Sent: Friday, April 20, 2001 12:15 PM
TITLE: BREECHING BARRIERS
AUTHOR: Ewa
E-mail: ewa@whatewa.com
RATING: G
CATEGORY: V S POV
SPOILER: Three Words post ep
KEYWORDS: M/S A,
SUMMARY: Catharsis may be caused by the most
unlikely things.
DISCLAIMER: Any characters you recognize belong to
Mr. Carter & Co. Lyrics of Possession written by
Sarah McLachlan. Rule of thumb, if you recognize
it, there's a good chance it isn't mine. Doesn't
stop me messing with them though, purely to try to
sort the lives of these two out, monetary gain has
never been an issue here.
ARCHIVES: You mean, I don't have to pay? Please
leave author, declaimer etc attached. Let me know
where it's gone!
Feedback please!
ewa@whatewa.com
AUTHOR'S NOTES: At the end
Visit me and read my other x-phile stories at
http://www.whatewa.com
Thoughts on season 8
http://www.whatewa.com/contents7.htm
04.18.01
BREECHING BARRIERS
"Listen as the wind blows
from across the great divide,
Voices trapped in yearning,
memories trapped in time,
The night is my companion
and solitude my guide,
Would I spend forever here
and not be satisfied."
I allow the soft sounds of the melody wash over me,
soothing me. It hurts me so much that he can't or
won't confide in me, won't let me in.
"And I would be the one
to hold you down,
kiss you so hard,
I'll take your breath away
and after I'd wipe away the tears,
Just close your eyes dear."
I couldn't let him go before, I can't do it now,
although he turns away from me, shutting me out.
"Through this world I've stumbled
so many times betrayed,
Trying to find an honest word,
to find the truth enslaved,
Oh you speak to me in riddles and
you speak to me in rhymes
My body aches to breathe your breath,
you words keep me alive."
I swallow hard, as I listen to the track on the CD
player, the words really getting to me. I'm in the
process of making coffee and some French toast for
Mulder's breakfast.
I had assumed he'd still want me, that he'd still
want us, but maybe I was wrong. I'd forgotten what
can happen when you assume things. I want so much
for him to feel safe with me again, to have that
unspoken honesty between us once more.
"Oh, Mulder, Mulder. Come back to me."
"And I would be the one
to hold you down,
kiss you so hard,
I'll take your breath away
and after I'd wipe away the tears,
Just close your eyes dear."
The baby is training me for early morning feeds for
when it's born. I can seldom sleep in longer than
six AM.
This morning was no exception, knowing that sleep
would not be an option, I drove over to make sure
Mulder eats something. He insists he's fine, but he
won't talk to me, not really *talk*. Since his
return everything has been so muddled between us.
I don't know what to do, what to say. It was a dumb
idea to come over this morning, but I've got to
keep trying.
"Into this night I wander,
it's morning that I dread,
Another day of knowing of
the path I fear to tread,
Oh into the sea of waking dreams
I follow without pride,
Nothing stands between us here
and I won't be denied."
There's an awkwardness between us, far worse ever
before. Thankfully, he didn't seem too upset when
he opened the door to me in his old gray sweats. He
feels the cold, and is very self-conscious of the
scars those bastards left on him. He sleeping
pattern, always bad before, are worse now. I know
about the nightmares, but he never speaks of them,
won't acknowledge them at all. Who is he trying to
kid?
He allows me to make breakfast for him, saying that
he's going to take a shower. This tiny acceptance
of my presence means so much to me. I want to make
a fuss of him, try to make up a fraction for all
he's so obviously suffered. His turning away from
me hurts so much, but I try not to take it
personally, even when he goes out of his way to
make it personal.
"And I would be the one
to hold you down,
kiss you so hard,
I'll take your breath away
and after I'd wipe away the tears,
Just close your eyes dear..."
The track comes to an end and I realize why I've
been listening to this sort of music recently. The
lyrics say it all. I fight back the tears at the
words I hear. I want so much to help him, to heal
him.
God, I'm so emotional at the moment. The doctor in
me, tells me it's the hormones plus everything
that's happened recently. I try control that urge,
Mulder is uncomfortable with my tears.
