Once in a lifetime you come to a place where you are happy, where you feel secure, where you want and need nothing. I have yet to reach that plane of existence. Can one's life be determined only by their work? Can the driving force behind a way of life for so long wear out, till suddenly you find you have gotten nowhere, and though you may have accomplished something, it's not what you think you wanted? Keep in mind that I have done nothing to try and change this. I have simply done my job while trying to stay true to myself. Or have I? Stayed true to myself that is.

 

"Put the gun down!" Two guns are poised, unwavering. She stands with her gun pointed directly at his heart; his gun remains pointed at her head. She watches as his finger begins to squeeze the trigger. "Put the gun down NOW!" No response. As his finger squeezes so does hers. Two gunshots ring out into the night air.

 

Suddenly he’s realized he should never have left her. "Scully!" He runs frantically toward the sound of the reverberating gunshots

 "Scully!" He runs madly, hoping both shots came from her gun. Then he sees her lying motionless, as blood seeps from her body. A few feet away, the man they had been after lay against the cold concrete, his blue jacket soaked with blood. A stream of blood running from his mouth across his scraggily red beard. He turns his attentions back to Scully.

 "Oh God, Scully!" He puts her head in his lap as a few tears rolled down his cheek. "No." Her eyes blink open and closed, and her body trembles.

 

BANG! BANG!
She bolts upright in her bed; sweat covers her body and trickles down her face. Her chest heaves as she gasps for air. Her heart is beating furiously. The darkened room does nothing to quell her uneasiness. She assumes it had been a dream, although she doesn’t remember what it had been about. The sound of her heavy breathing was all that fills the air. Slowly her eyes adjust, and she looks around, searching for intruders or something out of the ordinary. Closing her eyes, she tries to calm herself; there’s nothing wrong. Throwing the blanket off her overheated body, she gets out of the bed and heads to the bathroom, flipping the light on. It takes a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the sudden shock of brightness. Staring at her reflection in the mirror she tries to determine what is wrong. Just a nightmare, she tells herself.

Sighing heavily, she turns the cold water on and bends over the sink, gently throwing some on her hot face. The cold against her burning skin feels soothing. Her hand reaches out for a towel, and she lifts her head.
 

"Ohhhh!" She gasps in surprise. Turning around, her fingers are gripping the edge of the counter top. There is nothing there, but she could have sworn there had been a man behind her. Walking slowly out of her bedroom, she looks around; still nothing. Returning to the mirror she looks at it in confusion. When she had looked up, there had been a man in a blue jacket with a red beard. Not convinced it had only been the remnants of her forgotten dream, she quickly leaves the bathroom, grabbing her gun off the nightstand. She makes her way through the whole apartment, checking the windows and door. Nothing is wrong, nothing out of place; everything is where it is supposed to be.

Still, the image has made her uneasy. She sits in her bed, knees bent with her hands resting on them,  her gun in hand. Nothing is going to get past her. She thinks about calling Mulder, but nothing is wrong except in her mind. He would provide comfort, tell her everything was ok, and ask if he should come over. But she’s in control. Nothing is going to happen, so she doesn’t dial, no matter how many times her head tells her too.

She can't believe she’s letting herself become irrational. To have come through so much just to be derailed by something seen, yet unseen, this mysterious invader of her subconscious is unacceptable. Was this entity real or her paranoid fantasy? Why must every day be a struggle? Her thumb rubs the cross hanging from her neck. Fear, that the X-Files have finally taken their toll, crept relentlessly into her soul.
 

"Scully." A harsh whisper catches her by surprise, and sends fear coursing through her body. Her head swings around, eyes wild with surprise. Searching frantically for the source of the disembodied voice. Her hand snakes to the phone and she dials Mulder's number.
 

"Hello?" His voice was heavy with sleep. She thinks for a second about what she’s actually going to say, but can’t come up with nothing that sounds sane. She places the phone back down. She isn't going to bother him with her irrational fears. So she just sits. Her body is heavy with anticipation, waiting for something to jump out of the shadows. And of course, nothing does.

