The Gossamer Project Author - Title - Date - Spoilers - Crossovers - X-Files - Adventures - Stories - Vignettes Download Other stories by Beloved From: "Kate Beloved" Subject: Cold Heaven (repost due to bad formatting - please re-archive) Date sent: Thu, 04 Jun 1998 16:17:04 PDT ***************************************************** Title: Cold Heaven Author: Beloved E-mail: kj_beloved@hotmail.com Rating: PG Category: SRA Spoilers: Demons Keywords: Mulder/Scully romance Summary: Mulder and Scully take a vacation after Scully's illness worsens. ****************************************************** Disclaimer: The X Files belong to Chris Carter blah blah blah yada yada yada. Basically they aren't mind. But you knew that. Author's note: I'll be utterly, pathetically, grovellingly grateful for any feedback (kj_beloved@hotmail.com). ****************************************************** Cold Heaven by Beloved "Suddenly I saw the cold and rook-delighting heaven That seemed as though ice burned and was but the more ice." W.B. Yeats (The Cold Heaven) Agent Fox Mulder was shooting hoops in his apartment when the phonecall came. It was Margaret Scully, and from the first moment he heard her voice, he knew the news wasn't good. "F-Fox? Fox, Dana's in hospital. She started bleeding last night and just didn't stop. She wants you to come down, if you can." He went cold all over. For a moment he'd thought the worst had happened. When Mrs. Scully said she'd started bleeding and "just didn't stop", for one heartbeat he'd thought she was dead. Another short reprieve. Just another dress rehearsal for the end of the world. "I'll be right there," he said, hanging up. He drove down to the hospital wondering how bad things were with his partner. She'd told him her cancer was inoperable, but she'd never told him how it would affect her as it took its course and he hadn't dared to ask. "Dana Scully?" he said at the reception desk, and was pointed down the hallway. Knocking perfunctorily on the door, he pushed it open with a brave attempt at a smile. The room was full of people, but they were just a blur to him because in the middle of the room lay Dana Scully. His stomach cramped. She looked as fragile as glass, her skin white and opaque, the shadows beneath her eyes a deep, bruised blue. Mulder stared at her, then hoped to whatever gods that might be listening that she couldn't see how shocked he was by her condition. With an obvious effort, she raised her head and smiled at him. "I... I didn't get a chance to buy you flowers," he said, spreading his hands to show their emptiness. "Doesn't matter." Her voice was barely a whisper. Her eyes locked with his, pleading for something that he couldn't interpret. He shook his head mutely at her, indicating that he didn't understand. She raised herself up on one elbow and turned to her mother. "I need to speak with Mulder. In private." Mrs. Scully looked from her daughter to Mulder and back again. There was slight hurt in her eyes, but she didn't let Scully see it. Mulder stood silent while she rounded up the friends and relatives and ushered them out of the room, then crossed over to Scully's bedside. He sat down on the bed next to her. She groaned as she shifted position. "I ache all over." "Is there anything I can do?" She smiled weakly. "How are you on miracles?" He returned the smile. "You could fluff up the pillows," she said. "I feel better when I sit up." He fussed around her for a moment, arranging the bed so that she could sit upright, then lifted her head as tenderly as he could manage. "I had a haemorrhage last night," she said. "The cancer's getting worse, Mulder, I know it. It's just a matter of time before it starts to metastasise." She must have seen the look in his eyes, because she took his hand. "It's not as bad as it looks right now. I lost a lot of blood, but I'll be back almost to my former level of health in a day or two." "Is there..." He hesitated to ask the question. "Is there nothing they can do?" She shook her head. "Once it starts to spread, I won't have much time left." Mulder looked down at the small, delicate hand in his. His mind flinched away from thinking how little time that might actually be. "I've got to get away, Mulder." She looked away from him, out of the window, but the choked sound of her voice told him that she was holding back tears. "I want some time... some time to go somewhere and forget all about the X files and the FBI and what's happening to me." She gulped. "I want to sit by a lake and watch the sun come up." She turned back to look at him, her eyes huge and shining with the tears she was too proud to shed. "I can't go alone, Mulder. If anything... anything worse than