Coffee
By RocketMan

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Content: TOA--Tons Of Angst, MSR
RATED::::   R     Please do not read unless 17 or with parental consent.

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Maybe it started with the coffee, but for him, I know it was way before
that because he had been acting strangely the whole day.

I thought it was a bit odd when he came over to simply talk, but I
didn't question. All I could think of was Eddie Van Blundht and Mulder's
insistence that he may not be a loser but he wasn't Eddie either. Eddie
was the one who told him that he should 'treat himself' and live a
little.

Last night, that's exactly what Mulder did.

"Agent Scully, we need to know. Are you going to presss charges?"

"Scully, this is Skinner. We need some kind of statement here. Will you
be pressing charges?"

"Agent Scully, are you going to want him punished?"

"Agent Scully, will you have him brought before the grand jury?"

"Dana, are you going to press charges against Fox?"

"Dana! Implicate the bastard!"

<Are you going to press charges against your partner?>

I hear the door open, but my back is turned to it and the hospital walls
greet me cheerlessly with their mundanity and green boredom.

The door doesn't slam, but it does shut like a tombstone slammed into
the soft wet earth and I jump a little.

It isn't my mother; I sent her home.

It isn't Bill; I made him leave after he called Mulder a bastard.

It isn't Skinner; I pray it isn't him again.

"Scully?"

It's him.

Why am I afraid of him? Why do my limbs shake like they did when I
had to go home and tell my father I had joined the FBI? I loved my
father . . .

"Scully, please."

I can't stop the shaking. This is ridiculous. I'm not afraid of him.

"In case you were worried; I'm not pressing charges Mulder."

A moan escapes him, much like the moans of before and I shiver
involuntarily and squeeze my eyes shut to block the memories.

"Scully, god, no, that's not --"

"Then you can go, Mulder. Don't feel obligated."

Oh, please, just leave.

"It wasn't me, Scully. They did it. They took me from my apartment and
gave me a drug and I wasn't me until I woke up on top of you this
morning, and all that blood, oh shit, Scully . . . "

That makes me feel a whole lot better, oh yeah, let me tell ya.

"Don't feel obligated. Just leave."

"Scully! Dammit, talk to me!"

<Scully! Dammit, pull your clothes off!>

I shiver. Shiver. Shiver. Can't stop shivering. It was someone else,
someone else, not him, not him . . .

"Please . . ."

"Scully?"

"Please . . . leave me alone."

He comes around and interrupts my view of the green wall and his eyes
are staring right into me, right into my battered and beaten soul so
that he can see the bruised eyes and the bruised heart.

"Oh, Scully. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

His face is scratched from where I clawed him, but there are no other
marks.

The scratch wasn't in defense . . .

I shouldn't be afraid . . . I wanted that. I let him pull me to the
couch and I only talked to him, only pleaded with him, I did not fight.

I did not fight.

He did though.

It hurt, and suddenly, I didn't want it anymore.

And it was too late then.

<Dammit, Scully, quit moving!>

And I trembled and wriggled away and he punched me and knocked my
head into the coffee table and the coffee spilled down my shirt and
burned . . . burned . . . burned . . .

just like his kiss and his lips and his eyes and his forcing

I would have gone along, didn't he know?

He touches me now and it's not like before.

It's gentle and rainy and cool and healing and the burning isn't there.

I open my eyes to him and still my body shakes.

His eyes are like the color of coffee when you just start to add the
milk and it swirls underneath and makes dark and light plays in the
backdrop of a coffee cup.

"It wasn't me, Scully. It wasn't me. This drug, they found it in my
blood when they did a tox screen and it wasn't me . . . oh God, I didn't
want to hurt you. Ever. I could see it all and I couldn't stop it, I
couldn't stop it."

I nod and reach for his hand, to make sure, to make sure, it has to be
him, it has to be cool and calm and just a bit sweaty and trembling, but
not with lust.

He eagerly takes my hand and kisses it.

I cringe. I can't help it.

He shakes his head. "No, please. Don't let this be the end. Please. I
tried to stop it, I tried but I couldn't and it kept hurting you and at
first I reached out to help you and yet you came to me --"

"I know."

My words rush into his eyes, the last drops of milk into coffee, and he
sighs, slumps against the bed and cries.

"You're hurt . . . you're hurt and I was helpless . . . I hurt you."

I don't move, only close my eyes before more memories come back.

I want him to say that it was nothing and it was beautiful, and it was
something he wanted, not something that hurt me.

It hurt later, but at the beginning, when maybe Mulder tried to control
it, the touch was cool and wonderful.

And I let it go on.

I let it.

He raises his head and reaches toward me.

<Come here, Scully. Let me kiss you.>

His eyes shut softly and his lips part slowly and I tense and wait for
it.

A light kiss of a butterfly landing on my nose.

"Haven't you done enough!?!"

I turn, startled to see my brother, whom I threw out earlier.

I call up the anger at the whole thing and direct it to him.

"Leave Bill. Leave." I say and my voice is low and hurting and ready to
break and he shakes his head.

"No way in hell, I'm leaving."

"Bill. Leave right now. I will not have you make me feel worse."

His head comes crashing up and he stares at me, glares at Mulder, and
leaves, finally.

Mulder sighs. "He'll call one of the nurses and I'll get in trouble. I'm
not allowed in here."

I shake my head. "I want you here."

<I let him.>

He smiles softly, sadly. "No, Scully. I can't."

I feel panic rise. If he's gone . . . if he leaves, I might start to
hate him, I might start to think and I don't want to face that, can't
begin that.

"No, please, Mulder. You couldn't control it before. Control it now."

His eyes explode into darkness like black firecrackers going off in
stormy skies.

"What do you mean?"

"I want my memories to be good, sweet. Not that, not bitter."

He shakes. "I - I - I don't want to hurt you."

"Then heal me."

I clutch at his hand, smiling at the fear in his eyes. "Not now, Mulder.
Later, when everything's okay."

He nods.

"But right now, while it's not, don't leave me, okay?"

He nods again and I pull his head to me, his cheek pressed into the
sheets.

I want this the right way, the love way, not what that thing was.

He sighs into my hands. "I'm sorry."

"I know."

Maybe this will be okay.

But no more coffee for awhile.

end
adios
RM