************

The ringing phone jerks her awake and she realizes she must have fallen asleep.
"Scully," she answers, rubbing tired eyes that want to stay closed.
"Scully, it's me. Ummm, is everything ok?"
"What?"
"Did you call me last night?"
"Oh, sorry Mulder." Her body falls flat against the bed. She is fighting to keep her eyes open.
"So, why did you call?"
"I had a bad dream." She thought about telling him, but she’s too tired. "Look, Mulder, it was stupid, I'll call you later." The phone starts to slip from her hand.

"Wait Scully…"

She pushes the end button and falls asleep.

************

Two gunshots ring out. Bolting upright in her bed; Scully's chest heaves as she gasps for air. Had that been a dream? Her hand slides across her face and over her eyes. What is happening? Have the X-Files finally gotten to her? A sigh escapes her lips, and she scolds herself for not remaining rational. She gets up from the rumpled sheets and changes her clothes. Making her way to the kitchen Scully puts on water for tea. While she waits for the water to come to a boil, she wanders into the living room and sits on the couch.  Just sit’s there a moment, her eyes focusing on nothing, her mind moving in slow motion. The sounds and images, where did they come from?
 

"Scully." Again, the hoarse whisper in her ear. Terror clutches at her heart; runs its way up her spine, and settles at the base of her brain. She has to leave, has to get out of her apartment before she goes crazy. Something is wrong, she just doesn’t know what it is. Her whole body trembles, she is unable to stop the shaking or quell the fear. This is more than a dream, no dream could have this affect on her.

*************

"Scully? What's wrong, are you ok?" Mulder openes his door; ushering his obviously shaken partner into his apartment, guiding her to the couch.
 

"I . . . I don't know Mulder," she sighs. "It's . . ." she pauses a moment. "You're going to think I'm crazy, but I've been hearing things, seeing things I can't explain. I mean, maybe it's just stress manifesting itself into these . . . these visions. I just don't know."
 

"Wait, what?" He looks at her a little confused.
 

"Last night I woke up terrified, like I had a nightmare, but I don't remember what it was. Then I went to the bathroom, to splash some cold water on my face, and when I looked in the mirror, I could have sworn there was a man standing behind me. He was wearing a blue jacket, and had a red beard. I didn't see that much, because I turned as soon as I saw him, and he wasn't there, he was gone. I looked all over the apartment, but there was nothing."
 

"Scully, like you said, it was a nightmare. I'm sure it's nothing to worry about."
 

"No, that's not all. This morning I could have sworn I heard two gunshots. And . . . and I keep hearing my name whispered in my ear." She looks at him, her eyes unfocused, confusion painted everywhere. "Mulder, my name, it sounds so clear, but so faint."
 

Mulder looks down at her quivering body, and pulls her close. "Look Scully, maybe you just need some rest. I'm sure it's nothing, just stress. Why don't I make you some tea, then maybe you can lie down for awhile, ok?" He pulls back slightly so he can look directly at her, and she shakes her head in agreement.
 

"Ok." Her voice sounds small and defeated, not strong and self reliant. He makes her tea, as promised, and tries to come up with a logical explanation for her . . . her . . . delusions. It’s his turn to play the logical one.

" Of course.” He says softly not wanting to worry her, so he strays from his usual paranormal theories. She just sits quietly, eternally grateful for his presence. Soon his words ran together, then faded completely, as her eyes began to close. She wondered if he'd put something in the tea to relax her, before leaning into him and falling fast asleep.

Mulder just sat there for some time, gazing at her sleeping form and wondering what was going on. He hoped it was just stress, but feared something more. He only wished there was something he could do.