this happens to me, I wouldn't survive." He understood now what she was asking. It must have taken a great deal to swallow her fierce pride in her independence and ask for his help. "You want me to come with you." "Please, Mulder." Her voice was dry and quiet. "My mother... fusses too much. Everyone treats me like a child. Everyone but you. It's... It's suffocating." He felt her fingers clench in his. He'd fought hard to keep her from knowing how frightened he was of losing her. She was his best friend - his only friend - but all he could do for her was respect her wishes. "I've got plenty of vacation time due," he said with a grin. She smiled, and he felt her relax. "Just one condition," she said. "No murders, no unexplained phenomena, and definitely no aliens." "I knew there was something I'd forgotten to pack." She actually laughed. It was hoarse and weak, but it was there. "Will you find somewhere? Not now... they won't let me go yet. In a week." "A cabin by a lake?" he said. "Somewhere peaceful." She sighed. Her eyelids were drooping. The conversation must have taken it out of her. "Get some rest," he said, squeezing her hand. "I'll take care of everything else." Outside in the hallway, Mrs. Scully buttonholed him immediately. "What did she want, Fox? Is she okay?" "I think she's sleeping," he said. "She wants to go away for a while. She asked me to go with her." Panic flared in her eyes. "Go away? She's not strong enough!" "She says she will be in a week. I've always trusted her medical opinion." He tried to think of a way to lessen the hurt. "I know she doesn't want you to worry." "Of course I'm worried! My daughter is dying!" She gazed at him with huge, hostile eyes, then suddenly burst into tears. "I know I'm overprotective, but what else can I do?" Gently he patted her hand. "You need a break, and so does Scully." "I know, I know..." She wiped away the tears with a handkerchief. "It's just so hard, when there's nothing I can do to help her." "I know." Mulder forced back the emotion from his voice. "Do what she asked, Fox," Mrs. Scully said. "It's what she needs. That's all we can do for her right now." *********************************************************** Dana Scully looked out of the car window at the blue mountains on the horizon and thought about childhood vacations spent hiking in the hills. She guessed she wouldn't be doing that on this trip. In the week since she'd come out of hospital, she'd found her energy returning with amazing speed, but the doctors had told her to take care not to push it. Not that she needed the advice. The blood loss had left her severely anaemic and she was reminded hourly that she wasn't fully recovered yet. she thought sourly. She was as well as could be expected under the circumstances, according to her physician, but when the circumstances included a terminal illness that wasn't much to be pleased about. She'd never known anything like the terror that had gripped her when the usual nosebleed she'd grown accustomed to had refused to stop. She'd tried everything to stem the flow until she'd realised she was haemorrhaging, and then she'd called 911. When the paramedics arrived, she looked like she'd been mauled. There was blood all over the apartment and she was so faint she could barely speak. She'd honestly thought she was going to die then, and her whole self was screaming how unfair it was. There were so many things she hadn't done; she'd thought there'd be time left and now there was no time... She shivered and pulled herself away from the dark recesses of her mind. The legacy of her haemorrhage was that she was constantly cold, so she'd packed as many sweaters as she could. Her mother thought she was crazy to be doing this, but that was part of the reason she had to go. For one week, at least, she didn't want to worry about what her mother thought. "Do you want to stop for a while, Scully?" Mulder said, looking across at her. She shook her head. "It's not much further." They slipped back into comfortable silence, and she turned her attention from the view outside to her partner. He was looking relaxed and almost happy in a blue shirt and jeans, humming along with the radio under his breath. Perhaps he needed a vacation as much as she did. She thought about what he'd been through recently. The trauma of believing he'd murdered two people was still with him, and her hospitalisation couldn't have come at a worse time for him, psychologically speaking. The memories he'd "recovered" from a dubious treatment involving trepanning and the powerful drug ketamine haunted him, she knew, and he'd needed her support. "What?" Mulder said. Scully realised she must have been staring at him. "I was just