TITLE: The Next Time AUTHOR: Hannah Mason CATEGORY: VAR RATING: PG-13 KEYWORDS: MSR SPOILERS: Triangle SUMMARY: Now that Scully's back safe and sound, she learns that Mulder is man enough to carry her purse. But will he be strong enough to carry her heart? DISCLAIMER: Ooooo..IwishImayIwishImight..(closes eyes). Poof! Sigh...still not mine. All credit and adulation go to CC, GA and DD. Fox only gets the money. I just get personal satisfaction. AUTHOR NOTE: This is a sequel/companion piece to The Last Time. However, it can probably stand alone. I just wanted a chance to flex my Scully muscles this time. =) ************************************************************** It was the argument that woke me from my dreamless, drug-induced sleep. Well, I guess it would be more accurate to say it was the *suggestion* of an argument that roused my slumbering senses. I could not parse out the words at first, only the voice. That voice. His voice. Using That Tone. The urgent, tension-filled one he usually directed at me during our most heated disagreements. Clearly, if he is using that tone it must be something vitally important. Now, if I could just figure out what we were arguing about... I willed myself to pay closer attention. To grab every word I could so that when it was my turn to speak I could do my part of the duet with equal intensity. It occurred to me that I would be better able to follow this conversation if I could see as well as hear him. However, it did not immediately occur to me that raising my eyelids would accomplish this. More Mulder words...what was it he was saying? "I *am* the next of kin, dammit. See, look at this card from her wallet. Look right there. `In case of emergency, contact Fox Mulder.' That's me...I'm him!" Another voice interjected with frosty impatience. A woman. Me? "I can read the card, Mr. Mulder. But that does not change the matter. We have a strict family-only policy concerning visitation in the ICU. I suggest that you wait..." The woman was brisk, no nonsense, but she was not me. The voice was too far away. Maybe I was not the one having this argument with Mulder after all. This thought brought me inexplicable sadness...and anger. Great Mulder. Terrific. I'm out of commission for *five* minutes...in the hospital...recovering from what that...that *thing* did to me and you go take up arguing with another woman. Thanks so much. A sudden feeling of dread landed solidly in my chest as the impact of my last thoughts hit me full force. The woman's words, now crystalline clear, echoed back to me. The ICU? Next of kin? I now had a pretty good idea why I had not been invited to the argument party. With Herculean effort, I opened my eyes, already knowing what image would greet me. Yup. Sterile white walls, empty white cot, IV. drip. All signs pointed to a hospital room. Score another one for the Dana Scully brain trust. I slowly began to take stock of my condition, mentally cataloging all insults and injuries my body had endured. It was a slower process than usual, and I blamed my sluggish faculties on whatever substance was flowing steadily through my veins. Morphine, maybe? This could be worse than I thought. Legs okay. It took some doing, but I moved both of them without pain. Arms...oh, my God. Definitely not okay. One was immobilized in a splint, with what felt like ice packs tucked inside. Broken? Dislocated? At this point I couldn't be sure. The only thing I knew for certain was that it was going to hurt like a sonofabitch when the happydrugs wore off. My breath caught in my throat. Pain. There had been a lot of it. With him. Last night. In that horrible, awful, dark place. Was it only last night? Images and feelings swamped through me at a frightening pace, overwhelming in their intensity. NONONONO. I screwed my eyes shut. Don'tthinkaboutitdon'tthink aboutit. The scenes flashed before me as my mind spun recklessly beyond my control. He was going to kill me and it was going hurt. His face over mine as we struggled. Sostrongsostrong. Memories of the pain were sharp, blinding, poking at me with fiery tips. His hands, as they seemed to rip my arm in half. The bone-crunching agony had gripped me like a vice, robbing me of all thoughts and leaving only the burning desire to live. My breathing quickened, hyperventilation increasing both my heart rate and my panic. Stop it, I told myself. Stop this right now. It's over. Don't go falling apart in your hospital bed. How ridiculous is that? I struggled to sit up, but the room swam circles around me and I quickly lay down again. Tears filled my eyes but I blinked them back. Stopitstopitstopit. Thinkaboutsomethingelse. Mulder. He was around here somewhere, right? I glanced toward the door where I had last heard that voice, but it was gone. I heard only muffled sounds bouncing off the hallway walls. There were plenty of people on the other side of the door, but none of them was the one I was hoping for. The one was I needing. I had felt this same need last night, ratcheted