|
Title: A Safe Place Summary: Scully tries to cope. It had been weeks since she'd jumped at the sound of a telephone. Those first few days after Mulder's disappearance, she'd allowed herself the hope that a ringing phone - any ringing phone - was certain to bring the announcement of his return. She'd called from her hospital bed to check her home machine and office phone every 30 minutes. Upon her return home, she'd checked her cell phone constantly to be sure the battery was always fully charged. A simple knock on her front door one evening caused her heart to beat so fast that she thought she'd faint. But the voice on the phone, the message on the answering machine, the person at the door - it was never him. And slowly, she'd forced herself to stop hoping. Because it was too hard. Because it hurt too much to bear. The ringing stopped as she closed her front door. Dropping her keys on the table, she glanced at the machine. No message had been left. Probably her mother, inviting her for the weekend. See? That was easy. Not even a passing thought that it might be Mulder. Or Skinner, calling to say that more lights had been sighted over the small Oregon town and that he was on his way to the airport to check it out. Or the Lone Gunmen with some news of him. Or the hospital calling to say that he'd been brought in and could she come right away because he was asking for her? The weekends away had helped. Her mother knew enough to keep her ridiculously busy, filling every moment with activities and houseguests to keep the quiet away. Though she'd tried, she'd felt oddly detached from everything, as though she were watching the world through a mirror. Scully-Through-the-Looking-Glass. It was a safe place, but it was away from everyone else. Maybe that was how the baby felt, safely wrapped in its cocoon, the sounds around it muffled and indistinct. Gratefully, she unzipped her skirt as she moved into the bedroom. She couldn't hide things much longer, and her clothes were becoming too uncomfortable to tolerate. Pulling off her pantyhose, she stood shyly in front of the mirror. She was amazed at the difference in the last few weeks - the changes in her breasts, the disappearance of her waistline. She put her hand on her belly, imagining his hand there and how he would smile at the feel of the tiny bulge. But she wouldn't think about that now. She'd think about it later when it wasn't so hard. She'd call her mother and invite her to shop for maternity clothes this weekend. Well, maybe not maternity clothes. Maybe just some less constricting things. She didn't want all those people at work, all those people without names, to know yet. Not before Mulder knew. She put her hands up, covering her face. She had to stop this. She couldn't think about this all the time, couldn't be sad and miserable every second of every day. Couldn't miss him constantly. She had the baby to think about. That was the important thing. She'd take a bath. She'd make dinner and watch a movie. She'd get in bed and read a book until she fell asleep, and then it would be time to go back to work. Resolution returned, she moved into the bathroom, opening the taps on the big bathtub. She turned on music and sat on the edge of the tub, holding her hand under the rushing water, closing her eyes at the blessed sounds filling up the emptiness. The tub finally filled, she lowered herself into the wonderfully warm water and thought again of the baby. This is what it must really feel like, warm and floating inside her body. She caressed the little bump of her stomach. Even with the baby there, even thinking of it, imagining what it looked like, there was no losing the feeling that there was a big hole inside her. The missing of him was a physical thing, a void that needed more time than existed in the universe to fill. Dipping her washcloth in the warm water, she covered her face with it and allowed herself one last luxury. She allowed the tears to come. Her bedside lamp was still on, her book still clutched in her hand when she woke. She felt horribly groggy and confused, and she glanced at the clock with disgust, knowing she wouldn't get back to sleep again for hours. Sleep had been a long time coming and had been filled with visions of things she didn't dare imagine while she was awake. Pulling back the covers, her book hit the floor with a thud. And then another sound. The phone ringing. The floor nurse walked with her to his room. She told Scully he was fine, told her over and over again as if she could read the disbelief on Scully's pale face. Told her again and again that he'd been asking for her, been insistent that they call her before treating him. Stopping in the doorway, she saw that he was sleeping. The nurse left her then, and she stood watching him. He looked thinner, his hair longer, but he looked wonderful. Content. She smiled, watching him breathe. A moment of panic hit her as she imagined that she might still be in her bed, asleep. But this was real. He was here. Surely no dream could be this cruel. She moved quietly into the room, pulling a chair next to his bed and reaching for his hand, afraid again that she was fooling herself, that this was not real and that her touch would find him cold and lifeless. He was warm, though, and the doctor in her couldn't resist checking the strong beat of the pulse in his wrist. He stirred at her touch, smiling before his eyes even opened. He turned to her, and when he finally looked at her she was sure he'd had reason to be afraid of dreams too. "Scully," he whispered, his voice cracking as though it hadn't been used in a while. "It's okay," she replied. "I'm here. Everything's okay." He reached toward her, touching her hair and brushing the tears from her cheek. "I missed you so much," he said. "You look so beautiful." "Impossible," she laughed. "I fell asleep with wet hair. I look awful." "I have so much to tell you, Scully." He smiled. "You'll never believe it." She moved to sit next to him on the bed. Her hand trembled a bit as she brushed the long hair from his brow. "Oh, Mulder," she said. "I will." The END
|