Moments, Rushing Past by LiLx Rating: PG-13 with an R section Classification: SR, MSR, Angst Summary: "What if we could stop, pause to take stock of each precious moment before it passes?" A series of vignettes. Note: Originally written for xf_santa at Livejournal. I haven't written in five years and decided to try a different, more simplistic writing style for this one. This is my first submission to Ephemeral! I hope you enjoy it. :) Feedback is appreciated at abbitha7@gmail.com 1. They decide to grab a bite to eat after leaving the hospital. Or rather, Mulder decides and she goes along to keep him company. They pull up to a tiny diner. Mulder's mind is on other things, but he still opens the door for his new partner. During dinner, he babbles, filling the silence with his theories on alien abductions, what he thinks happened to Karen Swenson. His food sits mostly untouched. Scully picks at her salad and finds that she's hungrier than she thought. She's amazed at how passionate Mulder is, and even though she in no way agrees with what he'ssaying, she's hanging on every syllable that parts his lips. Nearing the end of his discourse, he asks her to go with him to the forest, to look over the crime scene. "We need to get there tonight, Scully. Who knows, maybe we'll see something." His voice is brimming with urgency. She thinks nothing will come of heading out there this late at night, but doesn't hesitate in affirming his plan. His eyes light up. Finally, someone to join in on the chase. 2. Since her release from the hospital three days ago, Mulder has insisted on driving her to work, to see that she gets there safely. She's both amused, and flattered. His hand seeks out the space between her shoulder blades on the way inside the Hoover building. They ride the elevator down in amiable silence. He glances at Scully as the door opens, then falls in behind her, taking note of every strained movement she makes. He wishes he could have convinced her to take more time off. Scully can feel his concern, but she knows there is nothing she can say to reassure him. Instead, she stands even straighter and keeps walking, the practiced mantra in her head saying I'm fine I'm fine I'm fine. Mulder sits down at his desk, and Scully moves to rifle through the filing cabinet. They work for awhile. Mulder brings up a UFO sighting; Scully sighs and explains it away. They don't talk about her abduction and subsequent return, or the new file with her name pasted onto it. As they try to decide in advance what they will tell Skinner about their next offbeat adventure, Mulder abruptly changes the subject. "You pawn off that tape I gave you yet, Scully?" Scully breathes a laugh and ignores him. The tape is hidden in a box in her closet. 3. Mulder answers the door on the third knock, after turning on the lights so his partner doesn't worry. She stands in the doorway, smiling up at him. "Hey Scully." He lets her in, then turns back to the living room. She sits beside him on the couch, looking straight into his eyes. It's been a week since Patterson was arrested for what she calls the gargoyle murders, and even thought he told her not to worry, she can't help herself. In truth, he lays awake at night, the images still haunting him, the young men covered in clay. He won't tell her about that, though. "If you want to know how I'm doing, I'm fine. I'll be back to work tomorrow." Scully stares over at him, disbelieving. His eyes are bloodshot, his apartment is messier than usual and two of his fish are dead. She doesn't say anything. He shrugs his shoulders. "You wanna grab dinner?" "Is that what you want?" She asks. He exhales loudly. "Not really." They sit together on the couch for the remainder of the evening. He doesn't have to thank her for sticking around. Her body language says she already knows. 4. Scully stares at the small box in Mulder's hand before their eyes meet. The corners of her mouth turn up slightly and, at the unspoken invitation, he moves to sit on the edge of her bed. "You brought entertainment," Scully says, moving to take the game set. Mulder's fingers perform a tentative dance across the blanket to capture her knuckles. Her hands are thinner and she's lost more weight since last week, he thinks. "I thought we could play a little chess to pass the time. No talking about work today," he adds. He lightly caresses her middle fingernail. She nods, pulling away to set up the game. They make their moves in silence, for a time overlooking the inevitable topic of conversation, the terminal cancer hiding only a few precious centimeters from her brain. Mulder doesn't tell her this is only his third time playing chess; Scully forgets to mention that she played with her father every week growing up. Mulder watches her brow knit in concentration as she carefully slides her tiny bishop toward his king. Check. Scully stops and looks up at him. "Thank you for being here." Her voice is soft and hoarse, and all at once he remembers why they're here. He smiles at her and she realizes just how exhausted he is. His shoulders sag and he looks as though he hasn't slept since she told him about her diagnosis. His smile is almost jovial, but his eyes murmur please don't leave don't leave don't leave. "You're going to pull through this." He makes his countermove. She looks down, gazes at her hands. "Penny's doctors say she could go any day now," Scully whispers. Her eyes are filled with unshed tears, as she moves her knight into place. Checkmate. 