WILL YOU STILL LOVE ME? II: NEVER TEAR US APART (5/5)

by Diadem and Isahunter

(Disclaimers in part one. NC 17!)

Clinging to the fuzzy coat-tails of sleep, Scully burrowed her head deeper

into the plush pillow and sighed. As had become habit, she opened her eyes

for a fraction of a second to check the time, before rolling to her opposite

side--only to freeze in mid-motion. Even the infinitesimal amount of time

she'd had her eyes open was long enough for her to realize something was

wrong.

The shadows of the night had evolved.

With nimble movements, she quickly grasped the weapon on her night stand,

flicked off the safety, and aimed it her intruder. "Freeze!"

"Scully, it's me!"

Her thumb flicked the safety back into place, but it was several seconds

before she could draw breath.

"Jesus, Mulder...I could have blown your head off."

"Yeah, I know." Through the darkness, she could see him run a shaky hand

through his hair. Sometime during the night, as she'd slept, he'd pulled a

chair up beside her bed and watched her sleep. She wasn't sure what troubled

her more: that he hadn't bothered to wake her, or that she'd never heard him

in the first place. Surely he didn't move that stealthily.

Leaning over, she flicked on the light switch, causing them both to squint in

it's bright glare. "It's four in the morning. What are you doing, Mulder?"

"I didn't want to wake you." As he spoke, he winced, and for the first time

she noticed the beginnings of a bruise on his jaw.

Throwing back the covers, she grabbed his chin and tilted his head to the

side. "What happened to you?"

"Wasn't watching where I was going. I ran into something."

"Somebody's fist?"

"Something like that."

"Whose?"

"Doesn't matter." He flexed his jaw, before pushing her hand away. Staring

at her, his eyes seeming to memorize every part of her face, he said, "You're

so pretty, Scully."

She raised her eyebrow. "How hard did they hit you?"

"I mean it. I like watching you sleep. You looked so peaceful. So...so

pretty."

Shaking her head, she crawled out of bed. "C'mon. You need to put some ice

on that."

"I don't need any ice. I feel fine."

"You sound drunk."

"I'm just tired."

Despite his grumbling, he followed her into the kitchen. As she filled a

sandwich bag with ice and wrapped it in a towel, she couldn't help but watch

him. He hadn't taken his eyes off her, not once. And she couldn't discern

the odd expression on his face. He looked almost...no, that wasn't it,

either.

"Mulder, what happened tonight?"

He flinched as she touched the towel to his face, but he still didn't look

away. "I went back to the hospital."

She tried to ignore the tripping of her heartbeat. He went back to see

Diana. "Was there any change in her condition?"

"She's conscious. I talked to her for a few minutes."

"She's not the one who punched you, is she?" She'd meant it as a joke, but

it didn't sound like one.

"No," he said, with a wry twist to his lips. "And I didn't go there to see

her. I went to look at the tape again, to see if we missed anything."

"And?"

"And the Cigarette Smoking Man wasn't alone. I couldn't be totally sure, but

I think Krycek was there, too."

Just the mention of his old nemesis's name, even spoken from his own lips,

was enough to make the almost serene look on Mulder's face darken. Scully had

to fight the urge to grimace herself. "Krycek? I thought he was still in

hiding?"

"So did I. But it looks like he's back, and up to his old tricks."

"Did Krycek hit you?"

He shook his head, pushing the ice bag away. "No, this bruise is compliments

of your boyfriend, Spender."

"What?" She tossed the ice bag down on the counter with a loud thunk. "He

hit you because you kissed me?"

For once, he finally smiled. "Yeah, we got our gangs together and decided to

rumble. The winner gets to take you to the prom on Saturday."

"If you're not going to tell me anything, I'm going back to bed. You can let

yourself out."

She started to walk away when he grabbed her arm, laughing softly. "I'm

sorry, I couldn't resist."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "What happened?"

"I found Spender trying to assault Diana, and I literally had to drag him off

of her. He hit me, I hit him, Diana told me to let him go, and that was the

end of it."

She knew he wasn't telling her all of it. "What happened?" she asked again,

louder.

"Spender was trying to get information out of Diana, to find out what she

told us. She didn't tell him anything, and when I tried to help her, she made

me let him go. So, I got to spend an hour explaining things to hospital staff

while Spender walked away. I know he's involved with the Consortium, but

there's not a damned thing I can do about it. He's clean. There's nothing I

can hold him on."

