Title: Wrapped in Memories Summary: Ever wonder how Scully survived? Author's Note: I'd Love Feedback, I'm trying to write REALLY good fic! Any advice helps, comments good or bad too! When you miss someone so much, when he's not there to wrap his arms around you, it's amazing how any little thing, a shirt, a smell, a smile, a laugh, can flood to millions of memories, little and big. Carrying on and on and on, a little smell leading to a story, a year, a life. Every time I would walk into Mulder's apartment or even my own apartment, I'd freeze at the doorways, frozen, memories flying at me, attacked me all at once. Memories play, playing all at once. Flashing, flashing, blazing, burning. "OH god, why me?" my mind would SCREAM! I'd shake them off one by one stepping further and further into the room. I'd shake off the memories one by one stepping further and further into the room. I'd shake off as many until I felt just embraced with him, with Mulder. A healthy bit of a dream to even out my reality. As I would approach the center of the room, the dream would start to fade, I would no longer realize that he wasn't sitting there on his sofa watching some crazy old sci-fi movie like: Mr. Slinky and his trip to Mars. That his feet weren't on the table, he does have beautiful feet, or did? That he wasn't in his jeans and t-shirt the usual bum. Sometimes when I'd walk into the room I could hear the canned laughter from the movie. But shattered by the reality, the damn reality of the t.v. cold and black, only noises from the street from birds outside mocking me with their shrill cries. Some days the birds were actually signing, because I knew I held hope in me, and the belief that I visioned may come true? No more visions? But, now scared to jump the hurdle I would walk, apprehensively across the room, hands stretched over my heart. Walking, walking, slowly as if I might see fate's answers there wrapped up in Mulder, in his apartment. How I wished I could be wrapped up in him again, in him again. His strong arms wrapped around me, no layers between us, solace at each other's touch. The hollow sounds from my mind beating, beating, BEATING, to my heart, to my feet, beating all through me, while being possessed by fear, by spirit, by memory, by love. I couldn't take it, I'd throw my hands down and turn my attention to the window. The sun setting, orange, gold, beautiful? I questioned everything now, my position dose'nt allow much freedom. I'd turn away from the window, saw the fish, Mulder's fish, and sighed.."you're hungry? I'm sure you are, I'm sorry...Oh great! I'm talking to fish, but even sadder I'm apologizing to you! I must have finally blew a fuse. NO!...they're Mulder's fish so, he's crazier then me! I'm normal, aren't I? I just want him back..." This falter of emotion, not what Scully needed, she thunked down on the sofa, just tired, tired of thinking, tired of working, tired of searching. 3 autopsies today, her feet were killing, not to mention retaining water. But, she stood in cold glare at the door, to his bedroom for what minutes, hours? Years? God, she didn't know. The sun now under the window sill, the bubbling, and gurgling of the fish tank a lullaby, calmed her unsettled soul, the soft green light from the tank a night light. As she was sure all these were to Mulder. When he came across another dead end another broken link, this was his lullaby and night light that soothed him, told him nothing wasn't wrong and it'll all be alright. And, these where his calm, before I let him find it in me. Just like slow blues pulling me in tugging at those heartstrings, then letting go, Oh feel that syncopation, my hand stretches out to reach toward an imagined face, but then drops, sags and carefully picks up Mulder's field journal, that I salvaged from the "investigators" tearing apart his apartment, and to me tearing him apart. She picked up the journal like it was a delicate flower. Opened the corner with Mulder's lullaby playing at the back of her mind, she started paging, reading through the journal, reading his words. Like she would usually do. Reminiscing over the cases from the past year and years. This year he'd found release in so many ways, with Samantha, and finally with her. She would stop to touch his writing, touching him? She'd wipe a tear that had fallen unwillingly fore' his words wrapped around her, Mulder was speaking to her again. Only if she could hold him, she would read and read and read, Saw the cases fly by, and fill in, in her mind what was left out. Playing those days over and over she saw the cases go, saw Mulder. This daily routine to be with him, even though she knew she had him inside. Scully walked over to the frame of her bedroom, no memories attacking her now, and not for awhile. Only making room for new, smiling at what she saw. The lullaby was right, nothing is wrong, everything is alright, Everything happens for a reason. She turned her eye to the bed, their bed, in their apartment. He'd come back, out of the arms of the foe, into hers. And now in his, their child, wrapped in the sunset, wrapped in her father's arms. Lying on the bed both asleep, both beautiful, both gave her hope. The setting sun cascading from the window, cradling both of them, Cradled up each other. Mulder's bare chest a pillow for his tiny daughter, tiny compared to him, yet this gentle giant, arm cupped around her, happy. Scully smiled, everything's alright...walked over to the bed, lay her head on his chest too and a hand around their child. Rocked asleep by the beating of her beloveds, and the lullaby of the fish tank from the other room, and the soft light she could see stretching from the other room. She whispered, "I love you, you gave me faith, and gave me hope, hope to believe, and see..see what I've got," she shut her eyes, and Mulder in peaceful sleep pulled her closer, closer to him, to them, to their hope.
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