thinking we could both use some time off," she said. He grinned. Put on his Bill Hicks voice. "Did I miss a meeting?" She couldn't hide the smile that came to her lips. When Mulder pulled the Taurus on to a small dirt track, Scully could see the lake gleaming ahead of them. Mountains surrounded the flat silver water on all sides, their slopes covered with pine trees and meadows. "It's beautiful," she said, half to herself. "What you wanted?" He looked slightly worried, as if he'd made a mistake. She nodded. He parked the car at an angle in front of a wooden cabin with a wide veranda overlooking the lake. Two chairs sat facing the water, the evening sun throwing golden light on to the pale wooden deck. Dana made an attempt to get her case out of the trunk, but Mulder took it from her before she could lift it. "You're on vacation, remember?" he said. "Yeah, Mulder, vacation, not a rest cure," she snapped back. He shrugged, obviously unconcerned. "Why not a rest cure? I could use one." She followed him into the cabin, her irritation slipping away. Of all the people she cared for, Mulder was the only one who could be so protective without making it feel like he was smothering her. That was why she'd been so desperate to ensure that it was him who came with her, not her mother, her brothers, or anyone else. Maybe it was because he had been through so much in his own life, but he knew when to back off. It was only when she'd allowed herself to be taken in by Eddie Van Blundht that she'd noticed how little she and Mulder talked about "normal" things: high school, old relationships, growing up. She'd come to realise she valued the detached nature of their friendship. It was as if they had no past beyond the point at which they met, no future except together. No future... But she was was dying. She carried a couple of light bags into the main room and looked around in pleasure. The cabin was simple but comfortable, done up in golden shades of pine. A fire was stacked in the grate, ready to light, and there were thick woollen rugs on the floor. A corner of the room had been turned into a kitchenette with a gas cooker, a tiny empty fridge and a bottle of white wine ready-chilled in an ice-bucket. "Which room do you want, Scully?" Mulder called from one of the bedrooms. She put down the bags and wandered into the room. It was small but cosy, a large double-bed taking up most of the available space. A window looked out on to the lake, down to a little jetty to which was moored a boat. "For fishing, I guess," she said. Mulder followed her gaze. "Bring any rods?" She shook her head. "My dad and I used to go fishing on summer vacations, when he was on leave." She thought back to those long-ago holidays. "Missy hated it, but Bill and Charles and I... we loved it." She remembered Melissa's squeamishness when they brought the catch back to the house for supper. "Mom would cook whatever we caught on the barbecue and for a while it would be like we were the perfect all-American family." "You vacationed on Waltons' mountain?" She smiled. "Every year." She looked around the room again. "I'll take this room, Mulder." "The other one's bigger." "I don't care. I like the view from here." Mulder left her to unpack while he went to get some groceries, conspicuously not telling her to leave the heavy stuff to him. In consequence, she didn't touch anything that might strain her weakened body. She could see why Mulder was such a hot profiler - he'd read her perfectly. If he'd ordered her to take it easy, she'd have found it a matter of principle to do the opposite. When she'd finished putting away her clothes, she opened the wine and went outside to the deck. The sun was setting over the lake, mayflies swooping low over the water, and the mountains were already in shadow. She could hear nothing but the rustle of the grasses in the wind and the sleepy evening birdsong. It was the most peaceful setting she could imagine. She sipped her glass of wine and thought about her reasons for coming out here. She'd wanted to get away from doctors and hospitals and the FBI, but there was more to it than that. She'd realised it when she thought about family vacations when she was young. She needed time to reminisce, to think about her life, so she could face her death. Headlights cutting through the dusk told her that Mulder was back. He got out of the car, carrying several brown bags of groceries, then opened the trunk and pulled out two fishing rods. "Ta-dah!" She started to laugh. "I thought we could barbecue one night." He was grinning proudly at her. "I would be delighted," she said sincerely. ********************************************************** Fox Mulder couldn't remember