5. He doesn't say a word to her on the drive back. He clenches and unclenches his jaw, and his knuckles are white on the steering wheel. His eyes, focused on the road, refuse to meet her stare. Scully trembles slightly, still unsure of what she said during her regression hypnosis. She looks to Mulder, expecting some sort of explanation as to why he's so upset. He won't give her one. His mind is cluttered with thoughts, her voice in his head saying they're taking her oh my God they're taking Cassandra over and over. Her beliefs are shaken, and his doubt no longer seems tangible. Mulder takes her straight home to Georgetown, weaving in and out of traffic with ease. She shifts in her seat every time he cuts someone off or makes a death defying lane change. They pull up to her building. Scully shrinks back into her seat. Mulder stares straight ahead. She tentatively breaks the silence. "Do you wanna come up and talk, Mulder?" He clears his throat. "I've got to get back to the office." Mulder leans across her side to open the door for her. "I'll see you tomorrow for our meeting with Skinner." Scully unbuckles her seatbelt, the uncomfortably loud click slicing into the tension that has wedged itself between them recently. She reaches up, laying her hand on his. He can't bring himself to respond. 6. They play until they run out of balls. Mulder stays behind her, his arms gently guiding her body, even as her hits get stronger. Scully lets him, even though she's really played plenty of baseball. Eventually, Poor Boy finishes shagging the wayward baseballs and takes off, after Mulder begrudgingly pays him thirty dollars in cash, making a joke about hoping the boy would forget to collect. Once Poor Boy is out of sight, he puts his arms around her again, grabbing the bat. Scully feels girlish, relaxed. She lets herself fall back, closer to his chest. "Having fun?" He whispers in her ear. His warm breath makes her left leg tingle. She says the only thing she can, "Mmm." Mulder's hand slides down the bat to tug on hers, turning her toward him. Her mouth is suddenly dry, pulse racing. Much later, they will good-naturedly argue over who made the first move, but in truth, they both lean in. The bat falls to the ground as his hands surround her waist, her fingers run through his hair. For long minutes their insecurities and the walls they've built up are replaced with hands, tongues and dizzying arousal. She's the first to pull away, unsure. He grins, walking her to her car. The next Monday at work, they look at each other shyly, smile more, but otherwise pretend it didn't happen. 7. She isn't nervous when she opens the door to his room, removing her clothes as she makes her way to the bed. Scully pulls back the comforter and helps herself to one side of the mattress. Her slender hands skim over the sleeping form next to her, down his left arm, where she squeezes his fingers between her own. Mulder stirs and, as soon as he is awake, she descends on him, her mouth hotly covering his. He reacts almost immediately, one hand tangling in her hair, the other moving to cup her breast. She leans into him as her hand slides up his thigh. This isn't new to them; they've had sex before, usually under stressful or melancholy conditions. She always leaves soon after, giving him a chaste kiss on her way out the door. They go back to their routine. But this isn't really about sex, and they both know it. Mulder turns Scully over and enters her in one smooth stroke. She's both thankful and sad that they don't have to be careful. He feels a twinge of regret for everything she's been through to bring her here, but quickly buries it. She writhes beneath him, countering his thrusts, moaning something that would sound like his name if he was paying close enough attention. His breath is hot and fast against the curve of her neck. The fan on the table a few feet away blows languidly upon them, a tingling evaporation of sweat. He comes inside her and rolls over, taking her with him. She feels his essence trickle down between their slick bodies. He whispers in her ear, Stay. So she does. 8. The silence between them goes on for a few painful minutes. Mulder can't keep from staring at her, peeking up from beneath dark lashes. He feels like he's outside of his body. The skin of his face feels too taut and a long scar stretches thin across his sternum. Her body has changed so much since he last saw her, and his pulse jumps at how beautiful she is. For a fleeting moment he contemplates reaching out to touch her hand, but thinks better of it. He builds his wall back up. Scully trains her eyes on the coffee table, stubbornly refusing to back down, to walk out of that room. She can feel his eyes on her rounded middle, boring through her black sweater, her creamy skin, through every vein and vessel and substance to the child growing deep within her. She hasn't told anyone it's a boy. His tiny fists prod her insides, asking her what the hell she's doing here. "You kept the place," Mulder breathes. "I'll, uh, pay you back." Her eyes slide shut against unexpected tears, and she pauses. "Mulder, when I was looking for you," she swallows hard against the lump forming in her throat, "I heard you calling my name. It kept me going." She doesn't know why she's saying this to him now, the latest in a long string of desperate acts she has committed since he was taken. He catches her eye now, and his dark gaze softens. 9. Scully tells herself that she's not crazy for doing this. A few feet away, William crawls on the floor. He watches her with a quizzical look on his face, and she swears he performs his first eyebrow raise. She turns back to her task and a minute later finds what she's looking for. She pulls the set of blocks, the most conservative gift the gunmen have given to her baby, out of the closet. She's been planning on saving them until he is old enough to understand what they are, but this is a special occasion. As Scully lays the stars and moon blanket on the floor, the box tumbles out of her arms, blocks spilling onto the carpet. William immediately crawls over and grabs at the foreign objects, trying to put one in his mouth. He drools on his UFO-adorned sleeper and Scully sees Mulder in her miracle for the third time in as many hours. The baby coos as she arranges the blocks and then puts him among them. She scoots back and turns her camera on. "Smile for daddy, sweet William." She tries to keep her voice light, but her throat begins to close, suffocating her slowly. She takes the picture. After dinner, she sits at the computer, William bouncing happily in her lap. Upload. She stares at the picture. Their baby is giving a nearly toothless grin; the blocks in front of