Heart Turned Inwards: No Apologies by Keleka
Part III of the Heart Turned Inwards Series
by Keleka and Shoshana
Heart Turned Inwards: No Apologies
By Keleka
Email: [email protected]
Distribution: Gossamer, Spookys,
Xemplary, etc.
Rating: G
Spoiler Warning: Requiem
Content Statement: MSR
Classification: VR
Keywords: MSR
Summary: Love may be ageless, but it's not without its problems.
Third in the 'Heart Turned Inwards' series. This one really won't make any sense if you haven't read the first two. They're both available on Ephemeral and on my website. I promise, this wasn't supposed to be a series, but I've been overwhelmed with the pleas for sequels. I'll keep it going as long as there seems to be any interest and I can come up with angles that interest me.
Archive: Sure! Please tell me where so
I can visit.
Disclaimer: Get real! If I owned this
cash cow, do you really think I'd be
living in Mississippi?
Feedback: Always welcome in my house!
Author's Note: Huge steaming piles of
thanks to Fabulous Monster and Shoshana
who graciously beta read my stuff,
usually without too much complaining
and always with great insight. They
even tolerate my thing for Skinner.
All my fanfic (X-Files, Hawaii Five-0,
and Star Trek) can be found at
http://www.geocities.com/keleka3/
Heart Turned Inwards: No Apologies
by Keleka
Sunlight streamed through the blinds in Dana Scully's second floor bedroom window. It was not the light of early morning. She opened her eyes, blinking at the noontime glare, and realized that she had slept the morning away. It was understandable after the dream she'd had last night. It was similar in theme to the dreams she'd had nearly every night for the last thirty years, dreams about Mulder returning to her. But last night's dream had seemed so real, so vivid, and so different from those she'd had in the past.
She yawned and stretched, and when she did, she sensed there was someone--or something--in bed behind her. Her eyes widened when she realized there was an arm draped around her waist. She must still be dreaming. There was no other explanation for it. There hadn't been anyone else in her bed for years.
"Scully."
She froze. A voice. HIS voice. In a sudden flash, she remembered. It wasn't a dream. Mulder had returned to her! She turned, and when she did, his arm tightened around her waist and pulled her closer. When she saw his face--eyes closed and lips moving slowly as he mumbled in his sleep--she remembered everything.
Mulder was back and Einstein had been right. In Mulder's mind, he had been gone two days. In Scully's reality, thirty years had passed. She laid her hand lightly on his cheek. The contrast between the aged, slightly wrinkled skin of her hand against his still-youthful, tanned cheek startled her.
Carefully, she untangled herself from his arm, sliding to the side of the bed and sitting up. She pulled herself to her feet and turned to look at him again. He appeared almost angelic when he slept. She had forgotten that about him. His lower lip protruded in a slight pout. His eyelids fluttered softly. He was dreaming. She smiled, wishing him sweet dreams.
It had been after 10:00 last night when her son, Andrew, brought Mulder to her house. Oddly, she didn't remember Andrew coming over at all. All she remembered was seeing Mulder come through the door; Mulder putting her cross pendant around her neck; Mulder pulling her into his arms and kissing her. Mulder was all she could remember about last night.
They'd sat up talking until nearly 3:00 AM. It was as though he wanted to know everything that had happened for the last thirty years, all in one night. The miracle of her pregnancy; her search for him and her rise through the Bureau hierarchy; the birth of their son, his childhood, his education; Skinner, the Gunmen, and her family. Everything. He was insatiable. Finally, she did what she had done so often in the past: she'd fallen asleep on his shoulder in mid-sentence. He must have carried her to the bedroom, undressed her, and put her to bed. And then he had climbed in beside her, just as though he really had been gone only two days.
"Oh, Mulder," she whispered, feeling tears fill her eyes. "Why has everything always been so difficult for us?"
* * *
When Mulder awoke an hour later, he knew immediately where he was. He remembered everything about last night with crystal clarity. He remembered his joy as he held Scully in his arms and she told him about their son. He remembered his sadness as he learned the fates of his friends and her family. Only John Byers and Scully's nephew, Matthew, were left. He remembered the pleasure he took from watching her fall asleep on his shoulder.
Never one to lollygag, Mulder jumped out of bed and into the shower. Afterwards, as he pulled on his jeans, he realized that he was going to have to go shopping today. He had been wearing the same clothes for three days, or thirty years, depending on how he looked at it. He was about to head downstairs when he noticed a picture frame on Scully's dresser and stopped to look at it.
It was a simple silver frame with three 5x7" pictures. On the left was a formal portrait of the Scully family: Maggie, Bill, Tara, Matthew, and someone he assumed was the ever-elusive Charlie. Scully was there as well; and standing in front of her was a small boy, probably about five years old, with an mischievous, lop-sided grin. "Andrew," he whispered softly, suddenly having to bite his lower lip to keep from breaking into tears Just as he had been last night, he felt overwhelmed by how much his trip to Oregon had cost him.