up even more. Needed his help. Needed his presence. Needed to tell him something. I remembered this with utmost clarity, this desperate need to talk to Mulder one more time. To tell him....what? That I have been honored to be part of this quest of his? That I have never known a man with a truer sense of justice? That I treasured every take-out meal and verbal jab we had ever shared? That I loved his brilliant quirky mind, his twisted ironic humor and his fierce dedication? That I loved him. He had said it to me, once. In a hospital room much like this one. I had not returned the words then or since, and to be truthful I'm not entirely sure why. I had been startled, when he said those three, tiny terrible and wonderful words. Completely surprised and maybe even a little bit...miffed? It has always been my job, you see, to take the emotional reins in this relationship. It was not always a task I enjoyed, but it was a role I had become comfortable with. I knew my part and he knew his. I talk about feelings, he talks about the IceCapades. Life continues as per usual, and our relationship remains clearly delineated, disrupted only occasionally by a mutant or life threatening illness. And when I had control, dammit, everything stayed firmly in check. Just a rare moment of personal disclosure here or there. Nothing that couldn't be retracted or overlooked later on, if necessary. But my partner...well, he never does anything halfway. He'd laid all his cards on the table in one fell SWOOP-and we'd been eyeing each other warily over them ever since. Our usual easy interaction had become almost stilted and I blamed him for the divisive atmosphere that permeated our formerly comfortable routine. Damn you, Mulder, didn't you realize that there are some things you just can't take back? Maybe he did. Maybe this just another example of my partner leading with his heart rather than his head, throwing his latest crazy theory out and then waiting for my logic to catch up. Last night it had. As I had faced the fact that I was quickly losing this latest fight, I feared that it might have taken me too long. That in my over-analysis, I might have dragged out my answer so long that he would never be able to receive it. Oh, Mulder. What's to become of us? I glanced at the door to my room again, willing him to walk through it. Maybe if I summoned that woman, I could convince her that... The door was opening! Sure enough, the most beloved face in my world peeked around into the room. He looked worried, tired. Older than I remembered. He was beautiful. I smiled. "Hey..." It was all I could manage to croak out. He grinned back at me. "Hey, yourself," he said coming fully into the room and closing the door behind him. He stood there for a moment as we smiled like idiots. Then I noticed he had my purse slung over his shoulder. The I.D. card. That's where he had gotten it from. So he had rescued me *and* my handbag. I felt tears sting my eyes. What a partner. "Ummm...nice purse, Mulder." I finally broke the silence. He looked down and then shot me a thoughtful look. "Do you think? I wasn't sure it worked with the shoes." I held out my hand, the good one with the IV. in it. "C'mere. I can't talk too loud." My throat was indeed sore. From screaming? I fought a shiver and blocked the thought from my mind. Later... "I can't talk too loud, either," he returned as he pulled up a chair. "Nurse Ratchet will find me." We linked hands. "How you doing?" he questioned softly. I wrinkled my nose in thought, taking inventory again. "I dunno exactly. You tell me. What happened?" He was quiet for a long time, rubbing his thumb along the inside of my wrist. "How much do you want to know?" "Is he dead?" I asked. "Yes." By the grim set of Mulder's mouth, I didn't need to ask who had killed him. I'm sorry Mulder. I know you wanted this one alive. I squeezed his hand in apology. He squeezed back, gently, and I knew that he was *not* sorry. "So how long am I in for?" I murmured, steeling myself for the bad news. "With time off for good behavior you might be paroled by tomorrow afternoon. You've got a dislocated elbow, two cracked ribs and a nasty concussion." I closed my eyes. "Guess I'm going to have to postpone that tri- athelon, then." This earned me another smile. "Not to worry," he said, "I'm sure you'll be Iron Man Scully again in no time." No time. The words cause my eyes to pop open again. That had been my problem last night, and there had been nothing I could do about it. Now I could, and I meant to get started immediately. "Mulder..." "Scully..." We both started at the same time and then halted awkwardly. He tugged on my hand. "Me first. Please?" His eyes held mine, and I knew from their dark color that he was not going to be dissuaded. All right. After six years, I could wait another minute. I nodded my assent to him. "Okay. Good." He took a deep breath and shifted his gaze to our joined hands, seeming suddenly uncertain about how to begin. "The thing is, Scully...we've