TITLE: First Snow AUTHOR: aRcaDIaNFall$ FEEDBACK: arcadianfalls@yahoo.com.au RATING: PG SPOILERS: season 8 (specifically DeadAlive and Existence), references to Memento Mori/Redux/Redux 2, One Breath, FTF, etc. CLASSIFICATION: A, MSR, babyfic SUMMARY: It's snowing. AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is set somewhere post-Existence, ignoring whatever developments take place in season 9. You're all going to have to jump back six months in your time-machines for this one, folks! A quick question: There aren't by chance any Aussie readers out there who would know when season 9 does start airing here, are there? It's waaaaay overdue. --> http://www.geocities.com/arcadianfallls/ First Snow (1/1) by arcadianfalls I was alone when I woke. "Mulder?" I called sharply, feeling the uncertain flutter of panic rise up in my chest. I kicked back the covers, noting the rumpled pillow on his side had been knocked to the floor, his covers tangled and kicked back. His sneakers, though, still lay discarded by the bed; though his chaotic untidiness irritated me endlessly, it was a comforting reassurance he hadn't left the apartment. I found them in the living room: Mulder in pajamas at the window, William in his arms, a corner of the slipping blanket touching the floor. Mulder must have heard my footfall because he swung around. "Hey, Scully," he grinned, "it's snowing." I nodded cautiously, feeling the subsided panic returning. "Why are you up?" I asked, unsettled. "First snow of the season," he said, ignoring my question. He jiggled William in his arms. "Come see." "No, Mulder." My words came out sharply, defensive. Mulder had returned his gaze to the window but at my tone he swung around again, wary curiosity crossing his face, his dark eyes scrutinising. "Scully?" "It's late," I said abruptly, not wanting to face the searching intensity of his gaze. "Let's go back to bed." He brought the baby back with us. There was nothing William loved more than being between Mulder and I, our attention lavished on him, but even the gummy smile and kicking of his socked feet couldn't lighten the weight that had settled in my chest. Mulder sensed my reluctance to explain my actions, but, as usual, paid no heed to it. "Your Mom said you'd always be out there, playing in the snow. You never missed the first snowfall." "Yeah, well, I was a kid then," I said stiffly. "Just leave it, Mulder." He nodded, tickling William's toes, grinning widely at his son's smile. Slowly, though, his gaze returned to me, the grin gone, his gaze sobered, wondering. "It snowed, didn't it? The day you found me dead?" "Not the day we found you." My throat was closing up, my words strained. "It snowed the day we buried you." His intense, dark gaze, then a slow nod. Quiet understanding. But how could he understand how that felt, to bury him? "Scully-" "No, Mulder." I stopped him. "You can't understand how that felt." Anger flashed in his eyes. "I watched you dying of cancer, didn't I? I watched them take you off life support when you were in the coma. I went to the ends of the earth for you. I know how it feels, Scully, to lose you." "You never had to bury me." "No. I never had to bury you. Are you going to hold that against me?" "Mulder..." I protested. I didn't want to get into an argument over this. I didn't want to discuss it at all. "Just leave it," I told him for the second time that night. "Forget about it, okay?" A shrug. He was still angry. He drew himself upright and lifted William. "I'll take him back to his crib." I was curled up on my side, facing away from him, when he returned, slipping back under the covers. I knew I owed him an apology but I couldn't find the words. Instead, I lay there in the silence, my heart pounding in sick fear as I watched the snow fall outside. It was six or seven inches thick by morning. As usual, Mulder and William were up early, back at the window, watching the world outside. Déjà vu, I thought, as Mulder, hearing me enter the room, turned. But he only tilted his head in acknowledgement before turning away again, murmuring to William. I almost just backed up and let him be. I didn't want a confrontation, my stomach sank at the thought of it. But, with the snow outside, the need to hold him close was more overwhelming than ever. "Mulder?" But he didn't respond, didn't even move this time. I moved across the room, seeing as I got close enough that his gaze was beyond the snow on the lawn or the traffic or even the buildings in the distance. He was thinking about what had happened to him. It was that same terrible distanced look, that lost look. He'd been gone. He'd been tortured. Did I understand how that felt? I slid my arms around him, enveloping the two of them, and pressed my face against his chest, inhaling deeply. Mulder, Mulder... I'm sorry. But I couldn't speak those words aloud. Something inside was holding me back, that old fear, that cage I kept myself locked up in. So we stood there, silent but for William's gurgles and whimpers, and I watched the snow outside. It had snowed the night Leonard Betts told me I had cancer, and it snowed after my dad died... And I'd barely noticed. It was just the weather. I could still stand outside, feeling the snow falling on my face, still pick up an icy handful and smile at old memories. But the day we'd buried Mulder, and I'd reached down through the snow to toss that cold soil on his coffin... Snow, for me, had lost its purity. It wasn't cleansing, any more. Instead, it was a wide, endless void, emptiness... With every snowflake that fell, I had lost a little more of him, a little more of myself, until I'd felt that I was just as gone as he was. Could he understand that? As if answering my question, he spoke, quietly. "I don't know how it felt for you to bury me, Scully. But I understand pain, and grief, and loss. And I know that if I had a choice, I'd take your pain and your suffering on me." I drew a deep breath, knowing as I did that he must have felt the tired shudder that rippled through me. He was right. It wasn't about whose pain was worse, that childish, angry contest that was just another way to find somebody to blame, though we both knew we shouldn't take our grief out on each other in that way. It was about knowing that we shared the pain, shared the suffering, shared the anger and the fear and the uncertainty, and that we would lay down our lives for each other without a second's hesitation. "Mulder..." But he hushed me. "It's snowing, Scully." The three of us stayed there, Mulder silent as I tightened my grip on him, watching the snowflakes falling to earth. But gradually, my racing heart slowed, paced by the snow, so calm and quiet. Not breaking me down, piece by piece, but building me up again, every flake another beat of Mulder's heart, another breath echoing in my ears, another kick or gurgle from our son. I smiled, closing my eyes, feeling so safe against him. Mulder, Mulder... Thank you. fin. ===== = arc's domain: http://www.geocities.com/arcadianfalls = ======================================================== Jesus said, "I am the way, and the truth and the life. Nobody comes to the father except through me." John 14:6 ======================================================== http://www.sold.com.au - SOLD.com.au Auctions - 1,000s of Bargains!