Slowly, she allowed her eyes to open. The fading light shone through the window. Could it be that late already? Looking at her watch, she realized she had been asleep for almost four and a half hours. What could have made her sleep that long? She became aware of the coppery taste of blood on her tongue, and wiped her hand across her mouth, but there was no blood. Walking to the bathroom she looked in the mirror, searching her mouth for any sign of bleeding, or a cut, but found nothing. What was going on? She dug her cell phone out of her pocket, and dialed a friend who was a doctor.
"Dana is everything ok?" Sara Gains asked. "You sound upset."
"Yes, Sara, I'm fine, I just want you to run some tests for me."
"Sure, anything you want, but is something wrong?"
"I hope not. How soon can you see me?"
"Right now if it's that important."
"I'll be right over. And . . . thank you."
"No problem." Scully pushed the end button, and re-pocketed the phone. Placing both hands on the sink, she closed her eyes and let her head hang forward a little. She almost hoped that Sara would find something, because that would mean she wasn't going crazy. Finally she opened her eyes again.
"Oh God!" She gasped in surprise and spun around as fast as she could. The man had been standing there behind her again, and again when she turned, he was gone. Her heart was pounding, and her chest heaved with her labored breaths. She had to get to Sara immediately. She had to find out what was going on. Something was wrong; she just wished she knew what it was. Grabbing her jacket she suddenly remembered Mulder. On the table there was a note.
'Went to the store, be right back.'
-M
Scully was about to call him, but decided against it. At the bottom of the note she wrote a little message.
'I've gone home. I'm alright now, thank you.'
-S
There was no point in making him worry needlessly, and besides, she just didn't want to tell him.

*************
Sara Gain's small practice a few hours later.

"Dana, the tests all came up negative. There is nothing physically wrong with you." Nothing physically wrong? Was she hinting at something else? "Now, can you tell me what is going on?"
Scully didn't know what to say. If she explained, then Sara would think she was crazy, but if she didn't she might still be seen as crazy.
"No, nothing, sorry I bothered you and took up your time." Scully walked out before Sara had a chance to counter. Maybe it would all just go away.
Of course that wasn't going to happen. She was tired, but too wound up to sleep. The specter of the man did not return, but the whispers continued. Scully had made up her mind by Monday, things were going to have to change. It was then that she noticed there was something odd about the whispers. When she stopped trying to be afraid, and started listening, she could hear something else behind the harsh "Scully"; something she couldn't make out. The words were inaudible, but she wasn't frightened anymore. There was a kind of warmth associated with it, but though she wasn't afraid of it anymore, she was afraid of what it could mean.

slow motion
The elevator doors opened, and Scully stepped out, clutching the letter in her hand. Her heels clicked against the hard floor as she walked purposefully towards Skinner's office. She stared straight ahead, without acknowledging those she passed. A thousand things raced through her mind. He wouldn't want to accept it, she knew that, but he would have to. She needed him to. Something inside told her this was necessary; something she should have done sooner. Does she really believe that? Even she doubted her intentions.
Ignoring Skinner's secretary, she walked directly into his office unannounced. The A.D. looked up from his desk waving the secretary off and waited for Scully to sit.
"Agent Scully?"
"Sir," she sighed. "I've come here to inform you of my intention to leave the FBI. I have my letter of resignation here." Without looking him in the eye she handed him the paper.
"Agent Scully. Can I ask why you have chosen to make such a decision?" He looked at her through skeptical eyes.
"Sir, it is my belief that . . ." She couldn't think of an excuse that didn't make her sound insane. "Sir I believe it is in my best interest."
"How so?"
"I have my reasons."
"Well, I would like to know why one of my best agents wants to quit all of a sudden."
Standing she looked at him. "I have my reasons sir." Then she turned and walked out of his office.
He wouldn't turn in her resignation yet; he would wait and see if she changed her mind. Maybe she would decide to stay, although she told herself she was making the right decision.