him spell out 'WE MISS YOU.' Attach. Scully sends the email off to her absent center. She puts William to bed and spends her free time waiting for a reply. By the time she gets one, the blocks are hidden away, and William is already gone. 10. They spend their days on the road, their nights in shabby motel rooms that Mulder pays for with cash. No ID, no credit card. They don't stay in one place for long. They're careful not to leave evidence; they take out all the trash, wipe the faucets and television remotes clean, and walk out as the sun rises. It's not the way Scully wants to live. No badge, no gun. They have no way of knowing who's looking for them, if anyone even is. She doesn't feel safe clinging to Mulder at night, her body tensing each time a pair of headlights breaks through the darkness. He tells her that Skinner will find a way to reach them as soon as it's safe. No email, no cell phone. He's not sure that he really believes his own words, but he doesn't take them back. Retracting his statements means that all hope of returning is lost, and neither of them will admit that. 3 weeks in, Scully makes the surprisingly painful decision to dye her hair, to make herself less memorable. They stop at a Wal-mart in Louisiana. Mulder lopes along behind her as she peruses the aisles, his lips set in a straight line. He refuses to help her choose a color. Finally, she settles on a rich, dark chocolate. They get a hotel room in Arcadia, a small town Mulder chooses for the memory. It's the nicest room they've been in so far. Scully is delighted when they snag the one with a Jacuzzi bathtub and full shower. He leaves to find food, and to explore; she takes advantage of the time alone to run a bath. Scully eats her greasy chinese takeout slowly, a vain attempt to put off using the boxed hair dye. Mulder tells her about the uninteresting town, hoping that she forgets to change her look. Before long, she's reading the instructions, asking him to help her apply the sticky color. He acquiesces to her request, dons the included gloves, and covers her locks in brown. The chemical smell burns his nostrils, and as he takes it in he finds himself pondering where she would be today if she hadn't met him, if she had walked away after that first case. Certainly not here. At the same time he knows that if you can't change the past, you have no choice but to live for a better future. He presses a kiss to her cheek and tries bleakly to feel optimistic. She stares at herself in the mirror as the color sets, trying to convince herself that she's not changing much. She thinks of their son, what he would think of her now, what he would say about the decisions she's made. "Do ...do you think he would recognize me? If I saw him again?" The whole thing feels surreal to her. Mulder clears his throat, the harsh, obligatory truth clawing its way to his lips. "Scully, we can't tell ourselves that we will see him again. You know that's not possible." Scully blinks hard, and without a word she heads to the shower, removing her clothes as she goes; Mulder follows suit. She turns the water to the hottest setting. Mulder starts to say "Scully, I think we should buy a cell phone..." but she cuts him off with a long kiss. They move into the spray, and she hugs him tightly, their wet bodies sliding into place. He doesn't mind that her hair color is staining his chest. "We can't give up," she whispers. Mulder nods, mentally making plans for tomorrow as he rinses the dye away. 11. They prepare for months for their inevitable demise. Mulder begins hoarding supplies, stockpiling jugs of clean water in their basement. Scully calls her aging mother just to say "I love you." She doesn't have the heart to tell her what's going to happen. They go through the motions of living; working, cooking, cleaning. Scully drives to the hospital every morning. She takes extra good care of her patients, plastering fake optimism on her face while she administers their pain medication. Part of her wants to put them to sleep forever. She tries not to think about their non-future while she diligently scrubs the kitchen floor until her hands are raw and on the verge of bleeding. Mulder paints the entire house once, twice. He works in his office, checking the newspapers for signs in case they come early. His mind wanders to a time when they would have forged ahead anyway, done anything possible to stop this. He realizes the effort is futile, staring at his article-covered walls. At night, they make love. Mulder memorizes her curves again and groans at the sensations that wash over him, but his eyes are heavy with worry. Afterward, she clings to his chest, trembling despite the brave face she puts on for him, the one she thinks is convincing. The night before, they pack a few essentials- a change of clothes, a tube of toothpaste, blankets. Mulder nudges a tearful Scully down the stairs. Grateful that he put a bed against one wall, she's not sure she can meet this standing up. They lie next to each other in silence; for once he doesn't make a joke. Her hand finds his in the dark. Eventually he drifts off. She can't sleep. December 22, 2012. 1:15 PM. Mulder opens his eyes, expecting the worst. Death, emptiness, spreading infection. It's snowing. He notices that Scully isn't in the basement, and voices float down to his waiting ears. Panicky, he jumps up and takes the stairs three at a time. She's watching the news. The perky reporter is saying "...and it's a beautiful day for last minute Christmas shopping..." Scully turns as he enters, her eyes filled with tears, her lips slightly parted. "Mulder." "Nothing's happening." They spend the next two days in front of the TV, waiting for the bad news. None comes. On Christmas Eve, they tentatively leave the house to buy gifts for each other. Scully buys him a new watch. He picks out a ring, puts it back, and then buys it anyway. He chuckles at his own hesitance. It's New Year's before they can breathe easier. Scully asks if they can exchange their gifts, a sweet smile on her beautiful face. His hands are shaking as he opens the ring box. xxx