He paused, rubbing his knuckles against her cheek, before adding, "I did find

out something interesting. It seems Old Smoky is Spender's father."

"He is?"

He nodded. "Couldn't you see the resemblance?"

"I guess I never really looked at either of them that closely." She lowered

her eyes, staring at her bare feet. "So, I'm guessing your little rumble

blows my cover as his date?"

"If he ever comes near you again, I will shoot him."

She smiled. Why was it that when Spender acted possessive of her, she wanted

to deck him, but when Mulder did it, it sent little quivers of warmth down her

spine? It wasn't just that she despised Spender, because she'd felt the same

kind of resentment when other men tried to be her macho protectors. Yet, with

Mulder it was different. She found herself grinning every time he put a

territorial hand on her back. It only made her want to lean even closer.

Just as she did now. Slipping her arms around his waist, she rested her head

against his chest. And she didn't imagine the shuddering breath he took.

"Mulder, is there something you aren't telling me?"

"Let's go to bed," he whispered, his voice gravely. "We can talk about this

later."

"Mulder--"

"Don't tell me I'm not spending the night, because I am. I just want to hold

you."

She nodded, silently taking his hand and leading the way back to her bedroom.

He didn't say a word as he set his own gun down on the night stand and started

removing his clothes. Scully slid under the covers, waiting patiently, and

when he was stripped down to his T-shirt and underwear, she pulled him into

her embrace. He settled down on to the pillow next to her, his eyes meeting

hers, his gaze studying her face once more. Committing it to memory, before

placing soft kisses over every inch. He was gentle, reverent, almost delicate

in his explorations. And for a moment, she was stunned when he turned off the

light and pulled her close...intending to sleep instead of make love to her.

His breathing didn't slow, and the rapid heartbeat under her ear didn't

lessen either. But somehow the steady rhythm soothed her, lulling her back

into much needed sleep.

And just before she felt herself slipping into dreamland, she thought she

heard him murmur, "He knows, Scully."

He had been so full of indignation he hadn't even stopped to consider his

actions. Now, however, as Spender stood in the hallway outside the office, he

wondered if he was doing the right thing.

The truth be told, he was scared. No, not scared, he chided himself, ashamed

at his own cowardice. Apprehensive. That was more like it. That was a word

his father wouldn't be ashamed of.

It wasn't as though he'd never been there before. He had been once, but that

had been purely to pick up information. He hadn't even set foot inside the

door. He had a right to be apprehensive.

He took a deep breath, and raised his hand to knock. Before he had a chance

to do so, the door was opened by a man he recognized only vaguely. The man,

who, like all the others, had graying hair and a gray suit, motioned for him

to cross the threshold. Eyeing his company carefully, Spender obeyed, halting

just far enough inside to allow the other man to shut the door. For a long

moment he exchanged silent stares with the other occupants of the room. He

was fast leaving apprehension behind and heading for full-blown fear when he

heard his father's voice.

"Jeffrey." The owner of the voice emerged from the inner office, a trail of

smoke following closely. He raised the cigarette to his mouth and took

another drag before speaking again. "I was expecting you. Please, won't you

come in." He motioned for Spender to follow him in to the smaller room, and

indicated that two of the other men should follow as well. Spender recognized

one of them as the "leader" of the Consortium, and the other had allowed him

entry to the premises. Allowing himself another deep breath, Spender

followed.

The inner office was smoky and dingy. At first he assumed there to be no

window, but on closer inspection found a painted-out glass panel, obscured by

several struggling spider plants. File cabinets lined one wall, while the

opposite wall was covered floor to ceiling with books, some of which appeared

to be extremely old. Behind the door was a cracked and dirty ceramic sink,

with several unlabelled bottles on a shelf above it.

But it was towards the desk that Spender was unceremoniously shoved. The

desk appeared to be a conglomeration of the rest of the room: piles of

folders, another pathetic plant, a couple of bottles, and although he

squinted, Spender could not determine what they contained. One of the

ancient-looking volumes from the bookshelf was open on the desk.

His father sat at the opposite side of the desk, allowing Spender to take in

his surroundings. When he was satisfied his son had been given a sufficient

amount of time to do so, he spoke.