been kind of far away from each other lately. Even when we're in the same room." He looked at me quickly, as if daring me to deny it. I couldn't. "Yes." I whispered. "I know that I'm responsible for creating that distance," he continued, not looking at me again. "That I crossed a line with you that I shouldn't have, and it I know it's my responsibility to put things right. But...I'm telling you straight here, Scully...I just haven't been able to figure out how." "Mulder..." "Shush. It's my turn, remember?" He held my gaze until I nodded again. "I still wouldn't take back that night in Bermuda, you know. Not even with all the crap that has come since. I'm glad I finally got the words out, even if it took a near death experience and 10ccs of morphine to do it." He gave a small shrug. "I mean, I always figured you knew anyway. Hell, the whole Hoover building must have known. It's not like I make a habit of hiding my feelings." This was true. All of it. I had known, of course. So had the Hoover building. And as for hiding his emotions, Mulder didn't just wear them on his sleeve. He draped himself in them, toga- style. It was one of his more endearing qualities. Mulder, Mulder...is it my turn to talk yet? He was not yet done, however. "At the time, I wasn't even fazed by the eye-roll and your quick exit." I gave him a raised eyebrow and he smiled sheepishly. "Morphine, remember?" "Seriously, I mean it. I was still happy after you left. I figured I had cleared the biggest hurdle and we could work on the fine print later. But I was wrong, Scully. You didn't just stop by running out of the room. You kept right on going until I wasn't sure I could ever coax you back." It was my turn to look away. He gave my hand a fierce squeeze. "Stop it," he said with a sterness that was only half in jest. "No running now. Doctor's orders." Obediently, I returned my eyes to his face. The potent blend of love and sadness I saw there nearly stopped my heart. When he continued, his voice was so soft I had to strain to catch the words. "I didn't chase after you, Scully. I didn't chase you because I was so afraid that I might push you away for good. I kept waiting for you to come back, so I could get the whole spiel right, without the benefits of modern pharmacology. But you stayed so far away for so long that I began to get a little desperate, and desperate men resort to strange measures." Mulder's measures were almost always strange. What was he referring to now? "I'm afraid I got kind of mean there for awhile," he murmured. "I said and did stuff I knew would make you mad, if only to get *some* sort of reaction out of you. Stupid, I know. Can't make the girl love me, so why not aim for hatred instead?" Hate? I tried to imagine myself hating Mulder. Frustrated? Sure. Irritated? No problem. So angry I wanted to kick his teeth in? Yup, I could do that one. But hate? Never hate, Mulder...dammit all, when was it going to be *my turn*? "So then last night, when I was trying to find you, chasing after you at last, I just kept thinking, my God, what if I was wrong? What if I had misjudged everything and she really hadn't believed me? What if I had fucked things up so badly that I was never going to get the chance to make sure?" Had he really been so unsure of my feelings? I would definitely need to work on that. Sometimes being enigmatic isn't all it's cracked up to be. "Well, I've finally got my chance, Scully, and I'm not going to blow it this time." He picked up my hand and held it carefully between his own. This gesture alone was enough to bring back my tears. And he wasn't finished yet. "I love you," he said softly. "I meant it then and I mean it now. I will mean it tomorrow and all the tomorrows that follow. Each day with you is like an incredible gift I don't know what I did to deserve. With all that I had seen, all that I had experienced, I thought that there was nothing outside the realm of my imagination. But then you arrived. And suddenly I found that my own personal skeptic was opening my mind to the most extreme possibility of all-that maybe I wasn't forever damned to be alone." My tears were falling freely now. He had my one good hand, so I let them fall unchecked. He kissed my knuckles. "Okay, it can be your turn now." I gave him a watery chuckle. "Let me meet with my speech writers and I'll get back to you." His face became shadowed with concern. "You must be exhausted. Why don't you rest? We can always talk some more later." I gripped his hand with a strength I didn't know I had left. "Move from that chair and you're a dead man." He wasn't going to escape me now. I wasn't going to be able to match his eloquence...hey, I was drugged...but I was damn sure going to get my chance to speak. "Mulder, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to be difficult and uncommunicative. You took an enormous risk with your words and I should have recognized your valor, even if I couldn't return it at that point. I was shocked, I guess, that you would