Slow mo

Making her way back out into the hallway, Scully considered her reasons, but she also thought of Mulder. She couldn't just abandon her partner. Anyway, Mulder was more than her partner, he was her friend, and she couldn't betray him like that. She had thought about this many times before, when things got really difficult, when they had taken the x files from them. She had come very close then, but this time she had actually done it. Maybe in a few days, if things changed, she'd change her mind and go back to his office, but she feared that wouldn't happen. Breaking out of her thoughts, Scully looked towards the elevator and stopped. There stood the man from her vision, wearing a blood- soaked blue jacket; blood ran from his mouth, down through his scraggily red beard.
Everything seemed to speed up as she stood there, the other agents walked by at an amazing rate, yet the man didn't move. She wondered why no one else noticed him. Why did he stand there staring at her, and why was he bleeding? She looked around for confirmation of what she saw, but when her gaze returned to the spot where he had stood, there was no one there. Scully fought back panic and confusion, as she tried to understand what had just happened. Maybe it was a dream, or maybe it was just her mind playing with her. Maybe she really was going crazy after all, something more than stress affecting her. Slowly she made her way back to the elevator and stepped in, still searching the halls for the bloody figure. There was no sign of him as the doors slid closed. She tried to forget, to let it slip away to the back of her mind, but it only reinforced her decision regarding her resignation.

The day was over, and she knew Mulder had probably gone home. It would be better if she told him her decision face to face, rather than over the phone. She knew it was going to hurt him, he would probably try and get her to stay, but she had to stick to her resolve. Determined to stand her ground, she made her way to his apartment, but when she got to his front door she wished she had called him instead. Scully just stood there, her hand up, unable to knock. This was going to be harder than she'd originally thought. Finally her hand came down upon the wood of the door, knocking softly. The door opened slowly, revealing Mulder in jeans and a t-shirt. He looked at her with tired, knowing eyes. Did he already know?
"Hey Scully." He opened the door wider to allow her in and walked a few paces away. Scully closed the door behind her, and stood there, staring up into Mulder's eyes.
"Mulder. . ." She sighed heavily, trying to find the words.
"Why?" His eyes revealed his anger and pain.
She struggled to speak several times, her mouth opening and closing, but she found she had no voice.
"Why Scully?"
"It's something I need to do Mulder, for my own good." Her eyes would not meet his.
"You don't believe that do you? You need the X-Files almost as much as I do. You can get over this, whatever this is. You just need a vacation; we both do." He paused. "I need you Scully, I've told you that before." His voice was barley more than a whisper.
"I'm sorry Mulder." She turned and grabbed for the doorknob.
"Stop." He came up behind her, not touching her, but close enough that she could feel his breath. Turning, she looked up at him.
"Don't do this," she pleaded, knowing he had the power to change her mind. Still, maybe it needed to be changed. Scully struggled to control the conflict within herself.
His eyes searched hers, scanning them for something. He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them, leaning forward, he kissed her hungrily. She didn't protest, perhaps she wanted it as much as he did. They stood there, lips pressed together, for what seemed an eternity, then gasping for breath, they pulled back.
"Scully, I want you to stay. Why can't this be enough?" His face was mere centimeters away from hers.
"Don't," she pleaded, and again turned towards the door.
"Stop running." He grabbed her arm, and made her turn to face him.
"I'm not running."
"Yes you are. You're running from the truth, from what we've fought for for so long. You're running from your feelings." The anger inside him spilled out onto her.
"I never ran from my feelings. I was never running from anything. I was always following you, Mulder. This is beyond all of that."
"I'm talking about us, Scully." His voice was low.
"I . . . I know."
"Then follow me now." He leaned down and kissed her hard, pushing her back against the door with a soft thud. His body pressed against hers, as his lips covered her mmmmmmmmmmmm outh, his tongue dancing with hers. She seemed in shock at first, but his hunger soon fueled her own, and she kissed him back greedily. Reaching up to place a hand on either side of his face, she pulled him closer. With one hand on the door supporting them, Mulder inched the other under her shirt, moving upward till he cupped her breast. Her nerves felt raw and exposed, and anticipation shuddered through her body. She wanted more, and her hands moved under his shirt, fingers splayed on his chest. Their tongues moved against each other softly, then harder, till they had to stop to regain their breath. His forehead lay against the door beside hers, their chests heaving. Scully stood there in shock, one hand resting on the back of his neck. This was something they should not be doing, and she was afraid of the consequences. Closing her eyes she prayed for the strength to leave.
