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Close to the Deadline (4/7)
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Mulder's behaving strange lately.

It's been about two weeks now since I stayed the night at his place, and I can tell he's somewhat different now in his manner.

I asked him twice if we should rent a few videos and have a night again, but all he came up with were lame excuses. The first time he said he was going to see his mother, the second time he was planning on cleaning his apartment.

Mulder, I know you don't do either of that.

Especially the latter.

Just now as I'm sitting in our office-- have been all morning--, I feel his gaze on me, his eyes examining me.

I try to concentrate on the report before my eyes, try to make sense of the words, but I can't-- not when he's observing me like that.

Not when In feel his stare threatening under my skin, trying to make out every change, every damage, every little death the demon within me has provoked.

Letting out a long sigh, I try to read the report once more before I look up.

"Mulder, what's the matter?" I ask sternly.

His eyes meet mine for a brief moment then he looks away quickly, "Nothing. Why?"

"Why were you staring at me?"

He obviously tries to look casually, "I-- I didn't stare at you, I just--"

I cut him off as I get up from my chair and fold my arms across my chest. "Mulder, you've been staring at me all morning, all week, and the week before. You rejected my offers to do something over the weekend again, and when I ask you what this is all about, you talk your way out of it! Mulder, what *is* this about? What are you hiding from me?" The words come out like a waterfall, I guess they sound pretty harsh, and the minute I see his mouth dropping open and his eyes growing huge I wish I hadn't spoken to him like that.

"Scully, I--", he begins, his voice barely above a whisper.

I am about to put my hand on his cheek and tell him I'm sorry when, all of a sudden, his gaze drops for a second and when he looks back at me, all emotion has vanished from his eyes, and he looks all calm-- now he's in his no shit mode.

"I don't know just what you're talking about", he says, "maybe you could use some free time?"

That does it for me. I make one step toward him, raise my hand and slap him across the face, hard. Then I grab my coat and purse and, without turning around, head towards the door.

From the corner of my eyes I can make out that he is still standing there, with his shoulders hanging and his eyes staring at his feet. I don't care.

I make it to my car as fast as possible, and when I'm sitting in the driver's seat, I lay my head on the steering wheel and exhale a deep breath.

I sit like that for a moment, I don't know how long. Maybe because I expect him to follow him. Maybe I hope he will do so.

He doesn't.

I bite down on my lip to hold back a sob and start the motor.

XXX

Mulder hasn't called.

He hasn't called nor dropped by to see how I'm doing, or to apologize.

Well, I won't call him either. Two can play at this game, Mulder.

And I'm not going to take the blame for his pissy mood.

What the hell is going on with him, anyway? First he's lingering around me all the time, but avoiding talking to me, then he tells me there's nothing wrong with him, and that I *could use some free time*.

I am still mad, but at the same time I regret what I've said to him, and that I hit him. I mean, he provoked me to, but I guess I shouldn't have overreacted like that. After all, this is Mulder. I am the one to know he often says things he doesn't mean. I sigh.

Great, Dana. You just screwed it all up again.

I get up from my sofa and decide that only a good hot shower can help me now. At least it will help ease some of the tension inside me.

XXX

I am lying in my bed, showered, dressed in my best silk pajama, lying on my most beautiful satin sheets, being covered by the most exquisite set of satiny blankets. And still I feel miserable.

I keep rolling myself from one side onto the other all the time, restless and impatient. But what am I waiting for? For Mulder to come around with a huge bouquet of flowers? Ha, what an imagination.

No, I think this time it really is serious. I think today I really have wasted any chance that he would ever...

Cut it out, Dana, there never has been such a chance, I tell myself.

Confused from all the miserable thoughts, I feel myself starting to cry. Just when I switch the light on to get myself some handkerchief, the phone beside the bed rings.

I start at the sudden noise. Then I realize immediately just who is calling me.

Who else could it be?

I look at the alarm clock. 11.21 p.m. Ok, this can definitely be nobody else.

Taking a deep breath, I pick up the receiver.

"Hello?"

From the other end of the line, I only hear breathing. Shaky breathing, but nothing else.

"Hello?" I ask again.

Another trembling exhale, then, "Scully..."

Oh god.

"Mulder? What is it?" I ask, knowing full well what it is.

"Scully..." A long pause. "Scully, I...I..."

When I hear his faint voice whispering my name, I realize he must be crying.

"Mulder, what is it? Why are you crying?" Sympathy in my voice.

After another long pause, he murmurs, "Can I come over? Please, I..."

When I realize he's not going to finish the sentence, I tell him, reassuringly, "of course. Half an hour?"

"'Kay." His voice is still shaking, but I think I can sense a hint of relief there.

"Good. Bye."

"Yeah", then I hear a click, and he's gone.

I hang up and get out of bed. Now I am even more confused.

What the hell is going on here?

XXX

Thirty minutes can be a long time. A terribly long time.

For about the eighth time within the last five minutes I am glancing at the display on the VCR. Now it is 11.49. Will this half hour finally come to an end?

I have combed my hair twice, have even considered dressing and putting on make- up, but then I thought the white robe would do as well. I have put on a few drops of perfume, though. You never know...

But then I think, whatever this will lead to, it certainly won't be the thing I find myself thinking of all the time. That chance is long wasted, Dana.

Suddenly, there is a knock at the door. I jump. Was it real? Or did I just imagine to hear it? Well, let's check.

I go to the door and look through the peephole, and yes, in the darkness of the corridor I can see a figure standing in front of the door, waiting. Only Mulder would walk through a long corridor in the middle of the night without switching on the light.

I take one last deep breath, say one more silent prayer and then I unlock the chain and open the door.

"Hi", I greet him as I step aside, and he walks in.

He does not respond, does not say anything, just looks at me for a split second. I notice he's still dressed in his work clothes.

Then, suddenly, he draws me close to him, wraps his arms around me, and presses my body tight against his chest. I struggle to breathe, but I don't care. I realize he's crying again.

"Mulder", is all I can say. "Mulder..." His head comes to rest on my shoulder, and I stroke the back of his head softly, trying my best to calm him down. I can smell him. He smells faintly of cologne and washing powder, but not of booze-- thank God. "It's all right", I whisper.

Then I pull back slightly, my hand holding the back of his head, making him look at me. "What is it?" I ask softly.

He is looking at me now. His eyelids are swollen and wet with tears, and his eyes are now a shining green, and the corners of his eyes are red. I can still feel him shaking against me, and he is sobbing softly.

"Mulder, what is it?" I ask again. "You know you can tell me."

At my words, he begins crying again, the sobs shaking him hard, and he pulls me even closer. With his arms around me, he is slowly sinking to the ground, until he is resting on the floor with his head against my belly. I can feel his breathing through the cloth of my robe, slowly calming down.

My fingers stroke through the fine strands of his hair again. Slowly and calmingly. I will give him all the time he needs.

Then I hear his voice, trying to form a word. My name.

"S-- Scully..."

I do not interrupt him, do not say anything, just let him speak.

"Scully, I..."

My fingers repeat their tender motion over and over again, soothing him, giving him comfort, until his next words come to my ears, soft yet like a huge impact, tearing at my heart.

Slowly, shakingly, in a voice barely audible, he says,

"I can't lose you."