Disclaimer: Nope, these characters aren't mine. Category: VRA Classification: MSR Rating: PG Spoilers: Within/Without Archive: Gossamer. Spookys. Further X. Others ask me. Feedback: Knock yourself out. Summary: Scully's evening takes an unexpected turn. Thanks to: Shannon for a second chance. "One Night Only" by Lisa haven599@msn.com Scully shuts the door to her apartment with more force than necessary and in the process drops the small white bag containing the remains of her greasy, fast-food dinner. "Dammit," she mutters, cursing yet another sign of the way her day had gone. She flips on the light and scoops up the broken bag, pulling out a by-now-cold fry and popping it into her mouth. Frowning in distaste, she takes the few steps to the kitchen and tosses the bag into the garbage. Her shoulders droop. She needs a hot bath to make everything right again. Opening the refrigerator, she spies the half-full bottle of sparkling cider and decides that it's a good accompaniment to her bath. She pours herself a glass, carries it into the bathroom and sets it down next to the sink before turning the water in the tub all the way to hot. A couple of vanilla-scented candles completes her night-time sanctuary. Unbuttoning her blazer, she smoothes her hands over her rounded stomach, still getting used to the idea of a life growing inside her. Looking forward to her relaxing soak, she crosses to the bedroom to finish undressing --but stops in her tracks at the entrance to the room. "Mulder! Oh, God! Mulder!" He's lying in the middle of her bed, asleep, wearing only a pair of shorts. Scully rushes over to him, calling his name over and over, but he is unresponsive to her touch and voice. Her fingers reach his throat and check his pulse automatically; it's steady but slow, in sharp contrast to her own heartbeat, hammering in her chest. A million questions rush through her mind, but her first priority is to evaluate Mulder's condition. Retrieving her medical bag out of the closet, she takes his blood pressure, listens to his heart and lungs and finds everything to be within normal limits. She is only slightly relieved; from her medical training, she knows that comatose victims can register normal vital signs. She says his name once more and touches his hand. Nothing. Not knowing what he was exposed to, how can she begin to treat him? How can a hospital treat him? How would she begin to explain this to medical personnel? Could conventional medicine help him? Scully looks at his skin more closely and notices red splotches on his body along with rough, dry patches on his body. His forearms and ankles bear scars as if he had been restrained. "Oh Mulder," she whispers. "I'm so sorry. What did they do to you?" Perhaps she should call Skinner. He'd want to know. Picking up the phone, she hears no dial tone. What the hell? She clicks on the receiver rapidly, but the line remains dead. It's as if someone doesn't want her to call for help. Was she supposed to be here with him all alone? She retrieves her cell phone out of the blazer she just hung up in the closet and punches it on, only to see it reads no service. Sighing, she drops it on the bed, feeling more helpless than ever. The roar in her ears clears enough for her to register the sound of the water she left running in the bathroom only a few minutes ago. She steps in to turn it off but pauses and instead reaches for the plastic basin under the sink, filling it with warm water and grabbing a fresh washcloth along with her body wash on the side of the tub. She carries her supplies back to the bedroom with her, hoping to offer him some comfort. As she runs the washcloth over his body, she talks to him in a soothing voice, hoping he can hear. "I'm not sure if you like gardenia or not, Mulder, but it's the only scent I have," she says, managing a tiny smile. "Sorry I don't have a more masculine scent for you." She continues speaking, saying the first thing that comes into her mind. "Skinner will be so relieved to see you, Mulder," she says. "He's been blaming himself, you know." She hesitates before she continues, unsure whether she should tell him her news so soon. But she doesn't know when or if she'll get another chance to do so. She has to tell him, even if he doesn't remember it. "I have so much to tell you, Mulder," she begins, choosing her words carefully. "Something wonderful has happened. I'm going to have a baby. We're going to be a family." She places his hand on her stomach, hoping for a response from him. Nothing. She went on to tell him about Agent Doggett and the X-Files, relating a couple of their cases, wishing more than anything he could argue theories with her. All the while, her mind fires questions she is not prepared to answer. Is this the beginning of the end? Shouldn't she spend as much time as she can with him if he is actively dying? And is she strong enough to watch it happen? Scully takes his vitals again. This time she writing them down. If the readings became unsteady or start to drop, she will rethink her next step, but she needs the facts and figures to make that decision. She cradles his hand between her small ones and allows herself to remember the times they spent in this very bed, not just making love, but sharing, spending time together. They talked about the future, but this possibility never entered into her mind. How quickly things change. How quickly time slips away. Time. Now there wasn't enough. Leaving his side for just a moment, she reaches into her bureau drawer and pulls out a gray thermal shirt of his that she took from his apartment months ago because it smelled of him. Eventually, it had to be washed and no longer had his fragrance on it, but it was still his, nonetheless. She removes the rest of her clothes and slips it over her head. Crawling into bed next to him, she puts her head on his chest, silently willing him to awaken, positioning herself so that her stomach is against his body. "I love you, Mulder." She manages to get out before the tears come. Exhaustion set in and she drops off to sleep before his arms come around her and her name falls softly from his lips. **** Scully awakens alone in her bed. Glancing around the room, she sees no sign of Mulder. Climbing off the bed, she hurries through the apartment, calling out his name. She opens the door and steps out into the hallway, looking toward the elevator. Nothing. Did she dream it all? Tears well up in her eyes. Shutting the door, she walks back into her apartment, feeling embarrassed all of a sudden. The tears flow freely now. Her glass still sat in the bathroom. The candles had burned out. The water she washed him with in the basin had long turned cold. It couldn't have been a dream. He was *really* here. She saw him. She bathed him. She slept beside him. They took him away. They brought him back. They took him away again. Would they do it again and again? Perhaps he is back in her bedroom again. As she slowly walks, her hopes fade with each step, and the stillness settles over her. The bedroom is empty. The apartment is so quiet. She crosses to the window and pulls the curtain back, looking up at the sky with all its stars. Her attention focuses on one brighter than the usual star, twinkling in the dawn. "Why are you doing this to me? You bring him back only to take him away from me again. I don't understand. . ." She chokes on her tears. "Please don't make me watch him die." **** END (1/1) Like what you read? Come to Lisa's Haven: http://shannono.net/haven/