be so bold. You may not hide your feelings well, but you are rather choosy with your words." He offered a half-smile and dropped his head in mute agreement. "Of course I knew. And of course I love you back." His head jerked up. Really? I smiled at him. Really. "Mulder, you give me all this credit for rescuing you, but I think it may have been the other way around." Mulder shot me a look of disbelief. He can do a great "skeptic" when he sets his mind to it. "If it weren't for you, Mulder, I would have settled for less." "Less what?" he blurts out, confused. I paused, thinking. "Less of everything, I guess. I would have stopped with the easy answers, with the science I already knew as opposed to the one that's really out there." "Really, *really* out there," he agreed. "Mulder..." I tried, but I couldn't hide the smile. Then I saw that he was pleased that he'd amused me, and I was glad I didn't. "I would have settled for less of myself," I continued "I would be only part of the person I am now. You have challenged me in such interesting ways that I've uncovered parts of myself I might never have found otherwise. You've helped me see a strength I never knew I had. No one else has ever done that before." "Aw, shucks, ma'm, it weren't nothing." I suppressed a sigh. Always with the humor. Some things would never change. But I pushed on. "I would have settled for less love." This got his full attention, and there was no accompanying wisecrack. He waited expectantly for me to continue. "I would have chosen a more simple relationship, I think. One where I felt invested, but not overly so. I would have chosen someone more predictable, more static." "Maybe that's not such a bad thing." His voice was tight. "Maybe not." I hesitated. "But Mulder, I can't imagine that now. It makes me ache to even contemplate it. Your intensity, your passion, they are so exhilarating I can't think what my life would have been like without them. Life with you is so...vivid. I've using all the colors in the crayon box now, and I like it that way. Constant change is a little scary for me, it's true, but you make the whirlwind seem exciting rather than treacherous. "You know me better than anyone ever has, and while that sometimes makes me feel exposed, most of the time it makes me feel alive. Connected. Does that make sense to you?" He looked at me, his eyes huge and luminous. "Yes," he whispered hoarsely. "Perfectly." We stared at each other for awhile, basking in the resurgence of our unspoken bond. Both keenly aware that this happiness was temporary, that there was not going to be a "happily ever after" for the two of us. Not when there were mutant monsters lurking in middle American towns. Not when we were standing on the frontlines of the battle against alien invasion. But here I was willing to settle. I'd trade "happily ever after" for "occasional mind-blowing ecstasy". Hmmm...was that settling? My eyes must have closed again, because I felt rather than saw Mulder rise from his chair. He was leaning over me, kissing my cheek. "I should let you rest," he murmured. "Mmmm...no, stay." I was not ready to let go yet. "C'mere." I shifted on the bed to make room for him. "Scully!" I'd scandalized him. Good, it'll keep him on his toes. Taking the second pillow from behind my head, I rolled, very gingerly, onto my uninjured side so that the pillow simultaneously supported both the bulky splint and my cracked ribs. Plenty of room now. "Get in." I repeated my invitation. Maybe there really was a link between morphine and audacity. "I don't know, Scully...I don't want to risk hurting you..." He was wavering, I could tell. "Agent Mulder, get your ass into this bed. Now." Mmmm...and what an ass it was, too. I heard him kick off his shoes and knew I'd won the argument. The woman from the hall had nothing on me. I smiled into the pillow, knowing he wouldn't be seeking out any new sparring partners now. The bed shifted under me as his weight joined mine. I felt his breath in my hair and one heavy arm came around me to rest on my hip. "Okay?" Okay? I nearly moaned. Instead I managed a nod. His hand stroked my stomach in small circles. "You feel ridiculously good." I would have wriggled closer, but my injuries forbade it. "You, too." His hand moved to stroke my hip under the blankets. "If Nurse Ratchet comes back, you may have to tell her I'm your cousin. She's pretty rigid about the family-only policy." Silly man, didn't he know? "Mulder, you've been part of my family for years now." He didn't reply, but pressed his face close against my neck. We were quiet for a long moment. When he spoke again, his voice had taken on the far away quality it had when I'd first heard it earlier. "Scully, this might even work out, you know. If we can anticipate the problems, maybe we can avoid them." "Mmmm...you anticipate the problems, Mulder. I'm gonna anticipate the hot sex." I fell asleep to the sound of his laughter, dreaming Mulder-vivid dreams. About the first time. The End H. K. Mason