By Donna
donnah@donnas-stories.com
 

URL - www.donnas-stories.com
Rating - PG-13
Category - MSR, angst
Spoilers - Never Again
Keywords - MSR, angst
Summary - What's he afraid of?
Feedback - Please
Archive - Anywhere, just let me know so that I can visit

Disclaimer - Mulder, Scully, the Lone Gunmen and Skinner
all belong to Chris Carter, 10-13 and Fox.  No infringement
intended.
 

Nighttime Visits
 

Something woke her, but before she could determine what,
he spoke. "Scully?"

"Mulder?  What - "

He switched on the hall light, not wanting to blind her.  She
sat up and the pale green sheet pooled in her lap.  Though
he tried not to, he noted the thin white tank-top she wore,
and that he could see the darker rose of her nipples through
it.

"What is it, Mulder?  What's wrong?"

He shook his head.  She glanced over at her bedside clock,
3:07 a.m.  "Mulder?"  She rose from the bed.  He took in that
she was wearing something that resembled men's boxers
with a flower pattern in shades of blue.  She had grabbed
her robe, lying at the foot of her bed and jammed her arms in
the sleeves, then knotted the sash.

She approached him now.  "Mulder?"  Her hand came up to
touch his face.  He caught it and squeezed it lightly.

"I . . . I had to make sure you were okay."

"Okay?  You drive over at 3 in the morning?  You couldn't
call.  You know you don't mind you calling at all hours."  Her
lips quirked.

He shrugged, blushing slightly.  He indicated her living room.
"Your cell is off.  I saw it in the charger.  I just . . .
I needed to see you."

Her brow furrowed.  "Was it a dream?"

"Maybe.  I'm sorry.  Go on back to - "

She took his arm, leading him back to the living room.  She
guided him to the couch and had him sit.  "Do you want
something to drink?"

If she was annoyed with him, he couldn't see it.  That
relaxed him some.  "No, I should get out of here; let you get
a little more sleep before you have to get up."

"Oh Mulder, by the time you drive home and get settled you'll
get no sleep at all.  Here, stretch out on the couch and at
least get a nap.  I'll wake you when I get up, so you can get
home and shower."

He looked at her for a long moment, then said quietly.
"Thank you."

She smiled, though her eyes showed her worry.  She pulled
the afghan from the back of couch.  Mulder toed off his
shoes as he shrugged off his jacket.  She handed him the
afghan.  "Try to get some sleep, Mulder."

Mulder nodded and watched her make her way back to her
bedroom.  She pulled the door closed, but it didn't latch.  For
some reason, that made him feel a little better.

He stretched out as best he could on her couch and covered
himself.  Maybe he could get a little sleep here.  He couldn't
explain to her what had brought him here; maybe it had been
a dream.

All he knew was that he'd woken up in his apartment, his
heart palpitating, sweat on his brow.  He had known
something was wrong with her.  He knew that fear, he'd had
it when they took her from him.  He could no more have
stayed away then quit breathing.  Only the sight of her, here
and safe, was going to disperse a fear this deep.

Of course, being here wouldn't keep her from being
abducted.  Look how much his presence had helped when
Samantha . . . no, he'd been a boy of twelve.  Now, now
there was no comparison to what kind of fight he would put
up.  The stakes, the loss of Scully, put the odds in his favor -
at least a little.

But it was strange.  They'd worked together, parted company
at the end of the day and gone their separate ways.  Nothing
had been bothering him and she had seemed fine.  Was he
having a problem with her last case?  Ed Jerse was out of
the picture.  Besides, she didn't date X-Files participants, at
least not after she knew that's what they were.  Look at him
as an example.

He shook his head.  Who she dated wasn't the issue.  Well,
it wasn't the main issue.  Something was wrong.  Something
had woken him from a sound sleep and his fear had him
moving toward his car without conscious thought.

What the hell was it?  She was here, she was safe.

Damn, he'd lain here for close to half an hour.  He wasn't
going to sleep.  The fear wouldn't go away; even being here
in the apartment wasn't relaxing him, damnit!

Was she asleep yet?  He rose, fully awake, and walked
softly to her bedroom door.  Her breathing was quiet and
even.  At least she'd managed to fall back asleep.  He
pushed the door open slightly and saw her with the meager
light coming from the streetlight on the corner.  She was
curled onto her side, one hand under her pillow.  There was
only the sheet over her.

She looked fine.

He found himself taking a seat in the chair near the window.
Yes, it was better in here, closer to her.  She was important,
important in a way no one else had ever become to him.

That didn't fully explain what he was feeling right now.

He made himself as comfortable as possible in the chair and
watched her sleep until his eyes closed.

*****

She had made no comment the next morning when she
awoke to find him there; not even teasing him about a stiff
neck.  He could tell she was concerned but the case they
were handed finally drove some of his fear to the back
burner.  A headless man, walking out of a morgue - now that
was his kind of case.