The muffled cry of anguish startles me. The ensuing
crashing and sounds of breakage terrifies me. I
jump at the sound, knocking over the cup; the china
smashing on the kitchen floor into a hundred
pieces, cascading hot coffee everywhere.
I follow the heart-wrenching sound into his bedroom
as fast as my bulk will allow. He's on the floor
amid the wreckage, dressed only in his boxers,
rolled up tight and rocking like a child trying to
comfort itself.
I look at the damage to the room, where his
violence has exploded. I am afraid, but not for
myself, never for myself. No matter how out-of-
control this man may be, he could never hurt me
intentionally.
I don't think he's aware of me as I call his name.
Mulder's staring at something lying on the floor a
little way away from him. He looks totally
hypnotized, horror and sweat on his face. He stares
at the small black object as if it were a black
mamba, about to strike.
The keening sound takes on a higher pitch as the
front of his boxers darkens and a puddle spreads
out over the floor beneath him.
Now I'm really fearful. I've never seen my partner
so terrified, so out of control. I freeze, not
knowing what to do, what to say next, my mind a
blank.
I took towards the object of his terror.
After a moment I recognize what it is. Something
inside me wants to burst out in hysterical laughter
as I see the joke Christmas present I bought him a
few years back; black sox with little green aliens
on them. This would be funny, if not for the effect
it's having on Mulder. He could have just *said* he
didn't like them, part of my brain whispered; while
the rest of it is trying to work out the reason for
my partner's distressed state. His dry heaving
force my feet towards him.
He stares at me, no recognition in his eyes, only
terror. What did those SOBs do to him?
With his arms over his chest he's trying to catch
his breath. One hand comes up to cover the grayness
of his face, his fingers tracing over the remains
of the scaring on his cheeks. He's trembling. I put
my hand on his shoulder, softly calling his name,
but he flinches away as though I'm likely to hurt
him.
"My God. Mulder. It's me Scully, you're safe now. I
won't let anyone hurt you."
I lean into him, as far as my altered shape will
allow me. I try to take him in my arms, but he
doesn't respond. He holds himself separate, his
face turned away. He's holding on so tightly to his
emotions, to his fear, I want him to let go, I want
to help him break down those walls that he's
incarcerated behind. I need to hold him, comfort
him.
I*have* to be strong for him. He once said, that I
was his touchstone, his one constant; I need to be
that for him now.
Unsure of what he needs from me, I squat in front
of him and touch his knee as I look up into his
face, my hand, of it's own volition, brushing the
stray, bangs of hair off his forehead.
Suddenly he's burying his head in my shoulder,
clinging on so tightly I could scarcely breathe.
I barely recognize his voice as he begs, "Hold me
Scully, just hold me."
There is only one thing I *can* do. Hold him and
comfort him, protected him, while his large frame
shakes with dread and grief at all he has had taken
for him, at all he's had to endure.
"Tell me Mulder, tell be what you need."
For a while he lays in my arms, allowing me to hold
him, allowing me the physical contact, allowing me
to get close to him, allowing my hand to move over
his back, his head, his face, allowing me to inhale
the scent of him.
I feel myself starting to tremble as he finally
relaxes against me.
"It's okay Scully. Just don't leave me, just never
leave me. If you're beside me... we'll get through
this."
I'm not sure who is trying to reassure who here.
His hands move up to cup my face, and I can't stop
the trickle of my tears, hard as I try.
His soft, warm mouth moves down my face in tiny
butterfly kisses and I taste the saltiness of our
tears on them, as his lips finally come home to
rest on mine.
"Mulder..." I hug him fiercely, trying not to cry.
"Scully. It's going to be okay," he said softly as
I meet his eyes.
He believes.
He's right.
We're in with a chance. He may never be able to
tell me what he suffered. He may never remember
fully, never want to remember, but I've found a
chink in the wall, and he trusts me enough to
allowed me to squeeze in through that chink, into
wherever it is that's holding him. I'm beside him
now and we'll help each other to live, to survive
this.
Fin
Any suggestions?
ewa@whatewa.com
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I hasten to add that I've not seen
anything of Season 8 yet. This piece is pure
conjecture, from one or two spoilers and from what
I've read of other authors. Maybe, given a chance
they will work it out step by tiny step.
'I have spread my dreams under your feet;
tread softly for you tread on my dreams.'
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