"It has been going on for centuries, Jeffrey." He pulled out a half-empty

packet of Morleys, and extracted one. He gestured towards the book that lay

open in front of him, lighting his cigarette as he did so. "Three hundred

years ago there was a man, living in England, who claimed to have been visited

by men from the stars. The Church condemned him, would not allow him to

contaminate others with his ravings. He was burnt at the stake."

Spender was confused. He had always suspected his father to lean towards the

border of madness, but never had he imagined that he'd crossed it. Nodding

slightly, he moved a step closer to the desk.

"I'm not sure I know what you mean." Much as he wanted to say his piece and

leave, Spender did not want to risk angering his father, or either of the

other men in the room.

"There have always been those that have known, Jeffrey. The Aztecs drew

pictures of so-called spacemen on their walls. This man three hundred years

ago claimed to have spoken with extra-terrestrials. But there have always

been those who kept the majority of the evidence hidden. Luckily, up until

this century the church did most of that work for us. But after Roswell, they

just didn't have that kind of power any more. People started relying on their

own beliefs." He paused. "You're here about Fox Mulder."

"He attacked me in the hospital." Spender felt his indignation flare again.

"I was visiting Diana, to make sure she hadn't told anyone..."

"I know what he did to you." His father stared at him for a moment, his gaze

sweeping over his neck. "Those are some nasty bruises you have there. Better

be more careful in the future."

"He doesn't know," Spender assured him. "He couldn't know. She hasn't told

him anything."

"And in the warehouse?" Damn. He wasn't there. She could have told him

everything.

"That was entirely Diana's fault. She ignored protocol and broke guidelines.

I can only be expected to stay by her as long as she keeps the rules."

Spender flushed slightly, feeling like a little boy who had just spoken back

to the Headmaster.

"Understood. We'll be keeping an eye on Fox Mulder. You needn't worry about

him."

"I have reason to believe Mulder and his partner are involved."

"Involved in what?" It was the first time either of the other men had

spoken, and the leader's voice took Spender by surprise.

"No, Sir, I mean involved personally. With each other," Spender clarified.

"Do you have any evidence?"

"I saw them..." Spender was baffled at the suddenly unprofessional attitude

of the Consortium members.

His father stood, having been given sufficient time to light his third

cigarette. Walking around the table, he stood directly in front of Spender.

"Mulder will be taken care of."

"And what about Diana? She knows too much."

He nodded. "Indeed, she does."

The door to her hospital room stood open, the light from the hallway and the

machines monitoring her health being the only relief in the consuming

darkness. She lay motionless in her bed, draped with white cotton blankets

and a hideous blue gown. A bandage covered her head, drawing his attention to

the ghastly color of her face. She looked dead. If not for the shallow rise

and fall of her chest, he would've thought someone had already done his job

for him.

He cast a glance at the door behind him, before moving deeper into the

shadows that surrounded her bed. The curtains had been pulled before the

window, so as not to disturb her much needed sleep. He almost smiled. She

wouldn't ever have to worry about missing sleep again.

The silent drip of the IV in her arm drew his attention. He wondered

momentarily about what they were giving her. A little morphine sounded damned

good right about now. But he didn't need drugs to give him a high, or to slow

his heartbeat. What he was about to do was enough to send a warm tingle

flooding through his veins, sweeter than any narcotic could ever provide.

Killing didn't use to be so easy. The first time, he'd puked his guts out.

But the more times he did it, the more he grew to love the power that surged

through him. He liked that feeling, that god-like grip. And he didn't bother

to suppress the grin on his face as he took her pillow out from under her head

and smashed it down on her face.

She jerked on the bed, her arms flailing out and clutching his black leather

jacket with surprising strength. Her legs kicking wildly, nearly pulling the

blankets free from their tucked position. Her other hand clawed at his,

trying to hurt him so he'd let her go. Too bad she forgot that arm was a

prosthesis. He pressed down harder on the pillow, putting his weight on it,

delighting in the muffled gasps she emitted. Her chest heaved, struggling to

breath, but the pillow stuffed in her face smothered her efforts. Her hands

continued to claw at him, to try and push him away, but it was no use. She

thrashed and struggled for what seemed like forever, before sinking back to

the mattress like a limp rag doll. Still, even then, he didn't remove the

pillow from her face.

