Title: Midst of Space II Author: RocketMan lebontrager@harding.edu Disclaimer: Mulder, Scully, Emily, and The X-Files belong to CC, 1013, and Fox. No fringe intended. Summary: Please read the first to understand. MSR Midst of Space ===== "I did not believe because I could not see Though you came to me in the night When the dawn seemed forever lost You showed me your love in the light of the stars." --Loreena McKennitt, "Dante's Prayer" ===== Dana Scully sat silently in her room, needing the familiarness of the things around her, the warm glow of life reclaimed that her bed and walls and things gave off. The light came in the window and spilled around her limbs, stretching over them and playing along her skin as the day passed her by. She waited until it was dark before rising to meet her demons. First the smell. She had never been consciously aware of the smell of a little girl before, of her little girl: the way her hair always gave off the scent of summer and grass and whispering to friends treasured secrets: the way her skin breathed of fading life and one time happiness: the way death had slinked into her smell and exuded throughout her in the distinct odor of fear. The smell of fear from her Emily came to her that night. She shivered and pushed it to the front, needing that remembrance of things she would never have. The phone rang. She jerked and slid through the rooms of darkness to the telephone and picked it up. "Scully?" the voice came to her. "Yes." "Hey, it's me." "Mulder...." "Look, I know you're probably busy so I'll be quick." "I'm going to a convention tonight, on government conspiracies and stuff. Supposedly it's serious stuff, but I think Frohike's a little too excited for this to be serious. So, I'll be gone all of tonight and get back tomorrow morning. Okay?" She was silent. "Scully?" "I'm . . . surprised you told me." "Well, I figured you deserve to . . . Well, you know...." "Yeah," she murmured. She felt better after his assurance. The darkness now felt oppressive and she flicked on a light. "Okay, well, I'm going." "Okay." She heard the shuffle and yelled, "Wait." "What?" he said immediately, as if he'd been listening for her words to come. "Thanks." She hung up. **** The wooden benches were slick with the sweat of a humid Mother Nature, warning that summer would be miserable. She sat in the church wishing she had not come, yet knowing she needed the healing to start, that she needed to burn the wound so it would scab over. Father McCue was giving the sermon on the importance that mothers' play in their children's lives, just as Mary had done for Jesus. She had the feeling she would not soon stop hurting on Mother's Day. Mother's Day. It was a hurting day, really. A mother's hurt to rival the pain Mary must have felt when Jesus called out in pain on the cross. A tight ball of acid roiled in her stomach and the smell of death, of Emily's death, came back to her. Emily would always make her think of a coffin of sand, a glittering cross around her neck, and the smell of hospital death. She closed her eyes and felt her mother's hands closing around her arm and leg. She smiled at the common pain they now shared and looked to see mirrored sorrows in her mother's eyes. Such a horrible thing, to be alive when your child is dead. She wasn't supposed to live longer than her daughter. It made her sick, even now, to sit here and watch the mothers smiling, the little girls smiling, the choir smiling, the church smiling like the world was one big happy place. But she remained silent. **** Later that day, her mother's friend asked that the class pray for a man who had been driving back from a convention with some friends and had gotten in a wreck. The color drained from her face and she forgot the pain of mother's in that one instant. "Do you know the name?" she asked suddenly. The woman shook her head. "It just happened near me . . ." Scully felt her body crumpling in and she fought to keep the panic out. It couldn't have been Mulder. It couldn't have been. He was fine. Please, God, he was fine. **** She came out of church about noon and the bright sunshine glared right through her, as if beating the pain into her harder. She felt the hitch rise up through her and she bit her lip and let her mother lead her to the car. Her mother laughed. Scully looked up from the sidewalk and her misery to see Mulder. Her breath rushed from her and the accumulation of the day's fears and hurt came exploding out and she could not help but run and hug him. He laughed at her sudden outburst and hugged her back, planting a small kiss on her forehead. She pulled away and saw why her mother had laughed. He was in shorts and a T-shirt that read "The Feds are out to get us" and his sneakers had holes in the toes. She smiled and rolled her eyes as he let her look at him. "Scully. Have fun at church, playing good?" She raised an eyebrow and turned to her mother, but she was already waving good-bye and telling her to go have fun, tell her about it later. People began laughing and smiling, or simply staring at Mulder, so she pushed him into the car and got in after him. He started the engine and looked at her, suddenly serious and sad. "It's Mother's Day, Scully." he said softly. She nodded and looked out the window at the women with their daughters, smiling as the sun smiled with them. "How are you?" he asked. She turned and he felt the sickening thrust of sorrow in her dead eyes. "Not happy. Not . . . real." He nodded and pulled the car out of the parking lot of the church, then onto the interstate. Scully said nothing, but let him put a hand in hers and hold it. It felt like he was holding onto her heart, keeping it together. **** "Here we are, Scully," he said softly, waking her with a small nudge. She had fallen asleep in the car as he had driven into D.C. Looking around her now, she saw the streets were silent without the common suits walking around, ready for their government jobs. He got out of the car and came around to her side as she got out, then took her hand again. They were standing in front of an enormous building, it's domed roof reaching to the sky almost, and she wondered why she'd never even noticed it before. "Where is here?" "The planetarium." he said. She followed him into the cool darkened entrance, feeling the welcome breath of air conditioner on her face and swirling her skirt. She realized she had the beige dress on, a sort of symbol of her reaching for faith, reaching for the strength she needed to grasp her loss. His hand in hers was sweating and she smiled at the way this seemed to be so juvenile, so Mulder. He led her into the back entrance of the theatre-like dome and up to the top row, then sat her down. On the screen above them was the vast expanse of stars, stretching forever into space and looking far away and untouchable. He took her close to him and wrapped his arms around her, nosing his face into her hair and closing his eyes. Today, the stars were for her. Scully felt the pull of them, even though they were projections on a screen, but she saw them instead as real, as fire far in the sky, fire burning and being consumed. She wanted to be consumed by the stars, their cold looking light was her own self, her emotionally detatched self. She wanted to let Mulder close enough to burn, to be burned by him, to find the explosions of fire within herself. She hated the numbness of death that rose in her. It was Emily and it was cancer and it was faithlessness. It was fear. "Mulder?" "I'm here." "I'm glad you brought me here." "They're for you, Scully. The stars are here for you just like I'll always be here for you." "I know. I just sometimes don't see it." He was silent for a moment then traced the lines of her face with a finger. "You're my star, Scully." he said roughly. She bit back a laugh at the way he had said it, the way it had been so foreign in his mouth. He stiffened and she took his hand, letting him know she wasn't laughing at him. "You are. I can touch the stars when I touch you. I can see space, I can see its life, its basic elements, and its foreverness in you." She smiled and felt her tears dropping down, lifting away the fears in her. "Mulder . . . You . . . I . . " He kissed her before she could say it, but she knew it was too soon. Too soon to burn him in the stars. **** ==== "Though we share this humble path, alone How fragile is the heart Oh give these clay feet wings to fly To touch the face of the stars." --Loreena McKennitt, "Dante's Prayer." ====