the last time he'd enjoyed a vacation so much. In fact, he could barely remember the last time he'd taken a vacation. Holidays at the Mulders' summer place had never been so carefree, at least after Samantha disappeared. Here at Lake Jeremiah, up in the mountains, his heart felt light, not least because Scully seemed so much stronger. The peaceful routine of their days - walking, fishing, talking - seemed to suit her. She looked healthier than she'd done since they'd first diagnosed her condition, and he'd learned more about her in five short days than in five years of working as partners. He guessed it was her illness that made her want to talk about her life, but she'd never opened up to him before as she did now. The jealousy that Van Blundht had inspired in him was quieted when she told him the story of her, Marcus and the fire-brigade. In return, he dropped the quips that kept everyone at arm's length and for the first time let her in. They were sitting on the veranda after dinner (freshly-caught fish, of course, caught by Scully - Mulder had yet to catch anything more than two inches long), getting down to the bottom of a bottle of wine and watching the moon rise over the highest peak. The moonlight turned the meadows to dark silver and the lake into a ruffled mirror of the sky. Above them, the stars swung huge and low. Without thinking, he turned to Scully and said, "Do you think this is what we'll be doing when we're old?" As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he realised what he'd said. "Scully, I'm sorry. I didn't mean-" She waved away his apology. The moonlight caught the shining track of one tear that had slid down her cheek. "It doesn't matter. Let me believe it, for one night at least." They went back inside a few minutes later. In the living-room, he could see the tell-tale redness of Scully's eyes. "I'm sorry," he said again, feeling a wave of guilt spread over him. For a moment she was silent, then she looked across at him, her eyes as hard as sapphires. "For God's sake, Mulder, I told you it doesn't matter!" "I'm sorry," he said stupidly. She flinched, her mouth tightening into a thin line. "I'm going to die, Mulder. Soon. I've got enough to deal with without your damn guilt." She glared at him. "I've shouldered your burdens for long enough. Samantha, your father, even me... You weren't responsible! You couldn't have stopped it!" He felt anger well up inside him. "I dragged you into this. If it wasn't for me, you'd be..." He trailed off, not knowing how to finish the sentence. Scully's fury was almost incandescent. "Oh, yes, everything's about you! The world doesn't revolve around you, Mulder! It's about time you realised that!" "Is that what you think?" He was aware of how small she was, how fragile, but his own anger wouldn't let him back down. "Yes, that's what I think! I'm the one who's dying here, not you! Stop- Stop treating this like it's your fault. Can't you just accept it? I don't have the strength to deal with your guilt as well as my own feelings!"He didn't know what to say. Shame and anger pooled in his stomach as he looked at his partner and best friend. It was true that he felt guilty that she was the one who had been hurt like this, but her accusations had a tinge of hysteria about them. "I never thought the world revolved around me. Around you, yes," he said icily, and turned and walked out the cabin, slamming the door behind him. ************************************************************ Dana Scully heard the car's engine start, then the squeal of tyres as Mulder pulled away at top speed. She sank into a chair and burst into tears. She hadn't meant to start an argument with him, but the unfairness of life had suddenly overtaken her, adding vituperativeness to her grief. She was scared, angry and confused, so she'd lashed out at the nearest person. It had all been so perfect, sitting out on the verandah in the moonlight, not having to speak, until he'd made that unthinking comment. It had brought it home to her with a rush that she would never grow old, would probably never see another summer. She felt the tears well up again. She'd never let herself cry like this until now, not even in the depths of the night when everything seemed cold and hopeless and the dizzying terror overtook her. She cried for a long time, racking sobs that seemed dragged up from the bottom of her soul which eventually subsided into acceptance. To her surprise, she felt better. She was exhausted, her face was a mess, her eyes puffy and red with crying, but she felt peaceful, even cleansed. She threw another log on the fire, curled up in the armchair and let herself drift into sleep. ********************************************************** Five