Death Watch

by Marie Endres    
joemimi@prodigy.net


Classification: MS Angst; Post-Ep

Rating: PG, I think.

Spoilers: SUZ

Summary: During SUZ; Scully watches the night with Mulder.

Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully aren't mine. They belong to Chris
Carter, 1013 Productions, and Fox Broadcasting. No infringement is
intended.

Thank  you to Georgia- your encouragement continues to inspire me!


"Death Watch"


      I have watched for death. Sitting silently by the bedsides of family
members, acquaintances with whom I shared a bond, I have waited and
quietly prayed for death to come. Not in order to take the individual from
my life, but to somehow restore peace and dignity to the ragged soul which
was yearning to break free. This, tonight, is not a death watch.  Instead,
I sit and watch what death has done. Once again, death has brought us more
questions than answers, more havoc than peace and I am weary. Now,
however, I must forget my own burden and hold up the one who so often
picked up the pieces for me. I fear I am not up to the task. Yet I must. I
must not give him the pat answers, or a theological treatise on life and
death. I owe Mulder more than that.


"Scully, I need a tissue."

His mundane request breaks the stillness which had settled on us.  Knowing
he would not, could not attend the need, I began to extricate myself from
our "embrace." As I slowly stood up from my kneeling position in front of
him, I felt all of my 36 years. " War wounds"  which I thought had longed
healed ached anew now as my arms suddenly felt way too empty without him
there. I almost feared leaving him to walk the short distance to the
bathroom. Get a hold of yourself, Dana, I silently willed myself. The last
thing he needs is you falling apart, too.  Putting one foot in front of
the other, I realized how careful I was being, lest I make any sound as I
walked through his apartment.  This was time a time for silence.

Returning with his request, I extended the tissues to him. When he did not
immediately take them, I knelt down once more beside him.

"Mulder," I offered.

"Thank you," he sniffled.

"Would you like a glass of water?" I ask.

When he does not respond, I take it for a yes, and proceed to his sparse
kitchen. Finding a single glass in the drainboard, I fill it. As I turn to
bring it to him. I am startled by his presence.

"Jesus, Mulder, you scared me," I say quietly as I try to steady the glass
and its contents.

Taking it from me and raising it to his lips, I notice how slowly he is
moving. I stand stock still in the silent kitchen as I watch him turn and
leave the room. Following him to the living room, I see him sit down on
the couch.

He begins to speak in short, measured tones, all the while keeping his
gaze from mine.

"If I inherited my taste for sunflower seeds from my father, I get, I got
my emotions from my mother. I can remember while I was growing up talking
with the other kids in the neighborhood about our parents- whose were
strict, whose weren't. A lot of kids were afraid of their parents, afraid
of their Dad's belt.  We weren't, though.  Maybe our parents never hugged
us, but at least they never hit us, either.  Except for one time."

He took a jagged breath inward as he prepared to dig deeper for this
long-buried thought. I knew he could not move forward without some sort of
approval, some gesture that it was ok to shed a little light on a very
hidden family. I sat down next to him and placed my hand ever so lightly
between his shoulder blades.  He continued.

"We lived in a decent neighborhood, but both Samantha and I knew that we
were only supposed to play where my mother could see us, no going around
the block for the Mulder kids. One afternoon, though, I guess I was
feeling a bit cocky, being eight years old and all, and I decided to go
with a group of friends one street over to another kid's house. The time
went by as I was enjoying my new freedom when another kid from my block
showed up to tell me my mother wanted me to come home because we were
going out to the supermarket.  Knowing my highly scheduled mother as I
did, I knew we never went food shopping past nine in the morning. I was
caught, and I knew I had better go home and face the music.  It had never
taken me longer to walk half a block, and seeing my mother waiting on the
porch made me wish I had taken the scenic route. She didn't say a word to
me as she roughly ushered me into the house. She still wasn't saying
anything when her hand first connected with my bottom. I kind of lost
count after the first five hits, but at some point she began to shout out
snatches of phrases- 'I didn't know' smack 'Where you were' smack 'Anyone
could hurt you' smack 'I couldn't go on' smack. And so she continued until
I thought for sure, this is it.  She's never hit me but now she's going to
kill me.  I turned to look at her and my suspicions were confirmed- she
was crying the whole time.  I had never seen my mother cry. It made my own
tears stop dead in their tracks. She turned away from me then, and walked
into my parents' bedroom and closed the door. It was one of the few times
I realized that my mother cared about me. It took something to inspire
fear in her to force her to show me how she felt. I guess I'm cut of the
same cloth."

As his tears began to fall quietly again,I moved my hand to the top of his
shoulder and held onto him tightly.  I too, began to weep. I wept for the
man beside me, a little boy who never really knew a mother's love and now,
never would.  I cried with him for all we've lost and all we'll never
know. I cried for us.

The hours dragged by as darkness was our companion. At times he would get
up and move aimlessly around the room, at other times he would just sit
and stare at some point on the wall across from us. I tried to find words
to speak, but I couldn't. Everything I thought to say sounded trite, less
than worthy of his pain. And so I sat in silence.

As morning dawned, I sent him into the bathroom to wash his face.  There
was a knock at the door. As I rose to answer it, I already knew whom I
would find there. When I opened it, and saw Skinner, I also knew why he
was there and I would be damned if I was going to let him plunge Mulder
into more pain. I let Skinner know it no uncertain terms how difficult the
night had been, and I was beginning to tell him that it was not the time
for more work on this case, when I sensed Mulder's presence behind me. By
choosing just the right words, Skinner's appeal was like a siren's call to
Mulder.

"This case has heated up. I already booked us two flights."

As Mulder silently turned to go and get ready, I realized I was just not
ready to let this unfeeling world once again sink its talons into him. The
only way I could protect him now was to simply be, be with him as I had
all night, as I had from the beginning. My words declared my place:

"Well then you better book three."





And so I will watch; I will be ready now for whatever death or life throws
at us. Bring on all the questions without answers, all the dead ends and
all of the labyrinths of truth and lies. I have the best vantage point now
for me and for Mulder, for I am truly right where I am supposed to be and
where I will always be.....beside him.



Feedback: Most appreciated!! I promise to reply with kind words and
tissues.  joemimi@prodigy.net