The machine at her bedside, connected to a finger monitor that checked her

pulse, slowly stopped beeping. It would only be a matter of seconds before an

alarm sounded at the nurse's station. Lingering as long as he dared, he

carefully replaced the pillow behind her head and smoothed the blankets over

her legs.

With a satisfied smirk, he headed for the door. Just outside, a man carrying

flowers stopped at the sound of the alarm and gave him a panicked look.

Straightening his own jacket, Krycek quickly grabbed the man by the shoulders

and turned him towards the nurse’s station. "Get help! My wife's heart just

stopped beating!"

The man rushed away to do his bidding, and didn't see his quick escape into

the nearby stairwell. Once a reasonable distance away, he removed his

disguise and shoved the wig and other evidence into the garbage. Without even

raising his pulse, he hurried to the main doors and departed the hospital. He

didn't bother to stick around and see if they revived her. He didn't need to.

Diana was dead.

The faint glow from the street lamp filtered through the window, brightening

the room just enough for Mulder to see the copper fire of her hair. She lay

curled against his side, her cheek resting on his chest, breathing softly in

sleep's embrace. She was so warm and soft, smelled so sweet, but not even

Scully could chase away his dragons this time. Sleep never came easily, but

sometimes, when lying next to her, he was able to find peace. Not tonight.

He was so tormented by the thoughts roiling in his head he was afraid to even

close his eyes.

His eyes stung with the need for sleep. His chest was tight, aching despite

the slight weight of her head. He gently ran his fingers over her hair,

barely skimming the surface so as not to disturb her, trying to ignore the

shaking of his hand. She murmured in her sleep, shifting against him before

settling once more. Her leg slid against his, the silky material of her

pajamas causing a reaction he tried hard to ignore.

He glanced at the clock. Less than an hour until dawn. He knew he should

get up and shower, but he didn't want to move. He should've rolled her

beneath him and made love to her one last time, but he didn't do that either.

As much as he wanted to, he knew she'd despise him for it after what he was

about to do to her.

He felt her stir once more, and she lifted her head to peer at him with

sleepy eyes. "Why aren't you asleep?"

He licked his lips, fighting the urge to evade her gaze. "I think we need to

talk."

She blinked, trying to focus on his face. "Why does that sound so serious?"

"Because it is."

"What is it?" She sat up, curling her legs up beneath her, straightening her

blue satin pajamas. Despite his T-shirt and boxer-briefs, he was suddenly

unbearably cold.

"I've been thinking...that we should stop seeing each other outside of work."

She crossed her arms over her chest, arching an eyebrow. "You're the one who

insisted on spending the night, Mulder."

"No, you don't understand. I think we should stop seeing each other.

Period."

"You think we should break up."

He closed his eyes, but it didn't stop him from seeing the wounded look on

her face. "Yes."

Her long silence forced him to meet her gaze. He was almost sorry he did.

She didn't look sad, she looked angry. It wasn't anything obvious, like a

narrowing of her eyes or a pinching of her lips. She merely stared at him.

Unblinking. Unmoving. He wasn't even sure she was breathing. And as much as

he wanted to, he couldn't look away.

"Why?" she asked, her voice barely audible.

"I put you in too much danger. When the Consortium finds out we're together,

they'll do everything they can to use it against us. They won't stop until

one of us is dead."

She shook her head. "Mulder, I've been abducted, given cancer, exposed to

some strange virus, frozen...the list goes on and on. How could I possibly be

in more danger now than I was then?"

"Maybe I didn't make myself clear. You're in danger, but I'm in even more

danger...because if they hurt you, they'll *kill* me. Do you understand that?

I won't watch them do that to you again. I'd rather slit my own throat than

watch you dying another time."

She stared at him silently, biting the corner of her lip. It seemed like an

eternity before she ended the staring contest. "It took me six years to win

you over, and you're willing to just throw it away so easily?"

"Who said I was willing?" He rested his hand on her knee, causing her to

flinch. "Scully, I don't want to do this. But I'll do anything to keep you

safe. Leaving you would be like ripping out my own heart, you know that. But

it would be bearable, with the knowledge that you're alive and safe enough to

go about your own life."

He could feel tears stinging just behind his eyelids, but he was too tired

and too far past caring to blink them away. "You always said you wanted a

normal life. Well, here's your chance. Maybe you could marry a nice

accountant and buy a house in the country or something."