"Scully." The whisper next to her ear, his hot breath against her skin, the familiar voice, was comforting, and Scully felt her anxiety lessen. She felt his lips travel down her neck before he faced her again, both his hands clasped to the sides of her face. Uncertainty creased her features; an oft-denied dream was coming true, and she hoped it was real.
His eyes searched hers, looking for acceptance. "You always ask if I ever want to stop and stand still for a moment, and I always say that I'm afraid I might miss something." His eyes looked away for a split-second, then darted back to lock on hers. "I never realized what I would miss, what I might lose if I never stopped to see what was right in front of me. I mean, I see you every day, and I want you every day. But I guess it didn't register. I can't lose you. You're all that's kept me sane."
She could find nothing to say to this man as he stood opening his heart to her. A tear slid down her face. She watched as he again lowered his lips to hers, softer this time. "Love me like I love you." His words drowned in her mouth. With his lips still locked to hers, he managed to carry her to his bed. The moon shown softly on the bed where he gently laid her among the rumpled sheets. She looked unreal to him, like something from a dream, and she wanted nothing more than to feel him, feel his body against hers. He pulled his shirt off, almost in slow motion, then slowly removed hers. All she could do was watch, as he leaned down and began to kiss his way across her stomach up to her breasts; his wet kisses leaving goose bumps in their wake. Her body shivered with anticipation.
He stood up again, this time to remove his jeans, and hers. The darkness in the room seemed to encircle them, enclosing them in their own sacred space. His hands caressed her body, as he kissed and nipped a path down her belly, lower and lower, until he was able to finally taste her. She gasped, and her body arose up against him. Her hands grabbed at him, pulling until his face was level with hers. Their eyes locked, and he knew he had to be inside her, truly be a part of her. His soft lips covered hers, and he positioned himself between her thighs, but stopped there, looking down upon her glistening body, asking permission to continue. She smiled up at him, hoping he understood how much she truly loved him. When he entered her, her ragged moan encouraged him. His body covered hers, and he moved deliberately, at a slow, sweetly agonizing pace. This was beyond anything she could ever have imagined.
He began to move a little faster, and her hands clawed at the bed. Her back arched, and he moved her legs over his shoulders, plunging deeper. Their climax was nearly simultaneous, an explosion of need and desire, and he collapsed on top of her small body. Both lay shivering slightly, till he moved off her, and covered their bodies with the warm blanket. Scully rested her head upon his chest, feeling finally complete.
"Scully. Scully I need you" That same harsh whisper. Scully froze when she realized it wasn't Mulder. She didn't move, squeezing her eyes shut only wanting to ignore it. Slowly she opened them again, and the man with the blue jacket stood across the room.
"Uhhhhhhh." Her sharp intake of air startled Mulder as she sat suddenly upright in the bed.
"What's wrong?" Mulder sat too, and clasped his arms around her. The room seemed to be brighter, not from outside light, but from within.
"Mulder." Her voice quavered. "Mulder." She squeezed her eyes shut again.
"Shh, I'm right here. It's ok, I'm right here.

She opened her eyes to a brightly lit room. The surface under her was hard; she was no longer in Mulder's apartment.
"Scully?" She moved her head slightly to the side. Mulder sat in a chair close beside the bed. It was then she realized she was lying in a hospital, a monitor beeping nearby.
"Mulder, what happened? What am I doing here?" Her voice cracked, and her throat felt parched.
"Take it easy, Scully. You were shot." His eyes were glassy. "Don't you remember?"
"I . . . I'm not sure," she faltered. Then suddenly, she gasped, as the memories came flooding back.

**"Put the gun down!" Two guns poised unwavering. She stood with her gun pointed directly at his heart. His gun remained pointed at her head. She watched as his finger began to squeeze the trigger. "Put the gun down NOW!" No response. As his finger squeezed so did hers. **

"How long have I been unconscious?"
"A couple of hours."
"Hours?" It seemed like days. His hand clasped hers, and she wished she was back in bed with him. "I saw things Mulder."
"Heaven?"
"I don't know. I think I saw the things I really want, the things that I could still have. I was given a second chance." Her eyes began to tear. "The whole time, I could hear you calling me," she whispered. Her eyes never left his, and she watched as a tear slid down his cheek.
"My prayers were answered." he said smiling.