Drowning
By RocketMan

Rated PG-13, Story, Angst, Scully first person, Spoilers for US5

=====
"A shark dies if it stops swimming, Mr. Mulder. Don't stop swimming."
-- Deep Throat, "E.B.E."

"And I'm barely balancing as it is, and I don't want to drown in my
dreams." -- "Furious Rose," Lisa Loeb
=====

I thought I wanted this.

I told Dad I wanted this and I refused his words and his rage to do
this. I am an FBI agent and I wanted it.

I did.

But I don't want it anymore. Not at all. It's cost me too much. I have
nothing.....nothing.....I am an FBI agent.

How was I supposed to know it would cost me my children, my family . . .
my love?

I lost Emily because of it.

If I had a normal job, they would have let me adopt her. I would have
her right now, in my arms and in my heart.

I didn't even get to know her.

My own baby.

My . . . own . . .

But I guess I would never have had her if I hadn't been in the FBI . . .
the X-Files. She came to me because of them. And I have Mulder because
of them.

Big comfort there. Mulder is . . . well, I once called him a nice jerk.
And I guess that hasn't changed much, it's just not so nice a way to
describe someone you love.

I guess this is what a mid-life crisis is. I think though, that this is
a call from reality telling me that, contrary to popular opinion, I'm
*not* immortal and that this cancer was my warning.

I need to just stop thinking so much, that's all. If I stop thinking, I
don't have to worry about the winnowing away of my life.

I call Mulder.

"Yeah?"

So eloquent. 

"Mulder? It's me."

"Hey you. Want to come over and watch a movie with me?" he says, and I
can hear him rising from the couch and walking around.

"Sure. I'll be over in a few minutes." I say and then fall silent.

"Something bothering you, Scully?"

"Ah . . . not really, Mulder. I just wanted to know if your foot was
feeling any better." He had gotten his ankle twisted when running after
a suspect the other night. I have been kind of taking care of him,
making sure he took the anti-inflammatory drugs he was given.

"Oh yeah. Much. Having you rewrap it every night is wonderful, too."

Such a tease. 

"It isn't bothering you anymore?"

"Sometimes at night . . . you wanna come over and make it feel better?"

The man never gives up . . . 

"I'll let you go, Mulder. Want me to bring popcorn?"

"Yeah, I seem to be lacking in the food section . . ."

"Okay. Bye."

"Bye. And hurry, my foot is throbbing . . ."

"So funny." I hang up and sigh.

At least he can make me laugh at myself. Not ever out loud, no, that
would be admitting something I don't think I'm ready to admit to him.
But always inside, where it counts, Mulder can make me feel better about
myself, about what I've chosen.

Sad that my confidence, my strength, comes from Mulder when I've tried
all my life to rely only on myself. He has thrown me a lifeline again
tonight, pulled me from the inky waters of uncertainty to the lifeboat
he managed to build.

I can't keep relying on Mulder to pull me in, especially since some day,
this will all end.

I don't like thinking about it, but some day he's not going to be there
when I walk into the office. Or I'm going to get cancer again and it'll
do it's job. And then it will be over. Everything we've built, all the
life rafts we've so agonizingly lavished over, will be gone, blown to
bits in the winds of the storm that sucks everyone under.

It's sucking me under. Not Death, but a kind of death where everything
seems to be unworthy of my time, unworthy to be in a day, to take up my
life when I have so little of it.

So -- I have a life saver for the moment and I am not drowning any
longer.

How long will that last?

Until I leave Mulder's? Until the next case comes along to brutally
bring me to my knees?

Where does my strength come from? - because Mulder isn't going to be
able to keep me going my entire life.

I thought I wanted this life. I wanted this in the beginning, but my
dreams are drowning me . . . and I'm barely keeping afloat. I'm treading
water and it's so very tiring . . . so exhausting.

The phone rings. 

"Yeah?"

"Eloquent today Scully."

We really need to get separate lives . . . I'm starting to think like
him . . .

"Anyway, I called because I was wondering if you could bring some apples
too."

"Apples?"

"Yeah, I'm craving one right about now."

"I don't have any, Mulder."

"What? Scully, the health nut, doesn't have apples?"

"I have oranges."

"No . . . that's no good." He sighs and I hear his breath heavy on
the phone. "Oh well, never mind."

"Fine."

"Hey, come on already. Get going, I want to watch this."

"Stop calling me." I say with a smirk.

"I can't resist Scully . . . you know how much your voice turns me on."

"Yeah, right. Good-bye Mulder."

"Wait!"

"What?" I say, exasperated.

"You're on the cellular. Don't hang up, just start driving." he says and
I realize he must have planned this.

"Feeling a little lonely, Mulder?"

"Hell, yeah. Are you coming?"

I sigh and pick up my coat and the bag of pocorn I had wandered over and
gotten while he was talking. "Yes, I'm coming."

"Good. Don't hang up."

"I'm not."

I lapse into silence as I walk out the door and then turn the key in the
door to lock it.

"What are you doing?" he says.

"Locking my door." I say, amused and somewhat patronizing.

"Okay." He falls quiet and I can hear him breathe as I walk down the
stairs, figuring I need the exercise and it's faster anyway.

"Scully?"

"Huh?"

"What are you doing?" He sounds very suspicious as if he has just found
out something very incriminating about me.

"I'm walking down the stairs." I say, indignant.

"Oh." He is sheepish again.

"Why? What did you think I was doing?"

"I don't know. You were breathing kind of funny, and I was wondering if
you were . . . uh, having an asthma attack --"

"I don't have asthma, Mulder."

I have a funny feeling I know exactly what he thought was going on.

"Mulder?"

"Yeah?" he says and his voice is very reticent.

"Stop watching your porn."

His half-guilty, half-amused snort reaches me and I smile to myself.

"So, where are you now?"

"This sounds surprising like phone sex, Mulder."

"Ooh . . . she gives as good as she gets . . ." he murmurs in my ear.

"I'm getting in the car." I say and roll my eyes.

"Okay, hurry up. My foot is begging for your little hands."

It's kind of nice knowing that he needs me, wants me around. Once again,
he is throwing me a lifeline, a way to keep swimming.

"Thanks Mulder." I say softly.

He stops joking around and I hear him sigh. "Scully . . . " 

He wants to say so much more than that but he can't, and I know it.

"Scully, you . . . I need you just as much . . . just as much."

I smile a little and start the car.

I'm still in the water, I'm still swimming, despite that it seems to be
in circles . . . but I'm not drowning.

I'm not drowning.

end
adios
RM