=========== The Emilys Truthfully =========== =========== "This isn't what I like to call flattery, but I know that I believe that I've found what's true, that I've found what's you." -- Lisa Loeb, "Truthfully" =========== She was lying in bed, eyes closed against the beginning of another day. Her limbs were heavy and dull and still asleep, and her skin was sensitive from being hot and sweaty. They needed a new air conditioner. She did not open her eyes when the alarm went off but slapped it silent and waited for her body to wake up. Mulder was beside her, face pressed into her side, lips touching as if he'd been about to kiss her when he fell asleep. Her shirt was somewhere on the floor, pulled off hastily last night and then forgotten. She felt her face flush. Actually, she had forgotten. She had fallen asleep on him, right as he was trying to seduce her. It was just that she'd been aching all day and had to run around the entire unit trying to compensate for the doctor that had been out that day. She'd been exhausted when she got home ... Hopefully Mulder wasn't too mad with her. Hopefully, he wouldn't tease her about it either. She sighed and stayed perfectly still, not able to summon the energy to get up, take a shower, meet the next day. Mulder woke and stirred beside her, lips brushing her skin in greeting. She moved her sluggish arm down to touch his back and he drew closer, pulling her into him. She let her head fall to his chest and her eyes close again. "Scully ..." he murmured softly. She made no noise, only wished he had suprised her again, called in and got today off for her like last week. "Are you okay, Scully? You're kind of hot." She nodded against him and sighed a bit more. "You didn't happen to get me today off, did you?" He smiled and moved away from her arms, making her shiver with the sudden chill of morning air that replaced the places where his arms and body had been. "Come on, get up." "Can't." "Are you okay, really? I mean, you're never like this. You're usually up and going before I can even remember that the alarm went off." "Mmm ... maybe not." "Maybe not what?" "I don't feel too good." Her eyes opened and he jerked, startled by the fevered glaze cast over the shocking blue. "Come here." he commanded and placed a hand to her forehead as she made a decent effort to scoot in closer to him. "Do we have a thermometer?" he said, her voice tense and worried. Her eyes flew open again. "What? Why? I was kidding, Mulder. I'm not sick. I can't be sick. Two of our doctors are out already with the flu. I can't get sick!" She shot up to get out of bed and in the next instant, he was catching her as she fell back, suddenly too dizzy to see straight. "Oh no," she sighed. "I can't get sick ..." "Well, I'm pretty sure you are. Stay here, I'll bring you some Tylenol and water." "Mulder --" "No. Stay here." He stayed beside her until she slumped back in bed, certain that she would not try to get up and prove to him that she was okay. Because she clearly wasn't. He rummaged around in the cabinet until he found the bottle and took two out, then ran some water. On the way back he made sure Libby was up and set out clothes for her to wear to school. She gave him a morning smile that looked so much like her mother's and a big kiss. He returned bearing gifts and she graciously accepted, eyes closing as he took back the empty glass. She stayed that way for a long time and he put his hand to her forehead and checked again. "It doesn't work that fast," she murmured. "I know. Just checking." "I'll be fine. Can you get Libby to school this morning?" "No problem." "And make sure she has her lunch, and her --" "I got it covered, babe," he said, laughing a bit. She sighed and opened her eyes, looking straight at him. "Sorry, Mulder. I'm not a very good patient." He sat down on the bed and drew her close to him, running his hand along her forehead. "That's okay, Scully. I won't hold it against you. I don't think I'm a very good patient either, if I remember correctly." She smiled and could remember: The Arctic, the PaperClip project, many others. "You're not so bad unconscious." He gave her a wry grin and let his thumb trace her chin. "I don't have to go in to work until ten today, so I can stay with you for awhile." "Okay." she said softly and closed her eyes, letting his hands run down her, forgetting for awhile all the things he had told her last Friday. Forgetting that he did not love her like that, to where this meant something instead of it being just a nice thing he was doing for her. She could feel herself falling asleep, relaxing into his arms and drifting away. He moved softly out of the room when he was sure she was asleep and went about getting Libby ready for school. =========== She woke to cold emptiness and the bitterness of lost things. She found him gone, the truck gone, his warmth gone. She