The picture on the right was another family portrait--of sorts. It was Scully, Andrew, and Walter Skinner. Andrew was older, perhaps ten or twelve years old, and looked exactly like Mulder did in the pictures he had of him and Sam as children. There really was no doubt that Andrew was his child. Even if Scully had never told a soul, anyone who had known him would have suspected.
The picture in the center brought home to Mulder the reality of his new life. It was of him and Scully, but it was informal, not a posed portrait like the other two. They were at the Gunmen's lair. Only the Gunmen had known that he and Scully had finally gone beyond mere friendship, and their home was one of the few places they could relax and be themselves.
Mulder could remember the night the picture was taken. It was about a month before he was abducted. The guys had invited them over for 'Pizza Night' and Frohike was showing off some new camera equipment. Somehow the little troll had gotten a candid shot of them seated together on the sofa. In the picture, Mulder's arm was looped lazily around Scully's shoulders. Her face was turned toward him and they were sharing a secret smile. They were young and in love and they were planning to spend the rest of their lives together.
The memory brought a dull ache to Mulder's heart. He replaced the frame on the dresser and stood for a moment to reflect on recent events. Scully was sixty-six now, while he was still thirty-eight. None of that mattered to him in the slightest. She was still Scully. She was still the mother of his child and the only woman he'd ever truly loved. But, somehow, Mulder knew this age difference was going to be a problem. It was going to be a problem for Scully.
Mulder made his way downstairs to look for Scully. He found her in the kitchen. Her back was to him as she busied herself with something on the counter. He crept up behind her quietly. "I hear you, Mulder," she said softly, just as he was about to reach for her. He laughed, slipping his arms around her slender waist and nuzzling her neck. He could feel a wave of apprehension sweep through her at his touch. "Mulder, ...stop...don't," she said, twisting her shoulders a bit, trying to push him away.
"Nuh, uh," he murmured, kissing her neck, her ear, her shoulder, any patch of skin he could find. "Don't wanna stop." She turned to face him and he saw the tears in her eyes. "What's wrong, Scully?" Mulder asked, though he already knew the answer. Her face was bleak with sorrow.
"I've been thinking--"
"Don't," he said quickly, leaning in to steal a gentle kiss. "Don't think, Scully. There's nothing to think about. I'm back. And I'm not going anywhere." He could see the inner torment gnawing at her. She had already decided what was best for him, without even consulting him, as though he had no say in the matter. Nothing much had changed in thirty years.
She lowered her eyes and took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she had to say. "Mulder, you're welcome to stay here as long as you need to, until you decide what to do with the rest of your life. But I think it would be best if you stayed in the guest room or in Andrew's old room from now on."
"No." She lifted her eyes to his, obviously surprised by the simplicity of his answer. "If I stay in the guest room, it will be really difficult for me to do this." He lifted his hand to her face and gently stroked her cheek before sliding it into her hair. He tilted her face upward as he leaned in to shower kisses along her jaw, finally capturing her lips with his.
When Mulder felt her slip his arms around his waist, he deepened the kiss, his lips beginning to burn with desire. He slid one hand behind her and pulled her against him so she could feel the evidence of his arousal pressing against her. When they broke apart, they were both gasping for air. He rested his forehead against hers and waited for her to recover.
"Mulder," she whispered after her breathing calmed. "Look at us. I'm old enough to be your mother."
"I AM looking at you, Scully," he said with determination. He pulled back and waited for her to meet his eyes. "'To me, fair friend, you never can be old. For as you were when first your eye I eyed, Such seems your beauty still.'" He smiled at her questioning look. "Shakespeare's Sonnets. There were advantages to going to college in England."
Slowly, Scully slid her hands up his back and pulled herself to him until her head rested on his chest. He could feel her sobbing gently against him. He lifted his eyes and silently railed against the injustice of it all. It had taken them so long to admit their love for each other, and then to have this happen! It felt as though they 'were but playthings of the Gods.'
He pushed a lock of hair away from her ear and leaned down to nibble it for a moment before responding. "I love you, Scully. And I'm not going to let you commit some kind of grand sacrifice because you've decided it's what's best for me."
"Mulder, I can't...." He pulled her closer, feeling the pressure of her fingertips against his lower back. He could sense there was something she wasn't telling him. A quick and disturbing thought came to him. Perhaps she meant what she said literally.
"Scully, is there some...some medical problem I should know about?"
She looked up at him, her eyes clouded with tears. What he saw in her eyes was fear. Stark, vivid fear. "I'm afraid," she said, being honest with him at last. "I'm afraid of growing old and dying and putting you through that. I'm afraid of leaving you alone and heartbroken. Mulder, I can't do that to you. You deserve so much more."
