Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine. This wonderful series
belongs to Chris Carter. Lucky him.

Category: VA
Classification: Mulder/Scully UST
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Triangle
Archive: Gossamer. Others ask me.
Feedback: Yes, please.
Summary: Scully's thoughts as she remains at the hospital.

Author's Note: Lynn made me do this. Actually, I had some ideas
in my head anyway. 

"Belief" (1/1)
by Lisa
(haven599@msn.com)

    I'm sitting here in the hospital waiting room. A few people
are scattered around the worn chairs with me.  Magazines and
food wrappers are strewn on the end tables, remnants of long days
and nights spent here waiting and wondering. They look sad.  Lost.
Lost souls searching for hope. Hope for a loved one, possibly?
Loved one.  

    Did Mulder really say that? Did he say he loved me? I've 
been telling myself he wasn't thinking clearly or delusional 
from his ordeal.  I mean, he lives in a fantasy world half the
time anyway. Like I would be on a ship in 1939 or even someone
like me.  That was almost 60 years ago, it's impossible.  There 
might have been a woman who resembled me and Mulder wanted
to believe she was me for some strange reason.  No, the ship was
deserted. He had one hell of a dream and the people in his life  
just took on roles in his subconscious.  That's what happens
in dreams, the mind plays out many possible scenarios, plausible or
not.
  
    If he really meant that, wouldn't he have chosen some other 
place to tell me than in a hospital? Not exactly conducive to 
romance. Romance? Why did that word pop into my head? This
whole day has been strange.  I need to go home and get into bed.
Yet, I'm still here. I guess I need to make sure Mulder's all right.
It's been almost an hour now, Dana and you're still wedded to this
cushioned chair.  The coffee beside you has become cold.  Maybe
you want to believe Mulder's words.
  
    He does love me in some way, I suppose.  But why would he
do something like chasing a ghost ship to the Bermuda Triangle?
Another alien sighting? Why does Mulder do anything? It had to
be more than just curiosity.  I probably don't want to know. I'd 
be better off that way.  If he did love me why would he do something
this rash? I'm tired of worrying every time I don't hear from him in
a couple of days.  What part of the world is he in now? Why? How
come he doesn't tell me where he's going?  Doesn't he know I fear
the worst sometimes? I dread getting a call in the middle of the 
night from a stranger asking me to come see if this is my partner.
That's what will happen one of these days.  Mulder's been lucky, but
the next incident his luck could run out.  How could I love a man who
will do that to me time and time again?
  
    What if he had said those words after my abduction?  During my 
battle with cancer?  In the hallway before I was stung?  That's when I 
almost expected it.  He really shared his feelings with me at that
moment.  But, that's just what it was - a moment.  Fleeting. Never
to happen again.  I might have believed it then.  It's probably 
better he didn't.  I don't have the slightest idea what I would 
have told him.  That's the question, isn't it?  It comes down to
believing or not? Do I choose to believe that Mulder does in fact
love me or do I pass his words off as ramblings from a wild
dream in which I was the focus of his affections? 

    I notice that a couple people have left.  That's what I need to
do.  I've been so lost in my thoughts I didn't realize how long
I've been here.  Glancing at my watch, it reads almost 1 o'clock
in the morning.  I get up feeling physically and emotionally fatigued.
I start to walk towards the exit, but I stop.
  
    Maybe I should check on Mulder again.  Make sure he's comfortable.
That's what any good doctor would do.

    The door to his room is slightly ajar and I push it open slowly. 
A stream of light shines on his bed.  He looks asleep.  I check to
make sure.
  
    His breathing is soft and even.  His color looks good.  I pull the
blanket up, making sure he is warm enough.  Sleep is what he needs
now.  Tomorrow he will be back to his usual self.  I'm not sure 
exactly what that is, but . . .
 
    All of a sudden I remember him saying "I love you." I remember
the cadence of his voice - soft and tender.  I think. Maybe.
  
    I lean over the railing and touch his arm.  I hate seeing him like 
this - in a hospital bed.  Another reminder of some impulsive act
he did which resulted in yet another injury.  Hurt. Pain.
 
    I blink back the tears that are starting to form.  I need to leave.

    Not yet.
 
    My hand gently ruffles his short hair.  I press my lips against 
his forehead, wondering what he'd do if he were awake.  Would he 
wrap his arms around me and hold me?   Kiss me? Declare his love
love for me again?
  
    That's not the issue.  The issue is how would I react to his 
actions.
 
    I let my lips linger on his forehead a little longer.  I start to 
walk away, but I thought I heard him breathe my name.  I listen
again, harder this time.  Nothing.  I look back at the bed.  Mulder
is still asleep. I close the door softly behind me.
  
    Mulder shifts in the bed.  He reaches out, but only feels the 
coldness of the bed railing.  

END (1/1)