She laughed a bit and shook her head, but the sound was devoid of humor.

Slipping the covers off, she got out of the bed and left the room.

He could only stare at the doorway she'd disappeared through, feeling the

moisture escape his eyes, recalling the words they once said to each other,

not so long ago. He'd told her to go be a doctor, that he wouldn't watch her

die for his hollow cause. But she'd refused, stating that if she quit, they'd

win. He hoped to God she still believed that...because if he lost a lover and

a partner, he didn't think he could continue.

It wouldn't be easy working with her now, after all they'd been through, but

he sure as hell didn't want to go on without her. It would be torture not

being able to hold her, and it just might rip him in two if she found someone

else, but he would bear it. She was the best partner he'd ever had. He

needed her, not just for her rationality and brilliant mind, but for her

determination as well. And maybe it was selfish, after what he'd just done,

but he wanted her around just so he could see her and be assured by her

presence. Even that meager residence she'd hold in his life would be more

precious than a fist full of diamonds.

He had no doubt it would be difficult. She'd probably hate him. But Scully

was a perfectionist at work, and she wouldn't fail him. The dangers posed by

the Consortium were considerably lessened in their current assignments, and if

it appeared they were minding their own business, they should be relatively

safe. He would continue to work on restoring the X-Files on his own, without

her help. If she wasn't involved, she couldn't be hurt. But, if worse came

to worst, he could always try to convince her to seek work elsewhere. Her

safety ranked above all else.

Even above the rapid beating of his own foolish heart.

Sitting on the couch, Scully stared around the room with numb eyes, searching

but not really seeing the shadows before her. She couldn't stay in that room

one minute longer, with the smell of him teasing her, the look on his face,

the waver in his voice. She couldn't believe he was actually doing this. He

was sacrificing everything they had, because of fear. Jesus, he was an FBI

agent, who used to investigate the X-files. They faced things in the past

that would've made civilians wet themselves. They'd looked down the barrels

of guns, but they didn't quit just because someone might've died. They didn't

turn in their badges because their partner might get hurt. So why the hell

was he doing this?

She didn't want to see him hurt anymore than he did her. But she'd rather

savor every day she did have with him, and mourn his loss, rather than live

the rest of her life knowing he was just out of reach.

How could he let Them come between what they had?

Anger burned in the back of her throat, just as he walked out of the bedroom.

She glanced at him, noting that he'd gotten dressed. He was leaving. And she

almost wanted to shoot him herself.

"So...what am I supposed to do, Mulder? Walk into work tomorrow and pretend

I don't know what it feels like to have you inside me?" He cringed at her

words, but kept walking. "Pretend I never heard you say you love me? And I

never said it back?"

He paused as he reached the door, his hand frozen on the knob. "Yes, that's

exactly what you're supposed to do."

"And I guess I should just forget you held me all night long, and I felt

completely safe in your arms...the way I'll never feel again?"

His back was to her, but she could see the shuddering breath he drew. "I

never meant to hurt you, Scully."

She looked away from him, fighting the quivering of her lips. "Yeah,

well...no one else could ever hurt me like you do."

"I do love you. No matter what else happens, you have to know that's true."

She hoped he didn't hear the tiny sob that escaped her lips. She wasn't

crying, but she couldn't control the tremors shaking her. "Just go. Please."

He nodded, slipping open the door and stepping out into the hallway. Out of

her life. Or the only part that mattered, anyway.

She sucked in a deep breath, staring at the closed door. Waiting for him to

see the idiocy of his words, and come back. Knowing he would change his mind

and tell her he couldn't live without her.

It wouldn't be long now.

Just a few more minutes.

He was probably standing there in indecision, trying to make up his mind.

Any second now he would open the door.

Any second.

Just one more...

He didn't come back.

END (5/5)

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Comments appreciated: Diadem@cwcom.net / Isahunter@aol.com

Come visit our site: http://www.aliens.mcmail.com/isadiadem/

Don't ask me

What you know is true

Don't have to tell you

I love your precious heart

I, I was standin'

You were there

Two worlds collided

And they could never tear us apart

--"Never Tear Us Apart" by INXS

(Lyrics used without permission. No infringement intended.

The song is property of INXS and Atlantic Records.)

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