Mulder was pleased to hear her admit her fear so freely. He'd always had to drag it out of her before, sometimes tearing painfully at the fragile fabric of their relationship. Maybe some things did change. "We don't deserve the cards we've been dealt, Scully. After everything we've been through together, after everything that was taken from us, the least they could have left us was our time together. I want to make the most of the time we have left."
Scully lowered her eyes while Mulder spoke and wouldn't look at him. He wondered whether there was something else, some other emotion trapped beneath the surface that she was unable, or unwilling, to reveal. A thought suddenly struck him: Maybe Andrew had been wrong. Maybe there had been another man in Scully's life. Maybe guilt, not fear was the unspoken emotion he had seen in her eyes. He pushed aside a wave of jealousy by reminding himself that he had been out of her life for thirty years. Expecting her to wait for him...it wasn't logical. It wasn't fair.
Mulder pulled her close and whispered in her ear, "Is there something else you want to tell me, Scully?" When she didn't answer, he narrowed his inquiry. "Are you trying to tell me there's someone else?" Still she was silent. "It was Skinner, wasn't it? I saw the picture on your dresser. Andrew told me you and Skinner were close."
When she looked at him now, it was with conflicting emotions. He watched as she tried to force her thoughts into order. Mulder smiled, as much to reassure himself as to reassure her. He had to know the truth, but he vowed silently that he wouldn't be angry or hurt if she had turned to someone else for love in his absence. Thirty years is a long time to be alone.
"It wasn't like you think," Scully said, finally, a bare whisper. "It wasn't...."
"I don't think anything, Scully. Whatever it was, it's okay." Mulder slipped a finger under her chin and tilted her head up. "Look at me," he said when she avoided eye contact. "It's okay," he repeated when she met his eyes. "Do you want to tell me about it? You might feel better if you do."
When she nodded, he led her to the living room and sat beside her on the sofa. He started to put his arm around her but she pulled back, taking his hand in hers instead.
"He was torn up with guilt over losing you in Oregon," she began, hesitating. "He blamed himself and tried to make up for what he thought of as a personal failure by doing everything he could for me and Andrew." She paused. "He fell in love with me," she continued, her eyes locked on their hands. He stroked her palm gently with his fingers. "I loved him too, but...but not the way he wanted me to."
Mulder agreed softly, "Platonic love."
"Not exactly...." she faltered.
He found that he was not breathing. "Go on," he pressed gently, fighting a sudden swell of dizziness.
"He wanted more. I couldn't...I couldn't give it to him. But he didn't leave us."
"He didn't leave you and Andrew," Mulder mirrored.
"By the time Andrew started school, I knew I needed help. He was more than I could handle alone." She laughed gently when Mulder looked shocked. "He wasn't a bad kid, but he was...a handful."
Mulder chuckled with happy memories. "That's what my mom used to call me when she talked to Dad on the phone. She'd beg him to come up to Connecticut to talk to me about something I'd done."
"Like father, like son. Andrew was into everything. He had a million questions. He was into sports. I needed a man in the house to guide him. I didn't want him to grow up without a father, like you did. She paused. "We bought this house together after I was promoted to an Assistant Director. He lived in the guest room, and the downstairs den was his. He lived with us for ten years, until Andrew left for college. I bought his share of the house and he bought one a few blocks from here so he would still be close. The day he moved out was one of the most painful days in my life, but without Andrew as an excuse, I was afraid--"
"I'm glad he was here for you. For both of you. I wish I could thank him."
Scully continued as if he hadn't spoken, her voice soft as the words flowed more freely. For a moment, he wasn't sure whether she realized he was still sitting beside her. "Over the years... sometimes he came to me at night or I went to him. Sometimes... sometimes we both just needed to be held." She suddenly looked at him, her eyes shining with tears. "But sometimes....we needed more. He was so good to us, Mulder. He was so good to Andrew. I couldn't refuse him. And sometimes I wanted...." She looked away again and now she was crying. "Mulder, I missed you so damned much."
Mulder took her face in his hands and waited until she met his eyes. The pain in his chest began to ease. "I understand, Scully. It's all right."
"It's not all right, Mulder," she said chastising herself. "I betrayed you."
"You didn't betray me, Scully," Mulder murmured, pulling her to him. He swallowed hard, trying to find a way to assuage her guilt. His expression stilled and he grew serious. "Scully, there's something I want to tell you. I should have told you years ago, but I couldn't. Something I did. Something unforgivable."
Scully pulled back to look at him, but now he couldn't meet her eyes. She kept her features deceptively composed. "Tell me," she urged him gently.
"When you were gone--"
"Gone?"
