Title: What If... Author: DKScullyUK Rating: PG-13 Classification: MSR/ Alternate ending. Spoilers: FTF and Triangle - minute references to En-ami and All Things (even thought they have yet to happen in the time period of this story) Summery: What if When Mulder told Scully he loved her she said it back ? Alternate ending to episode. Archive: Yes, just let me know Disclaimer: Once upon a time there was a man called Chris Carter who made a deal with large corporation called FOX in order to give us the wonderful characters of the TV show we know and love. They will forever belongto the above named however as they have decided to take the characters out and play with them again I decided to follow their example. Just call me sheep. Feedback: danak.scully@yahoo.com If you feed me it will save be cooking later. Notes: Blame millersouthvocal459 for this one, and my state of sleep deprivation that seems (for some bizarre reason) to free up the creative side of my brain and force me to write something - so if this is no good blame the fact that I have been awake for 30 hours and (as we all know) that makes you delirious according to CSM - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - I turned and ran, yes I'm a coward I know, but anymore constriction in my throat and I would be sharing the ward with him in an adjacent bed. I don't even remember getting home my body providing an automatic response driving blindly as my brain repeated my new mantra "Hey, Scully, I love you." He had said it, this man who had traversed the Antarctic to rescue me, who had had my heart for as long as I could remember had just come out and said it. We had never talked about it, our almost kiss, after everything that has happened since I had just chalked it up to emotional overdrive. I think he determined that after the stress of the entire incident the memory was lost to me, and I have never said anything to make him reconsider this silent theory. But I do remember. Mulder's pleading eyes and the scent of his aftershave mingled with the smell that belongs to him and him alone. It was to much, I was to close. His arms flying around me pressing me to him as my own hands found his muscular back beneath his t-shirt. If felt comfortable it felt right, his breath on my neck, his hands providing heat through my jacket. I suppose you could say I initiated it, the instinct for my lips to touch his skin, to try and convey to him that it was alright, he didn't have to be alone that I needed him just as much. I tried to tell him there and then but my normally agile mind failed to construct noun adjectives and verb to assimilate an adequate ensemble of words. He pulled my forehead away from his and it was then that I saw it. A declaration that emanated from his eyes as his slightly callous thumb caressed by cheek. I refused to believe, as always, what I saw embedded in dark brown, written as deeply as the rings in an oak as they held me routed to the spot. I was bemused for an instant ready to make light of the situation, prepared for his goofy grin or a sly innuendo, neither of which came. He moved closer to me hands steadily exerting pressure now snaked into my hair, eyes flicking from my lips to my eyes, silently informing me of his intent. Oh my god he was going to kiss me. He was so close, close enough for me to feel the vapour from his breath on my skin as my lips parted, this was going to happen and I knew in that moment that I would be lost, undone as my lips for the briefest whisper touched his, and then... And then disaster, as always seems to accompany us. Passion turning to regret, concern to panic within seconds. It's a guilty pleasure of mine that I relive this moment often in slow motion thinking of what could have been, but neither of us have tried to recreate it or tried to explain it scientifically psychologically or otherwise. The one mystery that we have left un-investigated, it seems ,is the workings of our hearts, and whilst I perhaps have the upper hand in the anatomical and functionality of the organ in question I fail to be able to even formulate a hypothesis concerning my hearts relationship to Mulder. Mulder. He said he loved me. No flowery sentiments, no risk of me leaving him, and although his story of high adventure on a ghost ship in the Bermuda triangle is something I give little credence to given his state when we managed to pull him from the water, I believe him. And now I am also lost at sea. Emotions that I have no business feeling are pushing to the surface, gasping for air. Mulder loves me, and I love him but in what context? Does he love me as a friend? Does he love me as sister? Does he see me as a substitute for the family he has lost? Or does he love me the way I thought he did when his eyes met mine so many months ago in a dimly lit complex corridor? It strikes me as I slowly surface into a state of awareness again, the ticking clock on the sideboard who's slow consistent tone