door, my gun poised and ready for anything. The typewriter still sits only covered with plastic sheeting like the other sparse furnishings; I can see the residue of fingerprint powder.

I make my way into the bedroom where I found Scully with Padgett the last time and there she is. Standing, looking out the window. What little light there is coming from the window casts numerous and strange shadows throughout the room.

I expel a breath I hadn't realized I was holding until now. She hasn't moved, but I know she heard me...I know she *feels* me. She looks so beautiful I have to blink back the tears, standing there wearing one of *my* shirts the top few buttons undone. I wait patiently for her to speak, acknowledge my presence.

"He said it was a view only a writer could appreciate, yet he wrote me the way *he* envisioned me to think and be. Does that mean *I* am like that brick wall? Have I forgotten who the *real* Dana Scully is?"

She turns toward me her hand extended out. I gratefully approach pulling her back against my chest surrounding her with my arms as we both look out the window.

"Is that how *you* see me, Mulder? Am I hard and cold?"

"No, Scully never...you are strong, but your strength has nothing to do with being hard and cold. You are not like that wall."

"Mulder...sometimes, sometimes I am weak, when I saw Padgett at the chapel and heard he was stalking me...I was scared. But ever since I was a little girl I've been taught to stand up to my fears. Anything less would be a sign of weakness."

I nuzzle her ear with my lips, tightening my hold on her body.

"I'm listening, Scully."

"Mulder I once told you I felt as if I was walking a line two steps forward and three steps back. But I was wrong in the six years that I have known you we have been traveling in an endless circle...we start a case, we have proof most of the time and then in the end we are left with nothing."

"What are you trying to say Scully? I don't understand."

She turns in my arms her hands move up cupping my face.

"Mulder, what happened between us, last night...I'm scared for you, and me, us...Mulder. We both let our barriers down and now I'm afraid of what will happen. I don't know if we *should* move forward, I..."

I silence her with a kiss she tries to evade me, but soon softens against me allowing me entrance, dropping her walls to me. I press her up against the window grinding my erection into her stomach. My fingers fasten on her nipple rolling it.

"Scully, what you do to me...no one else, only you..." I pant.

She finally manages to push me away her palms on my chest, tears glisten in her eyes. I try to kiss her again, but she steps back one hand still on my chest. She kisses the fingers of her other hand and then touches my lips gently.

"Stop, Mulder...please...we can't...I have to go."

Was that a kiss good-by? The Scully-way of letting me down?

She turns away, walking out of the room leaving me standing. I'm confused, hurt maybe even resentful. Why does she have to make everything so difficult? I can't go back, I won't. We won't.

Instead of enjoying the resting-place I thought I'd found it seems I'm right back at the crossroads retracing the steps yet again on my long walk.

Why is it that this time I feel so alone?