He met her eyes now and felt a stab of guilt. "When you were abducted." She nodded understanding. "Skinner reopened the X-Files after you were abducted, after we found out Krycek was part of the Consortium." He shifted uncomfortably and felt her take his hands in hers. "The next day I was in Los Angeles, on a case. Alone. Skinner knew better than try to make me take on a new partner."
Scully settled against the sofa cushions, listening. "Krycek's betrayal must have been very painful for you," she said softly.
He nodded, his face clouded with uneasiness. He dreaded talking about that time in their lives. It was painful for them both. "I...uh...while I was in Los Angeles, I had a 'one-night stand.' It was only a week after you were abducted."
"Mulder, we weren't even 'involved' then. Why would you feel guilty about that?"
"I was already in love with you, Scully."
An uneasy smile played at the corners of Scully's mouth. "I know, Mulder," she said, lifting her hand to touch his cheek gently. "I already loved you too. But it was unspoken. And I don't think we'd even admitted it to ourselves at that point. We'd made no commitments to each other, not even silent ones."
"She was a suspect in the case I was investigating."
"Jesus, Mulder. What were you thinking?"
"I wasn't thinking. All I felt was pain and emptiness, and I sought relief, even if just for a moment and only with a stranger." He shuddered inwardly at what she must think of him. "At least you turned to someone who loved you; someone you cared for; someone we both respected. What I did was far worse. What does that say about me?"
"I think it says you're human, Mulder. We both are. We both make mistakes. We both have needs. I think we have to forgive ourselves, not each other."
"Then forgive yourself, Scully, because you've done nothing you should feel guilty about." Mulder gently wiped the dampness from her cheeks. Enough tears. They should be celebrating his return, not crying over things that happened while he was gone. "I'm glad it was Skinner," he said softly, determined to lighten the mood. "I'm just glad it wasn't, Frohike."
Scully laughed and Mulder smiled at his success. "Speaking of Frohike," she said and then laughed again at his feigned look of shock. "No, not THAT. He and Langly and Byers...sometimes it was like having four sons: three juvenile delinquents and Andrew. If Walter provided Andrew a father figure, the Gunmen were his recalcitrant brothers. They made sure he grew up with a sense of adventure and that he learned to question authority rather than follow it blindly. Without them all, he wouldn't be the person he is today."
Mulder wondered what he had done to deserve such good friends--friends who were willing to step in and help Scully raise his son. Perhaps the Fates saw it as some small compensation for all the pain and suffering they had inflicted on him during his life. He put his arm around her and pulled her close. He was relieved when she relaxed against him.
"I want to make love to you, Scully," he said, his voice low and smooth. "We'll wait until you're ready, but just so you know, though...I'm NOT sleeping in the guest room."
The smile in Scully's eyes contained a sensual flame and her mouth curved into a brilliant smile. "That's good, Mulder, because John Byers will be occupying the guest room tonight. I called him and he's coming over for dinner. He can't drive at night anymore because of his eyesight so he'll be staying overnight."
"Fantastic! What else do you have planned?"
"Lunch. Then we've got to take you shopping for some clothes. And tomorrow we're going to Andrew's house so you can meet his wife and your grandchildren."
Mulder settled back against the sofa cushions and pulled Scully with him. She rested her head against his shoulder and he stroked her hair. "Good God, Scully. We're grandparents."
"I've had time to get used to it," Scully said. "You're not much older than their father, so it might be more difficult for you."
"Do you realize...I have a son and three grandchildren and I've never changed a single diaper my entire life."
Seeing the amusement in Mulder's eyes, Scully laughed. "Maggie is still in diapers. I'll make sure you get your chance."
"I'm sorry I brought it up." He barely kept the laughter from his voice.
"I wish my mother had lived to see her great-grandchildren born. It would have meant so much to her." Her eyes glistened as she spoke.
"What about Bill?" Mulder asked. "I bet he gave you grief, didn't he? About being pregnant by me, I mean. And me nowhere to be found."
"At first, but he got over it. And he was crazy about Walter. When he found out I had turned down Walter's marriage proposal, he almost blew an artery."
Mulder pulled back a bit and looked at her wide-eyed. "You didn't tell me Skinner proposed!"
She smiled softly and her eyes took on a faraway look. "Many times, actually. He was persistent, but he never pressured me. That was Bill's job."
Mulder looked at her thoughtfully for a moment and then whispered in her ear. "And what about when I propose, Scully?" he asked huskily. "Am I going to have to pressure you?"
Scully met his eyes, her lips trembling slightly. "I guess you'll find out when you ask, Mulder," she said, her voice liquid velvet to his ears.
"Scully, you always keep me guessing," he murmured as he leaned in to kiss her.
*end*
Continued in Heart Turned Inwards IV: The Lonely Gunman