Into the Fire
by simplytoopretty 

Feedback:  alyssafanfiction@hotmail.com
Classification: Scully/Mulder, mild adult,
~2100 words.  Spoilers for I Want to Believe.

Summary:  From one to another, life never still, ever-changing, even
when she likes the way her life is, their life. This was likely inevitable
though.


--

The abyss, that darkness, a gaping hole in the ground. 

She remembered teetering on the edge alongside Mulder. The
darkness threatening to consume them, make them tumble over the
edge. Make them fall, fall, and fall. Fall until nothing was left, just
hollow shells hitting the ground, life extinguished. 

The endless fights, the never-ending struggles, she remembered
these. She remembered being in pain, the pain never really
disappearing. A constant ache, a wound which never healed and
never left, this pain her steady companion. 

There was commitment. A commitment to put one foot in front of
the other, to remain steadfast. Never give up, hold on tightly, never
let go, even when doing so was tempting, oh so tempting. It had
called out to her, but she never gave in. 

Her brother used to say (when he still talked to her) that she was
crazy. "Just leave," Bill would tell her when he phoned. "Or ask to
be reassigned for Pete's sake. Just leave behind that nut job." 

But she couldn't leave, no she couldn't. She was committed, she
was about to admit defeat. She loved Mulder, as a friend and as
something more and she couldn't just abandon him. Even if it might
have been safer for her to do so, even if leaving had been the smart
option, the logical choice. 

Then one day they both left, making an escape born out of
necessity and not out of desire. At least not on his part and at the
time she was still willing to be there, to teeter along the edge. 

Times changed and she liked the freedom of being away from the
abyss, from those former commitments. There were struggles, but a
different sort of struggle. First being on the run and then living their
lives, rebuilding them, carving out something neither of them had
ever imagined. It was good, it was theirs, and she liked their life.
For a time she waited for the other shoe to drop, waited for it to
end. But then nothing happened and she was lulled into thinking
their lives were set and weren't going to change. Mulder was going
to be at home while she worked at the hospital and she didn't mind. 

There were tough cases, dying patients, little boys with incurable
brain diseases. But there was a home to return to each night, arms
to be wrapped around her, soft lips to chase away her thoughts.
There wasn't the abyss; there was no staring into it and being
frightened, afraid they'd teeter over the edge and fall, just fall. 

She stopped waiting for the end and then the end begun. 

It might have been inevitable. It probably was. 

--

After the case, she found Mulder restless, unable to settle down.
He was jittery, constantly in motion. He couldn't settle down. 

"Write that book," she said not unkindly. It was late winter and the
snow was almost all gone. The front lawn was muddy and brown. 

"Maybe," he said. His fingers tapped against the armchair of the
couch. 

She crossed the floor and took a seat next to him. Her body
pressed tightly against his and she laid her head against his shoulder.
He shifted a bit beneath her, restless as she had noticed before.
Rarely was Mulder still these days. Before the case he had been.
He had been content. 

Or so she liked to think. But she wasn't sure. She wasn't even sure
if she had been content or if she had just been accepting of that
reality, wanting to pretend because there was something comforting
in pretending. 

"I think it'd be a good idea. You could get some of your thoughts
down." 

He nodded. "We'll see." He offered no more, not that she was
expecting anything else. She tilted her head up a little, so she could
see his face, saw the way he stared at the fish tank. She bit her lip,
mind full of tangled thoughts. Like branches in a forest, wound
together, locked in a tight embrace. No getting through. 

She grabbed his right hand, laced their fingers. Held him and hoped
she could survive whatever was coming next. Going back to the
edge, to the abyss, terrified her. 

There probably wasn't any choice. It was just neither of them had
accepted that yet. 

--

Spring arrived. The last traces of snow disappeared and the air was
warmer. It was still chilly, but not as cold as it had been. An awful
winter it had been. She tried to be glad winter was over. All she
could think about was inevitabilities. 

Spring didn't chase away Mulder's restlessness. If anything the
spring made it made. The grass grew green and the sky was bluer
and Mulder paced. She'd be sitting on the couch, reading a medical
journal, and he'd be pacing up and down the length of the living
room. 

"Mulder, stop," she'd say. 

For a second he would stop. "I'm sorry," he'd say. Then he'd go
get a glass of water or fed the fish. Before five minutes had passed
he'd be pacing again. 

By mid-April she had given up telling him to stop moving. 

The constant movement made her dizzy, made her nerves a
jumbled mess. She felt like a sweater whose edges were fraying.
She wondered how long they could live like this, in this suspended
animation. For that all it was, she knew this, could taste it, the taste
of blood in the mouth. 

The inevitably of it made her ache. Psychosomatic pain, not real,
not at all, just in her head. That made it hurt to breathe no less. 

Reality never made things easier. Not accepting reality made things
worse. 

--

His skin was salty as she pressed a kiss to his sweaty shoulder, as
he shifted and pushed in to her. He thrust into her, a familiar rhythm,
his cock sliding into her. Her legs were raised, her upper thighs
pressing against his waist. 