hundred yards down the dirt track which led to the cabin, Fox Mulder pulled over and switched off the car's engine because he could no longer see to drive through the tears which were blinding him. He pressed his hands into the eye-sockets as if he could physically push back the grief which had flooded over him. One more thing to feel guilty about. The worst of it was that Scully was right. He felt appallingly responsible for her illness, just as he'd felt responsible for her abduction, Samantha's abduction, her sister's death, his father's death... The list went on and on. She was the one who was dying. He couldn't begin to imagine how terrifying it must be to have that knowledge, to know that your life was finite and that the end was close. But instead of helping her, he'd only made it harder for her. She was carrying so much - he couldn't ask her to take his grief as well. So he bowed his head on to the wheel and let the tears come. Alone. *********************************************************** Scully awoke with a start. Mulder was standing in the doorway. It must have been the click of the latch falling that had woken her. He looked a wreck, his face crumpled with sleep - or grief, she didn't know which. They gazed at each other for a long moment, then Scully stood up. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I was wrong," he said. "Maybe we both were." She held out a hand to him. He came over to her and took it, squeezing it hard. "Are we still friends?" It was a clich?, but his tone of voice told her that he wasn't just saying it. He really needed to know if their relationship was damaged. "Yes," she answered warmly. He exhaled hard, then hugged her. Her face was pressed into his chest and she could feel it rise and fall sharply with the strength of his relief. They moved apart a little and smiled at each other. "Scully, your mascara's smudged..." Mulder licked his thumb, rubbed it underneath her eye. With that contact, she felt everything change. The atmosphere crackled between them, her skin prickling all over. For a moment the world seemed to hold its breath. Mulder's thumb had slowed so it was no longer rubbing away the smudge, but was stroking the delicate skin under her eye. Her gaze was locked to his, both desperate, unable to speak. Words, images and memories tumbled through her mind only to be stopped dead... Because he kissed her. At that moment the only real thing in the world was the warm pressure of his mouth on hers. Heat seemed to ripple out through her body, growing stronger, developing into a pulse that grew louder and louder until all she could hear was the thud of her own heartbeat ringing in her ears, silencing the demons within her. His hand cupped the back of her head, fingers burying themselves in her hair. She reached up to touch his face, stroking her fingers along the clean-cut jawbone, her other hand resting lightly against his chest. He covered her hand with his, sliding it inside his shirt so she felt the shock of warm skin under her palm. Then his hands fell to her waist and he pulled her tight against him. They hadn't once broken their gaze. Without a word, he led her into the bedroom. They stood, looking at each other, only their hands connected. "Are you sure?" he said softly. She nodded, her throat constricting. "Yes." Then he slid to his knees in front of her and she buried her hands in his hair. He pushed up her shirt, the warmth of his lips moving across the pale, cool skin of her stomach. For the first time she closed her eyes, felt the tears spill down her cheeks, and she realised she was crying with relief. Mulder laid his partner down on the bed, her deep red hair spilling across the pillow. Her eyes were shiny with tears but she was smiling up at him, her pupils so wide that her big blue eyes were almost black. He undid his shirt, helped her slide out of hers, and swept his hands up the slender body, feeling the softness of her skin over her ribs. Gently he kissed her brow, above the cancer that was killing her, then moved down to her lips. She was so soft, so yielding, under him... Everywhere she touched him felt like fire, everywhere those small cool fingers went he was tattooed with a quicksilver line of desire. He closed his eyes as their bodies merged, but opened them again immediately to look down into her wide eyes. He could hardly believe it was really her, that this wasn't a dream. God knew, he'd dreamt it often enough before. Every movement sent an electric current straight through him. Frightened that he wouldn't be able to hold on, he'd never made love so gently in his life. The slow rocking movement felt like they were floating on