stayed in the bed and realized that she had been stupid to lead herself down that path again, the one where she comforted the hurt by telling herself that she could make him love her the way she loved him ... She fought to keep away tears, knowing that he had only gone to drop off Libby, and felt ridiculous for letting herself get hurt again. After sorting through all of Friday, she had decided that it didn't matter how he felt, because she knew he would not leave, and that was her main fear. But that one conversation on a bench in Central Park had changed everything. How could she know for sure that when he touched her it was for real? That when his lips found hers, it was not just some alternative to his videos, or his fantasies? How could she know that he didn't secretly detest touching her, for all the phoniness it implied in the act? She had resolved herself to dealing with a man that was half alive with her, half himself, and it had worked for a few unhappy minutes. She wanted all of him, just as he had all of her. Would he ever be able to give up the X-Files, give up their old life and let them live this new one? She had then decided that she could change him, that she could make him love her in that way, that he would eventually come to understand that he didn't need strange phenomenon to make his life worth something. She had thought last night that maybe he was, and then this morning, being so considerate, so loving and caring and touching her ... Stupid. It had been stupid to think, stupid to let herself get hurt again. Never again. Never again. She bit the inside of her lip and kept focus on the pain there, instead of the pain in her heart. =========== Mulder drove back slowly, wondering what his actions, his words, had all been about that morning. What exactly had he been doing? He was unsure of what he was allowed to do with her anymore -- he had effectively trapped himself into that one. Telling her he didn't want her like that, then telling her he would take her at any time ... what the hell was he thinking? That everything could be okay after that? It had been the truth. It had. But now it was changing; knowing that she really did love him kind of warped his view. He had blocked himself off to her now. She'd never believe him if he suddenly said, "Oh, I'm sorry. I must have been mistaken. I do love you like that." Had he been too hasty? What if he had waited, heard what she had to say first, heard that she loved him truly, would it've changed anything? Things had changed now. He wasn't sure he liked it. He didn't know how to act around her, didn't know what was all right for him to do, except she kept letting him, she kept opening her arms and letting him in, every time. Every time. She hadn't held it against him, she hadn't gotten revenge, or angry or afraid of him or anything. She had accepted it and gone on. The only evidence he had that she remembered it was the tears he had seen once, staining her face when he had woken early for some reason. He had woken because she'd been crying. That had killed him. He hadn't meant for his words to hurt her. He had only felt she ought to know the truth. What could he do now, now that the truth was changing? He found home to be silent and welcoming, open and secure. He walked into their bedroom and sat carefully on the bed, watching her. She breathed erratically, shallowly, as if her lungs were having a hard time. Her face was still flushed, her hands curled around the empty space where his own body would go. He felt just as empty. He was aching to hold her and touch her ... Hadn't he told her that never happened to him? Maybe things were changing ... maybe he was finding his truth right here, in her arms, in her life, in her love. Maybe he did love her like that. He crawled into bed, shoving his shoes off and creeping in close to her. She was hot and her breaths were mini explosions into the air, but she felt soft and alive and good. He managed to wrap his arms around her and cradle her head to his chest, holding her tightly, securely, letting her know that he was there, he was finally there. Her eyes opened and found him near her, arms around her, holding her. She lifted her chin and looked at him. He was leaning down, kissing her, telling her that he was sorry, that he hadn't wanted to her hurt, telling her to forget everything he had said last Friday on a bench in Central Park. He didn't say a word. She closed her eyes again and let her body take back control. She was too tired to try and sort things out at the moment. "Sleep, Scully. Go to sleep," he murmured. He was finally there. No longer half alive, but finally there. =========== "Truthfully, I'm not desperate, I haven't changed my mind since we first met. But the last thing I want to do is to tell you that I'm right for you." -- Lisa Loeb "Truthfully" =========== ==========END==========