She could taste the desperation on his skin, in his sweat. She could
taste his restlessness, his need. It made her ache not just where
Mulder was thrusting in to her. Made her ache elsewhere,
imaginary pain that felt so real. 

The end was near. She could feel it. 

"God Scully," Mulder muttered. 

She groaned as his fingers pressed against her clit. Quick rough
strokes, hard, enough to send waves of pleasures through her
body, her orgasm weaker than normal. A few more thrusts and
Mulder came inside her, collapsing against her, his weight on top of
her. 

Tears trickled down her cheeks, hitting her lips. She could taste the
salt. She reached up and wiped her cheeks, pretending to push her
head back. Mulder lifted his head just as she was lowering her
hand. She touched his cheek, fingertips caressing his worn skin. 

He smiled at her. "I love you." He turned his head and kissed her
fingertips. 

"I love you," she said and wished love was simpler. 

She had fallen in love with the man whose nature meant he'd never
been content just spending his time in their one-storey ranch home.
Nothing would fulfil him like the search did. He had a need to save
people and she knew he could only tamper down that need for so
long. The reality of the situation was a roar in her ears and she was
just waiting. 

They were both waiting. She felt the end of that wait approaching. 

Mulder turned on his side and she followed suit, her back towards
him. He spooned against, one arm heavy around her waist. His
breath was hot on her neck. 

"You okay?" he asked. 

"Just fine." 

He brushed her hair back a bit, kissed her neck. "Okay then," he
said. "But if you want to talk, just speak. I'm here to listen." 

She nodded against her pillow. She just wasn't quite ready. "I
know, Mulder, I know." 

And she would speak. She just wasn't sure what to say yet. 

They fell asleep. 

--

It took her a week to figure out what she was going to say. It was
late April by the time she was ready. Cherry blossoms dotted the
trees, white-pink flowers against brown bark and a cornflower blue
sky. A few white fluffy clouds were high in the sky. 

All evening she looked for an opening, but she couldn't find one.
Not one she wanted. So she waited and waited and then finally it
was bedtime and they were beneath the covers. Still she waited,
lying on her side, Mulder next to her. 

Then Mulder shifted closer. Slightly rough fingers tapped her
forehead. "Talk to me," he requested. 

"Like you've talked to me?" she asked. Her voice was soft, not
accusatory. Neither of them had been willing to speak. They had
just been able to think. 

She knew he had been thinking. He had been thinking too much.
He didn't want to hurt her and so here they were. Perhaps arriving
at this place was inevitable. His nature had always been a part of
what made her love Fox William Mulder. And it was his nature that
had them on eggshells, unable to speak to each other fully,
information hidden. Each unable to acknowledge aloud the reality,
the inevitably of this situation. 

But now they were. They had reached that point. 

"Scully " 

She sighed and twisted her neck a bit so she could see his face. In
the darkness of the room she could just make out his features. "I
know about the offer." 

Mulder nodded. "Skinner tell you?" 

"No, I snooped on your computer and found the email he sent
you." 

"Trust no one," Mulder mused idly. 

"You could have told me," she said. "You should have told me." 

His hand rubbed against her side, connecting them even if she
didn't feel all that connected to him right now. "I'm sorry," he said.
Years of knowing him meant she could hear the genuine sorrow in
his voice. He hadn't known what to do and so here they were. 

"You want to take it," she said and it wasn't a question. Mulder
didn't say anything and she took it upon herself to break the
momentary silence. "Take it." 

"What about " 

She turned over fully so that she could face him. "I'm not going
anywhere," she said quietly, reassuring him. She kissed him lightly
on the lights while her hands sought his out. Her fingers entwined
with his and her heart clenched a little, but she didn't back down,
didn't turn and run away. 

She was no fool. She knew what she was agreeing to, that Mulder
going back meant facing that abyss again. It meant more struggles,
the renewal of that fight, and a large part of her didn't want to
agree. But she loved Mulder too much to give him up and had
Father Joe's words in her mind, even if she didn't want them, telling
her not to give up. So they were going back and it terrified her. She
didn't know what would happen, didn't know how close they
would get to the abyss. 

But she had to. 

They had to. 

Life moved, refused to stay still. She had liked this life, this life of
them living in a rural rancher with her worked at the hospital and
Mulder was here when she came home from work each day. She
was saying goodbye to those things and it was hard, so hard, but
she didn't want life to pass her by while she stayed standing where
she was. She could have tried to stay still, but that would have just
ruined her and Mulder. 

There were some things which couldn't be changed. Personality
characteristics were one such thing. Such was life and they would
live their lives together, whatever those lives would look like as they
moved forward, new decisions made. 

"It'll be okay," Mulder promised. 

She squeezed their fingers. "I know," she said. "It'll be okay. We'll
be okay." 

He kissed her and she held onto him, onto her words, onto his
promises. She told herself it would be fine, that they had survived
once. They could do it again. It would be difficult, but anything
worth having in life wasn't easy. 

"It'll be okay," he repeated against her mouth. 

She kissed him and waited for life to catch up with them. 

--

End