some uncharted ocean. It was the quietest climax he'd ever seen. She arched herself up against him, her whole body tense, gave a soft, shuddering sigh and then relaxed. For all his wide sexual experience (admittedly usually with the VCR), he'd never been so turned on. The way she kept her gaze fixed on him, looking into his eyes as though at that moment he was the whole world to her, the way her body seemed to mesh and merge so perfectly with his that he was no longer sure where he ended and she began... He could only gasp out her name as he lost control. Scully felt Mulder's arm lying lightly across her waist, the warmth of his body against her back. She was almost asleep, feeling safe in his embrace. She refused to think about tomorrow morning. If only for tonight, the demons had been banished. Her scientist's mind was already finding an explanation. Sex and death, Eros and Thanatos; the two oldest human drives, inextricably linked. She pushed the thought away. Let herself believe that this was more than a one night stand. She heard Mulder sigh, his breath stirring the hair that fell forward on to her face. He shifted and stroked his palm along the sensitive skin of her side. "I love you, Scully," he said in a drowsy whisper. She opened her eyes and stared into the darkness. He had clearly never intended her to hear those words, but they seemed to amplify until they filled the dark room. There were so many reasons why they could never be together. If the Bureau found out they would instantly be assigned to other partners and she knew she was the only one Mulder truly trusted. Their friendship was so deep she didn't know if it could survive such a transition. And the best reason of all: she was dying. How could she put him through that, watching her get sicker and sicker until she could no longer hold on to life? Better to spare him as much pain as possible. she thought sadly, and closed her eyes, waiting for sleep to come. ************************************************************ Scully was already dressed when Mulder awoke. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, brushing her hair into place, but when she saw his eyes were open she stopped and smiled at him. He returned the smile, feeling slightly awkward. He could still smell her delicate scent on his skin. How was he supposed to act as though nothing had happened? "I think we should go home today, Mulder," she said. "If you want," he said, sitting up in bed. She put the brush down. "I'll go and pack while you get dressed." He showered and changed, then went into the main room. In the early morning sunlight, it was hard to believe last night hadn't been a dream. Scully was making pancakes, flipping them on the griddle with a practised hand. She piled them on to a plate, poured out two mugs of coffee and sat down opposite him at the table. "We need to talk about last night," she said softly. He nodded. "Where do we go from here?" Her mouth twisted slightly and for a moment she looked away. "Back. We have to go back." When she looked at him again, her expression was calm. "We'd be reassigned like a shot if the Bureau found out. Last night... it just happened. It would be better if we both forgot about it." He picked up the cup of coffee in both hands to hide the fact that he was shaking. He'd known as soon as he awoke that this was what would happen, but it didn't stop the jolt of pain when she said the words. She reached out and slowly uncurled his hand from around the mug, lacing her fingers with his. "You're my best friend, Mulder. I need you now, more than I can ever tell you. I need a friend." Both their eyes were bright with tears. He smiled and squeezed her hand. "I'll always be there for you, Scully. For as long as you need me." They had just finished loading the cases into the car when she stopped and turned to him. "Mulder, I want you to know that I don't regret anything about this week. Not a _single_ thing." He put his arms around her and they stood together for a long moment, aware only of each other. Then they got into the car and headed up the dirt road. Scully couldn't help turning her head to catch one last glimpse of the bright mountains and the lake, reflecting the blue of the sky, and the little cabin where they had made love. "Paradise lost," she said under her breath. She didn't look back again. THE END The Gossamer Project Author - Title - Date - Spoilers - Crossovers - X-Files - Adventures - Stories - Vignettes Download Other stories by Beloved Please let us know if the site is not working properly. Set story display preferences. Do not archive stories elsewhere without permission from the author(s). See the Gossamer policies for more information.