I normally blank out is now resonating in the silent apartment crying out the passage of time, and I have to know. I have to find out what he meant. After five years of dancing I am suddenly tired. Unwilling to continue in the Tango that we set upon years ago, our feet moving in sync whilst we face away from each other, feeling our way across the dance floor with little more than our trust and faith the we will not let one another fall. But I did fall, and every atom in my body needs to discover if he fell with me that night. Standing quickly from where I have perched on my couch and grabbing my car keys from the table I make the decision whilst I am brave enough to do so. This is hardly the time or a hospital bed an adequate setting but circumstance has always had a habit of getting in the way when it comes to the two of us, and I am done letting circumstance have its own way. - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Its dark as I enter the room, only the faint glimmer of the hallway lights illuminating my path . It's long after official visiting hours and I have no wish to cause a scene so I slip the curtain quietly around us before flicking on the small light. It stutters a little before coming to life bathing us both in a soft glow as I take a seat in the chair next to him. I have lost count of how many hours I have spent sitting in this very position taking comfort in the steady bleep of equipment attached to the figure that now lays before me his hand resting on his cheek. He looks at peace, Mulder always carries round a restlessness, even in sleep he tosses and turns, always fighting constantly looking for an elusive truth. But now he is still. I don't want to wake him, it's selfish of me. It was wrong of me to come here. I stand again bending slightly to take my hand gently through his hair, smoothing down a few of the brown spikes as their softness nestles between my fingers. Exhaling a breath I wasn't aware I had been holding I take my hand away and reaching again for the light. "Leave it on Scully. Harder to see you in the dark" the low voice rumbles from beneath me as his eyes slowly open barely visible through his long lashes. "Sorry I didn't mean to wake you" I whisper "Go back to sleep" He ignores me, of course, when has Mulder ever listened to doctors orders anyway, propping himself up on arm as he shifts to look at me. "I wasn't asleep, just resting. What's wrong ?" His eyes still blinking and to adjust to the light. "I... I... just wanted to make sure you were alright... make sure you were comfortable" I lie as a take my seat again, my knees suddenly weak at the growing intensity of his eyes as they peak at me from still heavy lashes. " I would be more comfortable if you kept doing what you were a moment ago" his voice is clear and I find myself unable to look at him, I stare intently at my fingers moving my thumb against the nails polished surface. "Mulder" I murmur into my chest. I shouldn't be here, not asking this, not now. "Yes?" he elongates the phrase matching my earlier tone and I take a deep breath and gulp down the lump that has lodged again in my throat. "When you...when you said what you said earlier... what did you mean...exactly" I hazard a glance up to meet his eyes before returning my eyes to my rather interesting sensible nail polish as my tongue darts out to wet my lips that have suddenly become dry. "Well I wasn't expressing my undying love for all things relating to Judy Garland" There is a twinge of hurt in his voice but I still can't look at him. I hear the rustle of bed linen as he moves to sit up further and then his hand comes into view reaching over the barrier to touch me, I didn't even realise my hand was trembling until he touched me. "What do you think I meant Scully?" his thumb is moving softly over my skin, barely touching me moving between my thumb and finger causing the rest of my body to tremble. I finally find the courage to look up at him and what I see in his eyes terrifies me. "I don't know, I don't know what you want me to say I... I care about you so much Mulder...I" I close my eyes biting down on my lip attempting to stop myself from hyperventilating. This was such a bad idea. His hands don't stop in their caress and I can sense his head slowly move from side to side and hear a smile creep into his voice. "I love you Scully, I.am.in. love. With. You. I just needed you to know that. I'm not expecting you express the sentiment in return, just that you know and understand, after all we have been through. Scully I thought that I would never see you again and now I have the chance I needed to say it. To let you know that you have my heart even if I don't have yours. Does that answer your question?" I take a deep breath and look into his eyes, that puppy dog look that I can never resist and I am undone. I move a hand to his cheek feeling the stubble prickle beneath my fingers. "I love you too Mulder, I love you too."