Afraid to Ask

by Absinthe
Disclaimer: Scully, Mulder, and the X-Files all obviously belong to someone other than I.

This story takes place sometime after the "Mulder goes nuts after having a hole drilled in his head" episode, but before Scully's cancer is cured.
Scully's nights were restless. She was unable to sleep, unable to become absorbed in vacuous late night television, unable even to lose herself in literature that normally drew her into its pages. Everywhere she was confronted with death. Death made trite by young scriptwriters, death glorified by long-dead artists, death in her work. In preparing to autopsy the latest cadaver in one of Mulder's crusades Scully found herself nearly unable to wield a scalpel. She hoped that no one had seen the shudder that ran through her before she regained her control. Facing her mortality so close at hand was telling its toll on her psyche.

Mulder had taken to staring at her when he thought she wouldn't notice, but she did. She was constantly aware of his eyes searching her for signs of weakness. Scully wanted to tell him to stop, that it everything was fine, but since Eddie Van Blundht.... A seemingly impassable chasm had opened between the formerly close partners. She wondered if Mulder noticed it too, if he knew how frustrated his partner was. Often, it was all Scully could do to keep from grabbing him by one of his awful ties and screaming into his narcoleptic face *Dammit Mulder, we are RUNNING out of TIME!* And of course, Mulder continued to look for something he would never find in his all consuming quest for the 'truth.'

Scully tugged at her rumpled hair, trying to ignore the dull ache in her nasal cavity. He was on a forced vacation, the Bureau had insisted on giving Mulder a full psychological once-over before allowing him to return to work after his harrowing experience with . Scully concentrated on the projects she'd started, on the Van Blundht mummy, on her papers in an attempt to fill her hours. She knew Mulder probably had half a dozen Xfiles waiting for their attention, but it was his role to pull them out of the hat, so for now, they remained unattended.

The full sized bed was invitingly mussed, waiting for a body to fill it. Scully leaned back against the wall, growing more irritated by the minute and wide awake. She pounded her fists into the carpet, for the first time in a year she missed having QueeQueg around. The all too familiar sensation of hot blood trickling onto her upper lip drove her from her position. In the bathroom she gazed at her reflection while waiting for the flow of blood to cease. Her cheekbones seemed unhealthily prominent in the half-light. Scully rubbed at the bridge if her nose, staring into her own wide, frightened eyes. She felt them start to overflow when she thought about how little it took to get the tears started these days.

Scully attempted to swallow her fear but the floodgates had been opened. She sobbed violently, the spasms restarting her nosebleed. Grabbing a wad of tissues Scully slid to the floor and allowed herself the luxury of hysteria.

A loud pounding on her door interrupted her catharsis. Scully jumped to her feet , trying unsuccessfully to get herself together.

"Scully!" The interloper yelled.

Just barely able to keep her voice even, Scully growled back, "MULDER, its 2am, GO HOME!" She buried her face in a navy blue towel.

"Scully! I need to talk to you!" He persisted.

"Did you ever consider buying a tape recorder?" But a wave of concern washed over her, and she almost wanted to slap herself for her sarcastic response. You WANT him to come to you don't you?

Mulder fell silent.

"Alright Mulder, hang on." Her voice broke on the last word. She hoped she'd gotten the tear stains and blood off her face when she unlocked the door. Mulder looked down at her, straight into her eyes. Uncomfortable, Scully stepped back to break the visual contact.

"Scully, your nose," She wiped at it with the towel again while turning away from him to check her reflection in a darkened window.

"What's wrong Mulder?" She kept her irritation in check.

"Scully, I need to know, If the things I saw, the memories, if they're mine." He managed to get out. Mulder nudged the door shut behind him.

"I don't know if I'm The best person to answer that." She turned to face him again. "Mulder, have you tried talking to your mother?"

"She won't return my calls." The taller agent pressed his lips together ruefully.

"Coffee?" Scully offered, suddenly remembering to try to be a "good little hostess."

"No, " Mulder settled on her sofa.

"Mulder, we've been through this before." Scully folded her arms. "What is it you really want? Why did you come over here tonight?"

"I... Scully, I just want you to talk to me." He turned his unnerving gaze back to her face. "I don't know. I don't know who I can trust anymore.... Not even myself." He looked down at his hands.

"Mulder, you're tired..." She trailed off. She didn't want to talk to him. She didn't want him to see what she was really thinking or what she really felt like.

"Yes, I'm tired, I'm tired of standing on the outside looking in at you."

"What do you want me to say?" Scully wanted to join him on the couch but couldn't bring herself to pass through his field of vision again.

"Anything. Scully, there's this distance between us lately, as wide as it was when we first met, at the beginning of our first case." He twisted to peer at his partner.

"Yes." was all she could get out.

"Scully?" Ignoring him, she finally sank into the overstuffed couch next to him.

"How are you? Really?" Mulder put his hand under her chin, forcing her to look him in the eyes.

"Really? Do you REALLY want to know the answer to that?"

"You know I do."

"Fine Mulder, I'll tell you how I'm doing!" She hoped the anger would disguise her fear. "It's metastasized. It's in my bloodstream. They don't know how much longer I have now, but the prognosis is bad." Her voice gave out on the last few words, but she was out of tears, tired of crying for herself. Mulder dropped his gaze to his lap again.

"Then I guess we can't let this continue can we?"

Scully let out her breath at his reply. For once he had said the right thing. Sensing this, Mulder was able to look at her again.

"Scully.... you have to trust me."

"I DO trust you Mulder."

"Then why does it take a pile driver to haul anything out of you? Why didn't you tell me when you saw the ghosts?"

"I couldn't Mulder. I wasn't ready to believe that it wasn't this," She gestured at her nose, "causing me to hallucinate, I wasn't ready to say it out loud, to make it real." She glared at her partner for a beat, "And your speculations didn't help any." Mulder arched a questioning brow.

"You said that the dying could most easily see the dead." Her voice was flat and cold.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, I've had enough apologies." She inadvertently snarled these last words.

"Have you considered taking a break?"

"From what?"

"From field work."

"Mulder? Do you really want to get rid of me?" No sarcasm, just an honest question.

"No, I want anything but, but you can't keep on forever. You need rest, you need to give yourself a chance."

"Chance at what? Life? Mulder, don't you see? I don't really know if I have a reason to."

"Don't talk like that!" Mulder snapped, his eyes wide. He seemed truly hurt.

"You told me not to lie to you Mulder. The truth is.. The truth is that ... that I don't share your passion. It's not enough anymore." There, she'd said it. She'd finally said something that wasn't for him, that wasn't meant to gain his approval or his respect.

Mulder stared at her, face blank. He wasn't really surprised, but he hadn't expected her to ever come out and say it, to finally demand something else out of life.

"Scully. I understand." He knew it was a lame line as soon as it escaped his lips. "I mean.. I can see that... that if you.."

"If I don't have some personal disaster to drive me, I don't have the same single minded purpose as you do?" Scully finished for him. She'd put a lot of thought into it so she knew what she wanted him to know. "I want to have a life to lose Mulder. I NEED to have something more than my work..." than a friend I was too afraid to ask for anything more than friendship.

Mulder nodded slowly, unsure of what to say. He looked like a lost child. Scully fought the urge to pull him to her chest, to bury her face in his hair.... She shook her head away from those thoughts. She settled for resting a hand on his shoulder. He was hot, she could feel it even through his sweater.

"Mulder, Are you alright?" His eyes met hers, he pressed his cheek to the back of her hand, reaching for it with his own. Scully closed her eyes, exhaling sharply. He started to lean away from her, but she turned her hand to cup his cheek, ran her fingers up past his ear, into his hair.

"Scully?" The hunger in her eyes was mirrored in his. Scully pressed on, having taken the first step, she fearlessly brushed her lips against his, watching for his reaction. Mulder didn't pull back, and taking this as the acceptance that it was, she eagerly covered his mouth with her own, his opening slightly to admit her questing tongue. Scully shoved him backwards on the couch, letting her slight weight press fully down on him. Mulder's arms encircled her, his hands playing across her back to entangle themselves in her hair. Scully got his shirt unbuttoned, exploring his upper body with the delight of a child. She sat back, straddling his waist to impatiently tug her miscreant hair out of her face.

"Scully." He breathed, "What ever took us so long?"
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Email: absinthe@earthling.net